The Pile

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY TWO

Yesterday I spent some time with my little ones outside again. I love the magic that fresh air often provides to our spirits. We’ve been working on a project this year in the back yard. For me, it’s a project to transform the back yard into the back garden. That distinction is lost on the kids, of course. They are simply enjoying the opportunity to dig in new dirt. I’m enjoying the opportunity to reclaim something.

I call it “the pile.” The back corner of my property had been left as a growing debris pile for many years — the place where unwanted plants, dirt, clippings, and limbs were all left to decay. As “the pile” grew, it had become an eyesore. The huge display of rotting and drying vegetation had begun to take over the yard, the view and my enthusiasm. In my mind “the pile” had become a symbol of growing frustration with other areas of my life I felt had been neglected and left to dry up and wither. Areas that seemed to be taking over and squelching my vitality.

Beyond that, “the pile” had become shameful to me. It was ugly. It was unkept. It was irresponsible. It was intimidating. It represented my own resistance to stand up and cultivate the life of significance I really want.

I’m writing in past tense. It WAS. Back in the Spring, I decided to tackle “the pile” and operation reclamation began. I hired someone to come and haul the pile away leaving bare ground. Slowly (with the help of my Mom and the cheers of my kids) I’ve thought through that plot of earth’s possibilities. I’ve marked off areas for plantings. We’ve pruned and cleared unwanted plants. We planted azaleas and tea olive shrubs. We added a wooden swing. With great excitement, we hauled in a funky shaped playhouse for Baby Girl’s birthday. We even added a few plants around its little stoop.

All the while, we’ve been giggling. We’ve been digging. We’ve been getting muddy. We’ve been working. We’ve been planning and imagining. We’ve been ENJOYING that space. We’ve been LIVING in that space.

Yesterday, we put out seed in that space. We bought the rye seed. We stood amazed at how tiny they were. We dumped them into the seed spreader and we rolled them out into that reclaimed earth.

As I think about Thanksgiving and the recognition of bounty it provides, I can’t help but be reminded about the power of sowing seeds. About the need to clear ground before new growth can occur. About the joy and confidence that comes from reclaiming what has been squelched. About the reminder that spaces must be empty before they can be filled. Bit by bit, step by step, cultivating is inspiring. In all its messy stages. It’s admirable. It’s worthy of gratitude for each foothold that is gained.

It’s so easy to focus attention on where we are NOT in this journey of living. It’s so easy to give credence to the place we haven’t yet reached. It’s so easy to discount the necessary small (and big) steps it takes to get there. I’m so thankful for “the pile’s” tangible reminder that green grass — the grass I can’t see now — begins with removing dead branches. It begins with determining that something must be cleared if I am to gain NEW ground. I’m thankful for the reminder that preparing the earth is a necessary step in enjoying bounty.

From Empty to Bounty: 12 Days

DAY ONE

Today is Sunday — the one that’s a week and a half before Thanksgiving. If I’m going to commit to the Eyejunkie 4th Annual 12 Days of Thanksgiving posting series, today is the day to begin. I woke up thinking that this morning.

Fourth annual. I can hardly believe it’s correct to even write that. Yet, it is. It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve been writing this blog long enough to have a 4th annual anything. But, I guess I have. As I’ve glanced through the  12 Days themes of year one, year two and year three, it’s easy for me to see the changes in my own life — my own heart — as portrayed through this odd little record. It’s easy to see the constant aspects as well.

I’ve spent the last week trying to decide if I really wanted to bite off the daily morsel of a 12-day writing commitment this year. On Friday at the end of a long (and somewhat busy) week, I was feeling the pressure of many things. One of those things was the choice of writing about Thanksgiving for twelve days. The choice of thinking about thanksgiving for twelve days, in addition to everything else that seems to be enveloping my mind. To say it was daunting at that moment is an understatement. Honestly, I really couldn’t imagine how I would do it.

“My life is so empty right now.”

Ha! I actually had that thought. As I sit here taking a rest from the morning playing with Little Drummer Boy, Bug and Baby Girl, I know that statement doesn’t even approach the truth. I mean, not even close. Yet, I thought it. And although I knew the folly of it almost before I articulated it in my mind’s voice, still there was some element of the statement I had to consciously admit and explore.

