spiritual practice

Advent Week #4: A Different Rhythm

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Yesterday I slept till 7:30. How is that possible when Christmas Eve is only days away!

In another stage of life I would have been up much earlier, whittling away at my too long list. Most years I finished my shopping by this time, but not all the baking I thought I needed to do. And the stack of presents, including many that required delivery, remained unwrapped. Cards! Entertaining! Holiday events! ETC. ETC.

And all done alongside the normal stuff of life, including parenting and working a full-time job. You know what I mean. You’ve been there, too.

At this current stage of my life I can move more leisurely through the list; a list which is not as long and involved as it used to be. I still intend to do some baking this week, but except for a couple gifts I still need to buy and another one that will arrive on my doorstep today or tomorrow, the wrapping is done. I mailed most of the cards last week and finished the remaining over the weekend while listening to Christmas music, and I will walk to the mailbox with them later today. Entertaining has been simple–mainly snacks and drinks in the living room–and the menu for Christmas Day is planned. I will grocery shop tomorrow.

Do I miss the hustle and bustle of the years when our family was much younger? Some days I do, for it all passed so quickly. But at the same time I am so grateful for the many wonderful memories stored in my heart. I unwrap those joys frequently.

What I realize now is that those years were in large part about creating not only memories for ourselves, but also about creating holy times, sacred times. The focus for many years was on the creating and the doing –not just the gift buying and giving or inviting special guests for Sunday Advent suppers or filling the house with glowing lights and the smell of fresh greens or even reading from our stack of Christmas books at bedtime, but doing all that in honor of the gift of the Christ Child. And what that birth, that gift means for the ways we are asked to live our lives; our ongoing journey to be the person we were created to be.

Oh no, I regret none of it.

Now, however, I realize at this stage of my life this season is much more about being, about resting, about knowing and feeling and cherishing and paying attention. A different rhythm.

And remembering–not just the past, but remembering and holding, although with a light touch, the love that surrounds us always. “…for God’s steadfast love endures forever…” (Psalm 136)

Yes, I slept later than usual and perhaps, I will again tomorrow, but I am ready, not only for the arrival of our son and daughter-in-law from Cleveland, but I, a woman no longer young, am ready to BE, to live fully in this different rhythm of my life. May you be ready, too.

An Invitation: What are you noticing about yourself during this Advent time? I would love to know.

Book Report: The Fortnight in September by R.C. Sherriff

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I love books in which nothing much happens. I know I am not the only one or otherwise Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway and To The Lighthouse, originally published in the 1920’s, would not be loved and absorbed to this day. In fact, I am tempted, after reading The Fortnight in September by R. C. Sherriff to re-read Woolf’s classics.

Back to today’s book.

The Fortnight in September, originally published in 1931 and recently re-issued, is the story of a London family, the Stevens, and the two weeks of their annual holiday in the seaside resort town, Bagnor Regis. We experience them as they prepare for the trip; embark on the journey via trains, of course; their stay at Seaview which over the years has become quite shabby, but they are loyal to the owner, Mrs Huggett; and then as they head back home to the routine of the rest of the year.

Nothing much happens, but in a way that is the point. The family consists of Mr and Mrs Stevens (we never learn their first names) and their children, Dick, age 17 who is somewhat unsatisfied with his work; Mary, age 21 who has a first glimpse of romance while on holiday; and Ernie, still a schoolboy who happily sails his toy yacht, which he almost forgot to bring with him. We experience their days–cricket on the beach, walks on the promenade in the evening, tea time, and it is all quite magical, an escape from the everyday, a satisfaction with another kind of routine.

In fact, the family is quite unsure of itself when unexpectedly they meet a man who is an important customer where Mr. Stevens works. This man invites them to his home for tea and while it is a bit of an adventure, something different, in some ways they would have preferred to have their usual kind of day.

Does that sound dull? I was never bored and in part that speaks to the quality of the writing. Often the writing style of books that rely on creating a certain atmosphere is lush and overdone, but the writing here is delicate, even though the descriptions are clear and complete. I can turn to most any page and find a passage that immerses me in the time and place.

