Sibling Assignment #202 : Advice From Anne Lamott: Let It Be

Sister Carol gave the sibling assignment this week:

"Think back over the last year, and write about something you have either read, listened to or watched that has made a tremendous impact on your life.  Share about it, and why it impacted your life." Brother Bill's is here. Sister Carol's is here.

I had the privilege of hearing Anne Lamott speak in Spokane last April. It had a tremendous impact on my life. I have written two other blog posts about her and her talk and I will link them at the bottom. There are many reasons why this talk impacted my life. I will share a few:

She is very down-to-earth. She could have joined my summer writing group or sat down for coffee with my book group and fit right in. She has this ability to take big ideas and break them down into prose that makes more sense, yet carries a big punch. She makes you believe that being a good writer isn't as difficult to attain as many think. Here is an example:

“Gorgeous, amazing things come into our lives when we are paying attention: mangoes, grandnieces, Bach, ponds. This happens more often when we have as little expectation as possible. If you say, ‘Well, that’s pretty much what I thought I’d see,’ you are in trouble. At that point you have to ask yourself why you are even here. Astonishing material and revelation appear in our lives all the time. Let it be. Unto us, so much is given. We just have to be open for business.”

All writers want to be better at their craft, even if  the writing is a personal journal every day or jottings on a blog.  Lamott guides us gently into the writing process and helps us understand you need to keep "the butt to the chair" and there are lots of "shitty first drafts". There are lots of starts and stops. Writing is messy. Here she explains why writing matters: 

“So why does our writing matter, again?" they ask.

Because of the spirit, I say. Because of the heart. Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again.” 

 Her journey of faith, though unconventional, guides ua to see that faith isn't a cookie cutter way of believing.  She has struggled with addiction, body image issues, depression, and failure. Her faith has carried her through many valleys and mountaintops and her series of books on faith illustrate how prayer, God, spirituality,and grace can be understood and viewed differently by each individual, and that is okay.

I have a few more of her books on my stack to read. I love to read her quotes on Twitter every day. If  you haven't read any of her books, I highly recommend them. Here are the links to my other two posts about Anne Lamott.

http://gatheringaroundthetable.blogspot.com/2018/04/the-shed-notebook-bird-by-bird.html

http://gatheringaroundthetable.blogspot.com/2018/05/the-shed-notebook-anne-lamott-and.html

The Shed Notebook: Help, Thanks, Wow

I continue to read books by Anne Lamott this week in anticipation of hearing her speak on Saturday. One short volume she authored entitled "Help Thanks Wow, the Three Essential Prayers" has been an inspiration this week.

What stuck with me today was the "Wow" section of the book. Lamott defines "Wow" as "not dulled by wonder. It is having one's mind blown by the mesmerizing or the miraculous: the veins in a leaf, birdsong, volcanoes."

"wow" can be lower case like the view of a lake, a sunrise, or the first tulip in spring. "Wow" is also upper case when you are in the presence of fireworks, the Northern Lights, or a classical symphony. Such a prayer to say every day in thanks to God. Wow God, you created this landscape on the Palouse. Wow God, you covered this mountain with aspens that light up in autumn . Wow God, you filled the May air with the scent of lilacs.

In response I say to you God : Help, Thanks, Wow.

Celebrating National Poetry Month #12: The Lily

On this Easter evening I chose a poem written by one of my favorite poets instead of an original one. I love the message it carries about the lily.

The Lily

Night after night
darkness
enters the face
of the lily
which, lightly,
closes its five walls
around itself,
and its purse
of honey,
and its fragrance,
and is content
to stand there
in the garden,
not quite sleeping,
and, maybe,
saying in lily language
some small words
we can’t hear
even when there is no wind
anywhere,
its lips
are so secret,
its tongue
is so hidden –
or, maybe,
it says nothing at all
but just stands there
with the patience
of vegetables
and saints
until the whole earth has turned around
and the silver moon
becomes the golden sun –
as the lily absolutely knew it would,
which is itself, isn’t it,
the perfect prayer? 

Mary Oliver

" I Get That Sinking Feeling...": Sunday Scribblings

I get that sinking feeling when I remember my dog Emily Elizabeth and fireworks. I adopted Emily Elizabeth in the summer of 1996. I had just moved into the home I live in now. It had been a difficult spring and summer. My father had died in June, my 15-year-old springer spaniel Nikki had died in July. I was living alone with another dog Lucy, a springer/cocker mix. That August I decided it was time to get another dog.