My life is not empty. But, at least at that moment, my spirit was. My gumption was. My joy meter. My energy level.

It happens sometimes. There is something about life that squeezes us out — even if we don’t mean to get wrung. Sometimes it’s the reality of grabbing everything we can from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of scraping the bottom of the barrel to claim at least something from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of carving out time and energy and brain space from a multitude of activity to believe we are actually having an experience at all — a life. And, whatever combination of those realities had materialized in my thinking over the last few weeks, the result manifested itself as a sincere and credible feeling of emptiness.

The great chasm between empty and bounty doesn’t really have alot to do with how much is in the refrigerator or the closet or the project list. In my limited experience, it doesn’t have much to do with the bottom line or the season’s record or whatever other tangible poll standings my thoughts may try to calculate.

No, if the last three years of 12-day thanksgiving experiments holds true, the transition from empty to bounty has nothing to do with those things. And everything to do with perspective. An internal perspective, a way of seeing and interpreting that leaves us bursting rather than wanting.

About two seconds after the fateful thought of “my life is so empty” crossed my consciousness, I knew. I knew I was in serious need of a perspective adjustment. There is a certain misery that I imagine results from spending a life running on empty. I believe the joy of gratitude is just the jump start needed to shift the balance. My own experience can testify that the giving of thanks is a heart and mind readjustment. It can provide a recognition that enables me to draw my living from overflow rather than from scarcity. Life DOES overflow. MY life overflows. My life is full of many precious things and people and experiences. I don’t want to claim “living” from any other perspective.

So, the 12-day experiment in the power of gratitude begins again. A journey from empty to bounty. Join me.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: G

Giving thanks.

Well, through whatever wrestling required, Thanksgiving leaves its mark. On our hearts. On our mindset. Jacob wrestled with an angel. He left the experience with a blessing and a wound. A wound, perhaps, of laying aside his own will, his own preconceptions, his own ingrained thinking. A wound from succumbing to the blessing. The wound was a remembrance I think he carried his whole life. The book of Hebrews describes the end of Jacob’s life. He worshipped “leaning on his staff.” Perhaps the result of a hip dislocated in a wrestling match with an angel. I can’t help but admire how very much he wanted the blessing. How valuable it was to him. How he recognized its significance. I want to recognize my own blessings in that same way. And I want to wrestle against whatever thinking might rob me of seeing them.

I started this 12-day journey with doubts. I stepped into it kicking and screaming. And I’ve found, as I have each year, that of all the blessings enumerated at Thanksgiving, the act of giving thanks itself offers its own indelible joy. The act of acknowledging all the wealth bestowed on our lives is a blessing.

Last night, Little Drummer Boy asked me a question.

“Mommy, are we rich?”

It made me giggle inside. He’s learning about money and that we have to earn it in order to be able to spend it. That we need it to get special things. He knows that Mommy works. So, he is becoming conscious of whether we have money. My answer…

“No, sweetie, we aren’t rich.”

A sigh. And a half-growl. “So that means we’re poor.”

“No, sweetie, it doesn’t.”

“So, we’re somewhere in between.”

“We have just what we need, love.”

We have just what we need. Through the blessing of giving thanks, we can hope to understand that anyone can be rich. Through grateful hearts, we recognize our own wealth in any circumstance.

Happy Thanksgiving.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: N

Nearness of God.

Thanksgiving really needs an object. Yes, it’s nice to be thankful. Gratitude is a good mindset. But, there is something hollow in attributing our blessings to our own good “karma” or simply to chance. My heart wants to thank someONE. The tradition of the Thanksgiving holiday has its roots in showing gratitude to God for the bounty he has provided. Offering thanksgiving to our Creator is a natural response to recognizing the good that comes in our lives through His providence. Thanksgiving is also the catalyst for trusting Him through the challenges that surround our lives as well.

At some point during the Thanksgiving season, I usually gravitate toward this verse from Psalms…

“Enter His gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise.”