For Mr. Stevens always put down the train journey as a doubtful quantity in the sum of happiness. Even under the worst conditions you might conjure up a faint sense of exhilaration in racing through the country toward the sea, but when anything happened like this: when suddenly your limbs are freed from the aching pressure of other people’s hips and elbows: when luxurious spaces of empty seat lie around you for the spreading of your magazines and papers, and arms and legs—only then can you triumphantly sweep the doubt aside. (p. 86)

The Stevenses settled themselves with half-closed eyes: the sea was lapping drowsily against the wall, and the soft breeze turned its gentle murmur into the rustling of distant elms. They could hear the evening train puffing out from the station, the murmur of voices on the promenade, and the padding of feet–but the music of the band seemed to gather these other sounds and weave them into its symphony. p. 173

The Stevens create routine away from routine, and they rest and quietly rejoice in it. The holiday feels less like escape from what might be unpleasant in their lives, although we readers don’t have much of a sense about that, and more about how the two weeks are part of the routine of their lives. This is what they do every year and this is what is part of who they are and how they live.

I think about my family when I was growing up and how we would go to the same family-run resort in northern Minnesota. How exciting it was when we extended our vacation from one week to two weeks, indicating a growth of income.

We definitely had routines. The Stevens had a trunk. We had a Lake Box with beach towels and the blanket to spread on the grass by the lake and a pin-up lamp to hang on the screen porch and–I wish I could remember what else was in the box. Year after year we did the same thing. I walked to town in the morning for the newspaper for my parents and for rolls or doughnuts for breakfast. We spent the afternoon on the beach most days, but also one day went to Bambiland to feed the deer. One evening we had dinner at Lumbertown, a real treat. I read book after book, only breaking the pace to go for an occasional swim.

Nothing much happened and we loved it and were grateful for it.

At some point life will more than likely change for the Stevens, as it did for my family. Mary will marry and form her own family routine. Mrs Stevens, perhaps, will become ill and not be able to make the journey. Mrs Huggett may die and the Seaview will be sold or torn down. But for the moment this is life as they desire it to be, and while they don’t take it for granted, they don’t hold it too tightly either.

In this Advent season of lists and preparations, this book was a gentle time-out, and I loved it.

An Invitation: What is most important to you in a book? Plot? Character? Setting? Theme? I would love to know.

Advent Week #3: Signs of Joy

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Who needs the latest iPhone upgrade or Facebook to communicate when all you need is to look out your window?

One evening last week I decided to sit in the living room, in the Mama Bear Chair, to read, instead of the snug, and as I turned on the light, I glanced out the window and noticed a sign in our neighbors’ window. Three elementary age boys live next door, and we so enjoy watching their antics, whether they are on their trampoline or selling lemonade in the front yard. They are a delightful family, and we love having them as neighbors.

Back to the sign. Written clearly by a young person were the words, GOT ANY COOKIES?

I started to laugh and so did my husband, when I showed him the sign.

Of course, we sent cookies over to those hungry and desperate boys! We learned it was the youngest boy, Sam, who made the appeal and not just to us, but also to the neighbors on their other side, who are also old folks like us. They responded to the cry for cookies, too.

Soon there was a second sign in the window. “Thank you.” And I put up my own sign, “You are welcome.”

This is the time of the year when we remember the star that guided the Wise Men (Women) to the manger where Jesus was born. We are told in the Gospel of Matthew that when the star stopped, they were “overwhelmed with joy.” The star was a sign of great joy.

That’s how I felt when I spotted Sam’s sign. Overwhelmed with joy. Joy for his innocence and trust –and willingness to ask for what he desired. Joy at being able to meet that desire. And joy in this simple and easy relationship.

You can bet I will continue to check for signs in the window.

Only a few days later this is what I saw when I looked out another window –the beauty of a winter day.

An Invitation: What signs of joy are you noticing? I would love to know.

Book Report: Christmas Books

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Snow is lightly falling, making this open afternoon perfect for browsing the collection of Christmas books stacked on the living room coffee table. Just as photographs tease us into memories, so do books, especially Christmas books.

I begin with A Child’s Christmas In Wales by Dylan Thomas, which begins

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.

I am tempted to quote the whole book. The lushness of the language, the warmth and the humor and Dylan’s ability to create scenes almost convinces me I once lived that life myself. I resist the temptation, however, but hope you will add this book–and read aloud to anyone who will listen–of this classic. My husband, by the way, once acted in a reader’s theatre production of the book and one of his first presents to me oh so long ago was a copy of the book. I remember reading the book aloud to each of my classes the day before Christmas vacation when I taught high school English.

