An excerpt

From "Sabbatical Journey: A Diary of His Final Year" by Henri Nouwen

Friday, March 15
Last night I watched a television conversation between Bill Moyers and Joseph Campbell..I was struck by Campbell's remark that we serve the world by being spiritually well. The first questions are not: "How much do we do?" or "How many people do we help out?" but "Are we interiorly at peace?" Campbell confirmed my own conviction that the distinction between contemplation and action can be misleading. Jesus' actions flowed from his interior communion with God. His presence was healing, and it changed the world. In a sense he didn't do anything! "Everyone who touched him was healed" (Mk 6:56)....

...Our society thinks economically: "How much love do I give to God, how much to my neighbor, and how much to myself?" But God says, "Give all your love to me, and I will give you your neighbor and yourself." We are not talking here about moral obligations or ethical imperatives. We are talking about mystical life. It is the intimate communion with God that reveals to us how to live in the world and act in God's Name.

Spontaneity

Spontaneity. I had to spellcheck the word because I rarely write it. When you are depleted, there is not room in life for long, vowel-filled words like that. I have a hugely spontaneous side, but I don’t think my husband even really knows that about me. Over time I’ve become the type of person who eeks out energy by the droplet, knowing that she’ll need any reserves for the next meeting, event or crisis.

Daisy and I were talking yesterday about breast-feeding and how a woman’s body knows that it doesn’t have energy to grow another baby while she’s breast-feeding. So she doesn’t ovulate or menstruate during that time. God created a grace for women, programmed right there into their bodies to protect them (at least for a time) from putting an insane amount of stress on their bodies.*

Today I feel like a mother who has weaned her child and began to menstruate again for the first time in a year or two. You feel the swelling in your belly, a twinge. Then a warm flow but you aren’t sure if it could really be. It’s been so long since you felt that sensation. Could it be?

Today my new friend, Lana, stopped by the house. I was on my way to the kitchen for a late lunch and invited her to join me for a grilled cheese sandwich and cucumber salad. While I prepared our food, she wrote out a recipe for the Kombucha mushroom she’d given me a few days prior. She offered to take me to one of her favorite thrift stores to find a glass bowl for the brewing. I said “If you are free this afternoon we could go after lunch … ?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing come out of my mouth. She’d hardly agreed before my phone was ringing. Daisy was calling, inviting us to join her for a puppydog tail. Um, YES!

Caleb called while we were having our snack. Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band are playing in Minneapolis tonight and his friend, Joey, put us on the guestlist. “The show starts at 11, do you want to go with me?” Normally the answer would be “Eleven PM?! Last minute?! On a WEEKNIGHT?!! Hell no!”

Caleb probably dropped the phone when I immediately agreed. I warned him I’d need to take a nap before we went and he agreed I would indeed need that. Of course! But…I didn’t end up needing one after all! We arrived at the concert, Joey introduced us to a couple, both artists, and we chatted away for a while. The music started, my heart beat, the sound was so full, Caleb arms encircled me, our bodies swayed, my eyes misted. I felt so alive. Maybe it’s pushing it to say that Oberst is our generation’s Bob Dylan – but that’s what I thought when he sang,

Two faces you have
Two faces (two faces)
Two faces
Keep one in your bag
Two faces
From which you can choose
Two faces
And neither are you

Now, this little day may not sound like a big deal to you. Isn’t that the kind of thing that most people do? But to me, It. Is. A. Miracle.

Well, to continue the new trend, I just got a text message from Lana with an invitation to “jump on the spontaneous train.” How could I resist? See you all again soon.

*From my casual observation, it seems to work the same with marathon runners, people who are morbidly obese and women struggling with anorexia. Conversely, women who have access to better-than-good nutrition these days are so well nourished that sometimes the body thinks they’re fine and dandy to go for baby-growing -- so that’s why we see some families who have children who are just 10 months apart.

Retext Me

“Re-text us away from our thin angers, into your truth-telling freedom … Re-text us by your word become wind.” – Walter Breuggemann, “Awed to Heaven, Rooted to Earth”

It’s just the poem’s title “Re-text Us”
That jolts me from rainy-day laze to woman warrior.
Re-text me God, to read the book with ferocity
Let me be
Seeing one, who reads beyond the old tellings and new suspicions
Hearing one, who listens with vigor for love sounding out
Mouthy one, who asks the questions and even talks back.
It’s time for settling of scores.

To read Breuggemann’s poem check out page 62 here

for the g'mas

I feel like a Mennonite farmwife here. It is all getting dangerously close to what my Grandma Wedel's letters from Oklahoma sounded like or a glance at my Grandma Eck's diary. They are all filled with "planted peas today," "the corn is almost ready to be picked," "barn raising" or "had Vernie Giesprects over for supper." Yes, the entire family was addressed as the father's name.

