3 Steps to Scheduling a Soul-Cation

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I anticipate summer all year, yearning for sunny days and warm temps when I can throw off my jacket, fling off my shoes and plant my feet on the cool green grass of my back yard, or bury them under the hot sand of the seashore. or swing them off the side of shade-covered hammock.

Summer's when I reacquaint myself with nature, close up; when I dig in the rich soil of my vegetable garden and smell the sweet scents of the phlox growing by my back deck.

It's when my work seems more like play and the daylight hours linger long enough to make me tired. A good tired. A tired that says, "That was a good days work," or "You played hard today."

Summer rejuvenates and revives me and reminds me I'm part of something bigger.

Wind's in the East...

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Wind's in the east, mist comin' in

Like somethin' is brewin' and 'bout to begin.

Can't put me finger on what lies in store, 

But I feel what's to happen all happened before.

(Lyrics, Chim Chim Cher-ee by Richard M Sherman & Robert B. Sherman)

Season's changing. The hot summer bids us farewell and autumn's settling in with his cool breeze, yellow,orange and rusty hued leaves, shorter days and longer nights. We've all been here before and we know what's in store, generally. 

I mean we can predict weather cycles, but not specific storms too far in advance. Calendars remind us of upcoming holidays, but not what will take place in between. We plan our days accordingly--check the weather, the calendar dates, our to-do lists, but when it comes down to it, we never quite know exactly how the day will start or end or what might upend us. I suppose that's good, or we'd never get out of bed. 

It's been a mysterious year for me--a year when the East wind kicked up a storm--compounded family crises (good and bad) found me spinning in every direction imaginable. I've been here before--handled years like this before--nine years like this, to be exact, but who's counting? (Oh yeah, me). I thought after that first year of suffering concussive syndrome symptoms for seven months, I'd be prepared for a year like this. 

But I wasn't.  This year I'm weary. Literally at the end of myself. 

For years, (nine years) I've been feeling like I'm never enough for everyone who needs me. And I'm not. This year proved it. 

Eighteen months ago, I was diagnosed with vitamin D3 and B12 deficiency. No biggie, right? but after a year's worth of healthy eating, bi-weekly B12 shots and a myriad of natural food supplements, I felt the east wind blowing and all the physical symptoms returned. Luckily, blood work showed my vitamin levels were fine, in fact way off the charts, but I'd contracted mono. Again, no biggie. It's treatable. Been here before.

The only treatment? Rest. Lots and lots of rest. 

Hey, every adult wishes they'd be ordered to bed, right? Yeah, but what happens when you're the main caregiver for two aging mothers, an active grandmother to six grandchildren whom you love with all your heart, a small group leader and an already a hard-to-motivate writer? 

Let. It. Go. and ask for help. 

Following the doctors orders, I gave myself permission to sleep. A lot. Twelve hours a day for two weeks. Nine hours every night the third week, and so on, until my body finally regulated to a normal eight hour night. 

And, you know what's amazing? While I slept, my mothers were well cared for by others, my family was flexible and came back to visit when I was well, and my writing...well...I didn't write, but the rest helped restore my creativity. Ideas flow more easily and instead of just scheduling archived articles, it's refreshing to actually write an original thought. (Thanks for your patience). 

Best of all, I'm learning that it's okay to not be enough for everyone. God is. That sounds cliche, I'll admit. But it's true. When I thought I had to run around like crazy meeting everyone's needs on my own, God's taught me that He is ultimately in control. [He will provide for everyone's] needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:17 NIV). So much more than I can offer. 

How about you? Is the east wind blowin'? Feelin' like somethin' is brewin' 'bout to begin? How do you handle the changes that upend you? 

Taming the Busy Monster

3 Monsters
by Larry Wentzel
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...keep my Sabbath days holy, for they are a sign to remind you that I am the Lord, your God. Ezekiel 20: 19b-20

If you've joined us here from {re}fresh, welcome!

Rest. Simply stop. 

But, it's not always that easy is it? 

Society screams above God's whisper to rest and shouts "Go! Go! Go! Don't stop, keep going!" It's like we measure success by how busy we are until there's nothing more left to squeeze out of us by day's end. And the worse part? Society wants us to repeat that every. single. day. Seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, minus a week's vacation if you're lucky. Oh, and on that vacation? Don't rest. Go, go, go some more. Pack as much "busy fun" into your week to make up for the previous 51 work weeks. 

Whew! I'm exhausted just writing that paragraph. Nap, please?

So, as Christians, what's the big deal about rest? Here's a few thoughts:

Rest is ordained.  After creating the universe in six days, God ordained rest as Genesis 2:2 states:

 On the seventh day God had finished his work of creation, so he rested from all his work. 

Rest is holy. It allows us space to breathe, to listen and to worship. God knew our bodies, minds and souls needed refreshment; down time to heal and process and rejuvenate our creativity as well as worship our Creator. 

