"When can I have my life back?"

It's 5 am on a cold Sunday morning in March,  and I find myself flat on my back on the driveway. 
There are a few events that led me to this position and to this question:
- A few weeks ago, our youngest son who is 24, arrived at the shoppe with a German Shepherd puppy, happy as I've ever seen him. 
- The next day, I heard myself saying, Yes, as he asked if the puppy could stay with us for awhile. He hadn't exactly thought things through and needed time to figure things out. 
- I've forgotten how demanding and exhausting the training of a puppy can be, and how small their bladders are. So when she whines at 5 am, I hit auto pilot: shoes on, coat on, leash on, out the door. It must be urgent as she darts out like a bullet. In an instant I'm flat on my back on the driveway which is a sheet of ice. My head hits the cement pretty hard. 

Bewildered, I first think of the leash. Still in hand. Thank God. 
I feel the back of my head with my other hand and look for blood. None. Thank God again. 
I lay there for a moment staring at the dark sky, puppy licking my face. 
​When can I have my life back?

A few days later, I listened to a podcast by Emily P Freeman. She talks about life's interruptions and how to find peace in handling them. 
Tears fall fast. It feels good to cry. 
This puppy is definitely an interruption to my quiet, daily routines, but I know its more than the puppy that's triggering these tears. There's a bigger life change that is emotionally exhausting and difficult to accept as my new reality. 

When can I have my life back? When can there be time for me and my needs? 
​Have you ever found yourself asking that question? 
If we think about it, our life is made up of interruptions. They look different as we move through our stages of life: 
the demands of our children, the needs of a sick loved one, caring for our aging parents. . . Others before ourselves - isn't that what we are called to do -  live a life of service? Yes, but when the interruptions are not ones that we chose, not what we had planned, and are forced upon us - those are the ones that can lead to this question: When can I have my life back? Maybe we are the ones who are ill and find our life looking so different than what we had planned. As hard as it is to understand, even those are given to us for a purpose. 

CS Lewis writes: “The great thing if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one’s own or real life. The truth is of course, that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life, the life God is sending one day by day.” 

Those last words "the life God is sending one day by day" - oh how I need to be reminded of this. It's like manna that God sent the Israelites. That daily bread from heaven nourished and sustained them while they wandered in the desert, but they quickly grew tired of it, and began to complain. Manna means 'What is this?' If I'm honest with myself, when I ask the question 'When can I have my life back?' I'm really saying, 'What is this? I'm tired of what you are giving, God." The truth is that He gives us what we need, not what we want, and it's always for our good. Always. 

So then give me the strength and patience every day so I can handle this life of manna. And he does. 

The French composer, Claude Debussy wisely said, "Music is the space between the notes". "There's meaning, depth, richness, in the interval, in the rest, in the silence. The silence is necessary for the notes to be music. Otherwise, it’s just a lot of noise. Our pauses, our solitudes, our quiet respite is necessary for our interruptions to be our lives." Emily says in her podcast. 

The space between the notes is necessary - we need that time of rest and solitude. Time for me. Time for you. And may I offer this suggestion - the space between the notes can be one of peace. Finding peace in the interruptions, knowing that God sees you and holds you in his strong, ever-present hands, is possible and is a comfort. His plan is holy and perfect. 

The road may be long and you and I may be weary, but don't give up. I find this quote to be helpful:
"Occasionally weep deeply over the life you hoped would be. Grieve the losses. Then wash your face. Trust God. And embrace the life you have." - John Piper

"Mostly we need you, lovely embodied you, showing up to your life as it is and not as you wish it to be, able to admit what you need and what you want. You, honest about what you miss and about what you long for. You, celebrating this right now moment. And in all of this you can be sure there is a divine presence, a holy harmony, a welcoming acceptance of the whole colorful mess." - Emily P. Freeman

We are not alone. May we find peace in the interruptions and joy in the space in between. 

