the soul – everything He gives

fifteen years

May 24, 2021 MarthaKimball6 Comments

Weekend before last we stole away for a few days to our favorite little cabin high in the mountains for our fifteenth anniversary. We have come back to this spot together for a few anniversaries because it is quaint, quiet, and offers a sacred space for retreat, celebration, reflection, reconnection, and recreation. Brandon makes time and space to go fly fishing maybe once a year usually only when we come here, fishing all through the beautiful Watauga River valley. I make space to read, write, hike and knit. We always miss our kids intensely and want to bring them with us, but at the same time we recognize the value of time away alone together (thank you mom and dad for taking such good care of them!). In some of the photos below you’ll see pictured a park where Brandon fished for a bit and I took pictures to show the kids, planning to take them there for a day trip sometime this summer. Brandon spoiled me with a new robe and a ring made of wood + crystal. The 15th anniversary year is traditionally celebrated by either crystal or a watch, thus the crystal in the ring. I gifted him a new gadgety watch which he really liked.

This last year for us was the most challenging we’ve ever faced and this anniversary thus felt like a huge milestone. While I cannot speak to where we were this time last year, I can only say it is no longer where we are. The storm of what we have gone through is rumbling off on the horizon behind us now, still very much so in view, and we are still very much so drenched through from the downpour. But the ferocity of the worst of it seems to have passed over us now and we are moving on into a different place. We have been completely laid low and humbled, and one thing my therapist said early on in counseling has stuck with me continually all these months: help them to know, Lord, that they are weak. Help them to know they are dependent. Yes, I do believe more than anything else that is something we have learned: we are weak, we are daily dependent on Him. What we “knew” before, we now know in an experiential way. He is the God of the storm, the wind and the waves answer to Him, they rise and fall at His command, they cease at His mere whisper. Whether we like it or not, whether we will ever fully understand it, the storm serves His purpose and all praise to His glorious name He is sovereign over every bit of it, kindly and mercifully able to work all things for our good and His glory.

Now we walk gingerly, picking our way through, finding our footing again.

(Can you spot the fly fisherman in the first two photos below? Can you spot the knitter’s riverside knitting spot in the third picture below)

Baby birds nested on the porch of our cabin!
Profile View
View from Calloway Peak

We did a fair bit of hiking to find fishing spots, and Brandon did many more hours of fishing than we have in the past, and it was really fun. My request was to explore hiking the ridge line of Grandfather’s Mountain, which I have only hiked around on from the state park access (which is pricey to enter and also usually busy with tourists). We found a trailhead for the Profile Trail and hiked that on our last morning after checking out from the cabin. A quick overview of the hike said it was 7 miles or so and would take 4-5 hours. What an incredible hike! The change in ecosystems while hiking is in itself quite remarkable, and there are many beautiful stopping points along the way. Toward the top is the lookout for Profile View, but we hiked on to Calloway Peak, which is accessed toward the end by ladders a bit precariously placed on rocky crags. It was truly stunning and otherworldly up there and I for sure want to hike it again. While the hike up was a good workout, I was concerned the whole time about the hike down. I have pretty bad knees which often easily dislocate and also I recently sprained my left ankle badly and after several weeks it is still quite swollen, tender and painful. The hike down was as brutal as I expected but my body did better hold up. It did cost me a couple big toenails but hey.. still worth it.

I can’t help but think about the parallels. You can’t enjoy a view like that without all the work and commitment it takes to get there. It’s dang hard work, costly. Painful. But for the few who will endure and surrender to the process, there is a reward at the end. We spent five hours hiking, for only a few moments of an absolutely breathtaking view and a quick bite of lunch. Many wouldn’t consider it worthwhile, but I assure you it is. We have traveled a lot of trails together in our marriage, both literal and figurative. Some I wish had never come to us. Yet here, by the grace of God, we are. Held fast by Him and spurred onward toward Him and through Him. He is everything to us. That is the fruit of 15 years of marriage.

yarn along

February 23, 2021 MarthaKimball2 Comments

Since last week, I have finally cast on Wren’s birthday bunny sweater. The yoke has a sweet bunny motif and I think she will love it. Now any time she sees me knitting on something she asks if it’s for her. She was thrilled when she heard this project finally was for her (though she hasn’t quite figured out the design on it yet and I do hope to keep it a surprise). I have about a week to finish it and hope I can make it. The yoke is knitting slowly because it’s fingering weight yarn, and the pattern isn’t intuitive for me and needs constant checking. Once I’m past the yoke I hope it flies and I’m able to finish it in time. It is really nice to work on though, giving me lots of spring feels. All other projects are on hold until this one is done.

