A New Year, A New Day, and An Invitation for YOU

It's been quite a year.

Filled with beauty and wonder,

sadness and loss.

And through it all,

I've been meeting with friends in this space

to process, reflect, celebrate, remember.

But today marks a time of beginning,

turning a page on the past.

So I'd like to invite you to follow me

over to a brand new home,

one that looks a little different from this one,

but not terribly unfamiliar.

It's a truly lovely place,

and if all goes well,

subscribers should just come right along with me.

If you haven't subscribed yet,

there is space to do so where we're headed,

so, please . . .

come on over and share a cup of tea, okay?

I look forward to welcoming you there!

I've even got a button, all my own - 

thanks to the talents of Lyla Lindquist, 

whose technical skill and eye for detail 

made this move possible in the first place.

Try it . . . I know you'll like it!!

Beginning Again - 2009 - Archive-Diving

This post marked my re-entry into the blogging world after a break and I want to salvage it to remind myself to be careful with what I share here.

For anyone who might possibly be reading this blog, you have probably noted that there is a long gap between entries at one point - from June of 2007 until early January of this year. There's a reason for that, and that reason is deeply entwined with the very nature of public blogging sites.

I learned, in a very painful way, that whatever I write in this space needs to be as free from reference to other people as possible, even when those others have a dynamic impact on my own life. I learned this particular lesson the hard way by unintentionally causing pain to people I care about a great deal, so I am trying to be much more circumspect with what I write, keeping things as personal and ego-centric as possible, mentioning others only rather peripherally and with great care.

That's hard for me. Because writing has become my primary means of processing a whole lot of what happens in my life.

With words, I can wrestle and muse and ponder and rage.

With words, I can sing and shout and praise.

With words, I can think more clearly, find answers more readily, be more comfortable with the times that answers don't come.

With words, I can more easily locate the center - of a problem or a puzzle or an indescribable joy. Words.

But I also love pictures, photos, actually.

Taking them, studying them, pondering them as I remember where I've been and where I'm going. Last December, I very tentatively began to open this site again. At that time, I tried to post some newly shot photos, taken at the beach that has become my refuge, my home-away-from-home, my centering place, my reminder that the universe is an immense place, that my worries and fears - overwhelming as they are at times - are so tiny in the grand scale of God's creative genius and love.

But it had been a long time since posting anything and I forgot how to get those photos into the essays - in fact was stunned to see them show up as computer geek language rather than actual pictures, at least on the draft page. But now, some two months later, I've finally figured out that that strange language on one page of the blog magically transforms into pictures on the actual site - who knew??

So, I'll try and post those beachside photos from last fall here, toward the end of winter, as I joyfully and gratefully approach the beginning of longer light each day. Hooray for daylight savings time! (A couple of these have appeared in posts between the first attempt at this one and today's second attempt.)

This is where I most often park my car - to be quiet for a few minutes or to eat my lunch or to read or...

It's at Butterfly Beach, 5 minutes straight down the hill from our home, across the street from the stately and beautiful old Biltmore Hotel. This view is looking south and to the east. (That's right, we have south-facing beaches on our funny peninsula here in Santa Barbara.)

This view is still looking south, but more directly to the west - where, as the two photos below will attest, you can actually see a sunset during the winter months.

Looking in the same general direction as the daytime photo above.

Close-up of a beautifully striped sky.

Spirit-Led Parenting - A Guest Post

One of the great joys of blogging the last two years has been the discovery of a rich community life out here in cyberspace. Megan Tietz and Laura Oyer are two of the many women it has been my privilege to come to 'know,' courtesy of the internet. I read a review of their parenting book early this year and was really impressed. So, I ordered four copies! There were four expectant couples in our church community at that time and I could  think of no better gift than an 'instruction' book that basically said - listen to your baby and to your own heart and toss out all the 'shoulds.'  They're entering round two of the required (and important) PR work for their fine book and I am delighted and honored to host this essay from Laura as they make the rounds of about a dozen blogs in the next few days. I encourage you to interact with Laura here, to think about the questions she asks, and to reflect on your own parenting experiences (if you have children) or about parenting you've observed (if you don't have kids). Just opening the door and saying,  "Hey, I'm not sure about this...what have YOU tried?" can be a tremendously freeing experience. So, go for it!

Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.  2 Corinthians 3:17

I’ll begin with an honest admission:  I like rules.  I share in the opening chapter of our book that my nightmare assignments in school days were those with an open structure.  Options?  No, thank you.  I prefer guidelines and no-fail directions toward certain success. 

I expected the rules I’d heard for parenting a new baby to lead to that neat-and-tidy success found by so many.  Instead, they didn’t work for me or my baby, and I lived for a time in terror over the implications of what that failure would mean.

As Megan shared yesterday at O My Family, one of the bonds that deepened our friendship and led us to write this book was that we both entered parenthood bound as slaves to fear.  Our purpose in sharing our tear-stained stories is to encourage others navigating life with an infant, inviting them to the pursuit of another way. 

