a place for your soul to breathe
It’s Tuesday in December, and that means we’re unwrapping the lovely, the messy, and the unexpected. Whether you are in a season of work or rest, celebration or grief, take a moment to see where you are, who you’re with, and what might be worth unwrapping. Will you take a moment and unwrap your moments here with us? Need help linking up? This post should answer your questions.
“I think it is more important to celebrate a birthday than a successful exam, a promotion, or a victory. Because to celebrate a birthday means to say to someone: Thank you for being you. Celebrating a birthday is exalting life and being glad for it. On a birthday we do not say: Thanks for what you did, or said, or accomplished. No, we say: Thank you for being born and being among us.“
Henri Nouwen, Here and Now
My sister-in-law had a birthday this weekend. We all went out to eat together, kids gathered on one end with crayons and cups with lids. After the meal, we went back to her house, piled on couches in their living room, offered her gifts and listened to stories.
We didn’t make a whole day of it or go over the top with decoration. But we did get together. And there was definitely singing.
We do this same type of simple gathering for every birthday in the family, from the littles to the bigs, both on my husband’s side of the family as well as on mine. Every time we sing Happy Birthday, I tear up. I can’t help it. And now, after reading Henri Nouwen, I understand a little more of why.
You are here. You are you. Thank you for being among us.
It’s the second Tuesday in December, and that means we’re unwrapping the lovely, the messy, and the unexpected.
This is your life, where you are right now, the things you hold in your hand. Whether you are in a season of work or rest, celebration or grief, take a moment to see where you are, who you’re with, and what might be worth unwrapping. Will you take a moment and unwrap your moments here with us? Need help linking up? This post should answer your questions.
The book is due in less than a week and the computer decides today would be a great day to run out of space. I dared not close out my document, moved instead to save it. No luck – no more space for documents. No more room in the inn.
That’s a terrible comparison. I take it back.
I go into Finder to check out just how crowded it is in there and would you believe that not only do I still have complete copies of my first two books saved in my documents, I also had page proofs and corrected proofs saved as well? That means I had three copies of Grace for the Good Girl and three copies of Graceful on this computer, not to mention all the other hundreds of files.
And all the while I work away at this next manuscript all Save-y McSaverson, and my computer finally stops being a good girl and shouts enough, woman. Clean me out already.
I found the old files, moved them to the trash, waited the twenty minutes it took for the trash to empty. I do exaggerate, and I do know I have the manuscript backed up in several other places already, but one thing I do not do? I do not freak out.
When things like this have happened before, I have freaked out. I have run (and fast) down the road of crazy, insisting I needed a new computer, cry into the sleeve of my dirty sweatshirt, gnash teeth and hate everything. I have done that and then I have calmed down and done all the things I actually did first this time. Like realize it’s not that big of a deal, delete some files, and carry on.
I’m not saying I won’t ever freak out again, but I’m thankful for progress.
It’s Tuesday in December, and that means we’re unwrapping the lovely, the messy, and the unexpected. For me today, I’m unwrapping the gift of avoiding the messy and facing the unexpected without falling apart.
Now, do you know what is happening in me as I realize this is what is coming out for my first Tuesdays Unwrapped post? I feel compelled to delete it and share instead something about my family or my home, something to prove that I’m not a workaholic and I do see things beyond my computer screen, afterall.
But I think that would be a mistake and would miss the entire point of what we’re doing here in this space. This is your life, where you are right now, the things you hold in your hand. Whether you are in a season of work or rest, celebration or grief, take a moment to see where you are and not where you wish you were instead.
Taste the air of the moments that surround you and unwrap them here with us. We can’t wait to have a peek.
It’s dark in the bathroom and the floor is cold. My mind moves slowly as I stand there blinking my way into the day. Staring at my feet with intensity, I will them to either move toward a shower or just head straight for the coffee.
In that brief moment, light falls through the window soft, across the rug, the tiles, my feet. Just as quickly, it fades out again and I’m in the dark. I turn my head to the left and peek outside to see where the brief light came from.
The sky is still dark with the gray of morning but the heaviness lifts for a moment. Then a cloud passes over the moon.
And so it’s December and the gifts can pass by like light from the moon peeking through clouds in the night. Too fast, too fleeting. Let’s slow a little together and unwrap the gifts that are hard to hold.
