Redeeming the Time

It was a Monday out of the routine.

No childcare responsibilities.

No church responsibilities.

No family responsibilities.

Don't get me wrong - all of those are good things in our lives,

things we treasure and are grateful for.

But occasionally,

it's a very good thing to have a day

to ourselves.

A day set aside for nothing other than dinking around.

It is my firm belief that there is not enough dinking

happening in this world.

There is far too much busyness,

too much obligation,

responsibility,

activity,

schedule.

Once in a while, it needs to stop.

All the noise, the inner grinding of gears,

the siren call of one more person to check in with.

The computer needs to be closed,

the phones need to be silenced,

the calendar squares need to be left blank.

Blank, I say.

Because when there is 'free' time,

that's when the good stuff happens.

The really good stuff.

The this-is-me-at-the-heart-of-it-all stuff.

The let's-do-something-spontaneous-

and-see-what-happens stuff.

The take-off-your-cloak-of-ought-and-

should-and-must-and-look-at-life-without-it stuff.

Our children gave their father a gift certificate for his birthday.

His birthday was at the end of March.

The end of March.

Each week when he dropped off Lilly at our house,

our son would ask,

"Have you used that certificate yet?"

Well, no.

We hadn't.

It was overdue for redemption.

And so were we.

They gave it to him so that we could select some large pots for our living room,

pots to house the very large orchids 

my husband has been tending for a number of years.

This is what they looked like this winter - 

from just after Christmas until about a week ago:

They were stunning this year,

a daily reminder of the creative genius of our God.

And they are contained in some very ugly black plastic things.

So...some good-sized, good-looking pots.

And our kids knew just the place to look, too.

It's in Carpinteria, up against the foothills,

about 10 minutes from our home.

So Monday was the day.

And what a day it was.

Seaside Gardens is simply amazing.

Nursery supplies displayed creatively,

covered areas for pots of all colors and shapes,

and behind and around it all?

Gardens - fully planted with trees, grasses, color - 

representing a variety of different 

landscapes.

South African, Asian, native Californian,

succulent, Bioswale - all laid out for the walking,

for the looking,

for the re-charging,

for the dinking around.

And it was all free.

Yes, we found two matching pots,

in a soft green to sit quietly in our living room.

They're lovely and we're so glad to have them.

But, it was the walking,

and the looking.

The oohing and the ahing.

The did-you-see-this-one's

and the what-the-heck-is-that-one's

and the oh-my-such-glory one's --

that's where the redemption truly happened. 

Each of us could feel it.

Each of us could hear it, too.

The soft sound of the soul, opening.

Opening to the beauty,

the orderly chaos,

the flamboyance,

the brilliance of living things.

Opening to the shared creativity

of a good God and a few greatly gifted human partners.

 

It was only a couple of hours,

but it was exactly what we needed.

A blue sky,

a warm sun,

a shared space.  

We followed our time at the gardens with an early

dinner near the beach.

Sitting where the sun could warm our backs,

watching a few young ones playing in the outdoor sandbox,

eating fish tacos and sharing a milkshake. 

 Redeeming the time, indeed.

Joining with Michelle, Jen and the sisterhood, Ann, Laura and L.L tonight,

grateful for their invitation to nurture gratitude,

to have a playdate with God, to write about place,

to talk about Sunday blessings made real in the rest of the week.

Yeah, I think most of that is in here somewhere.

 

True Confessions: The TSP Book Club

 Okay, it's time for the weekly check-in.

We're reading Julia Cameron's, "The Artist's Way"

over at TweetSpeak Poetry,

under the fearless leadership of Lyla Lindquist.

If you read last week's initial response to this book,

then you already know that I am

a Rebellious Resistor

to this methodology.

Which, I am told - as I read further this week -

is actually to be expected as one tries to

free one's inner artist.

So much for originality.

 I am still resisting the Morning Pages part of this experience,

or as I referred to them last week, 'the dang pages.'

I believe I did them exactly once. 

However,

I am totally embracing the Artist's Date concept.

I think  you might even say I've gone a bit overboard

in that department.

The floral pictures in this post were taken during the second

(or was it the third?) daytime treat experience of

the week just past. They were taken at a local garden,

a wondrous place called "Seaside Gardens," 

where our kids had given their dad a gift certificate for his birthday.