Those letters and journal glimpses were painfully dry readings for me as a kid. I wondered why they even took time to write that boring stuff down. There was no imprint of their emotions about the event or a view into their personalities. I still wish I could have had some window into their minds. I feel like there is so much that I didn't know about them (maybe nobody knew, not even themselves). But the generation that came of age during the depression just didn't talk about feelings much. Lately my news is similar to the tidbits my grandmothers recorded.

Transplanted some day lilies to the side of the house then weeded out behind the barn today.

The inspector came to inspect the coop yesterday. We'll be able to get the chickens soon.

Yesterday while I was weeding, a baby bird fell to the ground from its nest in the barn eaves. It landed not six inches in front of me and gave me quite a surprise!

The compost bin is filling up. The tomato plants are growing, but no tomatoes yet. I might need to thin the lettuce soon.

Dwights (as in Dwight and Janna Nysewander) were over for supper last night. I made roast chicken (actually, I bought a rotisserie at seward co-op), roasted cauliflower/ zucchini/garlic/potatoes/onions, a green salad with greens from the CSA and (store-bought) rustic bread.

Well I do go on. I rambled on so long I don't have time to write about the weather!

The last few days I have been thinking about my grandmothers. They were very hard-working women, trying to make ends meet on a little bit of nothing. They had their churches, their families and their farms. Most of their lives were spent caring for others.

A simple sentence written down, like "put up 40 quarts of peaches today" took only a moment to write and spoke nothing of her inner self. But it did represent an entire day's worth of hot, hard work in the kitchen on behalf of her family.

Nobody noticed that I spent hours weeding and raking the back beds yesterday (well, not until I pointed it out...ha!). And most of the things my grandmothers worked at every day of their lives didn't garner much observation or praise. But there must have been something very satisfying for my grandma to jot down a "dry" accomplishment in her journal at the end of a fruitful day. A record that she was there, working to provide for the people she loved. A humble declaration that what she did that day was worthwhile. Worth writing down, even.

You Are Here

I see other people's Monday blues Facebook and Twitter notifications pop up and realize that I have a window of time here where Monday is just another day for rest for me. Thought I'd share a little about the house and our life here so far.

I am making dinner for the house tonight, then we are going to talk about divying up house chores and such. I'm going to make this, only with black beans. We have one lactose intolerant person and one vegan in the house so I'll put the cheese on the side. Also making cabbage salsa and a tomato salsa with tortilla chips. Maybe some avocado slices on the side.

The housemates are: Last night Caleb mentioned my blog and the housemates got inspired to take their own code names.

Nikolas Milosh and Sharne Daisy and their six month old baby girl, Ivy Otis. Daisy is from Australia. Milosh is the lead singer/accordian player of Breaksea Caravel, the band at our wedding. They share one full-time job at a garden/landscaping place. So they take turns being home/working each day. That way they both have a part in Otis' daily life. Daisy also teaches dance (she's a trained dancer) and Milosh of course plays in the band. They're very involved in a network of community houses in the city, and as the ones with the longest experience in it, they are the community mentors. Otis is SUPER cute and easygoing. She chews on her feet, squeals and smiles at people and into her baby monitor. She sleeps a lot and only poops once a week right now because she's growing so fast. We love her!

Paul Esteban, a guy who is engaged to be married in Sept. to Lizbeth a beautiful young woman with blonde really fluffy curly hair. She looks like an angel, the stereotypical kind. Paul is a graphic designer and just started a new job this week. He also started a chess club in the barn. We don't see him that much but have really enjoyed getting to know him during the times we've talked.

The house is so beautiful -- I need to get around to taking some photos. It's Victorian and there it's been restored really nicely. There are victorian interiors too -- i.e. doilies and strings of pearl. Though I don't decorate that way myself, it just works here and I couldn't imagine it any other way in this home. It feels warm, homey, peaceful, beautiful. The people here aren't at all stuffy so that makes even the Victorian decor not feel formal.

And everything works. For example, there is a big, nice gas stove to cook on and a shelf in the pantry and fridge for us. The downstairs bathroom has a great shower and a big bureau with drawers so there is plenty of storage and each person gets their drawer and a hook for their towel. Everything is clean and operational, thoughtfully arranged. All the dishes are put in the dishwasher promptly after meals so that the kitchen is ready for the next person when they want to use it. The functional and ready-to-use aspect of a home is very welcoming and essential to true hospitality I think. It's something I want to incorporate more into my own way of doing things. My mother-in-law, Patti, is also amazing at this part of hospitality. I always notice it. You just feel welcome when you are in a place like that.

I love the philosophy that Daisy has, to use the best china every day, not to save it for special occasions. They just enjoy what they have fully. The house really has that feeling about it...full enjoyment of the day and the moment. Daisy (pronounced like barn with an SH the flower) has tons of teacups and little pretty serving trays/dishes. She makes a beautiful tray just to have tea or a snack.