Perhaps my favorite version of the Christmas story and one we have loved sharing with our children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, is Julie Vivas’s version of The Nativity with its earthy and charmingly humorous illustrations. Did you ever consider how difficult it would have been for Mary to mount the back of a donkey or how exhausted she was after the birth, handing off the new baby to Joseph? It’s all here—the scrawny angels, the crowds of people looking for an inn, the sheep who didn’t want to be left behind and the wonder, the joy, the awe.

No stack of Christmas books is complete without books by Tomie de Paola. I love his illustrations of Miracle on 34th Street, but even more special is The Clown of God, an old story he told and illustrated. Our copy was signed by dePaola in 1980 when I was working at a wonderful independent book store. The story, in case you don’t know is a French legend about a young juggler who offers his gifts, and a miracle occurs. Many years ago when I was on our church council I read this book for devotions at the start of the meeting. After reading each page I turned the book around to show the pictures–just like our kindergarten teacher did when we were young.

Next I browse Susan Branch’s Christmas from the Heart of The Home which is basically a cookbook, but each recipe is done in calligraphy and accompanied by charming illustrations. Branch also includes anecdotes and pieces of advice about celebrating the season.

Recipe for a Happy Christmas

Fill a house with equal parts of Love, Hope, and Peace. Add the Joy of children, the Strength of older people, and the Spirit of Christ. Spread over all the Blessings of Contentment. Season with the music of Laughter, and some Mistletoe Kisses warm before a crackling fire. Serve with Great Welcome, Much Cheer, and All the food in this book!

And there is lots of food in this homey book, but maybe this is the year to fix Orange French Toast or Chocolate Poached Pears, and then I’ll read once again A Cup of Christmas Tea by Tom Hegg.

When I open the Everyman’s Pocket Classics edition of Christmas Stories I see I have checked off several of the titles in the table of contents–stories by Arthur Conan Doyle, Willa Cather, Elizabeth Bowen and others, but, honestly, I can’t tell you the plot of any of them. I suspect I will enjoy re-reading them. Perhaps I should set aside the current novel I am reading and sink into this book, story after story.

Finally, I am intrigued by a little book I found recently in an antique shop, Readings and Recitations for Winter Evenings compiled by B. J. Fernie and published by The Christian Herald in 1895. I imagine a gathering of elegantly dressed men and women passing the book from person to person and each one reading aloud for everyone’s entertainment one of the selections by Dickens or Bret Harte or Mark Twain or Longfellow. What a civilized pre-Netflix idea!

At one time our collection of Christmas books was larger, but over the years we have passed many, like The Night Before Christmas, also illustrated by dePaola, on to our kids and grandkids. The pile on the coffee table is just enough to add to the blessings of the season.

Hot cider and a story are calling me! Happy reading!

An Invitation: What are your favorite Christmas books? I would love to know.

Advent Week#2: An Invitation to Be Overwhelmed by Joy

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The first gift of each new day is the last one of each day: the lights of our small Christmas tree.

The lights accompany me all day long.

I see the lights when I stand at the kitchen counter and chop red pepper and onion for a Mexican taco pie or cherries for the first batches of cherry walnut bread. I see them when I come down the stairs from the garret after an hour of deep sharing and listening with a spiritual direction client. I see them when I walk through the dining room to our bedroom with an armload of fresh laundry. I see them when I sit in the snug, my feet on the ottoman and a book in my hands. I see them when I open the front door after a walk in the neighborhood. I think about the Wise Men who followed the light and when the light of what must have been the most amazing, most dazzling star stopped, they were “overwhelmed with joy” according to the Gospel of Matthew.

I admit I often feel overwhelmed, but not with joy. More often I feel overwhelmed by what I have agreed to do or feel I must or should do. I even feel overwhelmed by all I want to do. Ideas and interests overwhelm me sometimes. And then there is all the pain, the struggles and injustices in the world. How can one not be overwhelmed!!!

But then there are the Wise Men who left their comfortable homes where no doubt servants were ready to handle the everyday tasks of life. They left their responsibilities–advice to give, solutions to offer, leadership to provide, magic to make–and hit the road. They loaded the camels with what they hoped would sustain them, along with the gifts worthy of a new king, but let’s face it, riding on a camel all day couldn’t have been very comfortable. They were mystified by where to find the king and hoped Herod would help, but frankly, he was more intimidating than helpful and they second guessed their decision to consult with him. The wandering continued.

And still the light in all its brilliance moved across the horizon.

