Mixed Metaphors: July 20 - 26

The Lord has done great things for us and we are filled with joy. 
Ps. 126:3 

Ocean surf paws the beach, sidling closer for half a day, then slowly backing off, leaving shell shards and seaweed in colorful stripes along the sand. A wave mounts, crests, foams, crashes. The sea exhales it toward shore, then breathes it back in again. For a moment, the whole sea is calm, barely rippling. Then another swell of water arrives, gathering speed and nearing its boundary, curled up in revolt against the last wave, weak in its retreat.

It seems a living thing. Never wearying. Always working. Balancing the lounging tourists who vacation at its banks to escape their relentless lives. Saying, with each breath, “I don’t rest. I’m on duty here. You can count on me. Day and night I'll be crawling in and sliding back out. You go ahead and relax.” 

The sound of the ocean, the white noise that fills the ears like a conch shell, drowns out the nagging voices of real life. Worries are exchanged for sunglasses and stress for a swimsuit and when you’re smeared thick with sunscreen and the sand grits your scalp, you can match your breathing to the long sighs of the sea and let the calm creep over you like a high tide.

Of course, it’s not quite as easy as that. You can vacate without vacationing. Stress from the office and the endless paperwork of life and the drama of relationships can follow you across a whole state, right to the very edge of the continent. There’s still a meal to make or a diaper to change. We still do some laundry and check email. Even on vacation, we still have to do life. For me, the vacation always feels frantic at first, like it’s hunting me down, each day being swallowed up too fast. I obsess about misspending my time, leaving in my wake a calendar row of empty boxes, days misused. It takes a few days of vacation before relaxation glows on me like tanned skin. 

Our vacation this week, though, did eventually glow. After the antsy start, I settled into a restful rhythm: waking early to Henry’s morning chatter, coffee and breakfast, long days on the beach, sandy feet and salty hair, walks in the moonlight, fudge and Twizzlers and ice cream bars, shopping for new toys, wandering on beach trails around the lighthouse. We rested, refreshed our minds and bodies, let the sea do its soothing work. 

We know it’s only temporary. We will return to our ordinary lives and resume the things that the week allowed us to escape. We’ll go back to work, pay the bills, buy groceries and mow the lawn. To some degree, the rest we find on the beach ends when we pack up and drive back toward home. In other ways, though, it can linger. We can carry home the slower pace, the appreciation of small moments, the attention to the people we’re with, the quiet that fills up the soul after the crash of the sea fades over the dunes. 

I spent a lot of time this week thinking about my ideal vacation. I’d like for perfection to be as easy as staying in a bigger house or dining out every night or visiting a less populated beach. But it comes down to an absence of sin and selfishness, something even the best vacation cannot provide. So a week at the beach – or in the mountains or wherever you prefer – won’t really meet the need for real rest. But it does show us what ultimate rest looks like: leaving worries behind, squirming as close as we can get to something – Someone – who never rests, never takes a break, never stops His work. Listening to one tiny shoreline of God’s greatness, trying in vain to fathom the whole of it, letting the loudness of it breathe a surprising kind of peace into the heart that is usually too busy talking to itself to hear anything else. That’s a vacation. And that doesn't require a beach tag. 

Grateful this week for:

dolphin fins
sand between toes
sandy shady nature trail
moon shadows on sand
being the first ones on the beach
boats on the horizon
knee deep water
freckles
fudge
Ticket to Ride on the back deck
shops siding'd with wood shingles
calm surf
bayside beach
finding a lost hat
fresh toenail polish
goodreads
crossword puzzles
one fresh lemon
ceiling fan

Stress: July 13 - 19

Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever. As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people both now and forevermore. 
Ps. 125:1-2

Stress always rises from the unhappy meeting of limited time and lack of control. When there's no deadline, stress cannot thrive. When the whole thing is completely in my hands, stress has nowhere to land. But when a task or duty is limited by time (the due date of the bill, or the day the milk runs out and you need more) or by the control you can't seem to gain (nobody answering at the 1-800 number, though you call and call), stress multiplies.

This week, stress kernels popped like popcorn, starting small but filling up the days till they overflowed. Pete volunteered for VBS this week, so dinner had to be early every night and I had to manage Henry's bedtime routine myself, an hour of the day I'm always grateful to share with Pete. Work was hectic with some overhaul of our marketing materials, shuffling of classrooms and furniture and books, meetings, the usual enrollment and billing paperwork, and records management, plus one whole morning when we didn't have internet and so were unusually hampered in our ability to actually get work done. I had a busy weekend to think about, and preparations to make for our upcoming vacation. I couldn't catch up on enough sleep and I lacked the energy to get ahead on my to do list.

