A Change In Pace

 [May] The LORD turn His face toward you

and grant you peace.

Numbers 6:26

Yes, I do realize that, in offering this blessing, today's picture is almost identical to the one I posted just a few days ago.  And actually, if I look at them, it's at about the same spot along my route around the island.

However, since it fits so well with my mood this morning, and also this last phrase of the Priestly Blessing found in Numbers 6, I'll gift it to you just the same.

I'm out on the deck this morning with barely a breeze.  There's a construction project involving stone saws going on across the little bay from us, and Ken is setting up our wood chipper as I write, so I can't really say it's all that quiet right now.  But this morning's paddle was on flat water for the entire way around.  Not another human sound but that of my own paddle pushing back the water in a rhythmic dip and soft swish.

It was a good way to start this particular Friday.

We will return to KW Sunday afternoon to celebrate Timothy's birthday, and then begin a little stint stationed in our city home.  Long time family friends have had an over 50 year tradition of visiting as renters in the place we now own but originally belonged to Ken's grandfather.  They will renew their love of this space over the next twelve days or so.  And, because there is still some outdoor work in progress for our little house on Sandra, and because it's good to take care of banking and errands and such, we'll spend that time there.

I'm okay with this.  Of course summer is short, and I am greedy for all the time I can have by the water as I can get.  But it will be good to get at some of the thrifting and other gathering I need to make sure gets done before I leave for Thailand in September.  Plus, I'm preaching at Highview on August 9, so there's that.  How beautiful it will be to worship together with my peeps!

I'm okay with this, but I am bracing myself a little for the dramatic change of pace.  Mostly, I'm talking about cars and driving and having to go places.  When you live on an island you get to indulge in that unique gift of having no where to go most of the time.  At least, it's a gift to me.  Some more extraverted folks may not embrace that part of our reality here.  But I crave it, soak it up, try to store up as much of it as a I can while I'm here.

I do intend to try to catch some morning sun when I get back.  Like this.

There's something about the breaking of a day to set you up for it in calming, reorienting ways.  I think it's because the sun reminds me of the face of God, too brilliant to fully receive, yet so graciously 'turned towards me' in ways I'll notice all the rest of the day, if I pay attention.

Happy Friday of the long weekend to you, wherever you or however your day has started.

Hope you can catch glimpses of the face of God turned towards you favourably.

And may He grant you peace.

Twenty Times So Far: Embracing and Balancing a Driven Personality

 

Twenty times around the island so far this summer.

My all time high was 36, but that was 2023 when the weather was in my favour, and we weren't moving and I didn't have my appendix out.

Truth be told, there's something in me every season that wants to beat that highest number; to push myself to achieve it.  If I make it to 37 this year, I'll try to do 38 next.  Like that.  It's that same part of me that, in its best form has helped me achieve anything I can count as an accomplishment over my whole life; any commitment I've had to see through; any project I've taken on.   A drive, a desire to do better, a passion to become all that God has called me to be.  This is good.

But it's also a part of me that can easily get short-circuited and end up being stuck on overdrive.  When that has happened in the past, it's caused me no end of angst, self-loathing, and no end of whacked out cortisol saturation, harming body, mind and soul in ways truly dangerous.

I'm sixty-nine, and by now I have had decades of practice balancing the two sides of this part of me.  I now see the tendency towards perfectionism as more of a gift than a curse, and have learned to celebrate who I am, and offer it back to God to use as He directs.

So for what it's worth, I'd like to offer a few what I hope to be helpful thoughts.

If they resonate, great.  If not, just pass it by. 

The desire to be perfect isn't in itself a defect.

It was such a gift when I sat with a therapist who reminded me that a deep desire to get things "just right" was a reflection of being made in the image of a perfect God.  This image-bearing component of the human soul can be seen in our capacity to love, forgive, and create.  And it is sometimes felt by some of us as a deep love for perfection.  Put the tips of your fingers together in a cluster up to you lips, then make a mmwaaa-kissing sound and open up your hand at the same time.  Like that.  We sure are glad when the people who build our homes, put together our computers, or do our surgeries are committed to that kind of perfection.  So if it's a part of who you are, yay!