PS
- Thankfully I did not have a concussion when I hit my head on the cement. 
- The puppy is potty trained and now happily living in her new home. 
- Here's a link to Emily's podcast: emilypfreeman.com/podcast/267/ 
- or you can read it here: 
​https://emilypfreeman.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/The-Next-Right-Thing-Ep.-267.pdf

'Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” 
– William Wordsworth

I've long kept a journal. Even before my days as a mom, I kept a journal. In grade school, it was the dairy with a lock and key, hidden in a drawer or under a mattress. Yes, there have been gaps - months, even a year or two long, but I always come back to it. My journals are full of thoughts, experiences, dreams, ideas, prayers . . . the breathings of my heart. I've tucked in cards from my kids, notes from friends, rose petals, a leaf from a fall walk . . . And when I take the time to look back, I'm always thankful that I had captured that version of me dealing with whatever was in front of me at the time. It allows me to see how I've grown, but I see something else, too - God's hand in my life. 

Currently I've woven time to journal into my morning routine. Most mornings, before I reach for my phone to scroll through Instagram, I start with a short devotion, then journaling. I only fill one page each day, finding that helps me do it more regularly. But even then, words don't always flow freely. Sometimes prompts help. So when I came across this in my inbox: 30 Lists to Make, I had to know more. 

In addition to journaling, I love to make lists. 
Maybe that's why I connected with this article so quickly. It's inspiring me in my journaling. So I thought I'd share it with you as it may inspire you to open your journal for the first time or once again. 

30 Lists to Make
From Bella Grace Magazine

The idea of having a regular journaling practice sounds so romantic and charming. You pour yourself a cup of tea, perhaps light a candle, grab your favorite pen, open up that brand-new journal … and then what? The need to get everything just right can be overwhelming and even paralyzing to some. If you want to make writing a regular part of your day but are unsure of where to start, consider making lists. We think lists are an excellent and unique way of journaling because they challenge us to think creatively about our responses, and much like a conventional journal, they capture our thoughts at a given moment in our lives.

1. Five little things currently making you happy
2. Favorite ways to “waste” time
3. Places to travel to alone
4. Food or drinks that bring you comfort
5. Books, movies, or TV shows for when you need an escape
6. Hobbies you’ve always wanted to try but haven’t yet
7. Five things you’re currently looking forward to
8. Lovely little things to do more often
9. Favorite ways to turn your day around
10. The sweetest sounds
11. What happiness looks like
12. Places to find inspiration
13. Traits shared by the people you admire
14. Songs making up the soundtrack of your days Here are our favorite lists to make:
15. Short breaks you can take each day
16. Truths about life you’ve learned so far
17. Silly little goals you’d like to achieve
18. Ideal ways to spend time alone
19. Favorite ways to have fun without leaving the house
20. Unique businesses you’d love to start
21. Things that fill you with energy
22. Five rules you like to break
23. Ten reasons to be proud of yourself right now
24. Fictional characters you feel a connection with
25. Screen-free activities you are currently enjoying
26. Five friends or family members who make you smile
27. Things to remind yourself on a bad day
28. Tiny treats that feel like a luxury
29. Things it’s time to let go of
30. People you want to write letters to​

Of course, it would snow. . .

Not a soft, pretty snow with flakes gently descending from the heavens.
No, it was during a winter snowstorm that we moved from our home of 22 years out in the country into a smaller house in town. Fortunately, the bulk of our possessions had been moved five days earlier with the help of family and friends. But now, as the snow quickly accumulated on the ground, we frantically packed the last of the boxes into the U-Haul. The trip down our steep, icy driveway would be stressfully packed with prayers, as well, that we make it down safely. This is not how I wanted to say goodbye to this lovely place, to my home where we raised our kids, to the gardens that I planted where I know each plant by name . . .