I found Emily at the Kootenai County Humane Society in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. She had been running loose on Kathleen Ave. After she was picked up nobody came to claim her. She came with some fears. She was uneasy walking across door jams. She was nervous around campfires. Brooms made her run away. Her biggest fear was fireworks. When loud firecrackers and fireworks started their noisy prelude the first days of July each year I knew we were in trouble with Emily.

The first year she hid in the closet. Another time she scratched the carpet trying to get into the bedroom where she felt safe. When the Fourth of July came around I always got that sinking feeling for Emily.

After JEJ and I were married we decided one year we would go with friends to watch the fireworks display in Colville. The dogs were safe in our fenced land. Emily was handling the holiday noise very well. When our friends came to pick us up Emily began to show nervousness by pacing around and I got that sinking feeling I should stay home. I almost said something as I looked over my shoulder uneasily when we drove away. Emily was standing at the gate panting and pacing nervously. Why didn’t I listen to my gut?

When we returned home a few hours later Emily was gone. Once again I got that sinking feeling. Why didn’t I stay home? Why did we have to go and watch fireworks that weren’t that entertaining? I was angry at myself. I was also frantic.

We called her and searched our property first. No holes were found around the fences. I checked closets, sheds, any places she may have taken refuge. I was not brave enough to go drive along the county road calling her name. I made JEJ go. I couldn’t deal with seeing her hit by a car or injured along the road. If she came home I wanted to be here. I continued to call her, search, and pray.

JEJ returned and reported he had seen no sign of Emily. It was now getting very late and I attempted to go to sleep. I tossed and turned as I wondered where Emily may have gone to escape the loud noises of the fireworks. I couldn’t lose the sinking feeling.

I got up very early the next morning and decided I needed to go walk around our neighborhood and call her. When I opened the gate here came a wet and dirty Emily Elizabeth. When she saw me her eyes lit up and her tail wagged. I ran to greet her and covered myself with her dirt and smelly water. I yelled to JEJ that Emily was home. Relief.

She was tired and hungry, but unharmed. She was nervous, but happy to be home. The other dogs greeted her with enthusiasm. We will never know where Emily went, but we suspect she jumped the gate and went down into the gully where Martin Creek flows. The rushing water may have masked the loud noises of the firecrackers in the neighborhood.

Since that ordeal we have never left our dogs alone during that time around the Fourth of July. Even if a dog doesn’t seem bothered by the noise, one firecracker can put them into panic.
I also learned through this experience that when I get that sinking feeling, I need to listen to what my gut tells me.

Emily died in December of 2004. She enriched our lives and taught us many important lessons about life. We loved her and miss her every day.
You can read other Sunday Scribblings here.

Brunch on Tuesday

Before I host any special event I drive myself crazy during the preparation time. I have this desire to have things just right. During any pre-event frenzy I run through a mental checklist of questions carefully. Do plates match napkins? Are flowers picked for the table? Are coffee beans fresh? Do we have ingredients for favorite recipes on hand?

One Sunday night I was going through my getting ready for bed ritual. JEJ was already reading a new book in bed as I was turning off lights, checking doors, and filling dog water dishes. My eye caught the church bulletin from the morning service on the kitchen table. I missed church earlier that day staying home in hopes of getting caught up, knowing I would be leaving Monday for another week teaching away from home. I wanted to catch up on church news so I flipped on the stove light to skim the contents before going to bed. An announcement on the second page caught my attention instantly.
“Tuesday prayer meeting at JEJ's house…. brunch potluck to follow.”

I stopped breathing. My anxiety level hit the ceiling. I rushed to the bedroom door in an attempt to learn more about this unscheduled social event from my husband. I tried breathing again, that deep kind, the breathing that is supposed to calm you down.

“Sweetheart…when were you going to tell me that a prayer meeting and brunch were going to be held here on Tuesday? I won’t be here Tuesday. We aren’t ready to do brunch on Tuesday. I don’t even have coffee beans or paper plates in the house!” As I sputtered out my words the volume and pitch of my voice bordered on hysteria.

Looking up from his book calmly JEJ peered over his reading glasses as I stood in the doorway still finding it difficult to breathe.
“I was not going to tell you dear. Since you weren’t going to be here I thought I would just take care of things myself,” he explained.

“Just take care of things? Have you ever done a brunch? Do you know where to find vases, serving trays, pitchers, all the stuff?”
“It will be fine. We will just sit outside and other people are bringing the food.”
“Outside,” I groaned, “The tablecloth is dirty, the flowers haven’t been deadheaded, the weeds…..”
“My dear, it is a prayer meeting. I’ll just have them close their eyes.”


