Slice of Life: Afterglow

I am continuing to enjoy a book of Advent devotionals, Christ the Light of the World, by Thomas Kinkade. My bookmark in this small devotional book is a poem created by Margaret Simon for SJT at Reflections on the Teche. She wrote an image poem for each word of advent and I've enjoyed revisiting them as I've read the short devotionals in my book. I especially loved her poem for week 4:

Love 

leans in for a gentle hug

warming intuition 

and keeps glowing 

Kinkade refers to the time after Christmas as "afterglow", one of his favorite times of the year. I too love the gentle time between Christmas and New Year's Day, times when I can savor waking up early and sitting peacefully in the light of the Christmas tree. I spent most of yesterday reading, warming my hands and heart with a mug of hot chocolate. I'm old school and leave my tree up until January when I tenderly remove each ornament and think of the memories associated with each one as I pack them away.

In Kinkade's devotional for Week Five, Day 29, he speaks of the tension between doing (the active life) and being (the contemplative life). This was especially meaningful for me since "be" is my OLW for 2025. 

Kinkade writes, "Once we reach the day after Christmas, the world of doing takes a grand time-out. . .  Savoring the afterglow of Christmas is a learned art and one worth the creative effort. " 

I declared a pajama stay-at-home day today. I delighted in watching a Christmas movie accompanied by a mug of cinnamon apple spice tea. I also visited with family and friends via phone calls.  

How have you embraced being and not doing in these days after Christmas? How are you basking in the love and afterglow of this season?

Slice of Life: Love arrived in the night sky!

I read these words last night from Kate Bowler's advent Day 23 reflection:

"So here we are, a few days from Christmas, and maybe the invitation is to look for love in small ways. In a text that says, 'Made it home safe.' In a neighbor shoveling your walkway. Love in the God who came close, unnoticed but never unneeded.

Blessed are we who believe that love,
no matter how small,
is enough to remake the world.

---

Where have you experienced love arriving this season in small ways?"

And that's when I knew I had to share a moment from last night as I stepped out of our public library. The evening sky took my breath away. I grabbed my phone to capture it, hoping the pics would do it justice. I soon realized that this was a moment requiring multiple pics. Here's what I saw as I did a 360 turn in the library parking lot:

Before I reached the car, my phone rang. It was grandson Robby! He knows how much I love beauty. He noticed the night sky as they ate dinner and insisted that his mom call me so he could tell me to go outside and look. This is the same little guy who used to tell me he would take a "memory pic" as we spied fall color when I delivered him to and from preschool. And then I would hear his little click from the backseat!

I wish you small moments of love (and time to savor them) in the midst of your busy days. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a very Happy New Year to each of you!  

Spiritual Journey Thursday & Poetry Friday: Hope for Dark Days

Jone is hosting Spiritual Journey Thursday. 

Read her post on light, darkness, silence and hope. 

Then click on Mr. Linky for the posts of other SJT participants.

 

I did not grow up with a religious tradition that focused on Advent. However, I am increasingly drawn to it. I've collected a few quotes, some links, and a poem that I am enjoying during this season of Advent.

1. From my small devotional book, Christ the Light of the World by Thomas Kinkade:

"... in the days to come I ask you to sit quietly with the images from my brush and imagination, images that are meant to beckon you into a world of stillness. Allow your heart to wander on a reflective journey through the season of Advent even as you attend to the demands of December. 'The journey begins with Advent,' wrote author Jan Richardson. 'Advent is a dance set to the rhythm of waiting. We wait for the holy, we wait for the birth, we wait for the light . . . Advent reminds us that we are a pregnant people, for God calls each of us to bring forth the Christ.'"

I love the words, "Allow your heart to wander on a reflective journey..." 

