Dear friend: Looking back with gentleness
Cookie bars, fairy lights, & watercolor skies in the midst of holding space for the hard
Dear friend,
In this full season with a baby, and the aftermath of sickness and holidays, there hasn’t been a lot of space for reflection or words for the year. I’m grateful to notice that I feel absolutely no shame about this. I’ve written before that I don’t think there’s anything magical about January 1, and there are plenty of opportunities to show up with the Lord and examine your life. It feels like such a gift to have that feel true down to a soul-level, that these muscles of gentleness towards myself have gotten stronger.
Yet, even so, my heart heard the invitation to look back in a gentle way, a way that matched my season. I don't always have the same capacity for reflection each year, but I'm convinced, after years of engaging in some kind of practice, of the benefit of it for my soul. Even this year, with less space for journaling and quiet in this full season with a precious baby, I'm grateful to be making a little room to look back. I took a quick glance back through my planner from last year, before paging through my journal entries from 2023.
"To move forward, we must remember. We don't jettison the past. We honour it, receive it, listen to it. God's people best move forward into the future by intentionally retrieving the past."
- A. J. Swoboda
A year ago, last January, I have an entry after a Lectio Divina on Jeremiah 6:16:
"This is what the LORD says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, 'We will not walk in it. '"
This time last year, I wrote about my desolations and consolations of the past year. I resonated so much with the image of standing at the crossroads, asking to be shown the good way. I was in the midst of, yet again, listening to the dream of another baby and asking the Lord if that was from him. I was working to listen to what was filling me up, what was draining me, and what was true in that season. This verse felt like a promise that there was a good way forward and it was possible to find it.
I wrote about being afraid of how much it might cost me to "walk" in the good way, as I already felt so weary, after holding a lot for our family. I was currently in the thick of a different season of sickness which included the fear of my son losing his hearing. (He did not, and simply had a lot of fluid after ear infections that needed time to drain, but I didn't yet know that and it would be 6 more weeks before that happened. At the time I was still waiting for doctor's appointments and answers, while my boy couldn't hear.)
I remember the relief of that last phrase: "and find rest for your souls." I heard the invitation to believe that there would be rest ahead for me. I could trust that the pause to listen and seek wisdom wouldn't be in vain. I could trust that wisdom wants to be found.
As I write this, I am sipping coffee while gazing at my sleepy baby. It still feels like the miracle that it is that she's here. After multiple years of asking the Lord and listening to this dream and waiting, she's here. My prayers were answered: not just for a baby, but for help to find the good way to walk in, whether that included a baby or not. It cost a great deal and I was held as I walked this past year. What a gift.
I’m so grateful for this pause, this invitation to look back. For as wonderful as it is to be holding a literal dream come true, I feel how easy it would be to miss the joy and wonder before me.
There’s bickering and spit-up and there always seems to be someone ravenously hungry (and because of breastfeeding, it is often me, ha.)
There’s laundry that seems to have doubled with the arrival of one tiny human and snow to be shoveled and bills to be paid.
There’s prayers for my grieving and suffering friends, the grief of friends moving away, the unfulfilled longings of those I love, the lament for mothers and children and families across the world who are living through unspeakable horrors.
How do I show up to the goodness of my life while being true to the pain and heartache?
But I know the answer is neither band-aid positivity or wallowing in despair. I find myself helped yet again by these words from Mary Oliver’s poem:
Don’t Hesitate
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
I’m fighting back with savoring each moment of joy of this season—
my children cheering for a Gryffindor win on the Quidditch field, as I read them Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (this illustrated edition is just so lovely!) for the first time, often with a baby snuggled in close
my husband’s big laughter for Fred and George Weasley’s antics
the sweet smiles that light up my baby’s face
her whiffling sighs of contentment
the warmth of my mug of tea, Earl Grey with honey and milk, a welcome contrast from the cold
fairy lights, adding magic to our living room
a blanket fort, inspired by new Bluey episodes, where my children read and search for Waldo
our collective delight in warm cookie bars (that are gluten free and absolutely DELICIOUS) & milk after dinner
watercolor winter skies of purple and orange
snow blanketing the grass & trees, turning the backyard into Narnia
shouts of joy for buried snow treasure or imagining penguin waddles through the snowdrifts
the delight of hot chocolate with marshmallows as part of a Sabbath rhythm
I wonder what you might be invited to savor in this season. I wonder what the Lord has for you in looking back on this past year? I'm so grateful to not merely remember the gifts, but the hard things as well. My desolations are often directly linked to some of my consolations, as I see clearly the Lord's care for me in the midst of them. This past year held much grief and much grace, and the same is true for this current season. I wonder where you were a year ago, and where you find yourself now. What is the Lord inviting you to remember or notice?
Dear friend, I'd love to hear from you. Feel free to just hit "reply" to this email. I read and savor every email that comes my way, even if I don’t always have the space to respond (which is often these days.) Whether you want to share what you’re noticing or remembering, or if my words brought up anything for your heart, I’d be so glad to know.
Warmly,
Alison
Alison!! So lovely!
Dear Alison, I am always so pleased when I see an email from you. I savor them and your gentle voice. I find reading your words nurturing to my soul. Thank you.