Why Losing Words is Significant

…as I sat with this knowledge I ached for the collective child who will never know the beauty of the earth for themselves, but more for the child who will never even have words for what she sees…

They are removing words like “wren”, “acorn”, “bramble” in favor of more modern words. I question you now; does my child need to know “encryption”, “keystroke”, “megapixel”? Does yours? At what age should the viewing of Windows (or Mac) be considered as above what is outside of actual windows? The loss of this natural knowledge will hurt our children, will damage our own fragile connection to our place in the world, will continue to disconnect us all from the soul of the earth, from a higher power, from our very selves. By taking these words from children, and more so by taking away the moments and places these words depict, we are robbing them of deeply expressive experiences. We are taking the voice from a piece of ourselves.

“Once upon a time, words began to vanish from the language of children. They disappeared so quietly that at first almost no one noticed – fading away like water on stone. …”
-Robert Macfarlane in The Lost Words

If anyone is interested in words, nature, the connection that comes from the soles of your feet in the muddy earth in late spring…there is a book for you. I will get no kickback for posting this, there is no affiliate link notice needed here. If we are friends in real life you know that beauty sets my soul afire. Beauty, as in; the barest reality of nature. Not only that. Also the clear descriptiveness of the written word. I’m a little jumbled here…let’s see if I can find my way.

I heard recently, that a prominent publisher was, and has been for some time, softly swapping words out of their children’s dictionaries. Taking words from the natural world and replacing them with words from the world of technology. I could feel the weight of this in my soul and as I sat with this knowledge I ached for the collective child who will never know the beauty of the earth for themselves, but more for the child who will never even have words for what she sees in dusty books, on travel blogs, in the paintings of the someday long forgotten artists. Taking these words from the children is doing them a disservice.

Is it so terrible that our young children can distinguish between grackle and raven and crow? Does this somehow stall their knowledge of technology? Does first leading children into meadows and marshes ruin them from one day becoming scientists or sociologists? Can we, for a few short years, a decade perhaps, keep our children primitive? Could we let them outdoors, lost in mucky streams, drenched in sunshine and rain, lost to technology and the modern world?

Couldn’t we?

The book, you ask, oh yes. The book that set this post to scribbling. It is no small thing for a book to cause me to get lost in it’s world. Typically it takes a fantastical work of fiction for me to lose myself in it’s pages. The images and the prose in this book had me lost to this modern age as I turned its pages. In fact they drove me outdoors, seeking a silence that is found in only in oak forests, listening for the rush of icy water over stones, and the tromp of my boots through deep, slushy snow. Isn’t this what books should do? Inspire us to experience for ourselves that which only the world around us can provide? Sure, there may not be actual faeries in our fields (I do believe in faeries, I do believe in faeries…), but what is so wrong with wandering slowly along the back fence watching for mushroom rings at the edge of the forest just in case? When did it become so unfavorable for our children and ourselves to be lost to our imaginations?

Einstein is credited with saying, “If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.”


And while we can’t know for certain that Einstein actually said this, it does not make the words any less true. The descriptiveness, the nature, the imagination and creativity in fairy tales should inspire us all. Not just cause us to be more intelligent by increasing our imagination, but cause us to notice more. As we are more aware we will need words for the things we are seeing. Where will those words come from, if we take them away from our children? First by taking the physical experiences and then, by removing those words from the books they would seek out to put a voice to some feeling or expression they would like to share?

This is the local library copy, if anyone is looking for a gift for me I’d love my own!

There is a link in the back of this book to John Muir’s website (pretty sure y’all know he is my nature inspiration); johnmuirtrust.org, I was lost in this site for quite some time, look for more on what I found soon-ish. I’ll have to drag myself out of bed earlier as I am not giving up any more minutes outdoors in this early Minnesota Spring to sit at my screen. I recommend checking out the site of course, but more? I recommend going outside, as I’m sure Mr. Muir would himself advise. Follow the nearest path, dirt is truly best, to where it leads. Sit awhile. Listen. Maybe you were deprived of this in your own childhood. If you don’t have words for what you hear and see, search them out. They are back there, deep in your subconscious I believe, though you may need an older copy of Merriam Webster to find them.

Go on, why are you still sitting here?

Gratitude, a Practice

How do you place value on a day? An hour? A moment? Is it in all that you accomplish? Does the weight of your day mean more or less because you’ve checked off so many of the boxes on your list? Is all lost if, as you look around your life, the same things that needed doing yesterday need doing again, or still, today?