Oh my, did that light my inner creative fires!

(Or course, I had to break the rules a little - 

I didn't  go alone.) 

I did, however, take myself out to eat at a favorite restaurant,

with my book in hand.

AND I squeezed in a visit to a grandson's kindergarten

play, where he played the role of:

The Big Bad Wolf

in 

The Three Piggy Opera.

(here he is rubbing his hands together gleefully while

singing, "I wanna big, fat pig to eat...")

 The scary thing for me in all this is -

I am beginning to see a pattern.

A life-long pattern.

And it's nowhere near as pretty as the one

that showed up in this Norfolk Pine at the Seaside Gardens.

No, it's not pretty. At.All.

I'm beginning to see this thread,

a twisty, unattractive thread

that weaves through a lot of my life.

And it goes like this:

First,

I get scared of something or someone 

who threatens me in some way.

Or...I get tired/frustrated/overwhelmed

by expectations - mine and/or others.

Step Two? 

I get angry inside.

Pitiful, really.

Sort of carpy, cranky, testy,

defensive, self-righteous,

judgmental.

You get the picture.

Not a lovely one, is it?

And thirdly? I try to hide what I'm feeling

or what I'm frightened about.

And you want to know how I've done that for most of my life?

By eating too much.

By covering myself in layers of insulation.

By hiding all the fear and all the anger

beneath a protective covering. 

(Did you notice that I went out to eat for my Artist's Date?

And that my grandson was singing about eating??

I jest...but only a little.) 

I've had some success in the last year or two with 

shedding pieces of that covering.

But I gotta say,

this book is bringing out the worst in me.

How childish is that??

I mean, really.

What have I got to be angry or defensive about?

She asked us to make a list of favorite things we like to do

and then to write down when we did them last.

And almost all of them I've done in the last week,

3 or 4 of them as I was making the list!

And my 'Life Pie,' which one of our chapters this week 

asked us to draw?

Aside from confirming the fact 

that I cannot draw a pie to save my life,
my six areas are in pretty decent balance.

And the list of 10 small changes we'd like to make

in our lives?

Perhaps this says it all:

Item number 10 on my list?

"I would like to wring Julia's neck."

I wish I could report that I'm making great progress,

leaps and bounds kind of progress,

in letting go of this resistance.

But as you can see,

I'm not leaping and bounding anywhere,

except perhaps straight into the Slough of Despond.

One tiny ray of light, of hope this week?

I did enjoy writing down 5 childhood characteristics

that I like about myself.

I share this with you very hesitantly, however,

 as it probably tells you more about me

than I really want you to know.

But here they are:

1. Inquisitive

2. Bossy 

(bossy? who puts bossy on their list?)

3. Responsible

4. Lighthearted

5. A voracious reader 

Truly, dear reader, do you think there is any hope for me?

Joining once again with the gang over at Tweetspeak, hoping they will not give up on me just yet.
You can check out the other posts in this collection by going here:

Again and Again - Soaking in the Beauty with People We Love

A Photo Essay

featuring

Kauai, Hawaii 

We went there first in 1980. And we left our kids at home for the first time ever. They were 8, 10 and 12 and my parents came and stayed in our home, schlepping them hither and yon for two and a half weeks while we flew across the Pacific to check out the 50th state.

That time we went with another couple, island-hopping to get the lay of the land. But we knew from the very first touchdown on that northernmost and oldest of the islands that we would be back in that place, kids in tow, just as soon as we could possibly make it happen.

And two years later, we did it. All 5 of us sharing a 1-bedroom condo, air mattresses on the floor, mosquitoes buzzing, frogs chirruping by the thousands. 

And we loved it.

Every single inch of it. 

It's hard to say enough about all that we love in that place.

 From the 150 year old wood frame or volcanic stone churches...

...to the thrilling drop-off above the Napali coastline,

as viewed from the overlook...

 ...to the waterfalls and colorful striations of the Little Grand Canyon on the road up to the overlook...

...to the windswept Tunnels Beach with it's conical-hat Bali Hai in the distance...

 ...to the richness of local taro fields lining the sides of the Hanalei River...