There is an approach to parenting that looks fear in the face and boldly speaks an answer:  Freedom.  Freedom from required formulas, unrealistic expectations of our children and ourselves, and the belief that we must force our babies to fit into a mold that may not have been designed for them.  

– Spirit-Led Parenting, page 42

When we live in fear, we resist the freedom that serves as a banner proclaiming the presence of the Spirit.  Yet Megan and I each found that in spite of our resistance, God beckoned us through the heartache of frustration and failure and offered us an approach to caring for our babies that we desperately wish we had known from the very beginning.  He was calling us into freedom.

• Freedom to follow His lead first and foremost in our parenting.

• Freedom to trust in the example of God’s Father heart, Christ’s call to servanthood, and the Spirit’s constant presence as we care for our babies.

• Freedom to extend grace to those who parent differently, knowing that our Lord leads us individually, according to His flawless will and timing, to answers perfectly suited to our families.

• Freedom to fail - understanding that perfect parenthood is unattainable, believing that God’s redemptive grace covers our missteps, and seeing our insufficiency as opportunity for our surrender and His refinement.

It was a rocky road, learning to live out what He offered.  But as we began to let go, we gained something unexpected:  a deepening perspective on the glorious, mysterious paradox of dying to self and gaining abundant life.  As two control-loving, perfection-seeking new mothers each woke from a fear-driven haze, we discovered that the cost of our new freedom in parenthood was not at all what we’d expected. 

Where once we believed we would find spoiled children and splintered marriages in the wake of our decisions to turn from the loud-and-popular advice, we found instead our own expectations and desires bowed low.  Where we once held fast to the notion that the “right” methods of baby-care would bring success, we learned that releasing our expectations gave us the freedom to truly follow the Spirit’s lead in every area of our lives.

It’s an approach that welcomes an often messy journey.  One that comes with sacrifice, as is always the case when we pursue a life of serving God and others.  It may mean less predictability and more time.  It may bring the uncomfortable realization that you are parenting off the beaten path, if that path where He has led some is not where He is leading you.  It may mean laying down that precious sense of control. 

But what if as that first year of babyhood winds down and a toddler stands where your baby once lay, what if you looked in the mirror and realized that the one who has grown by leaps and bounds in the past year is you?  What if you could see that in most every situation you encounter, your first response is no longer selfish retreat, but rather selfless embrace?

Would it make you smile with humble gratitude to recognize that in each moment you chose to approach your baby with a heart filled by the Spirit, you were able to more closely relate to and identify with your Lord Jesus Christ than you ever had before?  If you found, for perhaps the first time, that you were truly free in Him? 

– Spirit-Led Parenting, page 54

Living and parenting in freedom is a daily – and often difficult – choice.  We have heard from countless new parents through the years at different points in the journey, and believe that safe and honest discussions can encourage one another along the way.  Will you share your thoughts here today? 

What aspects of parenting in freedom appeal most to you, and which do/did you find most uncomfortable or hardest to embrace?  How has God used your role as a parent for your own spiritual growth, or how do you suspect He may want to do so?

We are deeply honored to share in this space today, and look forward to hearing from you! Find us tomorrow with a post at Narrow Paths to Higher Places

Spirit-Led Parenting is the first release from authors Megan Tietz and Laura Oyer. Megan writes about faith, family and natural living at SortaCrunchy and lives in Oklahoma City with her husband and two daughters. Laura blogs her reflections on the real and ridiculous things of life at In The Backyard, and makes her home in Indiana with her husband, daughter, and son.

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 24

Yesterday was an amazing day.
Startling, sometimes confusing,
interesting and humbling.
In the middle of this 31-day blogging craziness,
I put up this small post to tell you about an essay 
I wrote over at A Deeper Church.
In that brief post, I also urged you to 
read my friend Emily's post in which 
she asked some questions about the very
topic I was speaking about right next door to her.
The comment thread, especially on her essay,
was pretty overwhelming.

But here is what I feel about it,
late this night,
after spending about 14 of the last 36 hours 
in the car, driving up and down this
magnificently beautiful state of ours:

I feel profoundly grateful.
And humble.
I would happily wash Emily's feet,
and I believe she would do the same for me.
And that? THAT is a beautiful thing.

I slept last night in a retreat center in Burlingame, CA,
run by the Sisters of Mercy.
Our meeting room there contained about a dozen
magnificent prints by a Japanese artist from the 20th century
named Sadao Watanabe.
I tried to take photos of them all,
but a few of them showed too much reflection from
the hideous (why oh why??) florescent lighting.
These two, however, are perfect.

Two different interpretations 

of the same seminal event

in the life and ministry of our Lord, 

     our Savior, 

          our Christ.

Jesus - the Son of God,

the Creator of the universe,

the only fully Human Being who ever walked

the dusty roads of this globe -

washing the feet of his disciples.

And then telling us to do the same for one another. 

THIS is who we are, dear friends. 

We are the ones who follow Jesus.

We are the ones who share in the bread and cup.

And we are the ones who wash one another's feet.
Whether we agree with one another on every doctrine or not.
Whether we work at home or outside the home.
Whether we homeschool our kids or send them to school
Whether we even like each other or not! 