Part of self-love is loving that you're human.

Embracing our humanity, in all it's beauty and potential, means also embracing our limitations and brokenness with the same grace and compassion we expect ourselves to show others. Nobody's perfect.  We all mess up.  We only have the capacities we have.  God knows we are 'but dust' (Psalm 103:14-16), a clear reference to the creation story and how humans came into being (Genesis 2:7).  Even Jesus - God with human skin on - needed to eat, sleep and protect time to be alone.  He understands.  It's okay if you don't get it perfect every time.  Honest.

Observing Sabbath rhythms is even more vital for those with more driven personalities.

Because God knows we're only human He built resting right into obedience.  As in, one of the Ten Commandments.  The humility of letting go of the need to produce, taking our hands off the wheel at regular, disciplined intervals, whatever that looks like in your life and schedule, allows us the essential space to be a human being, instead of a human doing; to meet with God in ways intimate and life-giving.

Don't be stupid.

The desire for perfection can often enough cause us to leave our executive functioning out of the conversation.  Like the one day late in a season when I tried to get around the island just one more time to achieve whatever goal it was that year, even though it looked a little windy even on our protected bay.  By the time I was out around the point exposed to the open water, I really had to pull and pull hard to keep myself off the rocks and get myself back to safer waters.  Not smart.  When we put our own well-being at stake, that's not honouring to anyone.  It's just stupid.  There's a way to be driven and be smart about it.  Think it through.  Listen to others around you who love you, until you can learn to listen to the voice of Jesus telling you to sit down and be still.  

At this point, some might be making a face that says, "Well, duh."  Sounds pretty obvious to non-driven personalities who have lesser temptation to try to beat last year's times around the island in the kayak.   God bless your heart.   

For those of you who do, who find yourselves setting big goals, and making strategic plans, writing out the lists, and not even remembering necessarily that it's summertime in Ontario right now...

Hope you get to lay low for a bit.  

Rest and enjoy the slower pace of life.

Don't stop being you, though.

The world needs what you bring to us, all robust and energetic and accomplished.

Monday morning folks!!

Hope the week brings good things, no matter what your particular goals might be!

You Know It's a Beach Day When

 

When you get dumped off the paddle board by your brother, but it's too much fun, and you come up laughing and laughing in a way that catches your Gramma's heart, so she takes a picture....you know it's beach day.

When you go on a long walk all the way down the beach to the point, and it's the most walking you've done since you got to the (rocky, no roads island) cottage, so you look at your watches to see how far you've gone and it was almost 2 km and your Mom sees you coming and takes a picture...you know it 's a beach day.

When you plonk down beside your Gramma in the chair beside her under the umbrella that you were able to push way down into the sand because now you're that strong, and you start talking about how far you were out in the water a few minutes ago, and how the sandflies are biting your legs, and how you hope to get your bronze medallion one day, and your Gramma asks if she can take your picture, but it turns out all squinty, so you let her take another one and it turns out okay....you know it's a beach day.

When you find a very interesting, if not smallish shell, and you want to show your Gramma, but your hat blows off and lands in the water while your Gramma is taking the picture....you know it's a beach day.

When you're hanging out talking politics and eating snacks from the cooler with your sister and brother-in-law, and the conversation is energetic and intelligent and your Mom loves that her adult children get along this well so she takes a picture, but you're the only one who thinks their picture is okay to post so your Mom crops it and you look real cool...you know it's a beach day.

When your whole family wants to go to the beach but you have a meeting at 1 p.m. and you're really the only one who really knows where those shoals are just past the main channel on the way out to Giant's Tomb island, but you have the ability to use hot spot and you're willing to figure it out and you have your meeting on the boat while everyone is playing in the water around you and your wife finds this a conflicting moment of admiring your work ethic while being annoyed at the interruption so she takes a picture...you know it's a beach day.