...to the sweeping panorama of the beach at Kalihiwai Bay, whether a sunny day...

 ...or a cloudy one - complete with rainbow.

  Of course, I would have to tell you about that solitary lighthouse across from the bird refuge...

 ...and certainly, the lure of the jungle-rich roadway driving north...until there is no more road to drive.

 One consistent siren call is most assuredly the sounds of local bird-life. The distinct cooing of Hawaiian doves,

the worried call of the bright red or grey and red cardinals,

 and - of course - the early morning cri de couer of hundreds and hundreds of these guys, wandering wherever they please,

thank you very much.

I would have to include the singular beauty of entire groves of palm trees, swaying in the breeze.

And of course, one of my deepest loves:

the wide variety of beautiful flowers, colorful and fragrant.

 Anthurium, pink and red.

 Every shape, size and color of orchid.

It's not called the Garden Isle for nothin'.

Wonderful wildflowers, too. 

 Red ginger, and sometimes pink.

My personal favorite - and the first thing I buy at the local Farmer's Market - is the white, heavily scented tuberose.

And these wild bird-flowers are fun, too.

Golden shower trees abound - and of course - the state flower can be found everywhere, in every shade of pink, purple, orange, yellow, white and red. 

The glorious-for-one-day hibiscus.

 But as breathtakingly beautiful as it is,

as warm and welcoming as we find it every time we come,

as lovely and relaxing and refreshing as our time there always is - 

it is the people we share it with

 that make this place memorable.

Setting aside time, money and commitment for vacationing 

is a very high value for us as a family.

In fact, after commitment to growing in discipleship,

loving one another well,

learning our whole lives long -

I would have to say that re-creating is among our top four family values.

My husband and I began our married life by traveling halfway around the world together - to serve, to explore,

to grow together as our own family unit.

And every year since then, we have saved for, 

planned for and enjoyed time away from the regular routine.

We seek beauty,

learning about new places,

meeting new people,

and enjoying one another 

in a setting that is removed from the demands of daily living.

So we've been back to Kauai 

(or to Maui, our 2nd favorite) 

about 15 times in the last 30 years.

And some of our richest family memories are 

part and parcel of that small northernmost island,

the one with all the greenery and all the family lore.

Each of our parents invited their children and grandchildren to Kauai in celebration of their 50th wedding anniversaries.

We're making plans to do the same in 3 years time, when our own comes around.

We took each of our children's spouses with us on family trips to this place - two of them before they were officially members of the family.

And four years ago, we planned an extra-special trip, 

one that became even more so in retrospect.

Our middle daughter and her family of 5 rented a house in Princeville for a month.

Dick and I rented a house on the edge of Kalihiwai Bay for the same time period.

We were 10 minutes apart by car and each of us entertained parts of our extended families over the course of those four weeks.

My mom and my youngest brother came for one week and stayed with us. Within two years, he was dead and she was blind, frail and losing her memory.

The treasure of this time together 

is something I carry with me just about every day. 

 My husband's mom and his incredible sister, whose marriage of 38 years had just ended, came and stayed for a different week. 

Today, four years later, 

Mom is on hospice care; 

Dick's sister is preparing for a very different life 

once her mother is gone, most likely moving across the country to be nearer her daughter for half of each year.

Life just keeps on changing, you know?

And the gift of time away together?

It cannot be measured.

Since our initial visit 32 years ago, the islands have changed, too. Some of that change is welcome (like a wonderful Costco near the airport); some of it not so much (like increasing development and numbers of people) - but the essentials of the place remain the same.

It is beautiful.

It is marked by a much slower rhythm of living.

It is far enough away to feel removed 

from the lure of life on the mainland,

but not so far away as to feel isolated.

I cannot possibly put into words how deeply grateful 

I am to have spent time in this grace-filled space. 

I think it's about as close to Eden 

as I'm ever going to get this side of heaven - 

and I KNOW God lives there year 'round.

Joining in the Community Writing Project for The High Calling, put together by Charity Singleton and edited by Deidra Riggs, two of the finest women on the planet.

You can read other vacation stories at Charity's place:

http://charitysingleton.blogspot.com/2012/05/community-writing-project-summer.html#more