One of my dearest friends from college is due to have her fourth baby in a few weeks. We were hoping to have a chance to throw a little baby shower for her, but, well, with nine kids between the three of us, it was hard to work it out logistically. The best thing of all is just gathering for a mini getaway/catch-up since it is so much harder to keep in touch over the distance these days. So, the three of us (my two best girlfriends and I) met up this past weekend late Sunday evening. We drove to Max Patch, which is a good midway meeting point for us, hiked up to the grassy bald in the dark, carrying a cold dinner to share and a camp stove so we could brew some coffee. We bundled in our sleeping bags and talked under the stars cupping steaming mugs. By nearly midnight, we packed up and headed back to our homes, crawling back into bed at nearly 2 am. But these gatherings are the best. They are life-giving, better than a full night’s sleep. Worth 3 hrs of driving (roundtrip). This is the last baby my friend will have, these are the last days her tummy will be swollen like a full moon, and it felt right to commemorate this somehow. In the past months I’ve slowly knitted her baby a little wooly sleep sack, in neutral colors with wooden buttons, as well as a little newborn “pilot cap.” Both patterns were an absolute delight to knit and I’m so excited to snuggle this last little man-cub in his woolens. I remember when this friend of mine had her first baby, and how strange to think we are all nearing the end of our child-birthing years. Truly, they are hard years, but somehow the most glorious, too.
Not much time for reading this week but definitely have a hard time putting this one down in the evenings when I do have a minute or two. Crossing the Waters is a beautiful, insightful read. Basically the notes and reflections of an Alaskan fisherwoman as she contemplates the Gospels through the lens of her experience living life on the waters. It feels like a modern day retelling of the Gospel stories which brings them to life again in an achingly winsome way.
I’ve been knitting these 70 yard mitts for my sister-in-law, per her request. She picked out the yarn color and pattern and they are super fast to knit and its always lovely to work with Madelinetosh yarn!
Linking up with Ginny’s weekly yarn along today.
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I have been blogging less because I have been writing less. My life has been busier, my time feels squeezed straight out, and so my heart and soul have been busier too. I don’t do well with this. It isn’t how I was made to operate. I do well with a lot of silence, a lot of hearing the wind’s gentle whisper in the tops of the pines. I do well with long stretches of study, reading, journaling. I do well with sufficient sleep. I do well when I have “filled the well,” so to speak, and the words tumble out of the overflow.
This season is gloriously full. This season has days that begin at 6 am with one daughter’s voice in the baby monitor saying, “That’s mine, Bee-bee!” It has days that begin with missed alarms, beds that have been wet again. Bills that are past due. Phone calls that must be made, laundry that piles, schooling that must be attended to. This season is a string of flight from one activity to the next, keeping the plate in the air that is just about to crash. Most days now I feel dizzy.
I wasn’t made to do this kind of thing well. It is a stretch for me, a place of deep dependency on a good and all-knowing Father to give me the strength and energy to keep from drowning. My soul gets buried in the heap and pile of duty and need and serving. It’s both okay and not okay. It’s life. I wouldn’t trade away these kids for a well-watered soul any day, but I send longing eyes to the heavens sometimes, like a wife to her lover.
There are all these words.
There is all this pain.
There is so much fear.
There is such deep joy.
How can it all coexist here, in this frail flesh and blood? It’s as much a mystery to me as the commingling of Holy Spirit with my common man, bound up somehow in my person. What a strong God to constrain Himself, to bend low like this to me.
But the words are buried and the emotions need time to sift and process and simmer. They feel far away, on some distant shore while I’m carried away on the current. And I mourn. I fear that maybe this fruitlessness means that nothing is happening internally. I wonder if I am valuable to God only when I am producing. I fear that maybe my voice will just fall silent.
I don’t know how to find my way back to my own heart, to the shape of my own soul. But I have learned: trace the old roads, the familiar paths. Go back to the simplest of truths and the ways that have found me before. Put aside needless distractions. Remember the rock from which you are hewn. Walk trails from a different season. Return to books that knew me and opened me before. Be content with the haunting quiet. Be content with simply being held and loved. Allow myself to accept the fact that He loves me simply because I am His, not because of what I have to offer Him. Settle deep into His words. Experience Him here, in barren lands. Remember: seeds germinate in darkness.
So I snap moments and I know they are important but I don’t know why. I know there is an undercurrent below the surface. I find things that remind me of who I am: Walking the trail I used to walk in my college days, back when my soul was near full to bursting with words from God, words from theological books, words words words, filling up so much silence. Climbing an old forgotten favorite trail with my two best girlfriends late at night in the gathering dark, sitting under stars cupping steaming mugs and sharing hearts in a small circle of light. These scattered seeds, these heavy moments, weighty, full, quiet, their meaning and importance somehow deep, surely there, but out of my reach.
And this poem by Malcolm Guite, poet + priest, opened up something in my soul this weekend. Something in me sings with it. Tears brim. Call nothing common. Accept it all for good. And so I am here, singing from this place, exactly where I am.