As I thought about the things that were stressing me out, it became very clear that time was the common denominator. I didn't have time to complete all these tasks. Things were spiraling out of control because days were rolling by without sufficient items accomplished. If I weren't hurtling toward the last day of my life (which, truthfully, we all are), if there were no boundaries into which life needed to squeeze, I wouldn't feel stress. Instead, I'm trying wildly to snatch pieces of day back, to hold onto a few moments and make them useful before they're gone. At the same time, I feel myself seeking a plateau, a resting rock along the path that's firm and secure and doesn't require anything of me. I want to take a nice deep breath. I'm waiting for life to get easy.

But it doesn't. And that's not meant to sound fatalistic. It's just that life doesn't work that way. Christ gives us grace for each moment, strength for each small task, peace in every wait. He removes the need to hurry, the sense that it's urgent. He gives something better than a short break. He offers a perpetual rest, a current of calm that can backdrop my day even when the demands of life don't slow down. He's not limited by time. As this week ended, I took comfort in that. These seven days, which elevated my blood pressure and spouted grey hairs, did not bother the Lord. He had these days written in His book long before they arrived on my calendar.

Time's a funny thing. We watch days roll in one at a time, like marbles down a chute, piling in a heap at the bottom. But really they're all lined up already, all organized, all arranged for the best possible outcome. Anxiety comes from the illusion that I can do something about their arrangement. Which brings to mind a quote from The Fellowship of the Ring, a scene in which Gandalf is encouraging Frodo who's quite distressed by the situation he's in. "That is not for them to decide," he says, referring to those who live through difficult times. "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." Most of life is out of my control. And time is always a hindrance. So the choice is mine daily: allow stress and worry to claw their way in, or choose the perpetual peace?

A Wedding Week: July 6 - 12

We have escaped like a bird from the fowler’s snare; the snare has been broken and we have escaped.
Ps. 124:7
(This is my favorite verse from one of my favorite psalms. I hope you'll read the whole thing!)

I coordinated a wedding for some friends yesterday. So in this week that was consumed with wedding prep, my thoughts were naturally along the vein of what marriage means and what a wedding day represents. Here are a few fragments of those thoughts.

First, we don't outgrow our need for help. My little son doesn't say words yet, but his requests for help are nonetheless obvious and immediate and I'm accustomed to responding to them. He wants milk or blueberries, he wants a toy that he can't reach, he wants to be up on a chair, he wants a closed door opened or an open door closed. He makes these desires known and I'm constantly saying, "Just a minute, Henry, and I'll help you." I'm perpetually on-call to help this little boy. The assistance I give daily to my toddler is practice for the help needed by every person I encounter. Some help is spontaneous, some is planned. In the case of organizing and executing a wedding ceremony and reception, the help is definitely planned. I had the unusual privilege, for a wedding coordinator, of being colleagues with the best man, the sound tech and emcee, and one of the bridesmaids. We all work the same summer schedule, so the first hour or so of every workday this week was devoted to wedding conversation as we helped our friends iron out the details of their day. Without intending to sound boastful, I can confidently say that without the help of this small band of people, the bride and groom would have found the day confusing and stressful. With our help, though, I watched them enjoy the day and feel at ease in the knowledge that all the details, big and small, were in capable hands.

Second, no bride and no groom are ever ready for marriage. I thought back to my own wedding day a lot this week and remember it with fondness. It was a beautiful, happy day and a joyful beginning. But the woman I was then, the man my husband was... that couple was a pair of mere saplings. Since then we have weathered winters, flourished in summertimes, and changed in autumns. We could not have guessed the way our days would unfold and the ways we'd need each other in the years since then. Sharing a life is far more difficult than any wedding-day couple knows. My prayers for this couple - and all couples that I watch taking wedding vows - are for humility, abundant kindness, and a heart ready to sacrifice. That's what marriage takes.

Third, the day of a wedding, when your friends and relatives are all in one place and all celebrating YOU, represents a scaffolding that will be there to support you for the rest of your lives. You will probably never again see all of these people in the same room. But notice their faces. Remember their names. Keep that seating chart handy and when you need help, these are the people you can call. These people made pies for your reception, picked flowers for your bouquets, cleaned up the sanctuary while you went to the park for photos, designed your wedding program, and collected tulle and Christmas lights from reception hall while you were honeymoon-bound. They love you. They care about your marriage. When things fall apart - which they always do, one way or another - these are the people who will help you put the pieces back together.