Exodus 20:11 explains it this way:

 This is why the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and set it apart as holy. 

Rest is healing. When our physical, emotional, creative and spiritual health suffers due to anemic rest, we break. And even then, when our bodies try forcing rest upon us, we fight it. We will ourselves to "get up and be better". We ignore our symptoms and forge ahead despite the still small voice that says, "rest". But, if we let him, God will use rest to heal our emotional and physical maladies. It's then, when our schedules clear and our distractions disappear that we can finally hear Him; finally allow the Holy Spirit to move in our lives.

If rest is so holy and healing, then what about work? God never said don't work. Work and creativity has always been part of God's plan for us. 

The Lord God placed man in the Garden of Eden to tend watch over it. 

Genesis 2:15 (NLT)

But, God created a day for rest and worship. Taming that Busy Monster that lurks over our shoulders or shouts above the crowd, is key:

• Build a work ethic - work hard and efficient while on the job
• Set boundaries - protect your family time, creative time, and Sabbath days
• Say "no" - to projects, ministries and outings that zap you and overstep your boundaries
• Be brave - stop feeling guilty while resting. View rest as holy, God-ordained time 

Prayer:

Father-God, thank you for thinking of everything, especially rest. While the world shouts "do more", help us to stop and rest and listen to your still, small voice that beckons us to come away with you to a quiet place. Remind us that resting in you not only brings healing and break through, but it's holy and ordained. It's through rest that we worship and commune with you and our hearts, minds and bodies are made whole again. Amen. 

Heaven's Perspective: Retreat

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.  Simon and his companions went to look for him, and when they found him, they exclaimed: “Everyone is looking for you!" Mark 1:35-37

 When life comes at you like a freight train - full speed ahead - it's all you can do to hang on tight. There's barely time to think, no warning, no preparing or packing a bag - only time to react and latch onto whatever is in front of you until the train stops.

The unexpected happens all the time - life and death - but when they couple themselves together and come one after the other, our minds can't catch up with our hearts. In every crisis, whether good or bad, there's always stuff to be done - responsibilities and loose ends to tie up - for those holding up the arms of loved ones.

And when that freight train comes to a screeching halt - even for a brief moment - we find ourselves disheveled, speechless, utterly weary and maybe even a bit numb. We feel neither joy nor sorrow because we've been so busy caring for others that we pushed our own emotions aside. All we want is solace. Quiet. Retreat.

Isn't that exactly what Jesus felt? 

(Join me at Encouragement Cafe or Crosswalk for the rest of the story, won't you?)

On Sabbath Rest and the Pope

We knew it was Sunday when…

            …the scent of bacon, eggs and coffee wafted upstairs

            …Mom awoke us by singing, “Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory!”

            …we slipped into our best clothes and spit-polished shoes

            …all roads led to church

            …we broke bread with friends between services

            …all commerce stopped

Sundays slowed us down and refocused our attention away from our busyness and onto family, friends and God. Sundays reordered our lives with the gift of time. Time to nourish our relationships and enjoy life.

For believers, we called this slowing our Sabbath—a day of rest from creating, working, and doing— as God ordered from the beginning of time:

The God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creation that he had done. Genesis 2:3 NIV

The whole Puritan movement created Blue Laws (or Sunday Laws) attempting to legislate morality by restricting certain “immoral” practices on Sundays, such as gambling, selling alcohol, etc. 

But try as they did, humanity proved (and still proves) that you can’t legislate morality. 

Recently, our local newspaper ran an article that headlined this: Pope: No-work Sundays good, not just for faithful. Pope Francis was “lamenting the abandoning of the traditionally Christian practice of not working on Sundays, saying it has a negative impact on families and friendships…He added, ‘Maybe it’s time to ask ourselves if working on Sundays is true freedom.’”

While I understand and agree that constant work hurts our relationships, I think he missed one important point: freedom comes not by adhering to the Sabbath, but by focusing our heart on our Creator. When we stop and rest we give our minds and hearts room to hear from God and move into the places he wants us to move.

God tried legislating morality and relationship with him through all the Levitical laws. It didn't work. Morality and right relationships could not be controlled by restrictions because God gifted us with free will in a sinful world. Free will + sin = law breakers. 

So why did Jesus, who was sinless, break the Sabbath law by healing a woman? (see Luke 13:14-16)

Because he knew you can’t legislate morality. 

Morality was a heart condition not a condition of forced choices. To him it was more immoral to ignore this woman’s needs and  keeping her bound by the Enemy than healing her and releasing her into whom God created her to be.

While my my childhood memories of Sabbath warm my heart I have to constantly check my motives. Am I keeping the Sabbath out of religious obligation or am I truly resting in order to worship and enjoy my Creator God? And what if part of worshiping God involves unrest—physically working to bring God’s kingdom into a needy situation?