2. This concluding paragraph in the essay "Dirty Feathered Hope" by Lorren Lemmons from Wayfare:

"Jesus brought unfaltering hope into the world quietly. Only those who were already oriented toward Him could see it at first: the magi watching the skies; the shepherds who followed the angelic summons to witness Him in the manger; the imperfect but willing mother who risked her social standing, her marriage, and even her life to bring the Savior into the world. Hope might have felt far away to the families whose babies were killed in Herod’s decree or the followers gathered at the foot of the cross in Golgotha. It might feel far to you as you navigate the bruises and pains of mortality, tangled in situations that feel like they have no solution. But Jesus Christ keeps His promises. We can’t see the way it will all work out quite yet, but we can hope with surety and without shame. The Light has come into the world. Every one of us will fly again."   

3. Poet Georgia Heard's newsletter Tipping toward Hope, packed to the brim with 10 heartbeats worth sharing. Don't miss her gifts near the end of the newsletter: A Daily Advent of Writing Invitations and Poems and Invitations for the Solstice and Returning to Light. Her newsletter is a resource to treasure.  

4. This poem (which I first shared for Poetry Friday in 2014) from the book Christmas Blessings: Prayers and Poems to Celebrate the Season compiled by June Cotner:

For Christmas

May you have joy
in the mad rush
of preparation:
may you know peace
in the tiny margins
of time around
the busy days;
may you have star-shine
in clear night skies
for looking at:
may you have silence
now and then;
and above all-
beyond all else-
may you have love
to give
and to receive.

- Elizabeth Searle Lamb

Dear blogging friends, I wish you joy, peace, star-shine, silence, and love "...in the tiny margins of time around the busy days..." 

Enjoy this season of darkness while waiting for the light!

 

Irene Latham is hosting Poetry Friday 

with all kinds of poetry fun. I've been

absent for awhile, but I'm glad to be here again.

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Compassion

 

Kim Johnson at Common Threads asked us to write about compassion for our October Spiritual Journey gathering.

I was traveling on Thursday and failed to write my Spiritual Journey post ahead of time. This morning I've searched scripture, googled compassion, visited favorite books, looked at some poems and recalled an art exhibit I recently viewed in order to collect some thoughts on compassion. 

My recent trip to Utah included attending the Restore Conference, a Faith Matters gathering of inspiring speakers and outstanding music, art, and community, all centered on restoring faith, belonging, and wholeness.  

I attended a breakout session, Stepping out of our Chapels and into our Communities. The presenters provided a quiz (which I haven't taken yet) to help us identify our giving personality. Here's a slide of the nine types of giving personalities:

                                I'm pretty sure that I'm a convener/gatherer!

On Saturday morning we were asked to set an intention and called to practice compassion, curiosity, and courage. 

The call to practice compassion reminded me of this quote from Brené Brown:

“Compassion is not a virtue—it is a commitment. It’s not something we have or don’t have—it’s something we choose to practice.” 

While I was in Salt Lake City, a friend and I visited the Church History Museum's exhibition of the 13th International Art Competition featuring recent work of 150 Latter-day Saint artists from around the world exploring the gospel message “Lift Up the Hands Which Hang Down.” You can see the artwork by clicking on the title of the exhibit, but I highly encourage an in-person visit if you happen to be in the area. The art was varied and diverse and will be available until January 3, 2026.

I discovered a poem "Holding the Light" by Stuart Kestenbaum which ties in perfectly with this month's theme of compassion and a quote I shared last month from Anne Lamont's book, Stitches.

These words from 1 Peter 3: 8 (NKJV) speak to this month's theme: 

"Finally, all of you be of one mind, having compassion for one another, love as brothers, be tenderhearted, be courteous."  

As I put together this blog post, I realized that while my giving personality may be as a convener/gatherer, I'm also a gatherer/collector of words. One of my favorite ways to write about our theme each month is to collect and share the words of others. Now that I've written my post, I'm off to read your posts (my reward for finishing). 

SJT: Barefoot in the Gap

Linda Mitchell at A Word Edgewise is hosting our Spiritual Journey Thursday gathering for September. She invited us to write about her OLW for 2025, barefoot.