That morning’s winter storm reflected the chaos going on inside me, overwhelming sadness mixed with a touch of excitement of the unknown that lay ahead, the stress that comes with moving, the late nights of packing, lying awake in early morning hours with endless lists running through my head, and trying to keep it all together with a trust that God will make it all work out – it was an avalanche of emotion that I’ve never experienced before.

After a harrowing 30-minute trip on snow-covered roads to where we would close on the house, I was able to catch my breath. We sat in the office waiting our turn, and I got a text from our daughter who had been at the house with our son packing the U-Haul. It was a video she had taken of the snowscape that surrounded the woods on the property. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Tears welled up yet again – how I will miss those trees – watching them change through the seasons. They were the first thing I saw every morning when I opened my eyes to gaze out uncurtained windows. Fresh spring leaves unfurling, summer green canopies, glorious autumn hues, and graceful bare branches outlined in snow like right now. And I had missed it this morning – blindly consumed with the details of moving. 

It was then that it struck me - even amidst all the chaos going on around and inside of me, there is something beautiful happening that God is orchestrating. It’s his perfect plan for me – I take a deep breath in. His love and presence is constant - I exhale slowly.  It was he who led us here to this place years ago – inhale deeply, and filled it with love, joy, tears – all of them blessings. Exhale. He goes before me once again, leading me – inhale. And I follow, knowing that he will make this move something beautiful, too. Slow exhale.

It’s been almost a week now, and already that emotional day is but a memory. The lessons I’m learning of trusting God, letting go, embracing change, and seeing beauty where you least expect it, those will stay with me as this new chapter unfolds. I miss waking up to the wooded view out my window, but I’m so grateful that I was given that gift for a while. The trees have taught me to carry something with me through every season of life – and that’s joy. There’s a passage in the Bible that says, “You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.” – Isaiah 55:12

God is writing a symphony. All of this – the struggles, the joy, the tears, the laughter, He’s weaving it all together into a beautiful symphony that I’m blessed to call my life. And right now, in the beginning of this new movement, I’m being led forth in peace and, like the trees, I will joyfully clap my hands. 

​It was totally unprompted. 

I was saying goodbye to my grandkids who had spent the night. Before climbing into the car, my four-year-old grandson saw the dandelions growing in the lawn. He picked one and give it to me. Then he picked another and give it to his mama. Tears stung my eyes, and I gave him a good squeeze. 

Friends, that simple act of watching him engage with nature and wanting to share it with me, and his mama, just touched my heart. Immediately I was taken back twenty-ish years when my own kids would do that. One of my favorite photos of my youngest son is him at age 4 holding a bouquet of dandelions before giving it to me. I remember showing my daughter how to make dandelion crowns when she was about five; teaching my kids to make a wish on a dandelion seed head and blow, not worrying bout the many offspring it will produce (aka more time spent weeding). Summers were simple and carefree back then - filled with little pleasures and special moments. The days were long and we lived them outside: kiddie pools, picnics, sand castles, chasing butterflies, riding bikes, tending the garden. I think back even further to when I was growing up and have similar memories: getting lost in a good book, swimming with my siblings, exploring the woods on our property, water-gun fights, catching fireflies, and just laying in the grass watching the clouds. Summer was a special time. 

How different summers are now. Admittedly those days as a young girl and then as a young mom weren't all rainbows and butterflies, but I'm thankful I can look back and cherish them. Lately life just seems complicated - unsolved health issues, managing the effects of rising inflation, the challenges of relationships, the stress of work - l sure could go for those simple summer dandelion days. Can you relate?
​

​Maybe there's a way to recapture the essence of those days. What I'm really in need of is finding rest  amidst the stress. A vacation isn't in the cards this summer, but even those often leave us feeling exhausted when we return. How can I get the rest I'm looking for on a daily basis? Jesus says in the book of Matthew 11:28: "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Like a drink from the fountain, he refreshes us when we come to him. A few moments spent in his Word, singing a praise song, saying a prayer are small ways to find rest in him. This gives me hope and inspires me to make the most of these summer days in small ways. Determined to recapture some of the simple pleasures of summer, here's what I've come up with:

Create a simple morning routine. 
Summertime and routines seem contradictory, but how we start our day impacts the rest of the day. It sets the tone. Over the years I've learned that I function best when I have a morning routine. My day seems more productive and focused. Studies show this to be true for most of us. I still need that routine during the summer, but in a more simplified and more relaxed way. Starting with a devotion on the patio, yoga on the lawn, a morning walk, a check on the gardens . . . that's how I envision my ideal summer morning. Even if I could do one of those things every morning, connecting with God and with nature does my soul good. 

Make a summer bucket list. 
In order to capture the essence of summer,  we need to live it intentionally so it doesn't slip away. Before you know it, September will be here. Instead of asking yourself, "Where did the summer go?" ask "What do I want my summer to look like? What are the elements of my ideal dandelion days?" If you are a list maker like me, you'll like this exercise. It doesn't have to be a vacation, it can be small things like reading a book in a hammock or for me, just reading a book! 

Here are some things on my list:
- daily walk in the gardens
- find recipes for the herbs I'm growing and make them!
- read a fiction book
- watch a butterfly flit from flower to flower
- blow bubbles with my grandkids
- go barefoot in the grass
- watch the sun set

The sun sets quickly as I bundle up and head outside. Tonight will be our first hard frost and I have zinnias to gather. Snip. Snip. They were beautiful this year, lasting well into November. I think of all the butterflies that lingered on each blossom gathering sweet nectar. Snip. Snip. I've been watching with fascination how cut-flower farmers like Erin Benzakien @ Floret Flowers and Tiffany Jones @ Blomma Flower Farm gather seed to breed new varieties of zinnias. It has inspired me to save seed for the simple act of planting them again next year. Snip. Snip. 

As I gather armfuls of zinnias, I consider how November is a month for gathering. We gather the harvest of pumpkins, squash, and any cole crops that remain in the garden. We gather warm coats, hats, and gloves for the impending cold. We gather firewood for the fireplace, and then we gather around it's warmth. But most of all, in November, we gather with family and friends to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving. A day set aside to pause and reflect on the abundance of blessings we have. If you've been following me here on the Naturally Bella Journal, you are well familiar with how I feel about recognizing small blessings found in every day living. They are present in every day - good or bad. In every situation, in every moment, there is something to be grateful for. Opening our eyes to the small, seemingly insignificant blessings is powerful! It can lift us out of depression, fight off anxiety, and leads to contentment and joy.  Each blessing is a gift. As a believer, I know that each gift comes from above. Each gift is a reminder of how much we are loved by our heavenly Father.

If we are honest with ourselves, our blessings overflow into abundance.  Don't you love that word? Abundance. It means having an excess of something. Abundance feels like being rich, even without money. Standing out in the garden holding armfuls of zinnias made me feel like a wealthy woman. Recognizing this abundance of blessings can overwhelm us and touch the heart. It can move us to tears and even to our knees as we are lavishly showered with this undeserved love and grace. Have you ever experienced this?

There is a time to gather all those blessings, to recognize and name them, and to give thanks for them. But it doesn't stop there. Living a thank-filled life isn't only about the gathering. "Thankfulness is the beginning of gratitude. Gratitude is the completion of thankfulness. Thankfulness may consist merely of words. Gratitude is shown in acts,"  - David O McKay. 

Yes! Thankfulness leads to gratitude. Humbled by our abundance and compelled by His love, we show our gratitude by giving to others. Perhaps this is why Thanksgiving (the season of thanking) is followed by Christmas (the season of giving). 

Through the act of thankful giving, we also experience abundance! This is the lesson of abundance. The more we give of ourselves, the more we are filled with intangibles like peace and joy.  So this begs the question: how can I live an abundant life today? It is not in the gathering, it is in the scattering. It is in the giving as much as we can, that we receive more than we ever imagine. 