We are the ones who wash each other's feet.

And that - 
     because Jesus did it,
          because Jesus 
               continues to do it through each of us - 

that is BEAUTY. 

Humbly joining with Michelle, Jen, Jennifer, Ann, Duane, and OF COURSE, Emily:

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 6

We went to a wedding today.

Being there required driving a long way,

climbing a mountain,

arriving in time to rest a bit

before the ceremony started,

being told the room would not be ready for at least 90 minutes,

sitting in the lobby with all our bags and hangers,

and then making a wonderful discovery:

We had been upgraded to a suite. 

With TWO balconies.

And this is what we saw when we stood out there:

You know, we could have just stayed in our room

and enjoyed the view. 

But we didn't.

We got dressed,

we went to the lovely service.

And then, while everyone else

ate appetizers and had a few drinks on the lawn,

in the freezing* cold,

we invited Dick's 90-year-old cousin

and the pastor's wife to come back to 

our suite 

and rest a bit before dinner. 

I uploaded pictures I'd taken

and listened in

as Dick brought out some old photos

and diaries he had brought,

in hopes that this very cousin would be here.

Can I just tell you how fun it was

to listen to them talk?

She is sharp as a tack,

has great vision,

and was able to identify a lot of mystery faces

in our old photos.

She thoroughly enjoyed the diary excerpts,

adding her own memories into the mix.

Harriet is very short,

very talkative,

and one of the kindest people I've ever met in my life.

I don't imagine that very many people in her life have

ever told her she is beautiful.

But I'm here to tell you,

she was beautiful to us tonight.

She carries around with her

history.

Our history.

And stories of faith and commitment,

a vibrant testimony of God's goodness over time. 

I think maybe I want to be her when I grow up.

Only trouble is,

I'll have to figure out a way to shrink

about a foot!

*Please bear in mind that I am a native Californian who has NEVER lived in a true winter climate. I'm guessing it was in the low 60's. And in evening wear, without a wrap, that is freezing to us. Sorry. I know how wimpy that is. Nevertheless, it is fact, hard fact.

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 5

I saw dolphins today.*

It's been a while since I've seen them.

I think they've been holding out on me,

to tell you the truth. 

I don't quite know why,

but dolphins speak to me of God.

They are graceful,

sleek,

thoroughly at home in their element,

playful,

communal,

intelligent, and

beautiful.

And seeing them always makes

my heart beat a little bit faster,

my breath draw in,

my eyes slow down to

find them in the water.

Today they were feeding.
A long school of fish trailed
just behind the buoy markers
as a friend and I ate lunch. 

And two pair of dolphin
wove their way in and around
fish, 
seaweed, 
buoys,
lifting my heart
at the sight of them. 

Sometimes I am surprised
by how much 
a single glimpse
of something like
dolphins
can 
make my day. 

I only wish I'd had my camera.


*I spent way too much time today trying to track down a single photo of dolphins. I am SURE I have several - but could I find even ONE? No.

So, please use your imagination.
Sometimes that's almost better, you know?

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 4

I walk in the evenings.

I walk in circles,

eighty-five paces to be exact,

eighty-five paces around my driveway,

round and round I go.

I count in decades,

and reverse every ten,

until I get to thirty-six,

which equals one mile

and a half.

I walk fast most of the time,

fast enough so as not

to be able to sing.

But every ten rounds,

I slow it down for two.

I am old, you see.

And I got scary sick a couple of  years ago.

I realized that to be well,

to be remotely close to well,

I needed to M-O-V-E.

So walking each day became

my place of commitment

to health.

And I began, very early on,

to connect one kind of health

with another. 

My circle-walking became my

primary time of prayer

each day.

I walk out the door,

and I say,

"So Lord, whose face will you

bring to mind today?

How can I join with you in 

the work of the kingdom tonight?"

And I say, "Thank you."

Over and over again.

Thanks for the beauty of this place,

this home,

this town,

this part of the world.

These people I love,

this work I do,

this health I enjoy.

The green of the trees,

the pink light glinting on the 

foothills,

the setting sun and the shadows

it creates. 

And I breathe in the beauty.

I even force myself, from time to time,

to give thanks for these flowers.

These flowers that I do not like.

We have sixteen large bushes of these,

all down the fence at the side

and across the front of

our property.

Planted long ago by a previous

owner, I endure them. 

When their whiteness glistens in

the sunlight,

I say thank you.

But it is always a hedged thanks.

A constrained,

reluctant

gratitude.

These flowers are poisonous you see.

Every bit of this bush is poison

to human creatures.

Scratches fester,

eyes itch,

and if you eat one?

An immediate trip the ER.

Somehow that knowledge makes

these beautiful things

far less beautiful to me. 

And that is a good reminder,

especially as I jump into this

31-day-thing of celebrating beauty. 

Not all that is beautiful is good for me.

And I need grace, wisdom, 

and courage

to sort it out,

to be wise. 

Because wisdom is beautiful too, don't you think?