I cannot get this line out of my head: “It's our turn on the timeline.”

What will we do with our stories, the stuff of our every day lives? We live here and now in this time and in our unique places. It's our turn.

This line is from Nancy Bartelt, my dear friend, and one of the nine women in my book Water in Her Tender Leaves. In response to being in the project, she's written a series of haikus.

Certainly, in my life, I strive for resilience, which I define as a persevering adaptability. However, I had failed to consider that resilience occurs within my artistic process. 

In transitions, it's easy to compartmentalize our feelings, ignore them altogether, or dwell on how we want things to be, rather than accepting the discomfort of a new state of being. In the unexpected or unpredictable, can we find God in the paradox of new beginnings and letting go? I believe we can.

When I reflect on the Advent/Christmas season, I hate---or should I say loathe---and love many aspects of this time.

Even if we stay in Christian community, like I did, healing can take years. Sadly, that feeling of not belonging still runs deep in my veins. 

However, the feeling also developed into a blue hot flame like the one that once burned my arm. It now fires in my soul every day.

Souls are weary. But not my four quiet maples lit up like autumn campfires. They stand solid, silent, striking. My trees hold a clever model for caring soul care through connection, rhythm, and rootedness.

A poem about a weekend with old and new friends at a spiritual formation conference in Wichita in 2024.

Art box, Airbnb hastily “cleaned,”

All will be well,

Books backlit in a window, books and more books,

Boundaries, bed bugs, belonging.

Cinnamon brooms,

Coffee in hand-sized cups with sippy lids, chaos-capable,

We all have a soul, and we are both passively and actively formed. 

 We choose how we are spiritually formed moment by moment, even by the pancakes we eat!

As I looked up at the trees, I thought about the question asked in Sunday’s sermon, "What could you discern with God to stop doing in this next season?" 

Three simple habits I’ve adopted over the past decade that have made it possible to love my real life. These are not cures or catch-alls, but they are Christian-based spiritual practices to practice imperfectly.