I’m nearly done with Lila and am reading it in the evenings. In my morning reading time I’ve been reading Delighting in the Law of the Lord, which has been so very rich and good thus far. I bought it a few years ago and never have gotten around to reading it, and now the time is right. I appreciate Barrs as an author and it has been good to read something theological again. Though I’m coming to this book with my own personal wrestlings, it is remarkable how much it is speaking to our times and the philosophy/worldview of our age and is bringing clarity for me on a lot of what is going on in the world and culture around us. I highly recommend it! It is theological without being heady, and is engaging and readable.

What might you be reading and making this week?

joy in january

February 4, 2020 MarthaKimball2 Comments

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And then the last of January comes, and with it our first blanket of snow for the winter. We throw our usual morning work to the side and bundle up in layer upon layer for this special and rare occurrence in North Carolina. When the snow comes, you might as well get out and enjoy it because by day’s end it will likely be gone.

So the first month of the year stretches long and quiet, maybe even a bit dull — but it ends in joy.

JOY… maybe my word for this new year, and not because I’m feeling it but precisely because I’m not. Last year was shadowed over with a lot of heartache and sorrow, things I cannot share here because it involves other people, stories that haven’t finished playing out yet. But I’ve spent too much time in that sorrow and maybe it’s time to put away the effect of other people’s brokenness and broken choices and move on into joy. I don’t want to miss the beauty and joy that is here even now. I have been given so much, blessed beyond measure, and I choose to see and focus on that.

Only God is able to turn our mourning into dancing. And He is sufficiently able!

He sends the snow from His storehouse and it covers all this old familiar territory with sparkling clean white and just like that, everything is new again. And we are dancing in the freshness of it, reminded of a great God who washes us white as snow.

“Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD; though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.”
Isaiah 1:18

re-membered

November 21, 2019November 21, 2019 MarthaKimball1 Comment

Sometimes we need to get alone, to be quiet, to remember that in the wide world we are at our very core a human before God. It has been a long time since I have had more than a few hours alone. It was three or four years ago now that I began this little tradition of taking time away in November. The bleak month that sits between the wild blaze of October and before the busy hustle of Christmas, it is a quieter month where the gentle woods in our mountains seem to open up and I feel like I can breathe.

The first time I did this a few years ago, I was in a world of pain over Phoebe’s diagnosis with an autoimmune disease and her very rough battle initially to find healing. I was more exhausted than even I realized, and when I drove that lonely drive a few hours away to a cabin in the high country I felt like I could have cried and cried for days on end. Instead, I couldn’t find the tears, the well of pain so deep. Forest fires were raging in our area then, we were desperate for rain, the air outside was foggy and acrid with smoke. I felt like it mirrored my soul. Parched, burning, in agony. When I arrived that first time in the dark of night, scared and sort of regretting this decision to traipse off alone, the cabin was warmed, a light was on, the table was set with beautiful handmade pottery and simple candles. I heard the Lord’s whisper: “A place has been set for you. A table has been prepared for you. Come, sit. Eat.” Immediately I knew this was something essential for my soul, whatever the cost and however difficult it was to justify the extravagance of a couple of days away from home. It was a very healing time in His presence. The next couple of times I have gone, it was been with a baby in tow, which is still good but definitely not the same kind of rest.

This time it felt foreign again to be truly alone. In college while teaching Outdoor Education, we understood and practiced regular times of solo. Almost every outdoor trip included a period of solo. A solo experience for me is always both painful and blissful. It is quiet and meditative and I can hear myself think. There is room for listening, for reflection, for long periods of being. But there is also the resistance to being alone, the scramble to fill the space with noise and company for comfort. (Yet also in my college days I didn’t realize how much time each day I had alone and in quiet. I naturally preserved a portion of the day for that because it was easy to do so, whereas now it is nearly impossible.)

