I’m taking the week off to celebrate the Fourth of July. Because of my dog (and the extreme dryness of California summers), I no longer enjoy fireworks the way I used to. But a good parade never gets old. And neither do celebrations with family and friends.
How do you celebrate patriotism and independence—whether you’re American or claim another country as home?
Plenty of folks may say you can’t go home again, and I understand what they mean. But I went home to North Carolina for a bit of rest a few weeks ago anyway. Here are some snapshots and brief thoughts of my visit home.
It’s hard to balance the need to rest with the desire to catch up with dear friends and family, and so I ended up not doing as much of either as I had hoped. I am slowly realizing that it may always be this way on the visits home, the pull of the heart to spend time with those I love and the pull of the body to rest and soak up the nature of this beautiful place.
The cows came up to the near pasture on my hike through this most favorite of places:
I always love this view but especially when the field is full of cows.
Fields of gold
I almost missed my chance at taking this hike, so busy hiking and running and walking in other loved places, but if I hadn’t gone, I would have missed the lilies blooming: Continue reading
When I was little, my family made an annual trek to the North Carolina Coast. I would step out of the car and drink in the heavy feel of the humid, salt air and revel in the sounds of cicadas’ deafening buzz. The week ahead promised rest for us all: lazy breakfasts, often concoctions of eggs, cheese and potatoes my brother fried up; piles of books to read; long days at the beach. We would climb dunes, walk the tide’s edge, fall asleep under a beach umbrella, dive for sand dollars, let gentle waves loll us practically to sleep, or high, strong waves quicken our sense of being alive. There was no schedule, no hurry. Nothing but rest and renewal for a glorious week.
I’m more of a mountain girl than a beach girl nowadays, and that’s where the best rest is happening for me. Any good mountain vacation promises hiking, walking and running in familiar, beloved places. The weather is cooler but more humid than our California summer has been so far. My husband and I sit together and read a pile of books (words cannot adequately express my excitement about Go Set a Watchman). We juggle quiet time and visits with family and friends. Most important, we rest.
If you’re looking for a great book about our need for a Sabbath rest, I highly recommend Wayne Muller’s Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives. In many ways, this book feels like taking a deep, fresh breath. It offers rest and encourages an outlook overhaul:
Sabbath is more than the absence of work; it is not just a day off, when we catch up on television or errands. It is the presence of something that arises when we consecrate a period of time to listen to what is most deeply beautiful, nourishing, or true. It is time consecrated with our attention, our mindfulness, honoring those quiet forces of grace or spirit that sustain and heal us. (8)
How can we better consecrate, honor, savor the blessings in our lives? In this season, are you creating moments that will sustain and heal you? What does Sabbath rest look like to you?
A place that brings me Sabbath rest
I hope your Advent season is going well. I know what a busy time this is and appreciate you taking time out of your day to stop by and rest with me.
This is my third week of insane busyness with a cross-country move. If all goes as planned, I may actually get some rest today, in between pulling out Christmas decorations and unpacking boxes and finding a place for everything in my new home.
While I want to be here in this space with you each week, you wouldn’t get my best right now. So I’ll remind you that my book is available—in paperback and as an ebook through Lulu—and would make a great gift under the tree (there’s still time!). Each week, I’ll also offer a popular repost from Christmas 2012.
Advent isn’t always full of good cheer, especially for those who have lost a loved one, and this post from 2012 tackles the grief that can sometimes mar our expected joy in the season.
I promise to reply to your comments as soon as possible. Thanks for your grace and patience during this transition. Happy Advent!
“O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, how lovely are your branches!” If you’ve missed the other posts in this series, you can go back and read all about white Christmases and red poinsettias. But today’s color is one of my favorites: green.
This little green tree decorates the table where we put all our Christmas cards.
That green is one of my favorite colors shouldn’t surprise you, given the title of my blog and the fact that I write so frequently about trees. And unless you walk around with blinders on these days, you can’t go far without seeing some green of Christmas: trees, elf costumes, candy wrappers.
Read the rest of the original post.
I leave off today with a wish and a blessing for you as we head toward the shortest day of the year and into the last week before Christmas. May you be blessed with moments of peace, deep rest, authentic calm, the healing presence of God, abounding light, and moments of joy to delight you in the frenetic days of this season.
In last week’s post, I told you about my hopes for a personal worst (PW) in a race. Well, I finished the race (yay!) and have a new PW (also yay?). The weather was beautiful, the course was hilly, and I took time to stop and smell the roses. Well, not exactly. There weren’t any roses along the course. But I did take time to stop both ways on the out-and-back course to hug a friend who was volunteering at a water stop.
She’s a great encourager and broke into a huge grin both times she saw me. Her husband and I had see-sawed places several times during the race, saying hello by name each time one of us passed the other (which made us both chuckle a little). He finished well ahead of me, running his best time in 10 years, no small feat at age 71! (This wonderful couple completed a 100-mile race last year, becoming the oldest married couple to do so.)
I felt happier at the end of this race than usual, probably because I hadn’t exhausted myself mentally or physically to run a fast time. That didn’t mean I wasn’t sore. The pain Monday signaled that I had to be gentle with myself. I needed to find a way to rest.
Resting in black and white
How many of you think of resting in terms of black and white? Rest means you’re lying down or sitting. Black and white, right? There are times we must rest in this way—a dear friend recovering from surgery right now knows the frustration of a forced black and white rest all too well. I hope she’ll be well enough soon to get on her feet for a more active rest.
There are other times when black and white isn’t the only kind of rest we need, when rest with a bit of color is best. Continue reading
The Flourishing Tree 