For the last two years of producing this thanksgiving-themed series of essays, that verse has been a starting point. It brings the realization that through giving thanks and cultivating a grateful heart, we can more easily focus on the One bestowing our blessings. We can more easily draw closer to Him. This year, it looks like that verse is more of a culmination than a beginning thesis.

I’ve written recently about the themes of change and transition that have been prevalent in my EyeJunkie pursuit. I’ve written about the searching and wandering I have felt in my spirit of late. I’m reminded (and thankful) this season that God is never closer than in times of wandering. Though it seems He may be far, his far-reaching arm is not distant.

Sometimes we degrade wandering. It has somehow obtained a bad reputation as wasted time, procrastination or following the broken path. But, under the hand of the Almightly God, is ANY time ever wasted? I’ve been writing another post about faith (which I’ll share soon), that has helped me realize that sincere wandering is part of the full package of a sincere faith. It’s part of the process. And, God’s nearness during that time (as in every other time) is a tremendous blessing. It brings me back to the story of Jacob that began this year’s 12 Days.

Jacob’s life was not a silver-spooned, ivy league portrait. He was a cheater, a traitor, a Mama’s boy, a wanderer. In his life, he deceived those closest to him, and he was deceived by others. He was disappointed. He was afraid. And that was long before he became the patriarch of the Lord’s lineage. Still, it was clear that God never left Him or the world-changing goals for his life. In fact, we see that at his greatest moments of fear and wandering, God came to him. God even wrestled his strength and will to offer him blessings. There was no moment of searching, no moment of indecision, no moment of mistakes, no moment of fear that could thwart the bountiful blessing of God.

“The nearness of God is my good.” (psalm 73:28)

Regardless of my wandering or wondering, God is near.
He surrounds this life, my life, as only He can.
He is much bigger than all I can see.
His blessing can’t be thwarted.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: I

Investments.

I’ve been thinking during these 12 days about how blessed I am by people who have chosen to make an investment in me–parents, mentors, friends, clients. The confidence and encouragement of others has such a powerful and long-lasting impact. Sometimes it takes others showing that confidence before we can believe it ourselves.  The investments of others are gratitude-worthy, to be sure. But, beyond that, I was reminded last week about what a blessing it also is to invest IN someone else as well. After all, good investments bring a return.

I had a conversation with a friend last week about a simple phone call. I didn’t know the other party, but felt as if I did to hear my friend describe the encounter. A man was calling to inquire about job opportunities–not always an easy task for someone who’s been in the workforce for a long time or in these challeging economic times. During the course of the phone conversation, with a few well-placed comments and sincere reflections, this friend really blessed the man on the other end of the line. What’s interesting is how exhuberant my friend was to talk about the encounter. How much the conversation prompted his own recollections and gratitude for the impact this man had made on him many years ago.

Two things struck me. One is how “easy” it is to turn something difficult for someone into a day-changer, even a life-changer. My friend lost nothing but a few seconds of time in communicating some things that perhaps gave this man renewed confidence. It requires so little from us to bless others. The one thing it does take is paying attention. Noticing. Reflecting. This conversation required thinking with sincerity about an individual’s impact, thinking with gratitude about a person’s role in another’s life. That’s the hard part sometimes. It’s so easy to live only in self-awareness, oblivious to the needs or even strengths of others around us. Yes, noticing those things requires an investment of our time and energy and emotional space. But, the return allows us to reap the benefit of soaking up what another human has to offer, the benefit of really experiencing some person or place rather than simply pushing past them to get to the next thing on the list. It made me want to think more carefully about the seemingly insignificant conversations I have each day, and infuse them with a desire to show that person their worth. That type of investment has so much power, and to wield it is a privilege.

The other lesson from this friend’s conversation was how much the act of blessing another person prompts us to see our own blessings. Giving is such an odd little mathematics-defying equation. When we give, we so often get in multiplied measure in return. When we show confidence and value to others, we more easily embrace it ourselves. When we recognize the amazing qualities of others and their impact, we are reminded of the blessings WE have received. We are reminded that people and experiences ARE blessings. It tells me that if I’m feeling gratitude-challenged, perhaps the first step to recovery is blessing someone else.