Until it stopped, and they were overwhelmed with joy.

And that is my prayer. May I be overwhelmed with joy. Even as I pray for healing of the world and for balm for all those hurt, I pray that I may, too, make room for joy in my heart. May joy be a gift I live and I give.

May you know joy. May you be joy.

May we each be the light.

An Invitation: When have you been overwhelmed with joy? I would love to know.

Advent: Week #1, Choosing My Advent Companion

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Even though I spent a good chunk of time last week decorating the house for Christmas, I had not thought much about Advent. How often I leap ahead, instead of being present to what IS right now.

Now to be fair, what I know about myself is that I love to create settings, and often the setting is the first step for me as I enter a new season or a new task. The setting is now complete: the tree is in its cozy corner, the big blue cupboard is home to brush trees, all the Santa Al’s are stationed in the kitchen, and the Nativity Set is once again arranged on the white cupboard in the dining room.

I am ready to turn my heart to Advent.

One of my practices in recent years has been to select an Advent companion from the Advent Perspective cards illustrated by Tracy Mooty with questions and narration by Janet Hagberg https://www.bibleadventuresmn.com/product-page/the-advent-perspective

Sunday morning before getting ready for church I sat in my meditation chair in the garret and shuffled the cards. I took a deep breath and whispered, “Who will be my companion this season? Who will be my teacher, my guide and what are the lessons waiting for me to open and to receive?

I turned the cards over facedown, fanning them on my lap. Taking another deep breath, I moved my left hand over the cards, hovering like a hummingbird near a bright blossom, until –for whatever reason–I knew the card under my hand was THE card.

I turned over the card.

One of the Wise Men.

Wasn’t one of the Wise Men my Advent Companion last year? I checked my journal from December, 2020, and yes, that was the case, although it was one of the other Wise Men, one with a rainbow patterned cloak.

Last year I wrote in my journal how I have always appreciated the Wise Men’s openness to revising their plans; how open they were to new information and how they paid attention to their intuitions. They followed the star. They listened to their dreams, and isn’t it interesting that they had the same dream? What a conversation they must have had. “I had the most in intriguing dream last night.” “Wow, I had that dream, too.” “So did I.”

They listened to each other’s dreams about Herod’s ill intentions and after visiting the new child, they returned home by another way.

Much of 2020 and on into 2021 has been about adjusting, finding another way, and about listening to what we most need to do and be. I wonder how well I integrated those lessons. If at all. Apparently, the Wise Men still have much to teach me.

Here are the questions posed on the back of my Wise Man card:

How would you describe the journey you’ve been on this year? What course corrections might be needed now to better lead you in the direction of Bethlehem?

What precious gifts are you most eager to offer God in this Advent season?

Where in your life might you need to travel a different route in order to avoid danger or harm?

The Wise Men (WOMEN!!!!) will be my companions once again this year, and I look forward to the journey. Stay tuned.

An Invitation: What characters or images in the Christmas Story most interest you? Mary? The Sheep? The Star? I would love to know.

NOTE: This Thursday, December 2, I will publish the list of my favorite nonfiction books of 2021.

JOY Comes

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Once a week I facilitate a group of writers at my church. We meditate and then I present a writing prompt and we write for twenty minutes. The weekly sessions are not just a set apart time for writing, but have become a kind of spiritual direction group. Contemplatively, reflectively, respectfully, even lovingly, the group listens each other into deeper understanding of their own spiritual journeys.

Preparing for and then being with this group is always a highlight of my week.

Sometimes (often!) I am the one who needs the deeper learnings possible in this kind of sanctuary.

Last week I led them through a process of lectio divina–holy reading or feasting on the word. I gave each participant two pages from one of the editions of the publication Bella Grace. https://bellagracemagazine.com If you are familiar with Bella Grace, you know the sumptuousness of the photography, along with the inspiring essays and quotations. Each of the pages I selected had a single quote, and I passed them out to the writers randomly with no attempt to match writer and quotes. I invited them to focus on one or both of the quotes. Their choice.

Two of the remaining pages were for me. I didn’t self-select a quote for myself either.

When I read the quote on one of my pages, I gasped.

Joy comes to us in the ordinary moments. We risk missing out when we’re too busy chasing down the extraordinary.

Bene Brown

Nice, huh? Well, here’s what you need to know.

I am currently preparing to present an adult forum during our church’s education hour, and the topic is–you got it–JOY!!!!!

