It's Enough

"The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely I have a delightful inheritance."

Psalm 16:6

Woke up longing for a Cognashene sunrise.  

Plans are underway for opening weekend.  

So I tell my heart, "Soon enough.  Hang on."

Still, I'm left with the longing, and in spite of the work ahead of me today, I find the need to sit in in for a while before I begin.  

Psalm 16 is a go to meditation for me, in these in-between moody moments.  In reciting it again, I land on verse 6 and this bit about the portions of the Promised Land allotted to each family.  Interesting, this idea of boundaries being "pleasant."  We often think in terms of restrictions, and not letting anyone hold us back from our freedoms.  And there is that.

But these words also describe the deep contentment of having 'enough.'  There is a lack of neediness; a lack of restlessness; a delight in knowing I am well taken care of.  

I sit for a moment in that gentle reality, like brilliance splashed on glassy waters quietly.

Breathing in.  Breathing out.

And yes, now I can bring a more grateful spirit to the day ahead, and all it might delightfully require of me.

 

Taking Nothing for Granite

We're back to old photos this morning. Circa 1973.

The dog is Rusty, Ken's family pooch at the time.
And, yup, that's me with him.

I've just turned 16, and it's my first summer here in Cognashene. Spent one glorious week with my new boyfriend's family. And the way I like to tell the story is that I took one look at this place and said, "I gotta marry me this guy."

Which is exactly the way it happened.

One of the astonishing benefits of being as old as I am is being able to reflect back on the long things. The gifts of life that have just lasted all the way through. Relationships mostly - Ken and I will celebrate 46 years together in August - and also the places - this summer is my 51st on these rocks.

As one of my grandchildren likes to tease, "You're THAT old?!" Yes, I am. And what a grand grace it is. There is no possible monetary value that could equal all the memories, all the restorations of soul, the raising of my children and then grandchildren here, and all the ways 'my DNA is now embedded in this granite,' as one of Ken's cousins puts it.

There is a human tendency towards entitlement, I think. That, when we've been given much, we tend to 'get used to' having much, and just sort of expect it to always be there. And while this may be true of me in other dimensions, it's never been how I've felt about this place.

Everything in me is perpetually grateful for every minute here. Always.

Looks like it could be a cozy indoors-mostly kind of day. After our string of hot and sunny, I'm okay with the change in vibe. Although I do hope to get in some more scraping and sanding if the rain holds off.

Is it Friday?
Well, look at that, it is!
Wherever you are, may gratitude be the louder song of your heart.

In the Absence of Deadlines

Noticed yesterday that our first day lily has announced her presence, right on time. By that I mean, there is no set time for this. Only the noting of it and gladness of it. And perhaps taking a picture. But it's a thing every season. 

 The first one. 

 Here she is.

I can't speak much about other kinds of 'vacations', ones that involve a beach, or camping, or touring other cities. And the truth is that I'm really not talking about a vacation right now, because both Ken and I still consider ourselves working.

But a significant feature of being here at the cottage right now, vacation or not, is that there is truly little to no sense of urgency. You wake up and there's nowhere to go, nowhere you have to be at any specific time.

Maybe this is more descriptive of the kind of work I'm doing here more than Ken. He does have business deadlines, and if he's 'working a call' he's really working that call and it takes priority over most anything else.

But for me? Having a time where, even though I'm working, I can wake up and have no urgent time line on any of it, that's breathe-deep beautiful.

Author Steven Covey (Seven Habits of Highly Effective People) first introduced me to categories of work, placed in 'quadrants'. Without going into too much detail here, I'd say that what I'm enjoying here is a lovely long stretch of days where I can work in Quadrant 2 - Work that is important but not urgent.

I'm noticing this today because, well, I did have somewhere to be at a certain time. It was my honour to lead the service at Cognashene Community Church, literally just down the channel from our place. This is opening Sunday for the season, and the happy hellos and the time together to corporately reorient ourselves to Creator God after a long winter could not happen in a more suitable place, on the rocks, under the trees and the wide open sky.

We had to get up and get ready and be there. Which, honestly, was just fine and well worth it. But in conversation with another worshipper this morning, they were commenting on how they might have a wait for that 'cottage feeling' for a while yet because....they were working under a few deadlines back in the city.

I feel ya' brother. Which brings me back to the day lily, and the reflections of Scottish biologist and evangelist (love that combo) from the latter part of the 1800s, Henry Drummond.

"The lilies grow, Christ says, of themselves; they toil not, neither do they spin. They grow, that is, automatically, spontaneously, without trying, without fretting, without thinking."

It is of course unrealistic, and to my mind undesirable, to live perpetually in a state where nothing is ever remotely urgent. Deadlines ,and goals, and meet ups, and coordination of human endeavours are all part of what makes for a life lived on purpose.

But it is good, when possible, to spend a bit of time in the absence of deadlines. If nothing else, to remind me of how much is really going on without me pressing for it. Without trying, without fretting, without thinking.

And if God exists outside of time, I'm kinda' thinking He doesn't get all stressed about the when.
He's more about the why....
and the who.

May this long summer Sunday afternoon,
which likely includes having tomorrow off,
bring a sweet sense of release
from whatever pressures you carry.

Half a Century on the Rocks

This feels bigger than one go at it, but for today I will simply mark this as being my 50th year on the Freddy Channel.

Yup, that's me. With Rusty, my very cool boyfriend's very cool dog.
It's 1973.
I'm 16.

Story goes that I arrived that summer to spend a week with my new [read: Only ever] boyfriend's family at their cottage. I took one look at the water, the trees, the rocks...the breath-snatching, astounding, sacred beauty of this place....and said to myself, "I gotta marry me this guy."

So I did.

[There's a joke in our family now, that before you get too serious with an prospective partner, you have to bring them here. If they like it, you can pursue the relationship further. If they don't -- ]

It is indeed much bigger than one post. I have filled volumes of journals, and blog posts, and Facebook posts, and sermon illustrations, and worked it into academic papers writing about all this place has meant to me. All the healing and learning and resting and living and being that has happened for me and to me and with me on these rocks.

I have swum here, waterskied here, honeymoooned here, kayaked here, learned to drive "the big boat" here, eaten way too many blueberry pies here, avoided bears and rattlesnakes here, recovered from a burnout here, recovered from numerous life's harsh realities here, worshipped here, preached here, fed chipmunks here, raised children here, spoiled grandchildren here, luxuriated in countless sunsets (each one unique) here, loved here, grieved here, figured out big decisions here, written countless words here, laughed myself silly here, played countless games of Scrabble here, celebrated 45 years of married life here, and made memories with the next generation to this receive incredible gift right here.

I can't even.

Not for one moment do I take this for granted. It is no exaggeration to say that, among all the life-shaping facts of my life, I am who I am in no small part because I have been given the deeply good gift of this place.

Gratitude has to go somewhere.
Abby, Zachary, Harvest, Jayden, Timothy...and Evelyn.
May this place shape you for as long as possible.
May the pictures we take this summer one day be posted somewhere to remember and mark.
May God be your true Rock, always.