For those of you who have been around a while, you may remember we used to unwrap these daily gifts every Tuesday around here. Then in November of 2010, I had to stop for a while. Last year, I brought it back just for the month of December and this year, we’re doing it again.
I hope you’ll join in on Tuesdays during the season of Advent as we celebrate on purpose the lovely, the messy, and the unexpected gifts of our daily rhythm. For tomorrow, I hope you’ll choose one gift of your ordinary day and find the miracle secret it holds. Write it out, breathe it in, capture its image, see it new. And then come here to tell us all about it by linking up.
If you are new to this community, here is all the information you’ll need to prepare your post. I hope to see you tomorrow.
My microwave is working overtime this morning. I’ve re-heated my coffee eight times already. Since my brain seems to only want to work in compartments today, I thought it appropriate to do a bullet point post. Ready?
It sounds simple: go outside, step into the quiet, if just for a few minutes, and see what rises to the surface. But we can’t do that! It’s almost Christmas! We must do that. It’s almost Christmas. This is perhaps one of the most frustrating disciplines I’ve faced lately. Mainly because what rises to the surface is not very spiritual sounding. It isn’t profound, deep, or even very interesting. I’m tired. My hair is dirty. That leaf looks like a puppy. But I keep walking, avoiding on purpose the temptation to critique myself. Just keep walking.
Things don’t change. Problems are not solved. Angels are not singing. Rainbows are not bursting from clouds. There is no light shining like a halo around me. Simply, I am quiet. And that is it’s own miracle. With the rhythm of walking, breathing, being with God and what is true about me, there is a slight and almost imperceptible shift. My frantic movements are not so frantic now. I see things I would have missed.
We tend to pray with words because we aren’t brave enough to pray from our groaning soul ache. And so we chatter away with our Dear God, just…and we miss him in the middle of all. this. noise. He’s still there, though. He doesn’t roll his eyes or cross his arms or tap his foot with impatience. He hears all the chattering and he sees what lies beneath it. Even in the noise, He gathers us up and pours Himself out.
I come home after my walk, cheeks red from the wind, camera filled up with images of hope, soul breathing more deeply. I spent the time listening, but I can’t tell you what I heard, exactly. The language of the soul doesn’t always translate well into English. Instead, I lean my weight heavy into Him, longing to live in the quiet even in the midst of the noise. I know that may not be possible, not the way I hope. But this walk was a gift for reasons I’m not really sure of yet. And for that I am thankful.
We would love to read about your Tuesday walk by inviting you to add your link below. Be sure to include the permalink to your Tuesday post. If you need help to link up, this page will hopefully answer all of your questions. Be sure to link back here to Chatting at the Sky so that others can find our community. If you wrote a regular Tuesdays Unwrapped post, by all means still link up! I’m delighted you are here and so thankful for this community. What a gift these Tuesdays have been. The links will be open to add until Thursday evening.
“One of the most important lessons I have learned over the past few years is how important it is to have time and space for being with what’s real in my life — to celebrate the joys, grieve the losses, shed my tears, sit with the questions, feel my anger, attend to my loneliness.”
Ruth Haley Barton, Sacred Rhythms
I may know the importance of holding the truth of my life in my hands, of looking at it from all angles, of seeing what is. But there is a distinct difference between knowing the importance of being with what’s real and actually being brave enough to resist reaching for what I wish to be. It takes courage to sit with the reality of the questions, the desires, the sorrows and the joys and to simply let them exist on the surface in the presence of God. It takes time, a willingness to see, and the discipline to rest in the midst of it.
That’s what we practice here on Tuesdays. We take this day, whatever it holds, and look for the gifts. Sometimes it’s easy and quick, the gifts bursting from every common meal and conversation. Other times, the gifts seem to be hiding under deep piles of dust and broken things. But it has been my experienced during this practice that we generally find what we’re looking for. Might you join us in looking for the gifts today?
We can get lost in nostalgia sometimes. Hearing my daughter pronounce her r’s so perfectly, watching the way she reads with ease – sometimes these milestones that should be fully celebrated only serve as reminders of those days when they were small and couldn’t do these things for themselves. I used to swim around in the memories more than I do now. But memories can be sweet little liars. They don’t always store up the whole truth of how things were.
Today, he builds with blocks. Today, he wants me to build with him and make up stories and weave the road for the cars through the town. Instead of being swept away by how big they are now or how much things have changed, take a few minutes to consider what is real and true this day – the lovely, the messy, and the unexpected. That’s what we are doing on Tuesdays in December. Look around, because one day not so long from now, this very day will be one of those days you look back on and treasure. Might we practice treasuring it now instead?
