Autumn is so delicious. Everything about it makes me happy: chill in the air, gorgeous shades of oranges and reds, the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind or crunching underfoot, the smell of the fire pit, and of course, pumpkin flavored everything!
Just as we are to embrace each season as they come, we also need to recognize that we were never meant to stay in the same season forever.
I know it is almost Spring Break, but it’s not too late to talk about New Year’s…is it?
Over the past few years, instead of selecting New Year’s resolutions which are dumped by the end of January, I have joined the growing trend of choosing a One Word focus for the year. Actually, I have found that it is the other way around…the word chooses me. The words become a theme for the LORD to shape and mold me.
Some of my past words have been blessed, yield, and hope. By the end of each year these words have had such deeper meanings. I learned that I was in fact blessed, but I was blessed to be a blessing to others. I learned that I had to yield to the LORD so that my efforts for the kingdom would yield healthier fruit. And I learned that hope is not a wish; it is something that we should actively be anticipating….and “that hope does not disappoint”!
It’s been almost two years ago now that I sat in my counselor’s office sobbing uncontrollably. She looked across the empty space between us and simply asked, “Do you have hope?” I shook my head no. I have no idea what she said after that. It’s hard to hear anything when you are in a pit of despair and a storm is raging.
With some reservations I want share something with you. I suffer from OCD. Not the funny “haha I like everything in it’s place” OCD. I suffer from crippling Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I hear people joke all the time about their “OCD kicking in”; however for those who truly struggle with this disorder, it is not a joke.
Silence.
Not a word has flowed through these fingers onto this blog for over 18 months. Not because I don’t have anything to say…those who know me well know that I always have something to say. Not a word have I typed because The Father has wooed me into the wilderness so that we can be alone…in the quiet…so that I can listen.
A friend once asked me what I liked to read. I told her I didn’t read much. She said, “But you are a writer!” I said, “Exactly! I am a writer not a reader. Just like I am a talker and not a listener.” We all had a good laugh. But looking back, I must have sounded so arrogant and immature.
What an amazing journey I had this past year! I was given the honor to teach a group of Hispanic parents in the Springdale Family Literacy Program. Monday-Thursday these women (and one gentleman) showed up to my little cottage outside an elementary school with one motivation…providing a better life for their families.
Growing up in rural Arkansas, I spent a good amount of time hiking through the woods around my home with my Dad. He taught me to respect the land and how to read the various signs of nature. He taught me to recognize different plants, trees, and animals. When I moved to Northwest Arkansas, I got sucked into enjoying the commercial amenities that this more urban setting offered.
As my kids came along, it became very apparent how little their knowledge of nature was. They were afraid of all insects! So my husband and I made an intentional effort to combat this by taking regular nature hikes as a family. Some are day long planned events while others are impromptu diversions meant to burn off some energy.
Ten years ago this spring, Michael and I visited our Pastor’s office for several sessions of pre-marital counseling. Some things were very helpful. Most topics were very awkward as you can imagine. We discussed finances, family history, goals…and intimacy. Yikes!
We had only been dating for a few months. These counseling sessions were revealing things that had not come up in the short time we had known each other.
I distinctly remember Pastor asking, “Where do you see yourself in ten years?” My knee jerk response was, “Published.”
A life lived simply is a beautiful life!
When we live a rushed, overscheduled, complicated life, we quickly become winded. Our lungs struggle to get a deep breath. We strain through the shallow pants.
But a simple life…the small life… allows us to breath deeply.
To exhale.
Since starting my new job, I have found very little time or energy to write or read. At the end of the day, I am spent. All I want to do is plop down in my writing nook and plug into Netflix to continue whatever marathon I happen to be enjoying. Currently, I am in the middle of Call the Midwife for the second time.
There are a only a few things that help you appreciate #TheSmallLife more than a weekend in bed with a cold. After my first week back in the work force in over six years, I am huddled under the covers snuggling with a box of tissues and the iPAD.