Do you know a moment is good because of the happiness that comes from it? Joy being of more importance than pain on our scales of blessing. Can feeling frustrated, angry, ill-at-ease, cause you to count this minute, this hour as a loss? While a smooth, cooperative, easy day leaves you trusting that God has smiled on you in however small a way.

Could it be something more? Not in how you feel or what you’ve done, but could the inherent goodness of your life be something simpler? Something that is so far beyond our control we often struggle to believe it even could be, let alone is.

What if the value of your life, of mine was not found in these common assesments? What if the goodness of our moments, was ultimately, simply, found in our Creator. What if, however much we eff up, however much we fail in human sight, however much we hate the way our corner of the world is spinning…what if those things can’t impact our peace, because God is good?

I’ve kept a gratitude journal for several years now. I can remember a time when coming up with three good things each day was a challenge for me. When the length of the nights and the pulse of my day made me stretch myself to come up with this handful of daily blessings. In the practice of being thankful though, I’ve become more. In looking for the good I have been able to see that most of it is good.

This has been a slow thing for me to learn. In the scratching out of thankfulness it has taken those few years for me to become accustomed to seeing it all as good. As we have struggled through our challenging years, I’ve come to see, to firmly believe, that even the hard or the percievedly “bad” is often a gift if I choose to look at it from the lens of God. I have needed a great deal of practice with this though.

I’ve written about my lack of sleep before, and how I now am able to see it as an opportunity. This has happened because I have allowed God to work in my heart, begged Him even, to do so. He has shown His goodness to me in so many other ways. Ways that I certainly would not have expected, but more than that in ways that I have not always seen, at first, as His goodness.

In my head right now I am making a list of things that have happened in my life that I would not have written in my gratitude journal, the list is long and I will not share it here. I will tell you that I have put myself in some bad situations as far as my safety, my financial security, and my mental well being are considered. I can see, in the looking back, how God used all -okay most- of those things for good. How the lows have only brought me closer to Him, and how that is really all He wants from and for me.

In my previous life I had sunk pretty low on the gratitude scale. I have deliberately climbed a ladder of thankfulness to be at this place, where I can see how some of those bad situations, weren’t. That He was working good for me in all things, even the heartbreaking things.

I don’t know if this practice of writing down thanks is enough to get me through something terrible. I pray fervently that my faith is never tested in a handful of specific ways. Because while I believe I am strong in my faith now, I also know pretty well what it would take to break me. That’s another reason I practice gratitude though. With the hope that in continuing to be thankful, I could continue to be thankful through any of the worst. It is a goal, and a gamble of course. There are no guarantees that I could experience life-shattering news and be at peace enough to immediately find the glimpses of good.

To be clear, I don’t write down the good and, “poof!” there is less bad. Rather, in making notes on my days, my interactions, my difficulties, I am looking for those flashes of good which are always there, should I choose to see them. This affords me the quiet and the space I need to really evaluate a negative encounter or experience, and hopefully, see it for what God needs it to be, for what it truly is, in my life.

Each year I start over, allowing the days to tick off their own goodness, counting up seemingly mundane moments along with the highest of the highs.

…the teensy sleeping through a night

…fresh, cold air

…skates on the ice with my littles

Do you have a gratitude practice? I’d love to hear about it sometime. To know how it has grown you, changed you. How it’s helped you to find contentment or joy or some small space in your head that has been taken back from the sadness of the world. Sitting down now to pray peace over each of you who takes the time to read my ramblings this year.

Faith and Relationships

When at once we know we are created and that we are creators we can rest at peace. Knowing that all of life will fall perfectly into place as it has been created in perfection.

I didn’t always believe that God would work all together for my good.

At those most questioning, seeking moments I don’t know whether I searched after God with all of my heart or if I just searched blindly but honestly and found that God was in my heart. I remember spending a lot of time looking and a lot of time in prayer and a lot of time in the quiet, waiting. I still ask God a lot of questions and the more of my Bible that I read the more questions I seem to have.

This I know: God is not afraid of my questioning.

Over time I have realized that my questioning mind has brought me closer to Him, even if I don’t always feel the answers are super clear. I can see now that often the point of the questions; the reason they are put in my mind, is only to bring me closer to God. By seeking so hard for what is true and what is good and, well, so much more, I have spent an intense amount of time with my creator.