When the bubbles all pop at the end of a wedding day, when the honeymoon ends and you're in your first apartment together making dinner and looking at a stack of bills and making hard decisions, you might feel alone. You might want that wedding day coordinating team back. But the truth is that every marriage - even the best ones - need help. Marriages change and mature and grow. And you have a big backup team that is cheering for you. Don't try to do it alone.

Grateful this week for: 
wineberries
watching Henry's hands holding legos
nail polish
having two vehicles
an orderly list
pickles
quiet mornings
porch swing
the moment when the bride finally walked down the aisle

MidWeek Mini: Goals

One week into July, I think it's fair to say that summer's nearing its apex. We're a week away from being halfway through summer vacation. Though I love the easy breezy carefree summertime life of a school employee, I also like the chance to take advantage of extra time to accomplish some tasks that seem overwhelming when the school year is in full swing.

So I'm giving you a chance to keep me accountable for the last six weeks of summer by setting some concrete goals.

1. Organize my filing cabinet

2. Clean all the windows in the house

3. Make grape and/or gooseberry jelly

4. Give my wardrobe another purging

5. Finish Les Miserables

6. Go to the county courthouse and get all the historical background on our house

7. Check out mint.com for organizing our budget

What do you think? Am I crazy? Maybe. But concrete items help me feel like I'm making the most of my time. If you're motivated by lists like I am, join me and post a goal or two of your own!

Halfway: June 29 - July 5

As the eyes of slaves look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maid look to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he shows us his mercy. 
Ps. 123:2

The first six months of 2015 have marched past. When I asked Pete how I should reflect on this farewell to half a year, he said, "Well, half the year is still to come." And indeed he's right. As much time as we've drained from the year so far, the same amount also remains. The glass is half-full, still six months of year left to drink.

The reason I started this blog originally, some 26 weeks ago, was to chronicle our year and mark time in weekly stretches, creating pit stops along the trail. Since then I've begun to have a slightly more outward focus. Having gained more readership than I might have guessed (thanks, guys), I've tried to be a little broader in my discussions, rather than the Dear Diary approach. Still, I see value in a mundane update every now and then. In the spirit of cataloging a week that straddles both halves of the year, here's what life brought us this week:

I made no-churn blackberry chocolate chip ice cream. No ice-cream maker required! It was easy to make and though the texture is pretty hard (now that it's completely frozen, I have to slice out servings with a knife), it's delicious. I have lots of ideas for more flavors!

We didn't win the free roof. It was more disappointing for both of us than we'd expected. We know it was disappointing for all of you too, who shared our excitement about potentially winning. It might not be obvious right away, but we are confident that winning the roof would have been ultimately worse for us than losing. Perhaps, in winning, our marriage would have suffered, or our faith would have been weakened, or our pride would have swelled. And perhaps in our current search for an affordable roof to buy, we will encounter people or situations that will strengthen our faith or the faith of others, will give opportunities to show Christ's love, or will break down our confidence in ourselves. Besides, Pete says, there are more losers than winners in the whole course of history, and we like to be on the side of the majority.

Pete and his brother put up the new ceiling in the den. Finally, I can sit in the den watching Roku or reading without being afraid that rats will scamper out of the gaping holes in the ceiling and onto my lap. It's an enormous improvement and the room is fast becoming my favorite place in the house.

I made pickles. Amazingly, though I'd never done any canning on my own before, they were pretty good!

We celebrated more than 20 years of family reunions with the extended Dowdy family. It is truly a sweet gift to be part of this family. These are just some of the cousins, the fourth (or fifth, if you count the original parents) generation of Dowdys. Though none of us bear the name (the four Dowdy sisters all married and passed along married names to us), we share a common heritage of faith that binds us more tightly than any shared last name could.

I started reading Les Miserables. It's been on my list since seeing the film version of the musical a few years ago, and this week I took the plunge. I'm almost 100 pages in (it's over 1200 pages) and it's fantastic. I actually just ordered myself a copy of my own so I don't have to worry about library fines. And so I can underline passages I like. This will be a long literary journey and I'm excited about it.

Now, I'm taking a deep breath before diving into the second half of 2015. It's starting with a flurry of busyness for the next few weeks and I'm bracing myself for it. Coping strategies will include: easy dinner plans, no pressure on myself to keep the house clean, and brief times of intentional rest. How do you combat a busy week? What's the calm in your storm?