Singing Bowl
Begin the song exactly where you are
Remain within the world of which you’re made
Call nothing common in the earth or air
Accept it all and let it be for good
Start with the very breath you breathe in now
This moment’s past, this rhythm in your blood
And listen to it
Ringing
Soft and light
Stay with the music
Words will come in time
Slow down your breathing
Keep it deep and slow
Become an open singing bowl
Whose chime is richness rising out of emptiness
And timelessness resounding into time
And when the heart is full of quietness
Begin the song exactly where you are.
Ha! I haven’t posted since last week’s yarn along. It was a super busy week, followed by a weekend away visiting Brandon’s parents in South Carolina, and then back to busy with school and catching up on house things. The weekend away afforded me some extra knitting time, so I cast on a new project, a Leksak tunic for Philippa. I’m using up some old yarn in my stash that is something probably cheapy that I bought before I knew how to knit (used it for a weaving), but it feels like wool/dk weight. It’s knitting up quickly.
Also, I’m eager to dive into Crossing the Waters by Leslie Leyland Fields. I read her book Surviving the Island of Grace about her early life as a salmon fisherwoman on Kodiak Island in Alaska and thoroughly enjoyed immersing myself in Alaska life. This book looks promising! She lends her knowledge and life experience as a fisherwoman as she looks at the biblical accounts of the disciples and their many experiences with Jesus on the water.
I’m linking up with Ginny’s weekly yarn along today, a little wednesday community that shares what we’re currently reading and knitting.
We did a little walk last week in our neighborhood, which is a regular occurrence for us. I called it a nature walk, so Phoebe brought her nature journal and crayons, and we set out to look for things that were interesting, new, and to take note of what is happening in the woods around us during the month of September. We found a massive spider web (can you see it in the picture above with the building behind it?) which she sat down to draw, while the little ones played bubbles with me, then we all headed to the nearby playground. It was the first time it felt like one of our “fall” walks, and my heart skipped a beat. I live for fall in the mountains of NC. Something in my sort of wakes up, and I would say I am most inspired by fall and winter. The mornings feel just a little bit cooler, there is the first hint of that distinctive smell, the first scuttle of leaves across the pavement. We hear acorns constantly dropping on the metal roof of our neighbors house. I plan to be outside pretty much every day, since the mosquitoes will finally leave us alone.
I finished knitting my first sweater for my nephew and am sending that off this week, and planning knits for each of the kids for their birthdays. I hope to make each a sweater, but Brandon tells me I’m probably being too ambitious.
School so far has been going really well. Phoebe seems to drag her feet in phonics, though I think it’s because the book I’m using to teach her is mostly geared toward auditory learners, and she seems to be more hands-on. She loves math and asks to do it constantly, mostly because of the math manipulatives I think. She is so incredibly bright and quick to memorize and I’m finding that doing school together gives us just some mother/daughter time that we both are enjoying so much.
Our ordinary days together at home are so full of learning opportunities. We cook together, talk about odd or exciting things we see out in the world. We observe the changing seasons, we talk about heart matters as we live alongside one another and sometimes treat each other harshly. We read scripture and recite memory work. After nap time a few days ago the three children wanted snack on the porch and I stood at the doorway and watched them all squished together on one side of their picnic table, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they could be more spread out. But there they were, all squished on one bench, munching and giggling and playing. It was a happy moment and made me so thankful for this chance to home educate and have Phoebe here with us. The younger two would really miss her.
A few days ago Phoebe turned to me at dinner and asked, “Why don’t we ever give our food to the poor and needy?” I was taken aback by her question, quite happily, and we talked about it for a few minutes. She was thinking, then she bent her head and folded her hands spontaneously and prayed “Dear Lord, thank you for this lovely dinner. And we pray for all the needs, and the poor and the hungry that you would give them food. And we pray for all the mean and the selfish an the bullies, that you would help them and that you would take them away and that we wouldn’t have to see them again. In Jesus’ name, amen!” My heart was melted (even as I fought laughter over her requests for all of the “mean and selfish.” Thank the Lord He is more merciful than we are.) Needless to say, we are cooking a meal this week together to drop off of at a local homeless shelter. “And a little child shall lead them,” right? 😉
I don’t have particularly spectacular things to say about all of these random odds and ends, but these are the little moments that I don’t want to forget, these are the things of “now,” this is the good stuff that I treasure.
I finished the little boy sweater for my nephew. It’s blocking now, and I’m really happy with it! I’ll share pics of it soon. So now I’m working on a pair of socks for me, my first pair for myself. I love them so far, though I think they have more “positive ease” than I realized, or whatever that means. They are simple and cozy and so soft.
