Sabbath. (30 days of thankfulness - day 11)

"If busyness can become a kind of violence, we do not have to stretch our perception very far to see that Sabbath time – effortless, nourishing rest – can invite a healing of this violence. When we consecrate a time to listen to the still, small voices, we remember the root of inner wisdom that makes work fruitful. We remember from where we are most deeply nourished, and see more clearly the shape and texture of the people and things before us." ~ Wayne Muller

How thankful I am for Sundays - our Sabbath, our family time together.  The book Sabbath by Wayne Muller changed me, and now I must have our quiet, laid-back Sundays to remember who I am, who we are together.

We've now enacted a rule of no TV, DVDs, iPads, or any other form of visual entertainment on the Sabbath.  After fielding about 55 requests from our two-year-old of, "Mommy?  Can I watch sump'in?" I think she's finally catching on that the TV goes night-night on the Sabbath.

There is so much more I want to do as a family to embrace this special time of the week, but at least it's a start.

As I said in an earlier post about Sabbath, "The point is taking my hand off the plow, knowing I can't do it all. Knowing that God can and will work through me, that His strength will be the life that courses through my veins. And that by keeping my focus on the rhythms He gave us in this world, I can truly find rest."

Tonight we ended our Sabbath with a candelit meal that my husband prepared - buttery spaghetti squash smothered in savory meat and mushroom sauce with crusty bread.  It was perfect.

~ ~ ~

During the month of November, I'm practicing "30 days of thankfulness" - will you join me?  Use your blog, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram to voice your thankfulness for something every day in November.  My hope is that this daily routine will create in me a heart of thankfulness and gratitude, no matter the day or month or situation.

Shalom.

I re-read this passage today in Shauna Niequist's book Cold Tangerines and nearly wept...

"There is a way of living, a way of harmonizing and hitting a balance point, a converging of a thousand balance points and voices, layering together, twisting together, and there are moments when it all clicks into place just for a split second - God and marriage and forgiveness and something deep inside that feels like peace - and that's the place I'm trying to get to.

I have glimpses every once in awhile of this achingly beautiful way of living that comes when the plates stop spinning and the masks fall off and the apologies come from the deepest places and so do the prayers, and I am fighting, elbowing to make more of my life that life.  I want that spirit or force of happiness that is so much deeper than happy - peace that comes from your toes, that makes you want to live forever, that makes you gulp back sobs because you remember so many moments of so much un-peace.  I search for those moments the way I search for beach glass, bits of glitter along a desolate expanse of sand, and I want those moments to stretch into hours, into days.

The word I use for it is shalom."

One of the shalom moments I experienced that still shakes me to this day is when I was in labor with Luci Belle.  There was a specific moment of labor - hour whatever of 36 - when I was conscious of being stripped to the truest and most naked part of my soul.  It was such a strange feeling, because I was truly fighting to bring her into the world, but I felt such deep peace.  I remember my husband laying next to me, holding me on the bed at the birth center, and hearing my life anthem, Caedmon's Call's "Lead of Love," playing on the iPod and weeping, because I felt so happy, so grateful to be in that moment.  Her birth didn't turn out at all like I'd planned but it was just right - just what I needed it to be.

And here I am today, at almost-thirty-five-years-old, uncovering deeper darker parts of my personality that I really want to change.  Once and for all, I want to learn the art of letting go.  Gracefully.  I want to stop carrying resentment and bitterness with me, or a heart of perfection and blame.   I want to learn true humility rather than the fake kind that pretends everything is okay when it isn't and then resorts to defensiveness and pride.  I want to continue opening myself to love others better. 

Yes, I want "more of my life that life."

Shauna goes on to say...

"To get there, I'm finding, is the hardest work and the most worthwhile fight.  Shalom requires so much, so much more than I thought I would have to sacrifice, and it scrapes so deeply through the lowest parts of me, divulging and demonstrating so many dark corners.  It's something you can't fake, so you have to lay yourself open to it, wide open and vulnerable to what it might ask of you, what it might require you to give up, get over, get outside of, get free from.  It feels, sometimes, like running farther than you thought you could run, legs shaking and lungs burning, feeling proud and surprised at what little old you could do."

I could quote the entire chapter, but I hope you'll read - or re-read - it for yourself, because I dare say there's not one person among us who isn't searching for more shalom.

My lender copy of Cold Tangerines is ready and waiting for its next borrower - who's it gonna be?

Today I...

...Slept through my 6:30am alarm.  Dashed around the house trying to get myself and my daughter in the car so I could drop her off at a friend's house and make my 9am appointment for a much-needed haircut.

...Kissed and thanked my husband who quickly whipped up a tea latté without my even asking and handed it to me as I was running out the door.

...Dropped my daughter off at my friend Melissa's house where she played with dollhouses and bears and hats and books.  Caught up with my beloved hairstylist/friend Sylvia.  Rejoiced again in how much I love having bangs and wondered where they've been all my life.