Slowing and worship—a heartfelt refocusing away from busyness and onto God—can happen any day of the week.  And, while I sometimes long for those Blue Laws that "forced" the less hectic pace, I realize that I can’t legislate morality for the masses. I am only responsible for my own heart, my own motives and my own relationship with God, my family and my friends.

How do you feel about taking a regular Sabbath? What does it look like for you? 

Sandwiched: Soggy or Fresh?

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. 

– Matthew 11:29-10 NIV

  

The phone rings and I take a deep breath wondering who's on the other end. Is it the insurance company inquiring about our snow damage? Is it my husband asking for help at the office? Is it the nursing home or my mother needing help? Maybe it’s my child needing empathy or advice or simply my grandkids asking for a special outing?

At my weakest moments when the fatigue of caring for everyone else’s needs wreaks havoc with my emotions, I fall into my husband’s arms weeping. "Where do we turn? Who's there to care for us?"

Members of the sandwich generation are everywhere. I see them on Facebook, at the grocery store, in the doctor’s office; adult children with an aging parent on one arm and their grandchildren on the other. Our parents are living longer, thanks to better nutrition and modern medicine—three and four generations needing support simultaneously. So, just when we’re starting to enjoy our empty nests, our parents, children and grandchildren all need us. Some days caring for the older and younger generation can leave me feeling like a soggy tuna fish sandwich!

With so many people tugging at our shirtsleeves how do we keep our sanity and build healthy boundaries for our personal lives and marriage?

(Grab your cup 'o tea or coffee and join me over at Encouragement Cafe  or Crosswalk for some helpful tips).

When My Muse Won't Let Me Write

Finally, someone admitted it...no...an author admitted it..,they haven't the time for writing. Whew! And I thought I was the lonely, no-writing, wordless author standing alone in a great big room filled with word-swirling, masterpiece creators. 

I let out a great big sigh of relief when I read her confession on our shared blog. As authors, we were asked to share our everyday writing routine with the world (okay, not the world, just our readership). I did that once, two years ago, but asked to do it again? I blushed. 
Writing routine? What routine? Have you seen my Facebook posts lately? When would I have time to sit and write, let alone come up with some pithy, creative stories that inspire? 

You see, like my friend, life has pulled my bottom right off my writing chair the past fourteen months. Between caring for aging and ailing parents, grieving over loved ones passing, welcoming new grandchildren, playing with older grandchildren and tending to my home and husband, there's been little time to sit and breathe, let alone write. All these events experienced one at a time can send you spinning, but many of these events have happened either simultaneously or in direct succession. No sooner had I buried my sister, my father took ill; my father passed and my mother-in-law was admitted for physical rehab on the same day; they discharge my mother-in-law and my newest granddaughter arrived three weeks early. 

Life--all of its sensory experiences--is my muse. We learn, we celebrate, we grow, we move forward, we become who and what we are from life's events. But, when these events piggy back one another their weight multiplies and overloads our senses until the stress breaks us. It's difficult (impossible for me) to extrapolate meaning or inspiration from anything when stress rules. 

Lately, I've battled my place in the writing world; wondered if there ever really was a place or will be a place, because I've lost my way a bit. So, I sink into the worn leather couch cushion by the warm fire in my "Wicked Good" slippers and ask God what on earth he has planned. And you know what his answer is? Rest. Because out of rest comes worship. Out of worship comes creativity. 

So, I chuckle. Rest? Is it time? May I rest? Oh, please, may I rest my weary body and mind? It's been a long, long, long fourteen months of crises. The future is never certain, but for now I see nothing on the horizon. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Maybe. Just maybe I'll have time to sit and ponder life...the past, the present, the dreams...and write.

 God is my source. Worship is my rest. Life is my muse. What's yours?

Where is Heaven?

At that time Jesus said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Matthew 11:25

“Where is heaven, Grams?” she asked. 

I nearly fell, head first into my car trunk as I neatly packed the grocery sacks, fumbling for just the right words. Her question wasn’t formed from a five-year-olds natural curiosity, but rather her heart’s longing to know Mammie’s new address.

It had been six months since Mammie’s unexpected passing and I’d been expecting this question, but hearing her vocalize it made answering it exceptionally daunting.  I knew my words would matter, because they would influence her hope and faith. I feared getting it all wrong and wondered how to explain what I couldn’t fully grasp myself. What simple, truthful answer could I offer her to this question that stumps even the greatest theologians?
 
I slammed the trunk shut, the question still hung between us. I swung the empty carriage around and lifted her into the car as I searched for just the right words. I breathed a desperate prayer heavenward, wherever that was, “Lord, I need your words…NOW!”

(Fill your favorite Christmas mug and join me over at the Christian Children's Authors blog for the rest of the story...)