Even though I suggested the topic and volunteered to lead the session, I have not been overjoyed about doing this. In fact, I have been a bit of a drama queen about the whole process. For those of you who know anything about the enneagram, I am a 4 and 4s have a tendency to become dramatic when they are anxious about something. I have presented many adult forums in the past and feel so privileged to be able to do that, but there are new challenges this time. Mainly, technology issues–how to present effectively to in-person and at home audiences at the same time. The hybrid model.

Normally, I would create a setting, an atmosphere to experience the topic, to engage with a spiritual practice and to interact with each other. But this new and necessary way of being together limits my usual way of teaching and responding. And Power Point? What’s that? (Yes, I am behind the times.)

When I read the quote in front of me, I had no recollection of reading it before and deciding to include it in the selections for the group. Surprise! Receiving this quote was just what I needed; a reminder to slow down and breathe and to reclaim joy for myself.

In the quiet of the room and in the company of the other writers, I entered the lectio divina process.

  1. Lectio (reading, taking a bite). Get acquainted with the quote. Write down the word or phrase that stands out for you.

Joy comes.

2. Meditatio (reflecting, chewing on it). Read the same passage again. What touches your heart? Allow it to resonate within you. Close your eyes, take those words into your heart and reflect on them. Try to feel them in your body. Write down your reflection.

I feel the first prickling sensation of tears as I sit with this phrase. “Joy comes.” And I notice there is not an “I” in the phrase. Without my asking or seeking or trying to make something happen, joy comes on its own, unbidden. I am reminded that I am a beloved child of God. No matter what. From the very beginning–even before the beginning. What a glorious affirmation, “Nancy, you are a beloved child of God, and joy comes.”

3. Oratio (being active, savoring the essence). Reading the word(s) again, you may feel “so what?” What am I going to do about what I am learning and feeling? Is there a call here? Is this a place for surrender or new level of commitment to deepen your spirituality? Write about your new awareness, thought, feeling or desire.

Be joy and open to joy. Remember all the learning you do when you prepare a new presentation and how that learning deepens because of the interaction with others. Be joy. Open to joy. The most important thing to remember is that joy is an affirmation of God’s presence, God’s love. Not only does God come, but God remains. Ever and always.

In a recent sermon Diana Butler Bass commented that if there was ever a time we need joy, it is now.

Yes. Grief and loss and confusion and uncertainty and fear surrounds us, but still joy comes. In the ordinary. My task is to receive it and reflect it.

4. Contemplatio (resting, digesting and integrating). Once again read the quote. Be aware of presence. This is the time for the prayer of silence, the prayer of the heart. Rest in God, the sacred, the holy.

I feel the drama disappear, at least for the moment, and I relax. I breathe. Make room for joy, I tell myself. Joy comes and needs space in which to shine, to grow, to be.

I expect there will still be technological challenges, but oh, the joy when joy is allowed to flourish.

Joy comes.

An Invitation: Are there words, such as a scripture passage or a lines from a novel or something read in Facebook or even an expression you or someone else uses frequently that beckon you into reflection? I would love to know.

NOTE: Stay tuned for my “Favorite Books of 2021” posts, which I will publish the next two Thursdays–Thanksgiving Day and December 2.

Thank you for reading my blog and sharing my thoughts with others.

An Inventory of the Week

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Some weeks are richer than others. This past week was one of those.

Some highlights:

