Normal Has Wings

Last weekend, I drove to work with two jars of muddy water in my car. The illustration was simple: the human soul is like a jar of river water. Shake it up and everything gets murky, let it settle and we can see more clearly. Of everything I said in my seminar that night, participants remember the jars of water best.

I first encountered this illustration in Ruth Haley Barton’s book, Invitation to Solitude and Silence. It was my junior year of college and the reality of future changes loomed. God used that book to name the chaos in my soul and invite me to live differently.

I wish I could say I’ve been faithful to God’s invitation to silence as a regular practice, but that just isn’t true. Much of my life is lived in a chaotic sort of normal, and times of silence are more often a treat than my bread and butter. Most days I cave to the easy but hollow forms of rest offered by my phone apps rather than reaching for practices that truly still the chaos.

Silence is way to chart a new course for my soul, and silence is a place of clarity I need right now as I navigate a world permanently altered by the pandemic. What about you?

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On the Brink

Sometimes in the darkest part of the night
I play my old cassettes to fill the overpowering silence
A familiar cadence of thoughts blares out, ready to lend meaning to any moment

Those tapes remind me of who I am, what the world is like,
How hard to slam the door on the way out of giving a damn –
You know, all the important things

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The Sepia Room

Today I sit in my usual place, sipping tea and watching the passers-by.

Within these walls, I live in the safety of the past, everything faded and known. Muffled voices come through the crackle of an old radio, narrating a brown-and-tan world of well rehearsed dance and drama.

As I peer through the sagging window, nothing threatens, nothing surprises. The memorabilia of past joys collect dust on a nearby shelf, comforting reminders of love, belonging, and home. From this vantage point I can participate in the present at a distance (only I must ignore the cracks that might let in a beam of something new).

It is safe, yes, and also numbingly familiar. Continue reading “The Sepia Room”

Repeat the Sounding Joy

There are many beautiful traditions to love at Christmastime: nights alight with dazzling displays, neighbors sharing family favorite treats, music evoking decades gone by, candlelit churches keeping vigil in song, gifts that bring delight and joy.

But every once in a while I wonder… why is it that I love Christmastime so much?

Is it the pumpkin spice lattes and repetitive playlists? Are we really that enamored of turkey that never gets done cooking at the right time or kids hyped up on sugar?

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