One More Time!

 

Heading back to the cottage today for a final hurrah of the season.  Time to close up and return to the city 'full time.'  

But just before that....

Really looking forward to the colours.  This picture is from 2024 when Ken and I were between homes and 'forced' to stay up until the end of October....and it was spectacular.

And while Zoom and other internet wonders allow for meetings and emails and work to continue, I'm hoping to sneak in at least two more paddles around the island (to make 30), and at least one day 'off' to make up for the last 14 days running full tilt.  

It could be chilly!!  Stay tuned for pictures of a cozy fire.  

So grateful for the legacy gift that this space is to our family.  We do not take it for granted.

Truth and Reconciliation

 

"The truth is like the light;

it can be hidden for a time,

but it can never be extinguished."

Indigenous Traditional Proverb (adapted)

"If it is possible,

as far as it depends on you,

live at peace with everyone."

Romans 12:18

"Ring the bells that still can ring,

forget your perfect offering,

there is a crack in everything,

that's how the light gets in."

Leonard Cohen

Prayers today for all those seeking truth and reconciliation, 

and for all those who hold the power to make things right.

Someone to Watch Over Me

 

Psalm 32:8

I will instruct you and teach you

in the way you should go;

I will counsel you

with my loving eye on you.

It's the perfect time of year for fresh morning walks.  Praying as I go, grateful for promised guidance and counsel, and that tender 'loving eye' upon me.

With a nod to Gershwin (1929), the longing expressed in his classic jazz piece "Someone to Watch Over Me" is more than satisfied.  

[Ruminating on Psalm 32 in preparation for some teaching coming up in the spring.  Love this part of my process, just to 'feel' the text even before the 'study' part.]

Sustaining Grace

 

After an over-the-top fabulous-but-demanding weekend, I knew I needed to spend Sunday afternoon on recharge.

So, two things.  A nap, which I happily relaxed into after worship service this morning (and it was SO GOOD to be home again with my beautiful faith family).

  

And then some slow putzing-around kind of fall decorating for the rest of the afternoon.

I don't do all that much for autumn decor, and much of it is from thrift stores or Dollorama.  But there's something centering and settling about turning the corner on summer, and embracing the beauty of what's to come.

As I wrote about previously I left some 'volunteer corn' to grow in the front in hopes it would add to the fall vibe on our porch later on.  Well, it's now later on and....I'm liking it!!  Add a fall mum and a ceramic (squirrel-proof) pumpkin, and we could be on a little farm somewhere!

I'll admit that at no other time of the year is orange my default colour.  But somehow, right about now, it's about the cheeriest hue there is.  And the yellows and the browns.  Just brings the beauty happening outside inside somehow.

Inside and out.  All the fall things.

Sometimes all it takes is a little garland of leaves.

By now, on Monday morning, I am surprised and grateful.  With a few nagging health issues off to the side, in the midst of all that transpired this weekend, I fully expected to be more or less trashed by today.  Had planned to treat it as a recovery day and not get back into things until tomorrow morning.

But here I am, rested and ready for the week ahead.  I truly believe I have been carried on the prayers of so many these past several weeks.  I have been sustained by God's sweet grace, given what I needed 'for life and godliness' (2 Peter 1:3) in ways beyond my own capacity to provide.  

To all who love fall, enjoy the week.  It's supposed to be spectacular.  

To any who are weary, I know what that feels like.  Hang in, rest if you need.  Prayers for you.

And to everyone who need a bit of orange cheer these days....look around.  It's everywhere waiting for you to notice.

September Office Reset

 

For many, probably obvious reasons, September always feels like a new beginning.  Despite the forest heading into shut down, many other rhythms of autumn are starting fresh.

No doubt it's mostly all those childhood memories of school, and then our years as a homeschooling family, and then my own long and prolonged academic pursuits lasting well, well into my adult years.  September is new books, and new schedules, and, if I think about it enough, even the whiff of new pink erasers.  (Bet some of you can smell them too, now that I said it.)

I'm no longer in school.  But I do love a fresh September reset of my office space.  An extra effort to tuck away any loose papers (yes, I still have some binders), sorting and tidying those office supply drawers, finding better systems to have the stapler and hole punch handy, and a thorough wipe down and dust off of my desk top and books.

Despite having two significantly-important-but-not-urgent tasks still left unchecked on my list and no time until Monday to get at them, I chose the luxury of clearing out and freshening up my work space yesterday afternoon.  Took my time.  Enjoyed the simplicity of it.  Was mindfully present in the moments of it.  Letting it be September.  Feeling as clear headed and ready for the season ahead as my desk.