Every time I go to this little cabin, I fear that this time won’t be as good, this time the Lord’s presence will not be with me, or that I won’t hear Him speak to me. Yet every time, He is so faithful. I brim with tears as I think on it. He always, always meets me with His word. Lavishes me with His love. I went with open hands, feeling exhaustion and pain over other battles in life I am fighting. Feeling the weight of my sin.

Yet always, He knits me back together. He re-members me in these sacred days alone. I am intentionally very quiet before Him, savoring the sounds of wind in pine and bare branch. I spend time hiking and sitting in the wilderness alone. I spend time reading, resting, knitting, praying. I fast from care-taking for others every waking moment, and it is hard to reprogram and let the roles of wife and mother fall away briefly so that I can remember: I am His and He is Mine. This must be first and foremost, He must be first and foremost so that I can be of any use or good in those other roles.

I find that when I am still and quiet and have space to rest, what rises to the surface of my soul and what pours out surprises me. He renews me and strengthens me by His Word and by His presence with me. I re-member some of who I am that gets lost and buried in the busyness of my current season. I am able to refocus. I am able to be a human before God. I receive His love. I remember the tHe

I came home on Sunday around lunch time and was ready to dive back into the work He has for me. I can’t believe how refreshed and cheerful I feel to do so, filled with thanks. How light the burden feels now that once felt so heavy. The difference? Rest. Perspective.

I pray that you, too, are able to carve out some space to be alone with God, to intentionally pursue spiritual retreat and also just the activities that make you feel human. I believe there are ways to be creative to make this happen, even in our most pinched seasons. It feels like a waste, an extravagance, a selfishness even. But every time the fruit borne of it reminds me that it is none of those things.

God loves you. God is for you. God is with you. O tidings of comfort and joy!

“Gladden the soul of your servant, for to you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
For you, O Lord, are good and forgiving,
and great is your love toward all who call upon you.”

Teach me your way, O Lord,
and I will walk in your truth;
knit my hear to you that I may
fear your Name.”
Psalm 86: 4-5, 11

(A huge thanks is due to Brandon who fights hard for me to take this time away, is always in full support of it, argues with me to go when I try to bail, and mans the fort with ease while I’m gone. He is my biggest champion and support, and that is a grace undeserved!)

another school year begins

August 30, 2019August 30, 2019 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

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I have been trying to get this post up for two weeks now but we have been busy getting our “school legs” back under us again, and also I’ve not been feeling well with full-body hives all over since Tuesday morning of this week (honestly made me feel really strange). So, here I am with a post at long last, and a good long one for you today, too!

We are wrapping up our second week of school today, and it has been good to back in this rhythm, finding our way once again through what always feels a bit like new and unfamiliar territory. This is our fourth year homeschooling. Phoebe is in 3rd grade, Noah is is 1st. I’m not doing any formal schooling with Philippa or Wren, although Philippa is participating for the first time in our weekly co-op (Classical Conversations) in her own class so she is getting some instruction here and there. However, there’s no real pressure or expectation on her yet. She’s only 4 years old and I’ve always erred on starting my children later than earlier, longing to give them as long of a childhood as possible to explore and wonder without busying up their day with book work. Philippa can join in and do whatever work she finds interesting but when she tires of it she happily trots off with Wren. I see a new little bond forming between the two younger girls as they begin to have longer morning stretches playing together while the older two are engaged in work.

