Friday, July 11, 2014
We didn't garden this year, didn't do battle with the family of groundhogs over our backyard vegetables. Never made it to the strawberry fields in June. No jewel-toned glass jars line the shelves in the cupboard with bright berry jams, because I didn't can a single thing. I asked a friend if she'd like to go for blueberries next week but it looks like our normal picking spot is taking a year off. Well then.
There are so many ways that we define ourselves, our parenting style, the type of people we want to be. So many seemingly good or benign activities that we cling to tightly because it's how we show others who we are. Where our hearts lie. But there's a lie hidden there, a deception that we can pass right on by - that in the absence of all of these things, we cease to be ourselves. That who we are meant to be is so wrapped up in what we do.
The past 6 months have been a season of heart searching over here. A time for slowing up even on the things we love so much and spending deep, healing moments just being together. A quiet, slow summer with no agenda because even the good things can distract us away from where our focus needs to be.
I've discovered something rather remarkable. The absence or loss of our normal activities haven't left us empty handed. In letting go and allowing each day to be lived as it needs to be - I've found what it is to live open handed. Opened right up to possibility, to joy, to pain, to work, to rest. Able to accept a time of working out our family relationships, and know that this is right for us.
Drenched with the sheer torrent of graces that are keeping us wholly here, together, in this moment. Open handed, cupping contentment and letting it overflow right on out.
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