Release #FiveMinuteFriday

Source

I hold onto things very tightly. Often saying "God, you can't have this." And so when He tells me to let go? Take time off? I flat out ignore him.

But the pulling and tension and strain in my heart is too great. And last night at some crazy hour I conceded. I gave back to Him the things that were already His. I conceded.

So in the month of July I will release things I've hovered over like a mother hen. I will entrust them to Him. I will make art for myself and my God and no one else. I will increase my margin and white space.

And most of all I will live in the tension of giving up to be obedient. Thirty days feels like a long time to give up things I love dearly. Things I have clung to.

But it also feels peaceful. Freeing.

This morning I wrote an email saying I couldn't honor a commitment. That it would have to wait until I August. I find my identity in being a person of my word. In never dropping the ball. In always being reliable, steady, efficient. I had to give up a bit of that part of me.

To release the parts of my plan for His greater plan.To find my identity in Him alone.

Linking up with at Five Minute Friday: a community of writers that encourage one another! Join us here.

Curry, Redemption, and Mondays

I learned about the Examen from a Jesuit priest while I settled in for a long chopping session toward mango chicken curry. A once alcoholic priest at that. I was among good company. I listened and learned. I was compelled by his easy communication style and by the bravery of a small worshiping community outside of Chicago. In a world where certain sects of Christianity never intermingle this tribe cared more about being better than being right.

And I connect with them. Having not grown up with liturgy or high-church of any sort I am so drawn to historical church traditions. Ways that help me not just be more connected to God but also to the saints who have gone before me throughout history.

And so I chopped and listened. And that got me through one of those soul-stirring dinners. Four ladies total. Asking good questions of one another and being brave enough to answer them.

But no moment is forever and I woke up to a Monday seeking to steal my soul. Or my joy at least. So eventually I went to the stove. I put the water on for rice for the leftover curry lunch. I cut into a day-old loaf of bread for toast. And then I waited. I did my own bit of the Examen over boiling water and the smell of bread crisping up. There is something solid about a pot of rice being cooked. Something grounding about bread you made with your own hands.

And so I stood at the stove and resolved to start over. That Monday couldn't beat me. That is would be redeemed with warm toast in one hand and a chopping knife in the other. It is not a resolution. It is the beginning.

Coming soon I'll give some tips for restarting bad days, rough years, and imperfect lives. Join me back here then.

Messenger: #FiveMinuteFriday

Source

It came to me like a whisper. The water seeping up through my floor. It would lead to three days of moderation. Of "ok, you've got fifteen minutes max to shower, flush toilets, fill water pitchers, brush teeth, and whatever else requires water."

I could have seen it as just an incovenicence. It still is. With the bathroom mirror in my living room, a hole in the floor and wall, a vanity removed and no working sink.

But that water swept into my life with a wave of grattitude. After years of seeing commercials and short films of mamas walking for miles to a well, or babies dying for want of water, I needed to be inconvenienced myself to understand.

To appreciate how nearly every hour I refill my bottle with cold, clean water. How I can wash and clean and water at my will. I have so much to be grateful for.

And like most Americans who should live in a sense of constant grattitude and celebratoion, I am ungrateful.

Until a messenger came to snap me out of my bubble via a leak in my bathroom floor.

I'm a part of a community of writers that encourages one another. You can join us here.