My monthly letters are turning into seasonal letters. I guess something's got to give? To give way to change in growth. The ebb and the flow that keeps us on our toes until we settle cozy on our couches for a break. During Summer I added an online art shop to this site, so in the Fall I have been writing less, but still something, hopefully sweet and sacred and simple and loving and gentle. A meager offering of words, photos, and reflections.
You may have noticed less weekend care packages in your inbox too.
My book stack has intentionally dissolved from a stack to a single book slowly read.
And my fixed point is quiet mornings at my desk with a Bible and my Sacred Ordinary Days Planner. I don't always retain what I read, but in the moment it is mysterious miracle manna. I've heard a phrase before in Christian circles about being washed in the word. And when I keep coming back to this solid rock foundation that is what it often feels like to me. And so I cling to quiet time with a fierce need and a deep hope.
When my soul feels things crowding in from busy schedules or intense emotions; this Fall I am trying to be intentional to declutter to give myself some space in many ways; in a clean decluttered home or a gaze up at the sky (if I am too tired to clean, ha).
"You know what I realized?" my sister-in-law was telling me this week during her visit from St. Louis to Tulsa. "I miss the openness of Oklahoma. Seeing just a single tree in an open field."
a visit from my niece
Oliver's hilarious school picture