This year has been like a creepy stroll through a fun-house at the county fair– a maze of bewildering, distorted experiences where the walls narrow and bend while the floor beneath shifts in chaotic uncertainty and the exit seems to snake so far into the future that the tipsy-turvy wobble of reality starts to feel normal.
If I could find a way out, I would hide among the livestock and let puffs of pink sugar dissolve on my tongue while pondering the slanted profile of a goat. Hiding for the rest of 2020 is tempting. It’s been a hard year with way more steep drops and hard climbs than the ricketiest roller coaster. I’m not a fan of roller coasters so I’m over it all. I’m ready to say farewell to 2020 — blow a goodbye kiss to it through my masked face and wait for next year.
But if I have learned anything, it is to be grateful for each day that I am given. I used to think this kind of gratitude meant that I would be in a persistently good mood, that I would never be annoyed at the people in my life, and that I would be completely satisfied regardless of my circumstances. It would be the pinnacle of my spiritual evolution with some ceremonial demarcation comprised of wrapping my head in a turban and singing Kumbaya to my cats. And as much as I probably should wrap my head in a turban until I can see my hairdresser again, gratitude looks nothing like that.
Right now, when it’s so tempting to write off the year as some sort of sordid freak show that none of us bought a ticket for, being grateful means perseverance. It means that despite how far-fetched these new realities seem we don’t let them stop our pursuit of joy. If anything, it has made us more creative in finding it. We are a dear and precious people. The characteristics we embody – our innate ability to love and care for others is a contagion that thrives in hard times. No matter what distorted images the year has held, love still reflects the best of one another. It recognizes the gift of now. It doesn’t throw away the days left on the calendar until notions of normalcy return.
We aren’t a people meant to hide out with goats when life is still full of bright colorful lights, laughter, and the wonder of love that spins as magically as a carousel loaded with galloping horses suspended in time. As tempting as it is to scoff at the merits of 2020, we won’t get this time back. Eventually, it gets packed away leaving us only with gratitude for the memories of a year that’s been quite the ride.
𝑯𝒊 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔~𝑨𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂 𝒚𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓. (𝑶𝒓, 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.) 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒓, “𝒚𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚" 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅. 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒔 “𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍.” 𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒅! (𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒔.) 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚. 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 2020. 𝒀𝒆𝒕, 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒂 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆. 𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝒂 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒐. 𝑺𝒐, 𝒍𝒆𝒕’𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒊𝒕. 𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒏. 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆. ~ 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑳𝒂𝒓𝒂 ... See MoreSee Less
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In my early twenties, I came across a poem in a gift shop in Savannah, Georgia. I bought the book and decided that I wanted to live the way the 85-year-old author would if she could live her life over.
These are her words:
If I had my life to live over again,
I’d dare to make more mistakes next time.
I’d relax.
I’d limber up.
I’d be sillier than I’ve been this trip.
I would take fewer things seriously.
I would take more chances,
I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
I would, perhaps, have more actual troubles but fewer imaginary ones.
you see, I’m one of those people who was sensible and sane,
hour after hour,
day after day.
Oh, I’ve had my moments.
If I had to do it over again,
I’d have more of them.
In fact, I’d try to have nothing else- just moments,
one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.
I’ve been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot-water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute.
If I could do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.
If I had to live my life over,
I would start barefoot earlier in the spring
and stay that way later in the fall.
I would go to more dances,
I would ride more merry-go-rounds,
I would pick more daisies.
– Nadine Stair
As young as I was, I understood the wisdom in her words. I recognized my own tendency to carry a parachute in my purse “just in case.” I knew I worried too much about the future and too little about making the most of the present. I didn’t eat enough ice cream and I was terrified of making mistakes.
The fanciful imagery of her words reminds me of giddy laughter, fireflies, and long, lazy naps with the cat. Over the years, I thought of how those images juxtaposed against the harder realities of life – loneliness, loss, and suffering so painful that we can’t imagine anything as hopeful as a daisy. What Ms. Stair wrote was a reminder to make beautiful moments right now regardless of our circumstances.