...Retrieved my daughter and asked if she wanted to go on a date with Mommy for smoothies.  Her reply: "Ohhh-KAYYYYYYY!"  Headed to Southpaw's for a Chocolate Nutty-Monkey smoothie and Green Gobbler sandwich with watermelon and orange slices and a side of silliness.

 ...Stopped by our store where I always love being on Fridays when new produce is arriving.  Butternut and sweet dumpling squash...swiss chard...sweet potatoes...

...Delivered some tea to a mama friend who was having a rough day.  Sat on the porch with her and her baby girl while my big girl played on the sidewalk barefoot, collecting acorns and berries.

...Stepped over fake play food and wooden tea set on the living room floor and put on Dora The Explorer without shame so I could cook dinner in peace.

...Made this for dinner, but instead of quinoa, I added roasted sweet potatoes and a side of chicken sausage.  Absolutely delish.

...Gave my daughter a bath, during which she asked me to cradle her plastic walrus bath toy in my arms like a baby.  I complied.

...Drank a glass and a half of wine - first, a leftover Syrah and then a Malbec sent over by the aforementioned mama friend as an unecessary but appreciated return gift for the tea.

...Felt excited at the sound of pouring rain outside (finally!) and the momentary flickering of the lights.  Perfect early fall evening.

...Danced in the livingroom with my husband and daughter, twirled until we were dizzy and fell down.

...Read Goodnight, Moon and The Animal "eestra" (Orchestra) three times each before the little one finally drifted off to sleep.

...Reveled in a quiet house after the rest of my family was in bed at 9:05pm. 

...Ate no less than three chocolate chip cookies with my bedtime tea and didn't regret it one bit.

...Realized that not all days are this imperfectly perfect, filled with such glimmering small treasures.  And that's why it's ever so important to celebrate those that are.

Inspiration today.

• 10 Things To Do Before You Click Online - a fun little free download from Ann Voskamp
• In which I would pray, but I think I already am from Sarah Bessey's blog.  Yes.
• This beautiful woman.
  
• The joy of a new good read and the feelings it conjures. I'm currently reading Joy For Beginners by Erica Bauermeister.  The chapters have me lost in a world of freshly baked bread, the winding, mysterious streets of Venice, the scent of garlic sizzling, the coolness of summer in the Pacific Northwest.  And this passage from page 44 reminds me of the dance that happens when we cook together - Steven and I, and us with our closest of friends...

"They had cooked together in the small kitchen, moving around each other with the grace of long friendship, Caroline picking up and cutting the carrot that Marion had just peeled, Marion stirring the chicken in the saute pan while Caroline added the onions, followed by tomatoes.  Marion had brought the last of the oregano from her garden and the dusty-sweet smell filled the house when it touched the warmed oil.  Caroline cut thick slices of bread, bought from the bakery near her house, and scattered the carrots across the top of the salad.  Marion pulled the bottles of olive oil and vinegar from the cupboard, drizzling dressing across the lettuce, finishing with a few firm pulls from the salt grinder."

• The Message version of The Bible is just what I need right now - simple, straightforward, common language.  Here are some passages that have been staggeringly beautiful to me lately...

"Run after peace for all you're worth."  (1 Peter 3)

"The conquering power that brings the world to its knees is our faith." (1 John 5)

"This Jesus is both True God and Real Life."  (1 John 5)

Return of the backyard homestead...

Remember once upon a time, several years ago, when our backyard looked like this?

Remember a cute little couple who spent hours upon hours there tending to their beautiful veggie garden?

Well, things have changed a little.  Here's what the backyard looked like in January...

...and now...

Yikes.

For the last few years we didn't grow as much as we could have, but we do have an excuse - we were sorta busy running a demanding small business and then raising a newborn.  Thankfully, that newborn is now a very active toddler who loves being outside, digging in the dirt.

What's never changed is our dream to have our own farm one day - not in the city, but just outside a small city (Nashville?) - where we grow delicious organic food and host farm dinners at a big rustic table on a patio with white twinkle lights and our children grow up frolicking freely in fields of flowers and horses and goats and chickens.  It's a wonderful, worthy dream, but if we cannot grow food in our small urban backyard in Dallas, we surely won't be able to grow it on 40 acres of land.  Anywhere.

So instead of waiting for a someday dream, we decided it was time to get dirt caked under our nails again.

Here's the grand master plan that Steven drew up for our backyard "homestead":

Much of our recent inspiration came after reading the incredibly fascinating book Folks, This Ain't Normal: A Farmer's Advice for Happier Hens, Healthier People, and a Better World by Joel Salatin of Polyface Farm (featured in the movies Food, Inc. and Food Matters).   Salatin sites, "As early as 1946, nearly 50 percent of all produce grown in America came out of backyard gardens."  A pretty shocking statistic, don't you think?  My mom was born in 1946.  That's not very long ago.