When we arrived I was surprised to find out they had saved two garden beds for me to plant in. So I planted tomatoes, kale, salad greens, beans, peas, peppers in mine. It was mostly what they or I had in seeds or starts so not really a planned garden. Plus it's late in the season to plant so I was a little limited. But with what I have and Milosh and Daisy have already planted I think we'll have a good mix of stuff.

We're going to have chickens and two ducks. We're just waiting for the inspector to come out and give us a go-ahead on the coop.

Milosh and I built a compost bin last week.

Milosh fashioned some rain barrels and there's a worm bin that needs to get going too.

There is a fire pit in the back yard. We haven't lit a fire yet but I hope to soon. There's a working fireplace in the house too, which they fired up last night.

I've been sleeping tons.

Caleb and I had a marathon online TV watching session this weekend.

I just poked my head in the prayer space up in the attic this morning. It's sparce but a quiet place to get away if you need to. You just turn the saint on the door over if you go up and you get no interruptions. There is styrofoam on the back of the door, as a sound blocker I presume. So you could really go wild up there! I don't know how much I'll use it because the house has lots of space and is surprisingly quiet and insulated for an old place.

Like I mentioned in my last post, the porch is where we eat mostly, or on a blanket in the yard, except when it rains. Yep, today is day three of rain, which we really need here.

The yard is beautiful. Milosh, Daisy and Otis just got back from Australia and Europe so there is some catching up to do. It's nice to feel like there is a place for me to participate in it with them. Again, the welcome has been incredible.

My legs are STILL sore from a big day of weeding and the bike riding I've been doing. I still don't know my way around the city, it's kinda confusing to me. And biking is definitely a transition.

Caleb and I are having a lot of fun, with more time to hang out together and just enjoy each other. That's been wonderful.

Daisy has been a good person to talk about life, faith and vocation with. They've lived in community for the last ten years, sharing home and life with people. They seem to do it so well, and the pace they have found is refreshing. I feel like this is a safe place for me to process, pray, receive.

It's all so new. And so good. Every day I am just filled with gratitude and with a sense of full knowing that this is all a gift from God.

I need to get to the laundry I started earlier, and shop for some groceries. And I'm supposed to work on a little proposal that Caleb, Bethany and I are scheming about. So I have a few things on my list! Good stuff.

trapeze

“Get up and laugh at the morning with me.” An offer like that is a perfect way to get me out of bed. We ate breakfast outside on the porch, sitting in the wicker chairs and looking at the yard (by the third day this has already become our customary dining space). After breakfast Caleb went off to his first day of work. Before he’d driven away I had already planted some peas and beans, and was on to weeding. By noon I had weeded the walk and the back flower bed. My muscles felt tired, but good. My mind was clear. I felt … relaxed. Happy.

I made an egg, cheese and wilted spinach sandwich for myself, grabbed a glass of water and went back outside to the “dining room” to eat lunch and read.

I’ve had it in my mind to read Henri Nouwen’s Sabbatical Journey again during my own sabbatical. I read it the first time as a 24-year-old, during my Servant Team in Romania. I was fresh, idealistic, a bit judgmental and ready to get on with a radical life of ministry. I know that I have changed so much in the last ten years of life and service and I expect to read it with different eyes this time – ten years older, a bit more realistic, a lot more aware of my own fallibility, and more -- what's the word -- weary.

In the forward, Sue Mosteller, the executor of Nouwen’s writings explains that he wrote the journals during a year-long sabbatical. He had been given the charge by his community to do no work aside from writing. Sadly, Nouwen died at the end of his sabbatical, before could even edit his sabbatical journals. Monsteller goes on to describe Nouwens intense fascination and spiritual connection with a trapeze act called the Flying Rodleighs.

The daredevil flyer swinging high above the crowd lets go of the trapeze to simply stretch out his arms and wait to feel the strong hands of the catcher pluck him out of the air. “The flyer must never catch the catcher,” Rodleigh had told him. “He must wait in absolute trust.” This relationship spoke to the inner aspirations of Henri’s heart and to his yearning to fly in the spiritual life, but only in relationship with and yielding more and more into the loving hands of the Eternal Catcher. – (Sabbatical Journey, Henri Nouwen, p. 8-9 of the forward,)

When I read this I immediately began to cry because it nailed where I am right now. Letting go, flying into the unknown and trusting that I will be caught. It feels very odd to be in this position as the flyer. Now is a time to release expectations, “have-tos” and outcomes. I don’t have to catch anything or anyone. This time I am the one being caught. My job is to just let go.

----

by the way we're doing great. the place the people the everything is great. i'll write more about that sometime soon.

1 minute poem before packing resumes

when your quirks
and character lumps
bump another's head-on
and the last thing you yell
into the air
is 'eat some protein!'
as he drives away
and you know he heard it
through the open window
because you see him smile -
crookedly because he doesn't want to -
then you know you got a good thing.