Every year this endeavor becomes both more comfortable and more daunting. Children grow and change, their needs, weaknesses, and strengths fluctuate and we keep a close eye on where help is most needed. While I gain more understanding of my little learners and myself as a teacher, there are always new wrenches thrown into our best laid plans and the home dynamic changes as the littles grow and interrupt in different ways. I understand now why older more seasoned homeschool mommas told me at the outset 4 years ago that I would need to be prepared to be more tired than I ever imagined. I can feel that now and we aren’t still that far along. Truly, this is such a monumental task. Teaching to multiple ages, keeping a close eye on their progress, adjusting as needed, juggling the work of being both their mother and teacher–it truly is far harder than I imagined. I am learning so much about myself, and also my understanding of “education” is really shifting and morphing, coming from a traditional public school background. I studied Outdoor Education in college, which falls under the umbrella of experiential education. I fell in love with that major because I found it to be so effective, teaching and learning experientially. I am thankful for that background which helps just ever so slightly as we find our way along this arduous journey. I never imagined giving so much of my life and mental energy to this work, but I do truly love it, even despite the many days and moments where I feel totally overwhelmed and under qualified. I don’t know where this journey will lead us, but I feel confident we are in the right place.

And so we embark on another year. Even as a child, I loved the beginning of a new school year, the fresh supplies, the excitement about growing older and discovering new things. I try to fill our children’s hearts with that same eagerness, purchasing some fresh supplies, filling our morning basket with new books, showing each of them what they’ll be tackling this year and asking them what they hope to learn as well. I love dreaming up a few field trips or ways to bring learning to life. I love surprising and delighting them.

Occasionally I get questions about what curriculums we use and I always hesitate to answer because I guess I feel inadequate in a lot of ways and it feels vulnerable to open our little humble home school to others opinions. I also feel like there’s a lot of temptation for us mommas to compare ourselves to one another and measure ourselves against one another, which is never the goal. However, if those specifics can be helpful to someone, then I’m happy to share. I’m still learning and fumbling my way through this in so many ways, and nothing is done perfectly. We have many frustrating moments, and there are tears and arguments had by all. Such is the nature of being together 100% of our time.

I have always used The Well-Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer as the backbone for our curriculum choices. We have also always done one day a week with our classical community (Classical Conversations) which takes a bit of pressure off as they provide basically everything except language arts and math. I love the emphasis on memory work through music and am always amazed at my children’s capacity to memorize huge amounts of information. They always astound me! This year I am beginning to do more Ambleside Online readings as I’ve always been drawn to move fully in that direction. Charlotte Mason’s philosophy has resonated with more than any other approach I’ve encountered. Some other books that have been instrumental in shaping our home school have been For the Children’s Sake by Susan Schaeffer MacAulay, Mother Culture by Karen Andreola, Charlotte Mason Companion by Karen Andreola, The Brave Learner by Julie Bogart, Teaching From Rest by Sarah Mackenzie, The Hidden Art of Homemaking by Edith Schaeffer, Mere Motherhood by Cindy Rollins, and Home Education by Charlotte Mason. There are many I’m forgetting, I’m sure, but these have been so helpful and memorable.

Last year was such a challenge with our mornings being interrupted with a baby who needed mid-morning nursing and nap time and who was frequently up in the night, leaving me very groggy and slow to get up in the mornings. It felt like we weren’t getting into a good groove until 10 am. This year I am enforcing a stricter schedule for our morning and it’s been making a huge difference. I am getting up far earlier to ensure that I have time to enjoy coffee, the scriptures and some knitting before our day begins. Phoebe begins promptly at 8 am with math, which is her most challenging subject and it is her preference to tackle it first rather than dread it. (My aim this year is to recapture her wonder and love for math, if at all possible.) By about 8:30 am Noah begins and I bounce around between them both doing hand writing, copywork, grammar, spelling, reading, and math until about 10am. Then we break for snack and morning time — scripture reading, hymn singing, catechism memory work, poetry, ambleside readings, or whatever else strikes our fancy. Then we get back to work wrapping up whatever we can until 11:30 am. If the weather allows we head out for a walk. By noonish we are having lunch, some read aloud time, naps, and then everyone has a quiet time from about 1-3pm. This break allows them to read or play, while the little girls sleep. During this time I usually catch up on housework, workout, rest/knit, or work on this blog! If we still have work in the afternoon (usually history, science, nature journaling, or art), we will finish that up between 3-4pm. Then they are free for the remainder of the day and usually encouraged to spend the rest of the afternoon outside. As the warm days give way to cooler temps they will enjoy being outside for longer stretches. Of course we still do some read-aloud or game time in the evenings before bed and we finish our day off with scripture and prayer once again. I try to allow for at least one day a week that we do lighter work in order to be able to get out for a fun outing or hike. I’m also trying to fit in a few more extracurriculars, like music lessons and sports. Anyway, that’s a loose picture of what we are attempting this year and so far it is working more smoothly.