I’m still in the last few chapters of Moments and Days but this book, Slow Church, arrived at the library so I put other books on hold so I can maybe read it before its due back. I can’t remember where I first heard about it but I was interested in it because of the way the authors address our current church culture, examining the way the wider cultural value on speed and efficiency has trickled into the way we approach and do church. Borrowing from the “slow food” movement, the authors relate the McDonalization of our food to the “McDonalization” of our churches, viewing them as “spiritual filling stations, dispensaries of religious goods and services.” Also, they had me at the byline: cultivating community in the patient way of Jesus. Something in me stirred at those words–always, this hungering in us for community and something about the “patient” way of Jesus (such a good turn of phrase) that is always so counter to how we tend to do things. We get away from His narrow way so quickly and easily, don’t we? I’m enjoying the book so far and it makes me want to do a massive study on church. Gah.
Linking up with Ginny of Small Things today to share current reads + knits along with her little community.
In my early motherhood days I used to make Kefir since I had gallons of free milk through WIC and couldn’t seem to use it fast enough. I’d like to get back into making it, as it was so easy and a better type of yogurt (being that it was fermented) than regular yogurt. With all of Phoebe’s digestive problems and also dealing with some of my own, beginning to have ferments be a daily part of our diet has been of interest for some time. However, with all of the other things I have had to learn in switching to a completely gluten-free household, fermenting has been on the back burner. The reality is that we can only tackle so much at once, and have to focus on a few things, work at proficiency with them, then move onto the next project. The past year has been spent learning a new way of cooking, eating, shopping, meal planning, and correctly understanding food labels. We will always be learning those things, but I feel that we’ve established enough of a norm for me to be able to introduce something new. Enter: fermentation.
Now, I’m not going to spend time on the scientific reasons for fermentation, but if you’re interested there is a host of information about it online. Google away. On a very basic level, ferments have been around for centuries and provide unique blends of probiotics and healthy bacteria in the gut. We pay good money for powder probiotics for our kids, but there really isn’t a way to shortcut and reproduce the kind of probiotics found in homemade ferments, and each fermented item offers a different variety/blend, so it works well to have a few different ones as a part of your regular diet.
After reading this article about how easy it is to make your own sauerkraut, I attempted my first batch last month. Honestly, it is very very simple. I did invest in a Fido Jar after reading the article’s recommendation, but otherwise the cost was super minimal. This is not as hard as it seems: chop cabbage, add salt, put in container, leave on counter to ferment for 30 days. Cost effective and simple!
So, I tried my first bite today. I felt a bit brave because I don’t 100% trust my fermenting skills and don’t want to make myself sick, but I have to give it a go. It looked and smelled right. I took a bite: tart, sour, crunchy, and really pretty incredible! In the old days, people used sauerkraut as a condiment, and so I plan to eat about a tbsp a day. I do feel inspired to grill some german brautwurst suddenly. 😉
I sort of doubt Phoebe will eat or learn to enjoy sauerkraut or kombucha (she used to tolerate kefir if I made it into smoothies), but Brandon and I believe it is good for all of us to have in our diet, and hope to keep encouraging Phoebe to try it from time to time. Anything is better than nothing.
We’ve been making kombucha too, I ordered a starter scoby from Cultures for Health, but it isn’t ready yet to try. Brandon and I drink store-bought Kombucha regularly, but it’s about $3.50 a bottle. I can’t wait to have my own and save $$ on it!
I’ve been reading Indian Captive to Phoebe for our read aloud. It is based on the true story of Mary Jemison who was captured and raised by the Seneca Indians from early childhood. It has been admittedly a bit intense and emotional at a couple of points, in my opinion, and I’ve asked Phoebe throughout if she still wants to read it or if it’s too sad. She has pled with me to keep going and doesn’t seem bothered by the hardship Mary faced. We are about two chapters to finishing and both can’t wait to see what is going to happen. It is a book I will probably make a mental note to revisit when we talk about this period in history, as it is a true story and deals with so many of the emotions and difficulties and prejudices of the Native American/White people conflict. It has been powerful to gently talk with Phoebe about Mary’s response to difficulty and to adoption by the Native Americans.
I’m linking up with Ginny Sheller today and her weekly yarn along where we share what we are currently knitting and reading.
I never used to pay attention to the way the bright spring green ages, deepening into the dark green of autumn before green gives way to brown, gold, scarlet. Last weekend, I felt that particular itch in my soul to get up and away into the mountains, and I took the kids (with my mom) to one of my favorite areas, Black Balsam. There’s something about this place that quiets me, and somehow hiking those familiar rocky paths and setting my eyes on that wide and wild view that makes me feel like I can breathe. There’s so much glory. The kids were such great hikers, even Philippa hiked the whole way and refused to be carried. So we kept the pace of a child, which is a good pace for a tired soul. It is the pace that allows you to notice things like darkening green, brilliant goldenrod, red and orange sumac, queen anne’s lace, all the harbingers of autumn. It is the pace that allows for wonder. It is the pace that allows you to really see and remember that this season is passing and giving way to another, so drink it all in.
everything He gives 