Recipe for Overnight Breakfast Casserole

( or breakfast casserole that can sit in the frig until Tuesday brunch!)
8 slices sourdough bread
6 eggs
1 cup shredded sharp Cheddar cheese
2 cups milk
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon pepper
(Optional: add 16 oz. of cooked and drained pork sausage, chopped, cooked ham, or cooked bacon)
You can also add ½ cup sautéed onion or celery

Spray 9x13 baking dish with a non-stick cooking spray. Trim crusts from bread, tear slices and place bread on the bottom of the dish. If using meat, spoon over bread. Sprinkle with cheese. Whisk eggs, milk, salt and pepper in a bowl until blended. Pour over prepared layers; do not stir. Cover and place dish in refrigerator overnight or for at least five hours. Bake at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes until set. 6 servings

Other Moms: Other Children

" A mother holds her children's hands for a while, their hearts forever." Author Unknown

For the last few days I have written joyfully about mothers. I wrote a tribute to my mother and recalled time spent with mothers in my life. It felt good to read other blogs about motherhood and I also enjoyed the comments I received from other mothers, daughters, and sons.

When we started school in the fall I met a new student in my class that was twelve years old named AR. Her mother was dying of breast cancer. Her mother was young, very ill, and only had a short time left. We all moved gingerly through those first weeks of school, not wanting to discuss it much because other friends and relatives of the woman were also in class. When she died the class tried to figure out things to do that would help. Students wrote poems, made cards, and went to the services. AR has been a brave child all year. She always wears her pink ribbon. She just did the Breast Cancer walk in Spokane in memory of her mother. She smiles a bit more now. She sits by me and asked me to tell her stories about my mother and what is was like when she had breast cancer.

Now, again, it is happening. BI is a year older and his mother went in for surgery a week ago. There were complications. She is in a coma. Family and friends are waiting by her bedside to talk to her. BI is shuttled back and forth between the hospital and home. An auntie came in today, her eyes swollen and red as she removed her sunglasses for a moment. " He needs a book to do this assignment", she said. Last week they wanted school work to try to keep life moving the same. How can you ask him to do a reading story and a packet on how to do a speech? Again, many family members and friends are part of our school family. People are hopeful, but cautious. It is hard to know what to do to help.
My prayers today are with AR as she continues to heal and with BI and his family as they circle around his mother's bedside.

National Day of Prayer

"The National Day of Prayer is a day designated by the United States Congress as a day when all Americans regardless of faith are asked to come together and pray in their own way. It is held on the first Thursday in May. "
I received this plaque with this lovely prayer from my husband right after we were married. It has hung by my desk with the beautiful words and flowers ever since. It is a reminder of the blessings that surround my life.

a prayer

"Draw near to God and he will draw near to you." James 4:8

My prayers are with the staff, students,

and families of Virginia Tech.

Oh,What A Beautiful Morning!

I haven't always been a morning person. I fell into the night owl category for years. I remember watching David Letterman’s Top Ten List, reading a novel until after midnight, and often staying out late with friends or family. I don’t know if it is age, my environment, or adjusting to my mate’s sleeping patterns, but I have become a morning person. Now I appreciate and embrace morning. Some days I don’t even need to set the alarm. Between the sun rising above the mountain across the lake, the dogs stirring, and the smell of coffee as the automatic timer kicks it on- it is easy now to get up early. Being outdoors is a guilty pleasure in the morning. As the weather continues to warm up all I need is a hot cup of coffee, a sweatshirt for warmth, and brown crocs to keep my feet dry. I enjoy the melodies of birds and the gentle sound of chimes as I tour the gardens. Morning is a time for thoughtful meditation and prayer. It is also my time to put down words to paper. Fresh ideas, fresh air, and fresh coffee work well for me. Yes, I have given up those late night habits (most of the time). I do miss Dave and midnight conversations with friends. Weekdays I still need to shift gears and organize myself for work in the morning. Before I do that I pause, look at the sky, and give thanks for the beauty of the earth.

"The Slowed Evening Is Carried In Prayer"

Cliffs and rock formations are common in the Inland Empire, especially around rivers and lakes. Traveling home at the end of the my teaching day these natural forms of beauty shelter me from wind and sun. The words of William Stafford were perfect for describing these breathtaking rock walls. I agree with him- "the slowed evening is carried in prayer. "

Vespers

As the living pass, they bow

till they imitate stones.

In the steep mountains then

those millions remind us:

every fist the wind has

loses against those faces.

And at the end of the day

when every rock on the west

claims a fragment of sun,

a last bird comes, wing and

then wing over the valley

and over the valley, and home,

Till unbound by our past we sing

wherever we go, ready or not,

stillness above and below, the slowed

evening carried in prayer toward the end.

You know who you are:

This is for you, my friend.

William Stafford