When you're a crafty seagull and someone carelessly leaves an unopened package of cookies, not in the cooler but in a open bag, and you realize everyone is looking at the kids playing in the water, so you sneak back there and manage to take the package out of the bag AND open it before Harvest catches you in the act and scares you off but you still feel quite proud of yourself and perhaps even hopeful that you might be able to scam something else off this happy little group, and the Gramma lady wants to take your picture so you pose nicely...you know it's a beach day.

So grateful to continue this cottage family time tradition!

**All pictures posted with permission (exception: one thieving seagull).

An Unforeseen Kiss

 

I have brought over two cotton summer dresses for mending, and that’s when the moment happens.  Unexpected.  Uncomplicated.  Unassuming.

Ken and I are staying at the bunkie since Sunday when our whole family (almost) arrived to spend our annual time together at the cottage.  Between the ‘actual’ cottage, and some space we’ve begun to reclaim on the property next door (such is the ongoing redemptive story, details another time), we now have ample bedrooms and two bathrooms to share for ten people.  And it works.  Except for when some things are not where you are and you have to go fetch something, which is something every day.

But I’m not fetching for the mending thing.  I have the dresses with me.  So, I just go over and plonk myself down on a chair and start rummaging in the small sewing kit for what I need.  The kit itself is in much more of a mess than I remembered, being a remnant compilation of my mother-in-law’s past sewing passion, and my own sundry stitchery-stuff extras from the purging we did when we moved.  I eventually find the kind of needle I need, and some white thread, which will do nicely.

As I stitch, which I’ve always found calming, I become more aware of the various activities of my family around me.  The heat and stiff winds coming at us all day have us now inside in the later part of the afternoon, windows open to welcome the breeze, sheltered from the sun.

Grandad is playing cribbage with Zachary and Harvest, the game being thoroughly discussed for every hand.  Ken loves card games more than I can get my head around them, so he’s always in such a good mood when he can get grandkids interested, taught, and practiced up to a level where they can give him a run for his money (poor idiom since no gambling happens at all). 

Uncle David has humoured Timothy with his request for Snakes and Ladders.  Timothy is making his way through everyone, one at a time, because he LOVES Snakes and Ladders.  When that’s done, David finds the giant board of games that has been up here for ages, and shows Timothy how to keep the monkeys out of the swamp.  This is almost as good as Snakes and Ladders, and that’s saying something!

Jayden and his Dad are playing chess, or rather, Jayden is receiving some tutoring in the game, in the form of those longer, careful instructions you can give on a slow summer afternoon.  Kristyn is enjoying a rare moment with her feet up, which makes me glad.

And then it happens.  This golden moment.  All of us here, I realize.   All of us just being simply together in this place. 

And I hold my breath to hold the moment. 

All of us here, and that’s no small thing.  So much, so much has tried to tear us apart.  Yet here we are.  It's not lost on me.  All of us.

And here I should say almost all of us, because Abby’s arriving on Friday, the adult young woman that she is, driving up in her very own car.  And so we grow.

I let the breath go, but hold the moment longer.  I don’t want to get up, so I start sorting the mending kit; buttons, and spools, and safety pins, and needles, and the little end pieces of thread I never throw out for some reason.   And I take my time with this, slow, methodical, listening.  Letting this be unassuming, real, uncomplicated.  Just us. 

These are the touch points of something much bigger than us, I know.

                                     ....when heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss.

                                               Oh How He Loves - David Crowder

The Not So Quiet Weekend, Maybe

 

A very quiet, glassy paddle around the island this morning, heading into Friday and the weekend.  Loved the little hello from this friend who, even when I stopped paddling and drifted in a little closer, did not bolt, but posed nicely before wishing me a good day and sauntering off.

Coming back and having my morning shake on the deck, I was honoured by a longish hover of the humming bird, quiet close.  My summer dress has a quite splash of bright fuchsia, and I think I was mistaken for a flower.  How flattering!