  • My daily walks. What a glorious fall this is. Still. The leaves capture the sunlight, and the golds are more golden; the reds more aflame, and the branches now bare, create more space for the sun’s warmth. One day I stood and watched a man at the nearby ballfield throw a tennis ball for his German shepherd and golden retriever to fetch. The shepherd never tired of the exercise, but the retriever said, “enough,” and stretched out near homebase to watch the rest of the game. Another day a woman in a car rolled down her window and asked me if I could tell her about the neighborhood. “My adult son would like to buy a house here. What’s it like to live here?” In a flash, I became a one-woman public relations agency.
  • Gatherings in our home. Oh, how I love setting the dining room table with pretty dishes and then welcoming loved ones for an evening of fellowship. This past week one of our potluck groups met here one evening and after enjoying a delicious meal of pumpkin-apple soup, a couscous salad, hunky bread, and a cranberry dessert, we settled in to explore the topic for the evening: what have we learned about ourselves because of the travels we have enjoyed? Such thoughtful, interesting, and revealing responses. Just as sacred, however, are the times during the week that I meet with spiritual direction clients. Such a privilege to hear the challenges, the joys, the puzzles of their lives and to reflect on the ways they are inviting God, the Holy, the Divine into their lives. And how could I forget to mention the afternoon our daughter dropped-in to tell us all about visiting our granddaughter at college!
  • Time at my desk. One of the tasks of this last week was to combine all the chapters of my spiritual memoir draft into one document and then before printing it, correct spelling and usage errors. I am sure this is not the final version, but holding the manuscript in my hands, I knew the past effort and the work yet to be was worth it, for I have learned so much.
  • Reading time. I finished reading a marvelous –and gorgeous–book, Flower Diary, In Which Mary Heister Reid Paints, Travels, Marries and Opens a Door by Molly Peacock. Peacock’s earlier book The Paper Garden, Mrs. Delaney Begins Her Life’s Work at 73 remains one of my favorite books ever, and this one is just as special. You know how some books just feel good in your hands. Well, both of these books remind you of what it means to give yourself to a book and to let a book into your life. The author, by the way, weaves her own life into the lives of the women she explores.
  • In Your Own Words, Contemplative Writing as Spiritual Practice. One of my ongoing joys is preparing the weekly writing prompt and then sharing time for writing and reflecting with a group of lovely women. The prompt last week was about crossing a threshold–to consider the current questions and yearnings in our lives.
  • Just the Two of Us Time. Saturday afternoon we drove along the St Croix River marveling at the color and the gifts of this lingering fall. The day was too beautiful to miss. In the evening we returned to watching episodes of The Crown on Netflix, which has enraptured us just as much the first time we watched the series.
  • My Guest Post in Abbey of the Arts, Monk in the World series. You can read it here: https://abbeyofthearts.com/blog/2021/10/27/monk-in-the-world-guest-post-nancy-agneberg/ I am so delighted and honored to be featured in the weekly blog from Christine Valters Paintner.

Listing these riches is a kind of examen, which is the prayerful reflection on events of the day –or in this case, week–in order to detect God’s presence and to discern God’s direction for our lives. This was a week in which it was easy to feel God’s presence. I know not all weeks feel that way, but my sense is that the more I practice this kind of awareness, the more I will know that presence when I am challenged and shaky. During this week I also sent a sympathy card to a friend from the past whose son died, and I held my daughter-in-love in my heart on the anniversary of her father’s death. And then there are the heartbreaking stories in the news. The pain and sorrow sit right alongside the riches. And God is there in the midst of it all, and it is my job to open to the presence.

I do admit, however, I am not having kind thoughts about the squirrels who have devastated all my pumpkins. They apparently love fall food. But so do I. Sigh!

An Invitation: What riches have you known this past week? And where/when have you felt the presence of God, the Holy, The Divine? I would love to know.

Re-Entry Blues

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We have returned from a brief time in our beloved Door County. Too brief a time. Usually after being away, I am eager, ready to return to home base. Not this time. Perhaps the reason is that Door County is a place where I always feel at home. Or perhaps we weren’t away long enough to feel the tug of home.

Whatever the reason, I am in the midst of re-entry blues.

In the past when I have led retreats of more than a day’s duration, I have offered suggestions to participants about how to prepare for re-entry–even before arriving at the retreat. I ask them to think about what will be helpful when they return home. For me that includes leaving the house clean, for who wants your first home view to be a dirty bathroom or kitchen? I think ahead to what our first meal will be once home–something simple; something that doesn’t require a quick dash to the grocery store. I pay upcoming bills and handle other correspondence and in general, try not to leave a long To Do list that flashes on top of my desk. After all, enough will accumulate while we are gone, and there will be more than one load of laundry to do. The stuff of daily life.

Not only did I do all those tasks, but I also prepared material for my personal writing group and the weekly writing group I lead at church. Both were scheduled to meet the first days after our return, and it eased my mind to know I was ready.

All that was helpful, but I still feel like I am not quite home. My body may be here, but my mind, my heart have been left behind. I can’t quite push myself to move forward beyond the mundane tasks of being home. I thought I would be ready and even eager to begin working on a book proposal, as well as an upcoming adult forum at church, but I don’t feel motivated to take any of those steps. Instead I want to stay in Door County mode–take another long walk schussing leaves, read chapter after chapter in another good book, and enjoy deep conversation over a delicious meal fixed by someone else. I want to drive yet another back road stunned by beauty at every turn.

