Reach (Hope Writers 2020 Writing Challenge)

This week I took part in the Hope Writers 2020 Re-imagine Writing Challenge. I managed to respond to all but one of the prompts, and I'm posting them here if you want to read or share them.

I've been watching Spring arrive all around me as we've sheltered in place. While Nature thumbs her nose at "social distancing" (just ask the robins who built their nest above my back door), she's pretty good at sheltering in place. That's what Nature does best in the winter. Bears hibernate, flowers retreat, trees shed their leaves, everything pares back to the basest of needs to reserve their strength and restore themselves. Nature shelters in preparation for Spring.

And Spring is beautiful. I am always delighted by the first shoots of green and the tiny buds that quietly announce the turn in the weather. It is beautiful to watch.

It is painful to DO. 

imagine the roots underground as they begin to stretch out of their comfortable sleep and reach, against gravity, toward the surface. Once those little roots get to the boundary of the soil they have to then break through. Then they have to weather fluctuating temperatures. We always paint Spring in pastel colors and think of tender, sweet things. It is a season of hope, when potential is actually tangible. I think of Spring as frail.

But Spring is a Badass!

It's an entire season of stretching, opening up and reaching. When I set about stretching in the morning, I know I"m going to have to face the pains and quirks in my body. When I open up, there is risk. And reaching...

Reach is a complex word, it means both the journey and the destination. It's the work, the effort and the discipline to move toward a goal.

Also, it is actually arriving AT that goal. 

It hardly seems fair that one word can mean both things. I mean, the emotions are so different. The day to day of putting one foot in front of the other and finding the stamina to continue versus the celebration of the final arrival. 

Maybe that's the hope here. In every hard won "put one foot in front of the other" there is a drop of celebration. When I survive an honest and vulnerable conversation, there is a pre-echo of the dance I'll do at the end of the journey.

Here's to learning how to enjoy the reaching until we reach it.

~Karlie

Rest (Hope Writers 2020 Writing Challenge)

This week I took part in the Hope Writers 2020 Re-imagine Writing Challenge. I managed to respond to all but one of the prompts, and I'm posting them here if you want to read or share them.

As Kansas City phases out of quarantine I am planning a trip to my family in Southeastern Missouri.

There, I don't take myself too seriously. To be honest, I really don't have a choice. The love languages in my family are teasing and mockery. We laugh with and at each other freely. Then we find some way to explore the river.

THE river, our river.

My summer memories center around this river and the family that still lives near it. I've floated on it, kayaked it, swam in it, bathed in it. My aunt and uncle have taken me to explore many of its banks and shared their stories. We scattered Mama's ashes there.

I swear to you, pushing off into the river is pretty close to magic. I feel stress fall away that I didn't even know I was carrying. I sit in the kayak and let the river move me along. I listen to the choir of flora and fauna and just drift.

My psyche starts to mend and my spirit gathers strength. I breathe deeply and I embrace rest.

Our river is a 6 hour drive from where I live my life, however. Rest can't always happen in an ideal place, surrounded by the right circumstances.

I can't drive that far every time I need to not take myself too seriously! I can't wait months before I breathe deeply. My spirit needs strengthening more often than I can make it to the company of my family.

So, I've learned little rests.

• Talking to friends
• Walking, preferably dancing, in the rain
• Singing along with familiar songs
• My morning London Fog
• Laughing
• Taking a stroll in spring weather

They aren't difficult and they don't take a lot of time. But sometimes I still have to be reminded to DO them.

Her: “How are you?”

Me:  “Meh”

Her: “That’s fair.”

10 minutes later

Her: “Are you taking walks?”

Me:  “No”

Her: “I love you, but take walks”

Me:  “Okay, fine”

Also Me: “I’m getting my shoes now”

And then the conversation devolved into memes and alternate methods of walking. Which made me laugh. Out loud.

I'm not sure why it's hard for me to embrace rest that rejuvenates me. But I am so thankful for friends and family that don't allow me to take myself too seriously and who remind me to do the things that help me live my life with more abundance.

Re-imagine (Final Hope Writer's Writing challenge)

This week I took part in the Hope Writers 2020 Re-imagine Writing Challenge. I managed to respond to all but one of the prompts, and I'm posting them here if you want to read or share them.

I love to re-imagine. Re-imagine spaces, purpose, schedule. I like to solve problems using only what is on hand and to throw a party with very little extra purchases. I have an established, acknowledged skill set in this area, a history of success.

I am even enjoying re-imagining this stage in my life. I love casting the vision and dreaming. There is a picture inside of me that feels too big to hold in, a ministry ready to unfurl its baby tendrils. I acknowledge its presence and I feel its hope. I walk around my home and see pieces of it ready to morph in support of the larger calling,

But I find it all hard to share, to put into words. I'm not sure how it will sit with you, how I can translate it. Honestly, it is all safer if I leave it as imagination. Let it remain a sketch in pencil and not attempt the permanence of ink and color.

I admit, I’m scared. 

I’ve lost dreams before.

And right now, I don't have a pithy summation. I can't see a next step. I can only believe there is one and the Holy Spirit will reveal it to me in time.

~Karlie

Remember Forward (Hope Writers Challenge)

This week I took part in the Hope Writers 2020 Re-imagine Writing Challenge. I managed to respond to all but one of the prompts, and I'm posting them here if you want to read or share them.