Somehow between the mid-40s and now, convenience began to trump wholesomeness, and growing your own food is mostly viewed as a "hobby" for people who "have time," not as a necessity.

It's not easy.  And I know it's not realistic for everyone to grow all their food in their own backyards these days.  But everyone can plant a few seeds and grow something.  Even if it's just some herbs in a few pots on an urban patio.

So, I wanted to give you a further glimpse into our garden this year.  It's far from perfect, with unrelenting grass sprouts and weeds threatening to overtake our food crops every single day.  Somedays I wish our backyard was an idyllic haven that pruned and weeded itself, but that's not life. We were created to tend the land God created, and I believe that there is a deep satisfaction in doing so.

And most of all, it's ours.  And it will bear food to eat and to share.  And that's something.

Wild cilantro

Lavender flower

Bees love lavender

Trusty red gardening Crocs Teensy salad greens

Red chard

Kale

Garlic

Iris before blooming

Iris unfurling

Clematis vine // Summer squash plant

Persimmon treeTaking a breakWe've already harvested enough greens for a few simple salads, and like the Frances Mayes quote says, it's true. There is something special that happens when you eat something you grow. Maybe it's woven into our very being to be connected to the dirt in a way that sustains us.

A life-giving dark.

Iris unfurling in my garden, March 2012

Around Easter every year, I love to pull out one of my old faithful book friends - When the Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd.  Because, you see...

Waiting does not come easily for me.

Especially now.  In the daily trenches of motherhood, it amazes me how many times in a single day I can oscillate back and forth between fully embracing my current stage in life, and wishing for what was, or what will be. 

In the midst of broken relationships and other struggles, it seems so lonely sometimes.

But, the waiting is necessary.

This book taught me...

• It's okay to have questions; God is not afraid of them.
• Waiting can be a "life-giving dark" if we will only accept it as a womb instead of a tomb.  In a womb, there is life.  In a womb, we are incubating.  A life-giving dark is where something is happening, something beautiful.  It is not dead or stagnant.
• This process is key - it strips us of our false selves, humbles us, draws us closer to the heart of Christ.
• Christ longs to draw us close to His heart, even more than a nursing mother.  Let Him.

Will I choose life today?  Or will I allow the dark, the waiting, to engulf me?

I love the words that Sue Monk Kidd writes in her journal on her birthday, as she continues to wrestle through the tension of life...

"Sometimes it seems that life is a grace too severe, too vast, and too beautiful to receive.  But I open my hands anyway.  Today I'll talk to myself.  I'll say, Accept life - the places it bleeds and the places it smiles.  That's your most holy and human task.  Gather up the pain and the questions and hold them like a child upon your lap. Have faith in God, in the movement of your soul.  Accept what is.  Accept the dark.  It's okay.  Just be true.

I'll say to myself, You're loved.  Your pain is God's pain. Go ahead and embrace the struggle and chaos of it all, the splendor, the messiness, the wonder, the agony, the joy, the conflict.  Love all of it.

I'll say to myself, Remember that little flame on the Easter candle.  Cup your heart around it.  Your darkness will become the light."

I absolutely have to believe that's true.  Otherwise, what's the point?

Tomorrow, we celebrate Easter.  Easter is about the promise that God can and will redeem all things. Out of the darkness came life.  Jesus is alive!   What does that mean for us, little us, still here on earth? 

Wherever you are in the dark, wherever you are in waiting, know...

You are not alone.

I've been there, I understand, you are understood.  I hope that you can grasp "how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."  (Ephesians 3:17-19; NIV) 

That's something I'm clinging to.

May the joy of Easter morning - the promise that the light does come to rescue and to save - give you peace.

Read more of my thoughts on When the Heart Waits and "eastering" here.

Inspiring things lately.

Image: taprootmag.com

Here's a random collection of inspiring things I wanted to share...

• Taproot - a new magazine I simply.must.have.
• Stop For A Moment - a great reminder from The Family Dinner website
• A Farmer in the Dell - love the recipes on this blog by a young husband and wife farmer team.  Be sure to check out her Favorite Recipes page, including this Roasted Carrot Veggie Pasta and Cauliflower Pizza Crust that have me salivating.  Must try this pizza as soon as we get some local goat cheese back in stock at Urban Acres!
• The Dance - some beautiful thoughts on life and motherhood written by a Nashville mama.  I don't know her personally, but I used to work with her husband at Mocha Club.
• Marilyn Monroe's "diet" - love it.
• Helpful, free printables from Ann Voskamp's website - on her main menu, select "Free Gifts For You". Then download the PDF "10 Real Helps for Really Busy Moms and 10 Prayers for Joyful Parenting."  I have these framed in my bathroom.  I don't try to digest both of the entire lists every day.  Instead, I take one from each list every day.  So, if today is the 8th of the month, I concentrate on #8 on each list for that day, and that's it.

Got anything inspiring to share?