I’ve decided in my own heart that this is the only point. For me at least. The point of bringing all things to God, the point of asking Him so many “why’s”, the entire reason for my being…is simply to build a closer relationship with the lover of my very soul. This has helped me accept and process an innumerable amount of personal barriers. Knowing that the bad things will come and the hard days will march along, but that whether good or bad, pleasant or trying, full of snow or sunshine…in taking each moment to God and leaving it there at His feet…a deeper peace is found.

It is freeing to know that all of the hardships and all of the mountaintops are only to bring me to Him. I’m not tapping these keys, telling you that I dont worry or wonder or have days where my anxiety creeps itchy and red up my neck. I’m not saying that at all. What I’m trying to say is that regardless of my worry or wonder I know where to take it, and that has made all of the difference. For me at least.

I don’t know how to share this. How to explain my heart to the masses. I suppose it’s good that only a few of y’all read what I write, there are no “masses” to please. I want to put it out there though. If each moment of your life drives you to your knees or brings you closer to Him; well, then that moment has done what it was intended to do. And you’ve done what you should with that moment. No need to fix it or understand it or examine it further.

Be at peace with your Creator. Trust for today that what He wants is a relationship with you. Or believe it for the next hour if that’s all you can do for now. He is good, believe it.

***I know this post is not what you’ve come to expect from me…this is where I’m at today though. Thank you for reading it through, I am grateful.***

The Blank Page

Please note that this post may contain affiliate links.

Last night I was drinking rum, perhaps that explains a bit of this rambling. Perhaps not, it is quite possible that the thoughts have finally bubbled to the surface due in part to a vague suggestion. The idea that the young should travel -no, not should, but must- is not a new one. So often we send our recently graduated students out into the wider world in part because they need a job, but more so because they are at the perfect place to do the leaving. Nothing is holding them back, nothing is keeping them here.

What if you never left when you were young? Does the opportunity pass you by simply because you have children or are established in your community? Is the only way to successfully leave “later in life” if you are offered an amazing job opportunity? Why can’t freedom and exploration come at any point in life? Why do the repercussions seem harsher? Should children ever be uprooted? Y’all have been around long enough to understand where I’m at with these thoughts right? Good.

I’ve had trouble putting a solid feeling behind my desire for travel. I feel so deeply that it is no different from a desire to succeed or a want for love, but people don’t really get that correlation. In my alcohol-induced brilliance I came to the analogy of the blank page; not by chance mind you. No, it came about after a bit of a rambling from Bruce Springsteen that my sweet husband was listening to. (If you want to check out the song, you can buy it here from Amazon; Thunder Road (Springsteen on Broadway).  

For reasons I will not try to fully explain, this image made clear my own feelings. The blank page is a perfect metaphor for so many areas of my life. Most obvious is right here. There is something about the clear screen of my computer that makes me want to fill it with words and ideas and emotion. The driving can not be ignored with this idea either. Taking the road less traveled, wandering the secret paths, heading out alone into unknown territory is the very essence of who I am. Not least of the pieces of me that could be defined by this idea, is my inherent desire to travel. To get away from the comfortable and explore the wild. I am not satisfied to simply vacation away my time. I want to fill notebook pages with the beauty and chaos I experience in the great unknown. The white-space I tend to leave on my calendar, the silence I am forever seeking, the ever-constant decluttering; all model my need for a blank page.

Are you still with me? I tried to warn you about the rum…

I’ll ask again; am I too late? Should I resolve myself to the darkness of Winter and stationary life? My littles don’t all want to move South where cold will mean 50’s, but friends will need to be sought out. Should we stay to ease our fears? My sweet husband sees the hassle involved with our current plan. Should we stay for our comfort? Though my mother does not yet know that we may pick up and drive away, I can tell you that she does not want us to go. Should we stay to ease her worry? If I would have recognized my gypsy soul at eighteen would anyone have questioned me when I packed a duffle and drove away?

That changes the question a bit doesn’t it? Why didn’t I ever pack that bag? Why didn’t I ever load up the car? There’s a secret truth here, something I will not share fully with y’all today. We can blame fear for now and it will suffice as an acceptable reason. Fortunately for me there is no actual limit, implied or otherwise stated that tells me I can not go now. Even though I am so far past that “ideal” age.

The desire remains.

The passion stirs.

The page is still blank.