My Swiss pen pal. (30 days of thankfulness - day 14)

In a small village in the canton of Argovia in Switzerland, there lives a woman named Monica.  One day, I received an email from her through my blog, out of the blue, in which she introduced herself. She found me by researching Jeremy Casella's music, then made her way to Kierstin Casella's blog, then to mine.  I'm so glad she did! 

In that first email, Monica said, "I decided to follow Jesus in 1994, and sisters like you inspire me to love my Lord more every day and to explore the beauty and adventure of faith, life, friendship, nature and art."

Although her native tongue is German, I knew right away that we spoke the same language.  Monica is a creative, artistic, sensitive soul who loves reading, writing, music, poetry, painting, her garden, and her husband Ralph, who she's been married to since 1999.  She works as a copy editor for a big Swiss newspaper.

I love hearing about Monica's faith through the perspective of her unique European culture and traditions.  Our lives are so different, yet we understand each other so well.  Her words have encouraged me time and time again.   You should hear how poetically and eloquently she writes...and she translates every email into English!

Monica and I have never met in person, but you can be sure that when we do, it will be a sweet day.  There will surely be lots of shared cappuccinos and laughter and walks through the city and countryside.  Until then, we'll continue being kindred spirits across the miles. 

I thank God for you, Monica!

Here are a few of my favorite photos from Monica's world. 

A lovely Swiss cottage in the snow...

One of her glorious cappuccinos, "served with strawberries au gratin and much love on a Saturday afternoon"...

Her lovely flower garden...

Her parents' Christmas tree...with real lit candles on it.  Below is a stable handmade by her father many years ago...

The view from one of her boating trips...

And just another breathtaking winter day in Switzerland...

You know you want a Swiss pen pal now.  But mine's taken!

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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.

Mary Oliver. (30 days of thankfulness - day 13)

I was reminded of this wonderful Mary Oliver quote by my blog friend and kindred spirit, Linda.  I'm thankful for Mary Oliver's way of wordsmithing - just what my soul needs to understand. 

This quote goes hand in hand with everything I'm learning in my current study of the book of Genesis.  As a believer in Christ, I can and should think about the beauty God created and be grateful.  He could have made it only functional, but He didn't.  He made it beautiful, too.

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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.

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.

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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.

You are precious. (30 days of thankfulness - day 10)

Dear Ramona,

I admit I was quite hurried when I saw you sitting on a bench in front of the downtown library, holding a crushed, bent-open book in both your hands while you read aloud to yourself.  As I slowly pulled my car to the curb in front of you, I could see you were trembling.

I approached you selfishly, wanting to "get rid of" more of the "homeless bags" in my car by giving you more than one, so I wouldn't have to stop so many times.  I rolled down the passenger's side window and asked timidly, "Excuse me, do you need some food?"  You answered, "Yes," and hurried over to the curb.  I handed you a bag and asked if you had anyone else you wanted to give a second bag to.  You shook your head and answered very definitely, "No." 

I asked your name, and you told me it was Ramona.  I admit I probably wouldn't have thought to ask you that simple, seemingly obvious question if it hadn't been for my friend Kyle who talks with homeless folks much more often than I, and she told me it was a good thing to do.  She said you probably don't get asked your name very often.

I hope when you found this note in your bag that it meant something to you, that it made you smile.

When I passed by the downtown library again a few days ago, you weren't there.  I'm not sure if we'll meet again, but I hope through our very short encounter and hopefully future ones, God teaches me what it's like to be humble.  Because right now, the truth is I'm just thankful my life isn't sitting on park benches in front of libraries alone.

Whether you know it or not, Ramona, you are made in the image of God, and you are precious.  There is hope for both of us.  And that is something that draws us together.

Sincerely,

Christine

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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.

Just the two of us. (30 days of thankfulness - day 7)

We've been recapturing the spirit of "Team Bails" lately.  Our "team" mentality was slightly misplaced for awhile in the midst of having a baby and then a very spirited toddler who keeps us on our toes and doesn't allow for much alone time.  It's so easy for it to happen, especially when you have kids and very busy schedules. But "just the two of us" is so important, the biggest priority. God joined us together as one flesh, and that is how it is for life.   Thank God.

~ ~ ~

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.

My mommy. (30 days of thankfulness - day 4)

My beautiful mom had another birthday on November 1st.  How very thankful I am for her life which formed mine, which has nurtured me every day since I was born.  She's the one who taught me to swerve to the shoulder on a road trip whenever I saw a beautiful photo opportunity.  She's the one who sacrificed time and money to take me around the world when I was young, so I could experience other cultures and learn to love all different kinds of people.  She's the one who created a warm home for us, one where laughter and creativity and God's love were always present.  She's one daring woman, who writes her own raps and performs them in groups of strangers without hesitation.

She's not perfect, but what mother is?  She's not perfect, but she's mine.

The other day, we were talking about some sleep struggles I've been having with my daughter, and I told her the plan we'd put in place that was finally providing us all with a lot more sleep, peacefully.  She asked, "How did you get to be such a smart mom?" And I answered, "From watching you." I hardly feel like a "smart mom" most days but it's true - I learned about mothering from her, about compassion, and about serving.  She's never criticized my practices of attachment parenting or done anything less than fully support me in everything I've chosen in life (yes, even the unfortunate pre-teen stage when I insisted on taking TV commercial acting classes - seriously?)

All of that to say, I am thankful for my mommy.  She won't be here with me forever, so today I celebrate that she still is.

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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?

Open windows.

Tonight, as I was putting my daughter to sleep in a second-floor bedroom, the one that belonged to {a younger} me for 17 years, I heard church bells chiming.  Their deep, warm resonance traveled as the crow flies from downtown, over quiet homes lit from within and yards humming with crickets, moments later floating into my room through screened windows cranked open to invite in the sounds of the night...choruses of tree frogs croaking back and forth, children calling each others' names at a front yard barbecue around the corner, the crack of a bat and men's animated voices at the softball game across the street.

Those church bells, they stirred something deep within me.  As I lay there under the open window on an achingly perfect night, with a cool summer breeze blowing across my legs, I couldn't help but feel that this is exactly what I need right now.

I know that "to everything there is a season," and there is certainly a season that calls for tightly sealed windows, holding loved ones close under toasty blankets, shutting out the cold.  But for me, this is a season for open windows, both literally and figuratively. 

Being away in New Jersey for this last month of summer has been an actual breath of fresh air in my life.  Summer should mean open windows, slightly cool breezes at night, living outside, or at least inviting the outside in, and I've gotten to experience all of those things.  More importantly, it's been a time to slow down, to soul-search, to shed some heavy baggage and embrace the lightness that comes with handing over your burdens to the only One who can handle them anyway.

Tomorrow, I'll return to Texas into the arms of my husband and the home I love, knowing there will be heat and humidity and that fall weather is still a way's off.  My fervent hope is to return with a greater desire to live "outside in" instead of insularly.  To live proactively instead of reactively.  To live more relationally instead of closed off.

I'll start small, with shedding the dark chocolate brown on my living room walls for a light smoky blue on three walls and bright coral on the fourth.   I'll learn to knit and needle felt.  I'll open my life to new people - strangers - through a fall Bible study and by making meals for new moms in my neighborhood.

These are just the small things.  But they have a common theme: letting go of fear, embracing life.

It won't be easy for an introvert like me to change and invite in new people and experiences, but it's time.  The winds of change only flow easily through open windows.  Even better, windows that are thrown open with abandon.