Ok, I’ve acknowledged to my self–and to you–that I would rather be there than here, but I am here and as my father often said, “That’s the way it is.” So what to do?

First of all, it isn’t as if we have been home for several weeks and I still haven’t done what I say I need to do. No, it has just been a few days. Second, it isn’t as if I have been idle since returning home. I have handled all the basics of life here at home. I fully engaged with the two writing groups, met with clients, communicated with family and friends, went on daily walks, fixed good meals, slept well, and enjoyed reading time in the snug. My husband and I even gave ourselves an extra vacation day and went to a monthly antique sale in a town about 90 miles away.

Maybe I am just being hard on myself. That would not be unusual.

Here’s what I suspect: I needed the time away. More time than what was allotted, so I have unconsciously built more downtime into these first days at home. I know myself well enough that sooner, more probably than later, I will get bored with not doing much of anything and I will be drawn to the next steps waiting for me.

How often have I advised others, “Be gentle with yourself.” I guess that is what I am doing now.

An Invitation: What does being gentle with yourself look like for you? I would love to know.

Fall Thoughts

/ nagneberg48 / 4 Comments

Oh, how I enjoy my morning walks these days. Not only do I appreciate the cool, but not too cool temperatures, but I love seeing the ways homes are decorated for fall and Halloween. Pumpkins sprawled around tree trunks or marching up and down stairs. Monster-sized spiders stretched in tree limbs and every manner of ghoul and ghost extending their bony arms to unsuspecting neighbors.

Most homes in our neighborhood are painted in conservative and neutral colors–browns and beiges, grays, maybe crisper whites with black trim–and seeing the pop of pumpkin orange, even just a solitary one perched near the front door, makes me smile.

What motivates us to ornament our homes with seasonal decorations?

For families with young children the decorations are part of the excitement and the customs leading to Halloween, but what about the rest of us? Why am I attracted to images of black cats in windows and why do I chuckle when I see witch legs pushing up out of the middle of a garden?

Decorating for fall and later for the Christmas holidays is a way to mark the changing of the seasons; to be aware of time passing. We come to the end of another summer, and we are close to the end of another year. We ask ourselves, “Wow, how did that happen? It seems like the weeks and months pass even faster now.”

We may check in with ourselves about the plans we made for the summer months. During our children’s growing up years our family made a “summer list” of all the things we wanted to do and the places we wanted to go. We added to and adapted the list as the summer weeks passed, and as we crossed off the accomplished items on the master list, we were aware of the passage of time and the desire to live fully and enjoy summer’s gifts.

Moving into fall may be a time to check in with ourselves about our hopes and plans for the summer months. How did we do on our summer list–official or unofficial? I praise myself for accomplishing the main writing task I set for myself, but at the same time I knew I had not enjoyed time in our “Paris” side garden as often as I had planned. Next year, I tell myself and file that thought in my imaginary summer file.

Arranging pumpkins on the front steps, I reminisce about other falls. I remember moving our daughter into her dorm freshman year of college and now this fall she and our son-in-love launched their daughter, our granddaughter, into college life. I remember our son’s football games, my father standing proudly on the sidelines, and this fall my husband attended our grandson’s middle school football games. I remember so many “first days of school,” both as a student and as a teacher, but also as a mother waving goodbye. “May this be the best school year ever.” I remember fall trips to New England and Northern Wisconsin to see the fall colors and one special September when we spent two weeks in Paris to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary.

The leaves swirl around me, and I am flooded with memories.

Seasonal decorations spark memories, for sure, but they also are a way to acknowledge ongoing transitions in our lives. I am a year older than I was last fall and I wonder what I will experience in the coming months. Beyond getting out cold-weather clothes and including soups on the weekly menu, how do I prepare for the coming winter time of my life? Who am I now and who is it I can be, will be, as I transition into winter grace?

It seems to me that these autumn decorations affirm life, even as we move into a time of stillness and bareness in our physical landscape and perhaps spiritual landscape, as well.

Does this sound too bleak? I hope not, for I rejoice in the pumpkins, witches and ghosts. And perhaps that is why we adorn our homes in fall splendor–for the pleasure of it. The pleasure of the doing and the pleasure in the giving.

An Invitation: What sights of fall bring you pleasure? I would love to know.