Experts tell us that elephants remember enemies and friends, where droughts have dried up their water sources, where danger and death have occurred. In their memory lies their wisdom. 

The sad things, the heart breaking events, traumatic instances in our lives shape us. They don’t shape everyone the same, but they are a part of the equation of our lives. It is so easy to stay there, to allow the memory to hold us captive.

The sad memories are hard. Sometimes moving past them feels insurmountable.

But there is so much more to remember in the sad. 

Remembering is our heritage, our compassion and our victory.

There are several holidays set aside in our calendar to remember our heritage, our people, our cloud of witnesses. It’s important to remember who has gone before us. It’s vital to our humility to acknowledge what has been accomplished for us. It makes our community stronger, our stories more powerful.

I don’t want to forget the people I love who no longer walk this earth with me. Knowing them, remembering them, makes me a more compassionate person. Knowing their stories helps me to see the perspective of others. It helps me to see pain and respond to it with grace.

And we must remember the victories, even if remembering them remembers the pain. Victory is seldom without pain. It is seldom without loss, never without risk. Consider the final curtain call at the end of a performance, the exhilaration of crossing the finish line or the joy of childbirth. 

All are victories and all are moments that we remember. But in the applause are the days spent researching, memorizing and altering your own physicalizations. Present in the celebration are the weeks spent pushing the limits of your body and training yourself to alter breathing and pace. In the sweet welcome are the remnants of months of sharing your very body with another life and the pain of entry.

That’s how we hope, remembering forward.

God knows the importance of “Remember”. He teaches us to remember the victories, the times that he has provided. Joshua set up 12 memorial stones to remember the parting of the Red Sea, and Samuel remembered God’s victory in battle with Ebenezer stones.

I love the idea of Ebenezer stones, “This marks the place where God helped us. (Message translation)”. Visual reminders of victory, provision and love. I know I need those. On the days when I am not merely alone but lonely, when I feel unimportant. These stones, the figurative and the literal, help me to remember, to set one foot in front of the other and build up a little momentum. In order to set one foot in front of the other. In order to lift up my eyes and remember hope. 

To breathe, take a walk, and to believe.

Sheltering in Place & Celebrating Spring

I love March, there are so many lovely things that happen in it. Even if March began our nationwide "Shelter in Place" and we've all had to re-think how we do life and community.
Little promises of spring started popping up on my daily walks.  This time of year encourages me to take time to see the buds, the green shooting out of the ground, the delicate beginnings of delightful spring. And those little signs have had an even bigger importance this year, as we all adjust to longer days with less to occupy us. Or perhaps longer days with no place to recharge in the quiet that we may require.

St. Patrick's Day was celebrated. There is just something about a holiday celebrating what is green and Irish in our lives that makes me smile.  It isn't a holiday I spend a lot of money on, but I enjoy giving it a nod as it appears in shop windows, in the clothes I wear and the shot of Bailey's I add to my tea.

Of course, Lent is throughout the month.  Pairing up with my more contemplative walks, this time set aside in appreciation of what Jesus walked through out of love for me marks the days of March.  Some years I give something up (last year it was TV), some years I add things. This year we've all given up celebrations and gatherings. We are all learning what it looks like to have the very rhythm of our life changed, pretty appropriate for the season.

But let's not forget, this is also the month of my birthday.  I've said before, I have no shame about celebrating a day set aside for ME!  I love it, I embrace it, I revel in it. This year I turned 46 and I'm owning it. I have looked forward to this stage in my life for a long time. Something about the confidence that comes from accomplishing a marriage, raising a family and acceptance in the workplace.

Interestingly enough, I have none of these things as I begin my 46th year. My marriage of 17+ years is over. I have not raised children. I was fired from the job I had held for 3 years. Everything is up in the air, there is no confidence in the society norms for this girl. For any of us, really.

And yet.

There is still much that is Irish and green to celebrate.

The roots of  the flowers have done their job through the brutal winter months, gathering and storing nutrients. I know this because the buds and blades are making their presence known in those walks.

As I focus on my life and the faith in a loving God that I cling to, I am excited about what comes next. I am sad about what has to be left behind, but I anticipate joy in the next years. I cradle the beauty that has visited me in the dark of these past years.

I have never birthed or raised children. I am a surrogate aunt, dear friend and partner in crime to an assortment of delightful boys and girls, some of who are now quirky young adults. They buy me giant teddy bears on the anniversary of my mother's birthday, call me Wild Child and love to take part in the plays I direct.

My marriage ended in a surprise explosion that shocked me to the core and had me questioning...well, everything. I have a group of friends that love me. They stop by my house unexpectedly just to validate that I am not crazy. They send me a TV to replace the one that my ex took. They find a way to be present with me, even when they live across the country. I am loved and I love.

I was fired from a place that taught me much. I was free to take a job in the wild west for several months. Free to accept a trip to Hawaii and learn to be okay living in a swimsuit for a week. I have remembered skills that enable me to help an entirely different group of people.

We have endured weeks of "Sheltering in Place" and abrupt changes to the rhythm of our lives. We have learned to collect community in new ways. Spring continues to surround us and whisper hope through our windows. Children are coloring their sidewalks and posing bears in windows to make strangers smile.

It is nothing like we expected it to be, but Spring continues to be worth celebrating.

Still learning to be fruitful,
Karlie