Her words had such an impact on me that I wanted them to be my life’s anthem. What I didn’t realize at the time, is that as much as I knew there was to learn from her experiences, my own mistakes – not hers, would be my greatest teacher. Had I known that I would have welcomed failure with the abandon of wild horses. I would have known that someone else’s words, no matter how perfect, can’t be my anthem – that can only be sung in how I compose the notes of life’s moments. I would have seen the wisdom in her words and looked inside myself for my own. I would have understood that her wanting to do life differently was merely a longing for mercy. It is on this truth that everything hinges. Regardless of age, mercy is the great do-over that lets us begin again. Whether we want to pick more daisies or plant a garden, it’s by recognizing the mercies available to us to make moment upon moment matter that we can write the poetry of our lives without lament.
May yours be epic.
𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖? 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆? ~ 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑳𝒂𝒓𝒂 ... See MoreSee Less
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We call him the world's worst fishing dog because he's always trying to eat the bait and is almost hyperventilating with eager joyfulness as he steps all over whoever is reeling in their line. He's smelly and he's old. But Gus is the best family dog we could hope for redefining for us what makes a good catch.
Happy National Dog Day Gus! ~ love, the cats
Picture by the talented Corinna Hoffman Photography ... See MoreSee Less
I know we aren’t supposed to brag but I’m not good at many things. I didn’t make the cheerleading team in sixth grade. I remember the awkwardness of getting picked near last for teams in P.E. class. I didn’t even make grade school chorus – and 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 made the chorus. Everyone, that is, except for me and a boy going through early adolescence whose voice cracked mid-syllable like a banjo with a broken string. Eventually, his voice became smooth and steady while mine remains a unique mix of southern, nasally, whine. It’s as if I speak my own dialect and apparently, it should not be put to music. As such, I feel like I get special dispensation when it comes to boasting. After all, I feel like God would want me to focus on my strengths after so many obviously traumatic childhood experiences.
All that is to say, I am really good at finding shark's teeth. (I know I probably should have made sure you were sitting down for that.) Last time I went to the beach I found 38 shark teeth in less than two hours. Since I am a self-proclaimed-shark-tooth-finding expert, I feel obligated to teach others several important lessons from my experiences:
1. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸. Slow down and pay attention to the gifts in your life. I bet if you look close enough you will find way more than 38.
2. 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀𝘆, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘀. 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺. Like the debris of crushed shells on the beach, if we aren’t careful then all we will see are the broken pieces of our lives. We can never lose sight of the way God redeems our suffering often surprising us with unexpected gifts of awe.
3. 𝗦𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗽 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝘆. Life can be pointy. People can be mean. We can be misunderstood. All of that hurts. Yet, we know life is good too. We know that when we serve others and imitate God’s love, we shine in a way that makes us stand out as disciples of Christ. “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind,” (John 1:4). Be the light to others.
4. 𝗢𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗲. Whenever I find a shark’s tooth, I can’t help but rub my finger along its sharp-edge point. I shiver imagining the power of it piercing my skin with the full force of a shark bite. When our hearts have been pierced with God’s love, our faith gives us incredible strength to endure life’s biggest challenges. “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved,” (Romans 10:13). If you have ever seen the movie 𝘑𝘢𝘸𝘴 you know that verse is worth remembering.
5. 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗜’𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗸’𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵. 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗱, 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘂𝗽. It’s easy to get too focused on our goals, even the most worthwhile ones, that we sometimes forget to acknowledge the one who makes everything possible. When I remember to look up after my eyes have crossed and my neck has bent crooked from looking for triangular-shaped treasures, I am reminded that the real treasure is in front of me. I see the glorious wonder of the ocean with clear eyes. Its stretch into eternity reminds me of how big God is and how bottomless are his love and mercy. In a perfect moment of grace, I forget the self-congratulations of my shark teeth hunt. Instead, I stare in silence not needing a voice to sing his praises.
𝗪𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂. ~ 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲, 𝗟𝗮𝗿𝗮 ... See MoreSee Less
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I could describe the college drop-off experience in all kinds of melodramatic ways and somehow it still wouldn’t seem close to describing the void it created in my heart. But I held it together even as I hugged him goodbye.
It’s amazing that you can be simultaneously and genuinely happy for someone even when that means unbelievable heartache for you. I guess that’s love. It does the hard things. It wishes for the happy things. It empties in order to fill someone else. And as grueling as it is, it’s also a glorious reminder of God’s unconditional love for us.
Unconditional doesn’t mean it that it won’t hurt like hell. It just means you gladly do it anyway.
Feeling glad (even though I am puffy, swollen, red-eyed, and also ridiculously sad!) ... See MoreSee Less