​I think about this as I'm sorting through zinnia seed heads. Scattering carries an element of randomness. We scatter seed letting it fall where it may. Out of this abundance of flowers that filled my small bit of earth, I'm thankfully gathering to gratefully scatter next spring. But I need to do more. I am compelled to do more. What if I give them away, so others can also experience their beauty and the joy they offer? 

Let's begin with daily intentional giving, and scatter without limits. 
​This is how to live a truly abundant life.

Happy Thanks-giving, 

​A PRACTICE: 
1. List three things you are grateful for right now. 
2. How do you define an abundant life?
3. Who do you know that has a need?
4. How can you become a gift to that person?

What we do in the quiet will look different for each of us. For me, I like to read a little scripture and journal. I’ve been journaling for many years. It’s a way for me to process life, to express how I feel, and to work through problems. As I read through old entries, I’m always amazed to see how God has been present through it all. More often than not, I can see His hand and timing. I always can see His grace and goodness. 

Creating quiet space for your soul is a life-giving practice. Dallas Willard says ‘If you don’t come away for a while, you’ll come apart after a while.’’ We need to spend time in quiet, thoughtful reflection. Our souls need it. Even Jesus, during his ministry, would often seek time for solitude. 

If you’re unsure how to begin, here are some suggestions:

• Dedicate an actual space in your house; maybe it’s a comfy chair by a window. Make a point to be still, in that spot, every day - even if it’s for a couple minutes. 
• Buy yourself a journal. It can be a simple notebook or treat yourself to a pretty one. 
• Light a candle, close your eyes, and breathe deeply. 
• Sit by the lake and let it’s serenity calm whatever rages inside.
• Sit on a bench in the garden and watch the bees and butterflies. Listen to their soft hum.
• Take a break from scrolling through social media - maybe even a month-long sabbatical from Facebook or Instagram.
  * If you have little ones, finding space for quiet reflection can be a challenge. Try getting up before everyone else does, or have your kids take quiet time, too. 

The goal is to silence the inputs and hit pause for a few moments. I often find that when I’m still, emotions make their way to the surface. It’s not a bad thing. It’s therapeutic to recognize those feelings and give them a name. And more often than not, in those quiet moments, I find myself talking to God. And that is the best soul practice. He is always there, always listening to what the heart speaks. It is in Him where we find true rest. I find this quote by Jan Johnson to be thought-provoking:

“Perhaps silence makes you uncomfortable. Gradually you may learn to welcome silence, understand that it is a time of great fertility and growth, not of emptiness. Silence cultivates vulnerability toward God, because silence is an outward form of an inward surrender.” 

I recently listened to a podcast by Emily P. Freeman, which, by the way, I highly recommend. The purpose of her podcasts and books is to help create space for your soul to breathe. You can find her at The Next Right Thing podcast (be sure to listen to #87 & #88) which is also the name of one of her books. She closed her recent episode with this reading of Psalm 23 in a version that relates it in a fresh way. I’d like to share it with you here. 

"The Lord is my shepherd. I have everything I need. He lets me rest in green pastures. He leads me to calm water. He gives me new strength. He leads me on paths that are right for the good of his name. Even if I walk through a very dark valley, I will not be afraid because you are with me. Your rod and your shepherd’s staff comfort me. You prepare a meal for me in front of my enemies. You pour oil of blessing on my head. You fill my cup to overflowing. Surely your goodness and love will be with me all my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever."
Ps 23 (NCV). 

In closing, I’ll leave you with a practice - an encouragement to take this idea of collecting the quiet with you into the day and month that lie ahead. First, name something that you’ve been collecting that you need to either pull back from or carve out time to process. Second, decide when and where you will find a few minutes today to be still. Then do it. Part of self-care is soul-care and it is necessary for a healthy you.