I finally named our school this year after deliberating over it for, well, the past few years. A name that we will carry with us throughout the years feels important and shaping somehow. So, I have named it Scattered Beams Academy after a very favorite quote of mine from Jonathan Edwards:

“The enjoyment of God is the only happiness with which our souls can be satisfied. To go to heaven, fully to enjoy God, is infinitely better than the most pleasant accommodations here. Fathers and mothers, husbands, wives, or children, or the company of earthly friends are but shadows; but God is the substance. These are but scattered beams, but God is the sun. These are but streams. But God is the ocean.”

And these words by Matt Papa in his book Love and Live reflecting on this quote:

“The creation is ‘scattered beams’–God’s artwork, full of glory and dignity. But Christianity is not secularism–we do not run to the world. We don’t feast upon the world for its own sake, because these are just ‘scattered beams.’ They are not the sun, and thereby they are unable to bear the full weight of our worship and interest. To be a Christian means we don’t from the world, and we don’t look to the world. To be a Christian means we look through the world. Idolatry looks at the world in amazement. Worship, true worship, looks through it in amazement. To its source. To the One who is infinitely more amazing. More interesting. These things God has made–these shadows, these scattered beams, these shallow streams–are good. And God is better.”

Romans 1:20 tells us that God has revealed his invisible nature and eternal qualities in everything that He has made, so we can look at every subject as a scattered beam that points us back up to the source, the brilliant Sun which we cannot gaze on directly but by which all things are visible, beautiful, enriched, alive. Every creature and every subject of study has value and finds its place in the kingdom of God, revealing His nature, His beauty, His order, His brilliance, His delight, His creativity. I could go on. 😉 It is our aim to see everything through that lens and find Him in everything. (Hello, name of my blog..)

So that’s a little bit about us, four years in. To everyone else who is beginning a new year, whether homeschool or public, private or some combo in between, may we do that work before us (of shepherding our child’s hearts and minds) with diligence, with curiosity, with fresh eyes and faith, with joy and dependence on the one who breathes the energy and ingenuity into our sails daily. And to the students, which is hopefully all of us in one degree or another, let us keep an open learning mind! Know that I’m cheering you on from here, dear ones!

words on the wind

June 4, 2019 MarthaKimball2 Comments

On Friday evening, Brandon took the older kids to a baseball game to see our local team play. The tickets were complimentary and fireworks were happening after the game so of course everyone wanted to go. I stayed home with Wren since the game would be starting at her bedtime, far too late to keep the little bird out. (I tried to convince Brandon to take my camera and get some photos but no such luck. Sorry!) After everyone left she and I went out for a long walk and I savored the freedom of walking one little baby strapped snuggly in a stroller. Able to go my pace and distance, we walked to a neighborhood close by that has a lovely, quiet little lake. It has been unseasonably hot and dry here for a couple of weeks, but this night as we were walking the wind picked up and it was cool and blustery. We went all around the lake and the streets up above it while the wind blew wild around us. I felt myself unwinding in the quiet, able to think, able to listen. It sounds odd to say, but as I thought about the people who lived in these homes and how nice it must be to live on the edge of a lake, I felt that someone there must be a writer. I could feel the words on the wind. I used to think of myself as a writer, writing words in journals (and poetry sometimes too) since my earliest years, writing and writing and writing. Yet in this season of motherhood, it all feels so muddled. Even as I type these words little ones interrupt and pull on me. There are almost no times of day without those constant needs and interruptions except for evenings, when I feel totally fried and weary. I don’t journal anymore, really. My most tidy record of these days is this blog, and it is fairly intermittent lately, too. The writing I used to do is more absent from this space. I’ve been missing it, feeling like maybe I had it all wrong and I’m not a writer at all. What kind of writer goes so long without really writing? I mourn the loss, I think maybe its too late anyway. And as I was walking along the edge of the lake, wind blowing wild through my hair, I could feel the words on the wind, flying just over my head, if only I could reach up and grab them with my fingers, but they flew by, just out of reach. Maybe I only imagined it.

