Less

Funny thing this Monday habit.  All week long I think about what I might write.  Content spins, turns, sorts in my head.  Stories weave and moments stand out as "possibilities".  Most of it is probably too personal for my comfort and won't ever give shape to words here.  And then, when in the quiet space of the afternoon I'm free to be here...nothing.

Like the flattening wind outside, something in the day has pushed all thoughts away and no words rush in to fill.

Compulsion to have something of merit - something of substance - causes me to push at keys.  Still nothing.

It's not writer's block.  And, it's not that I have nothing to say.  Certainly any of you who know me in real life bear witness to the flow of words.

No, it's different.  It's quiet.  And it's welcome.

Busy. Difficult. Challenging. These have been the markers on the path of late.  Threats push from the outside in - will the barn hold?  Work for Weekend Farmer Husband - the income kind - has made a deep crease even deeper between his eyes.  Children have had difficulty, (and parents), adjusting to new medicines that help with chronic conditions.  Just when we make one tiny step forward on lingering expenses, another bill arrives. Sweet friends are facing heartbreaking struggles and offering prayers and providing meals don't seem like enough. All these and more clamor, and quiet is elusive.

Yesterday was loud celebration.  Easter "Alleluias" rang boldly in sweet fellowship and joyous praise.  And the day was rich with feasting - food, family, new friends, lingering fellowship.  No more messy Lent with it's struggles and self filled with shortcomings.  Only a neat napkin folded and left behind in the tomb, purposeful, silently shouting "He is not here!"

Purposefully making less of myself here, on Facebook, Pinterest - all the online places that compete with my attention that likely should be elsewhere, I had a noisy rebellious struggle.  With myself, that is.  With time - the gift of a day.  With craving recognition, wanting an identity here.  With my willingness (frightening) to feed my family scraps and pretend that I might thrive in a virtual world with plans, dreams, accolades that noisily make more of me.

It is not magic that on Resurrection Sunday, sitting amongst the saints I'm stunned by quiet. I realize I'm right upon "re-entry". My lenten practice of less is lifted by the turn of a calendar page.  In the storm of our spring with so many demands and trouble enough of its own, I've been hoping - praying - that the practice of less of me will make way for more of Him.  And, I wanted it to be obvious.  Loud even.  The answer like the struggle.

Not even a whisper.  I'm jealous of Moses - while he hid in the cleft of the rock the breath of God made sound.

Just quiet.

And, it's not uncomfortable.  If I try to describe it, I have to use the word "full".

Really, this many words to finally uncover it?  If the quiet is Him, then the lesser is me.  It is my voice that is no longer clamoring.

So, come Monday.  Even if I've "nothing to say", I'll be here.  Being quiet here gives voice to thanks.  Giving thanks gives weight to contentment.  Contentment, currently hard fought and bought at great price, brings me to the cross where He made all things new and I am daily restored by His good grace gifts.




-The post "Exceedingly Abundantly" on my Dad's CaringBridge Site shares good news of a stellar stem cell count and gives yet another reason to chronicle thanks for God's tender care in his life.
-"Play Instant" on Netflix for the times when the youngers and the momma need a break.
-Liberty to worship freely and proclaim the Risen Lord!
-Deep green grass blowing in the wide open wind.
-Privilege of spending extra time with a "new" family from church.  What a blessing hospitality is.
-Yum! Savory leftovers, making supper easy tonight.
Weekend Farmer Husband's regular Monday morning call with Firstborn Son - staying connecting, urging him on.
-Four brand new mewing kittens in the barn - so cute.
-Eastery finery - girls in dresses, boys all tucked in.  No, I didn't get a photo.
-Playroom sounds - a tiny space carved out of our home for girls to play house, babies, blocks, and build friendship.
-Constant friend who takes my kids to a park for a "rare" treat. (Playground equipment makes me jittery... weird, I know.)
-Safe return to MI for snowbird Gramma.
-Looking forward to a spontaneous visit from a far away brother, sister, and their family later this week.
-Fresh flowers throughout the house.  Lovely gifts from Weekend Farmer Husband and a new friend.