We would love to read about your Tuesday gifts by inviting you to add your link below. Be sure to include the permalink to your Tuesday post. If you need help to link up, this page will hopefully answer all of your questions. Be sure to link back here to Chatting at the Sky so that others can find our community. Welcome to Tuesdays Unwrapped.
Sometimes I love this life too much. I revel in her gifts, long for what I can’t have, grasp for what I’m losing, think real life and happiness are found in all the gifts rather than the Giver. Other times, I long for heaven so badly I think my heart might cave in. I see this life for what it is – a moment, a breath – and desire weaves her way up and out from deeper places than I even knew existed. And in those times, the earth fog lifts and it’s as if I know fully even as I am fully known. But the clarity doesn’t visit long, and just as I try to document it, the stuff of life and laundry come back down like a curtain, leaving me wondering how the mystery ever felt real at all.
We plow through the day, head down, eyes shut tight, hands busy, heart whirring, ears pounding with running lists and broken hearts and don’t forget the milk at the store. Our prayers are mostly talking and our hearts are mostly longing for something, anything other than this fast-paced life. And my job isn’t even one of those typically stressful ones like brain surgeon or president.
I consider the gifts hiding in secret but wide-open places. And when I do, He slows me and invites me into Himself. These gifts are not me, He says, but they are evidence of the mystery. What can I do but see them, pick them up, turn them over, and unwrap them? The grass is flattened in my front yard because they’re learning to play soccer. The washroom floor is covered in blankets because the whole family stayed with us. The desk is piled high with books and papers because I get to do the job I love.
This life is bursting with the mystery of God. Find the gifts that point to the Giver and be curious in your longing. Do not discount any season you might be in. Do not wave away that deep desire for more. Begin with the gifts at your feet and see where they take you.
We would love to read about your Tuesday gifts by inviting you to add your link below. Be sure to include the permalink to your Tuesday post. If you need help to link up, this page will hopefully answer all of your questions. Be sure to link back here to Chatting at the Sky so that others can find our community. I look so forward to reading your posts. Welcome back to Tuesday.
I cup my hands over the warm dough, brush flour from the top onto the cornmeal covered pizza peel. I made this dough with my own hands. When water and yeast meet flour and salt and time, they rise up together, mingling in the bowl so we can’t tell one from the other. They make a new thing.
When it’s time to put it in the oven, the heavy dough sits rounded on the stone. As it begins to move, I watch in wonder. Because I may have added these things together, but I can’t make them breathe. And the idea that I made this dough with my own hands turns laughable now. Really? Where do you keep your storehouses of water? Did you mine the rocks or capture the sea water to get that salt? I am Job and the bread questions turn to earth questions and I’m wondering how the proud waves know where to stop and who gives the sun his orders and where night ends and morning begins.
I mix the dough, not because I know things, but because I have faith in those who have done it already. I am a student of bread and of life. Busy makes me too big. Slow brings me down low. I need to stay low, small, thankful.
One of my favorite thankful practices we started here over two years ago. Tuesdays Unwrapped began as a project to see life on purpose, to look at what is and embrace it rather than wish it different. Tuesdays gave us permission to take the time to unwrap the small, secret gift of the everyday. It was a year ago that I stopped doing Tuesdays Unwrapped as a weekly link up. It was one of those things I had to say no to in order to say yes to other things. But I have missed it, the weekly practice of noticing with a community.
Beginning tomorrow, I would like to unwrap my tuesdays again with you from now until the end of the year. While dear Ann invites us to list one thousand gifts on Mondays, I invite you to unwrap them one by one on Tuesdays. For tomorrow, I hope you’ll choose one gift of your ordinary day and find the miracle secret it holds. Write it out, breathe it in, capture its image, see it new. And then come here to tell us all about it by linking up. If you are new to this community, here is all the information you’ll need to prepare your post. I hope to see you tomorrow.
There isn’t one great thing you were made to do. There's one great God you were made to glorify. When you embrace the unique shape of your soul and live as the person you most fully are, art comes out. (Coming Nov. 2013)
My first book encourages tired women to let go of the try-hard life. Instead of trying to grab on to grace, what would it mean to let grace grab on to you?
Written especially for teen girls encouraging them to give up on perfect and instead trust the One who is.