With the close of May, and the close of another school year, my mind clears a bit. There is still the tying up of loose ends from this last year, testing to be scheduled, and the planning and researching that already must begin for our next year. I can’t ever really turn that off, but I hope if I get some of it done early in the summer that my mind can rest. In the space in my brain that opens up after our homeschool year ends I find myself thinking about and returning to creativity. I think I will stoke those flames a bit this summer.

June begins. I find myself standing outside our little stand-alone garage with the peeling white paint, spraying water over bare dirt. This side of the garage faces our neighbors home and borders our yard and theirs, and I imagine they wonder what on earth I am doing on this neglected side of our garage watering dirt. I feel a little silly. I defensively want to them them that I’ve planted sunflower seeds here and I can just see them waving tall in August heat, brightening up this little drab side of the building. I’m full of hope that my daily watering will bring something beautiful out of this barren dirt. I can see it just there, in my mind’s eye, and so I stand here and do this work though I look a fool.

I hope to show you those sunflowers one day, the fruit of toiling over scraggly dirt and neglected corners. For now, photos of our garden.

eastertide

April 30, 2019 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

If there’s anything Easter teaches us, it’s this: there can be sorrow and still there can be joy. There can be life borne from death. What a victory! In fact, the greatest joy I have tasted came out of death. First, His death. Then the resurrection. If there’s anything Easter teaches us, it’s that we can be adrift on the waves of pain and loss while also rejoicing in that unshakeable Hope. There is a future coming for us that will far surpass our imagination. Indeed, there is a weight of glory. I was struck by these words on Easter:

“It still feels like Saturday to me – the loss of a best friend’s youngest son this year, Rachel still in a coma, the Sri Lankan bombings this morning, other sadnesses of this year, and the weight of the world’s longing still feels as present in our sanctuaries as the fulfillment of those longings. Maybe even more so. I’ve cried off and on all morning, unable to rouse my usual celebrations or rituals… As we sang a hymn together at the end, I was struck by the line, ‘Break the bread of new creation where the world is still in pain.’ In the brooding longings of our Saturday world, we feed each other, we pray, we remind each other of all that is beautiful, true, and good; we feast, we ‘drink the wine of resurrection, not as a servant but a friend.’ Perhaps that is what Easter can be today for us, too – bread and wine, hope and each other, even when the world is still in pain.” (Sarah Bessey)

There were bombings in Sri Lanka and the loud headlines. There was my own broken heart. There was the unexpectedly cold Easter weather, the children with coughs and runny noses. There was a broken family held together and holding together in the midst of it by this Savior who takes the failures and the doubters, the deniers and the deserters, and restores them. Resurrects them. Sometimes I can hardly believe its true.

This Easter we surprised the children with little Easter baskets in the morning with a new naturally-dyed hair bow for each of the girls, a new hat for Noah, a small simple journal and some new coloring supplies for each. We worshiped together with our church family, came home for a very cold Easter egg hunt, naps, and then dinner and another Easter egg hunt at my parents house nearby with my brother and his family. I hope I didn’t bore you with my millions of photos of a bonneted baby looking a bit like mother hubbard shuffling around in her linen dress. Every first is so fun with a baby.

I hope it was a blessed Easter for you, and that you were able to catch a glimpse of the Risen one and the glory once again that awaits us, too.

hello, again

April 16, 2019 MarthaKimball1 Comment

hello, dear old friends. 🙂

I’m so sorry for my unannounced absence in this space. I haven’t posted in a bit over a month, the longest this blog has ever been silent I do believe. As I shared on my instagram account, there have been some personal things going on that have been difficult and discouraging, and I haven’t felt much like myself.