A doctor I once had the privilege to work for (in a long ago life I was a medical transcriptionist, true thing), was notoriously and ridiculously disorganized, particularly in terms of his office and desk.  And he was brilliant.  And we all respected him and he got the job done with excellence.  

And while there appears to be fascinating thought about the psychological effects of a tidy workspace, and also the connection between intelligence and messy spaces -- the debate about which I won't address here but leave to your own exploration if you like -- I know for a fact that I can't think clearly in clutter.  

So.  Big sigh of satisfaction.  My office is ready, and now I feel ready.

And I bet those two tasks get done more efficiently on Monday anyways.  

Giving myself space.

Embracing small joys.

Wishing for you simple pleasures as well.

Let the Colours Begin!

 

Pausing here in the middle of what feels like busy-enough day, just before I move into three busier-than-I've-had-in-a-while days over the weekend.  (Yay for New Family Foundation's Annual Garage Sale!)

Yup.  Back in the city.  That means places to go, people to see, things to do.  It is all the more important that I begin the day with my walk, which I do, in glorious sunshine, the warmth of which feeling so good through my jacket against the crisp of the morning air.

And while the leaves on the trees along the path have yet to turn, there's a creeping vine that always seems eager to get autumn going, with it's brilliant red flourishing finish to the summer season.  

I feel ready.  My summer-loving soul is always clingy for the last days of warm and bright, and it's never easy to close down the cottage for the winter, a task we have yet to do, booked for the week prior to Thanksgiving.  Still, there comes a time, especially when the summer's been so abundant and rich and full and good, when it's okay to let go.  Like the leaves will show us soon.

It's a kind of contentment, satisfaction, feeling all filled up that the psalmist described in Psalm 131.

My heart is not proud, LORD,

my eyes are not haughty;

I do not concern myself with great matters,

things too wonderful for me.

But I have calmed and quieted myself,

I am like a weaned child with its mother;

like a weaned child I am content.

Israel (people of God), put your hope in the LORD,

both now and forevermore.

Like a weaned child.  Not needy.  Satisfied.  Content.  

That's how this fall is starting off for me.  

Plus, I still have my seasonal decorating to do, which I love!  And the birdfeeders to refill!  

Happy Fall Thursday, folks.

Let the colours begin!

White Asters

It's been an intentional choice of self-care to be here at the cottage for these first days back in Canada.  I haven't really done this before - stayed "away" just a bit longer.  Usually I succumb to the pressure to be "back," responding to various requests for my time and attention, now that I'm "available."  All of which is understandable, and I actually very much want to re-engage quickly, having been so far away for a period of time.

But.

This time things felt different.

Partly because, despite being more or less stationed here at the cottage since early June, I really haven't blocked off any personal time except for when the whole family was here in July.  Preparing for this past visit, plus several speaking engagements, plus preparing to officiate two weddings, not to mention the regular stuff of ministry life as a Missionary in Residence, made for quite a demanding summer.  And I'm not complaining.  I chose it, and I love what I get to do.

And.

My body is more seasoned, which has significant advantages, but also some greater needs for maintenance.  I just don't bounce back from 24 hours of travel and 12 hours of time difference like I did 20 years ago.  So there's that.

So.

Looking at and praying over the calendar for the fall, there was this strong leaning towards pushing pause before jumping right back into city life again.

Pause to stop typing and just be still for a moment.

Then.

As I write I am on the deck on a slightly breezy and very pleasant September afternoon.  It's quiet.  One of those 'no human-made sounds' moments that have such restorative powers.  It's Sunday, and on Sunday NOT working is very much the obedient thing to do.  I embrace this.

The plethora of white asters that surround the cottage this time of year remind me of the lilies of the field that 'do not work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are.'  Matthew 6:28  Which reminds me that it's okay to just 'be' and let God take care of the rest.

The rest.

The resting.

I suppose it's evidence of the deeper places of lingering workaholism and perfectionism that I still find it necessary to make such a thing of taking time to do nothing for a while; that it's actually still so hard to do; that I have to make such a point of it; that I feel the need to write about it.  It reveals to me the work still needed in my soul, I feel.  The letting go and letting God.  The releasing of control for outcomes.  The surrendering of the desire to impress.  The defiance against the fear of not being enough that pushes and drives and demands.  

The asters know nothing of this.  They just are.  In abundance, dancing.  Soaking in the sunshine on a sabbathy afternoon.  And I am with them.