Hello friends. Spring at last for those of us on this side of the pond and Fall is beginning to show its colours for those of you on the other. I love the promise that a new season carries with it and how it can resurrect even the most worn out of hope.
What are you hoping for in this new season?
I’m back working from home now and I gotta say it has its perks. No make up, no traffic or finding parking, no masking up and with most of my coworkers also working from home it doesn’t feel as lonely as it did before. Good friends staying touch helps too.
A tad late this week but as always I’ve put together a few good things, fresh and friendly I hope, to help you relax into and enjoy your weekend – – – –
A Good Word
If you’re tired, friend,
because life’s too
the world’s too
I pray you find a
moment’s stillness here,
a moment’s exhale,
to be reminded in the
quiet of your center:
of you here.
adoration of your Maker
as it’s sung in
rest to which you’re
beckoned, as it
rhythm of Christ’s heart—
as in, absorb it into
your actual body— as it
beats out his infinitely
white-hot desire to be—
just *be*—with you.
Receive your redefining,
by Love, by Mercy,
by Divine Celebration
of your every
Your every expansion,
A Good Look
Rest can be so simple
Pic courtesy of Jun Juneshu
A Good Idea
from Tsh Oxenreider
When you splash the sleep from your eyes and pour your second cup of coffee, it’s hard to dive into the day when the news has been heavy for days (weeks? months? years?) on end. (COVID numbers), natural disasters, political moves, casualties from both, what feels like infinitely more ad nauseam — and somehow we’re asked to keep on keeping on with our dirty dishes and spreadsheets.
I’m right there with you. To force myself into perspective, here’s what I do — not because I’m chock-full of wisdom but because I know my own human tendency towards melancholy:
1 I take care of my basics (sleep, food, water, coffee, etc.),
2 I moderate my news intake, not burying my head in the sand but stopping when I know enough
3 I avoid social media so as to avoid doom scrolling
4 I go outside daily (even when it’s bonkers humid and gross), and
5 I read something timeless (poetry, an old classic novel, etc.).
Your mileage may vary, but this checklist centers me and keeps the hope lit in me when I’m tempted to despair. I encourage you to find your needed guardrails so you can still be an engaged citizen while having the chutzpah to tackle the laundry pile
Your mileage may vary, but this checklist centers me and keeps the hope lit in me when I’m tempted to despair. I encourage you to find your needed guardrails so you can still be an engaged citizen while having the chutzpah to tackle the laundry pile.
A Few Good Reads
In early spring 2020, just as the country began to shut down, my husband and I moved in with his parents. We had had to close our wine importing business and found ourselves in a precarious financial situation. We also wanted to help my in-laws navigate this new pandemic world; both of them are over 70, and my mother-in-law has Alzheimer’s. So the four of us hunkered down and learned how to live together: We gardened together, we cooked together (our favorite Thai dishes, their favorite Southern comfort favorites), we watched old Westerns and introduced them to Melissa McCarthy comedies, and we did way too much day drinking. For a little while, it was almost like a vacation.
As time went on, though, we realized that this new living arrangement required a lot of adjustment and sacrifice. One area where this quickly became apparent was in doing the laundry. This will be familiar for anyone who has ever had a loved one with a neurodegenerative disease like Alzheimer’s: Doing laundry was one of the routines that helped my mother-in-law make sense of the chaos of those early COVID days. It was familiar, she didn’t need help to do it, and she could provide for her family. Great, right? Well, sort of. I quickly learned that I would need to go hunting for shirts and pants that made it into the wrong basket or closet; return underwear that really belonged to my father-in-law, not me (although that wasn’t as awkward as finding my own jockstraps nicely folded for me by my mother-in-law); and schedule sneaky, late-night laundry sessions for the items that I really cared about and didn’t want to disappear – – – keep reading
When we finally moved to the cabin, it had been nearly twenty years since the birth of this dream. The grand plans for restoration and building were gone. We came with only what would fit in the small space and settled in, waiting to see how our dream would unfold.
At first we filled our days with trips to town for lunch, antiquing, a visit to the public library for library cards, outings to photograph old barns. Then we found ourselves sleeping later, waking to the sun slanting through the upstairs windows or a woodpecker tapping. We’d rise and fall into a simple routine – – – – keep reading
I wasn’t willing to settle for less than kismet. But chasing a romantic illusion nearly kept me from finding love.
The night I agreed to try online dating, I told my roommate Meghan I hoped I wouldn’t meet anyone because that wasn’t the kind of story I wanted to tell.
“I know myself,” I said. “Anything short of kismet won’t work.”
I have always loved the word “kismet.” Arabic in origin (from “qisma,” meaning portion or lot), it’s just a nerdy synonym for fate. But from a young age, I have believed in it, searched for it and trusted I would find it.
This is my parents’ fault – – – – keep reading
That’s all for now friends. Enjoy the reads and have a beautiful weekend, rest up, do something you love xx