I also wanted to step away from social media for a few weeks, at least the producing of content side of it, and see what it did for my soul. I guess I’ve needed to sift why I keep this blog, what my hopes and intentions are. As a busy mother, it is hard to justify what feels like the extravagant wastefulness of keeping a blog, knitting, reading, editing pictures, etc. etc. I often hear from other mother friends “I don’t know how you have time to x y z..” and maybe in part because of the other personal hardships we’ve been facing these last number of weeks, I wasn’t sure that I did in fact have time for it. My home is seemingly always in varying states of disarray, there’s always work I must neglect in order to pursue creative endeavors. I often feel guilty because of that. I wondered if I’ve said everything I’ve needed to say, if I’ve begun to just take the same photos again and again.

Anyway, I can’t go into it all now because I only have a few minutes to write here today. What I can say is that I thought it would be harder to go without sharing and posting much. It wasn’t actually very hard at all. In fact, it felt surprisingly good to be silent and private. What I didn’t anticipate was how much I would miss taking photos and keeping a record of our daily moments. I did keep up with taking pictures here and there, but I was mostly just still and quiet. It made me sad, and that surprised me. Keeping the blog somehow helps me stay present and awake to my own life. It helps me pay attention and keep a record. It brings focus and a bit of purpose. It forces me to process, in a way. I don’t know all of the reasons why I feel compelled to keep on, and I don’t know that I will forever, but for now, I’m back and it feels good.

I’ve missed you, too, reader, and hope you know that I do so enjoy connecting with you and hearing from you.

So while my soul was feeling the very heavy weight of grieving some losses, winter gave way to spring in our little part of the world. I noticed it more intently this year than I have ever before in my life. Every day I have walked around our home, looking for the bulbs we planted last fall to sprout and bloom. They have! I can’t quite express the ministry it is to the soul to watch green things come out of the ground, but I know many of you know just what I mean. I’ve also planted new things in the soil. During the last few weeks I’ve had some time convalescing and haven’t been able to do my usual physical labor, so Brandon faithfully prepped the garden soil, tilling in our compost from the last year, while I sat near him knitting in the sun. We’re making better walkways between rows this year in a hope to minimize weeding. We’ve planted strawberry plants and more asparagus, even as daily there are shoots of asparagus popping up from what we planted last year. We’ve planted lettuce, spinach, swiss chard, edible flowers, beets and sunflowers all from seed and are hopeful that we will see them sprouting soon. It has been so lovely spending time each day out in the sunshine, enjoying the cool mornings and warm afternoons before it is unbearably hot and buggy.

The kids and I are all feeling the itch to wrap up our school year. Our homeschool co-op finished up this week, and we have about 5 weeks of curriculum to finish up before we break for summer. We’ve done some fun simple field trips, like visiting the Biltmore House (local to us historic home) to see the horses and animals and gardens. We have a field trip to a museum later this week and hopefully a couple little getaways are in our near future as well.

I hope that spring has come your way, too, and that you are experiencing the ministry of new green things, sunshine, honeysuckle and lilac on the breeze, buzzing bees. Sending much love to you today. ❤

reorienting

February 22, 2019 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

When life crowds in and all the pain and hurt breaks our heart, sometimes we need to escape. I don’t know what it is about the wide open spaces, the heights, the familiar trails, the quiet of the wilderness and the piercing fresh air, but it truly does wonders. We are facing some hard things personally and I asked Brandon last weekend if we could spend the day Saturday out hiking somewhere. I didn’t have the energy to think about where to go, and somehow he knew just to quietly drive me to one of my favorite areas, Black Balsam and the Shining Rock Wilderness area. We speak few words to each other, I knit on the drive, snap photos while hiking. Mostly we just enjoy the respite from our every day landscape. I think about place, and why familiar places can minister so much to our souls, all the memories sewn into the landscape. I have been coming to these trails since my childhood, but mainly since my high school days when I first fell in love with backpacking. I have come to these trails many times to be with God, to be in the wide open silence, the whipping wind, the other-wordly play of light and cloud. Now we bring our children along as we go, feet tracing routes we know like the lines on our hands. We hike most of the day, five miles in all I think, in which their little feet kept up with our pace with barely a complaint. We get back to the car around 3 in the afternoon and eat lunch all piled in the hatch of the van, wet and muddy, tired but refreshed. Souls reinvigorated. I am so thankful for this little tribe of mine, the way we explore and sojourn together. These children are so precious to me and I’m so proud of them. I pray they learn to endure when the way is foggy and unclear, when the weather turns from sunshine to storm.