I love the whimsical and carefree notions that I associate with barefoot. It draws me back to childhood and what seems, in retrospect, simpler times. I tried to remember the last time I had walked barefoot on anything other than concrete. Fear of insect bites and ticks and snakes keeps me away from the carefree ways of childhood. I googled barefoot and learned about grounding. I pondered shedding my shoes and spending some time barefoot in the grass, (supposedly you can get the benefits from 15 minutes of exposure). However, each time I contemplate this action, I remember my daughter's high goose steps and shrill shrieks when she encountered a snake in their backyard this spring. 

I enjoyed Linda's post and her reference to standing in the gap from Ezekiel 22, verse 30: "And I sought for a man among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap before me . . . "

These words from Linda's post resonated with me:

"I'm reminded that even small things matter...especially when I struggle with doom and gloom. I can turn and share this boost as well. I pray, make and share a pot of soup, smile, listen, run an errand, send a gift, write...stand in the gap (even barefoot) for someone by remembering what's important to others. This has an added benefit of lifting my spirits."

Anne Lamott's book, Stitches, speaks to the challenge of what to do during hard times with these words:

 ". . . Every time we  choose the good action or response, the decent, the valuable, it builds incrementally, to renewal, resurrection, the place of newness, freedom, justice. The equation is: life, death, resurrection, hope. The horror is real, and so you make casseroles for your neighbor, organize an overseas clothing drive, and do your laundry. You can also offer to do other people's laundry, if they have recently had any random babies or surgeries. 

We live stitch by stitch, when we're lucky. If you fixate on the big picture, the whole shebang, the overview, you miss the stitching. . . . 

In the aftermath of loss, we do what we've always done, although we are changed, maybe more afraid. We do what we can, as well as we can."

Mother Teresa said that none of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love. I thank God for good friends whose lives prod me to stand in the gap for others. I count this community and our monthly writing as a grace-filled time to grow and learn how to live stitch by stitch, even barefoot. 

If you missed listening to the song "Standing in the Gap" shared in Linda's post, go back and listen now. Its lyrics are beautiful and affirming. I love the music shared by our SJT community.

Happy September, everyone. It's truly my favorite time of year!

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Family

 

 

Leigh Anne at A Day in the Life invited us to write about family.

 Check out her post that celebrates four teachers in her family. 

I love these words from Leigh Ann's post: It is the 

"...stories about family that we hold closest to our hearts that we remember. 

Maybe God places them there to help those left behind

feel our loved one's presence after they are gone. 

Maybe those stories are the ones that connect our hearts."

 

 

The July prompt for our memoir writing group came from Susan. “What is the best advice anyone has ever given you?” When I received Leigh Anne's family prompt for SJT, I decided to revisit this unfinished piece of writing since much of it revolves around family and friends (found family).

 

I spent a bit of time musing over this question. I always find it hard to answer questions that begin with “What is the BEST….?” How can I decide? It taps right into my indecisive personality. So I’ll share several bits of advice that popped into my head as I meandered through my memories, in search of the BEST advice. They come mostly from family, but also from friends, those wonderful people who become our chosen family. 

 

My dad’s famous saying, “Can’t never did anything,” popped into my mind immediately. Also, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again.” And this oft repeated saying, “Be careful of the words you say to keep them soft and sweet. You never know from day to day which ones you’ll have to eat”.

 

And then I think of the big three that Sara remembers from her dad and included in her freshman year memoir for Mrs. Sayers’ class:

1.   “Be careful who you marry.”

When we watched movies or TV shows, he would insert this advice at opportune times to remind us that who you marry has long lasting influence on the rest of your life.

2.   “Plan your work and work your plan.”

This advice from Dad, an inveterate planner, encourages us to get started on projects early or reprimands us if we’re running behind.

3.   Dad believes we can do anything because . . .

“You’re a Behnke!”