I am especially enjoying the quiet this morning, not entirely sure how to anticipate the weekend given a recurrence of excessively loud music from some cottage neighbours last Sunday night, going on for about four hours.  This has been a problem in the past that we believed had been resolved.  Perhaps not.  

I won't say too much more here, except that this whole thing is teaching me a lot about myself, my own triggers and responses, and how to appropriately self-advocate while holding fast to my desire to model Jesus' grace and love.  Not sure I've got that down yet, but I'm working on it.

Better, happier noise is also anticipated as we prepare to welcome the whole family on Sunday to spend time together here next week.  After that, the parents leave and we just have grandkids roaring around here.  Can't wait!

Yay for a lovely rainy day yesterday and the return of sunshine this morning.

Yay for Fridays.

Yay for weekends full of opportunities to grow.

Yay for the gift of family cottage time!!!

Have a great day!

And may you too be visited by friends.

And may you too be mistaken for a flower, maybe!

The Reset to Start the Day

 

It's rare that the open water is this flat.

I got out just a touch earlier this morning, so that helped.  Ridiculous, because I have so many pictures just like this in my files.  But every time I come around the point, it does something to my soul.  Reading van der Kolk's The Body Keeps the Score right now, and I think he would say that I'm experiencing something of a neurological reset.

The water is calm.

So am I.

Fully present in the moment.

I wonder if that's what the psalmist was trying to do when he wrote:

Be at rest once more, 

O my soul, 

for the LORD has been good to you.

Psalm 116:7

Of course van der Kolk, and many others, suggest various, simpler ways we can re-centre ourselves without the need of a kayak, a large body of water, and a sunrise.  Maybe you have a favourite one yourself to share in the comments, if you are so inclined.

But when I'm here, when I'm out on the flat water, I'll soak in all I can get.  And share my many pictures with you, sorry-not-sorry for how repetitive it might be.

That was a full three hours ago now.  Since then I've showered, hung out a load of laundry, grated carrots in prep for baking later, got something started for lunch, set up my work station on the deck, provided breakfast for no less than seven chipmunks (on the deck at the same time) and two blue jays (who have to move fast if they are going to get any peanuts), and Ken and I got a good start on our kiss-count for the day (that's all I'm saying about that).

Not quite 9 and I'm just checking over the list to prioritize today's work.  It's supposed to be another perfect summer's day here, with some needed rain by tonight and tomorrow.  Yay for the blueberries (which will no doubt be the object of my next set of repetitive pictures!).

Hope you find your reset.

Have a fabulous day.

Turned Around Tuesday Reflections

 

Now that's better!  Yesterday's intentions, in the face of fatigue and discouragement, along with the gentle cheering of the Spirit (Ruth Anne, I know you can do this!), have helped reorient and stabilize my frame of mind toward a more grateful and reasonable disposition. 

And the husband who shares this cottage with me said, "Amen!" 

Two times around the island, one yesterday and one this morning, contributed enormously.  That's 11 so far this season, so I'm feeling good about that.

Yesterday it was a gaggle of friends on the rocks at a place that was narrow enough I felt my Canadian instincts kicking in.  With a slight cringe of the shoulders and lowering of the head, avoiding any hint of challenging body language whatsoever, I passed respectfully, with no incident.

This morning, I came so quietly out of one narrow space that I startled a beaver who in turn startled me.  No picture for this one, but if I had been ready, it would have been a great close up!  Those guys are huge, by the way; this one, enormous!  His mighty kerthunk of tail on the water almost got me wet.

I was also able to settle down into meaningful work, get some satisfying things checked off the list, and have a validating conversation with a friend.  And an extra bonus is a husband who can listen without trying to fix what I just need to say out loud.  All good things to get a week off to a proper start.  

So today's reflection is more about yellow lilies on the water, and the simple blessings of friends (forest and otherwise), long loves, and meaningful work.  Pretty sweet for a Tuesday, I'd say.

Hope yours provides good things too, whatever that means for you.