The mountains feel a bit like they’re moving under our feet and we find ourselves reaching out for that which is immovable and certain. I can never express how profoundly grateful I am for the scriptures, for the God of the scriptures who is THERE, who speaks, who is unchanging and wholly Other while being intimately close, and for His word which is sure and will endure forever.

I turn to these old words from a treasured commentary by Walter Brueggemann called The Land: Place as Gift, Promise, and Challenge in Biblical Faith:

“Land is a central, if not the central theme of biblical faith…There are no meanings apart from roots. And such rootage is a primary concern of Israel and a central promise of God to his people. This sense of place is a primary concern of this God who refused a house and sojourned with his people (2 Sam. 7:5-6) and of the crucified one who had ‘nowhere to lay his head’ (Luke 9:58).

A sense of place is to be sharply distinguished from a sense of space as has been stressed by some scholars. ‘Space’ means an arena of freedom, without coercion or accountability, free of pressures and void of authority. Space may be imaged as weekend, holiday, avocation, and is characterized by a kind of neutrality or emptiness waiting to be filled by our choosing. Such a concern appeals to a desire to get out from under meaningless routine and subjection. But ‘place’ is a very different matter. Place is space that has historical meanings, where some things have happened that are now remembered and that provide continuity and identity across generations. Place is space in which important words have been spoken that have established identity, defined vocation, and envisioned destiny. Place is space in which vows have been exchanged, promises have been made, and demands have been issued. Place is indeed a protest against the uncompromising pursuit of space. It is a declaration that our humanness cannot be found in escape, detachment, absence of commitment, and undefined freedom.

Whereas pursuit of space may be a flight from history, a yearning for a place is a decision to enter history with an identifiable people in an identifiable pilgrimage. Humanness, as biblical faith promises it, will be found in belonging to and referring to the locus in which the peculiar historicity of a community has been expressed and to which recourse is made for purposes of orientation, assurance, and empowerment. The land for which Israel yearns and which it remembers is never unclaimed space but is always a place with Yahweh, a place well filled with memories of life with him and promise from him and vows to him.”

Yes, maybe that’s it. When all is spinning, we need to return to places that remind us of who we are, where we are going, what is sure and unchanging. Maybe returning to those places is what helps to reorient us to the God of the place, and the promise of His presence with us in all our sojourning.

yarn along

February 19, 2019 MarthaKimballLeave a comment

This beautiful book arrived in my mailbox yesterday and I began the first chapter last night. Christie Purifoy’s first book, Roots + Sky, was such a gift and came to me at just the right season in my life when we were in the early stages of looking to buy our first home, dreaming of a place to put down roots. Since then I’ve followed her on instagram (and more recently her podcast called Out of the Ordinary), enjoying the beauty she shares with the world. In Placemaker, Christie discusses what it means to co-create with God in the work specifically of cultivating beauty. I am always drawn to the theme of beauty–and I’m not talking about skin-deep beauty, but the breathtaking beauty of an arctic landscape, or the neat tidy stacks of laundry, or even the unlikely beauty of a somewhat disheveled home full to the brim with life and laughter. I’m also drawn to the theme of ‘home’ and the way our hearts long for it, hunger and search after it, and why that is. So I am eager to see what Christie has to share with us about these things. I am thrilled to be able to read her words again and to share this book with you! Yes, I will have a copy to giveaway to one of you readers very soon. 🙂

I’ve been working this week to wrap up a few smaller knitted projects, and in between I’ve been knitting on my cosmic remix shawl which feels like it’s knitting itself. It’s just quietly and unobtrusively coming together and I can’t wait to wrap up in it once it’s done. The yarn is so airy and soft. What are you reading and/or making lately?

Joining with Nicole’s weekly Crafting On.
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