 

We visited Lance’s Nebraska friends, Chuck and Nancy Larsen, on some of our trips to visit Lance’s family. Nancy was still teaching at the time. She always provided lovely meals for large groups of people. I connected easily with Nancy and not just because we are both teachers. I remember her three pieces of wisdom because I wrote them on a sticky note and tucked them inside my cupboard. They made the move from Houston to Seattle, but I haven’t found them since our move to NC. Here are Nancy’s maxims for living which have guided me through several decades.

            1.  I did the best I could at the time.

            2. Life is too short. Tomorrow is another day.

            3. This too shall pass.

 

The advice that my husband, Lance, has given me most frequently comes from a talk given by our friend, Rod Larsen, “Be a willow.” It’s good advice for me since I can be rather rigid at times. Be a willow reminds me to bend and be flexible. 

 

Another invaluable piece of advice came from my husband as my mother was nearing the last few months of her life. He encouraged us to get my Mom’s name on the waiting list for a nursing home. I couldn’t see that this would ever be necessary since I wanted to keep Mom in her home. However, our distance from her, our young family, and her medical needs precluded this from happening. It was thanks to Lance’s advice that we were able to provide the best care possible for her final weeks in a care facility with loving staff .

 

The BEST advice ever given to me came from Lance during this same time when we were living in Houston. We had just returned from a date night (a rare occurrence for us) when we received a call that my mother was in the hospital at St. Francis Hospital in Tulsa and would be facing surgery soon. I flew to Oklahoma for the surgery and ended up staying through Thanksgiving. All four of the siblings were there when Mom went in for surgery. Lance drove Blake and Sara to Kansas by himself for our planned Thanksgiving holiday with his family. Mom’s surgery for an intestinal blockage resulted in a colostomy and a diagnosis of advanced colorectal cancer. Her medical professionals decided to keep her comfortable and to not treat her cancer. Following this devastating prognosis, Lance’s advice was to go home to McAlester, Oklahoma as often as possible. Even though it meant leaving Blake (age 6, in kindergarten) and Sara (age 4, at St. Paul’s preschool) in the care of many capable friends and babysitters while Lance was at work, I’ve never regretted the time I was able to spend with Mom during the next six months. and it was because Lance was supportive and encouraging of my spending as much time as possible in Oklahoma. I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to the many dear friends that made this time away possible. It’s a gift that has lasted through the years providing precious memories of the days Mom and I spent together.  

Spiritual Journey Thursday & Poetry Friday: Still Waters

Karen at Karen's Got a Blog invited us to write to the prompt Still Waters 

this month. Check out her post that transports us for a sensory filled paddle through Minnesota's Boundary Waters Canoe Area. 

 

This prompt made me think of OSU where I attended university and experienced a time of spiritual growth as a young adult. My "OSU" is located in Stillwater, Oklahoma. We had Theta pond in front of our dormitory that was the site of many shenanigans during our college years.

 

When we lived in Washington State, Slater Park on Lake Washington was a favorite pocket park where I loved to pause, be still, and observe the sky and water through the changing seasons. 

 

Our move to North Carolina put us just 1/2 mile from a lake with a pedestrian bridge that crosses the lake, so I walk to the water most days. I love capturing the lake in it's many different moods, mostly in the morning, but I do walk in the afternoons once our summer temps and humidity have calmed down.    

   

 

 

 

Sunrise on July 4, 2024 (captured by my daughter)

A foggy morning!

 

 Karen closed her post with these words from Psalm 23: 

 "He leadeth me beside the still waters."

 

In Hebrew, “still waters” is “Mai Menochot,” 

which literally translates to “restful waters.”  

These words relate to the next verse which states:

"He restoreth my soul."   

I want to share a few lines from "Be Still (a psalm)"by Melody Newey Johnson.

Come to the temple of silence, 
away from sounds of weary want, 
from the grinding, tearing of time.

Come away from shouting daylight, 
find me in the stillness of afternoon, 
your ordinary afternoon.

You can find the entire poem here.

 

May you be blessed and restored by still waters and find support for the storms which inevitably come.