I have a confession to make. Lately, I may have been stalking you. No, not really...I'm not outside your bedroom window and there is no reason to call the local authorities. My stalking has been perfectly legal, it's actually a pretty well-worn path. I did not give up social media for lent. I gave up chocolate-covered almonds. And I've been stalking you simply by scrolling - with not one single chocolate almond nearby (although there was that one bag of chocolate covered mangos that jumped into my grocery cart, realizing this may have been a slip of judgement). I've not shared and interacted a whole lot on social media lately but I have been reading your posts, even amidst my longing to purposefully slow down and experience God's joy and delight since releasing my devotional book in January. When I clearly heard God ask me to step back from some commitments recently, I was not sure what was to come. And, I'm still not. God has offered a ton of grace for what this season looks like. Yet I have filled it with more than my share of...scrolling. My lenten disciplines and a renewed commitment to honoring my body have kept me away from reaching for those chocolate covered almonds. So lately, I've realized my unintentional avoidance of some things [anything, really...the laundry, the writing time, the bills, the yoga practice, the dishes, meditation] has led to me hopping online to see what you're doing. And, I love seeing what you're doing. You're doing some good things! You, my friends, are: writing amazing books, fighting for social justice, empowering others to love their bodies, sharing the word of God for all to hear, raising families, caring for the elderly and the sick, facing things that scare you, chasing slow moments, and living life fully. You are doing good, deep things on this journey. Diving deep with God involves risk. And one of those risks includes the thrills and the dangers of discovering a less traveled path on this spiritual formation journey. For me, that means a healthier relationship with this helpful and useful tool known as the Internet. Enter, my friend Esther and her new book, What Falls from the Sky. I was instantly intrigued by her book because I know how she lives her life - as a homesteader. What I didn't know were the details of what led her and her family to where they are now (and don't worry, you don't have to live in a yurt after you read the book - although I'm seriously considering this for the future myself - I love yurts!). Esther went a year without the Internet. A YEAR. That's a path less-traveled. When I go my entire Sunday Sabbath without "accidentally" logging in, I am so proud of myself. Anyone else? Just to be clear - Esther went a year without her cell phone, texting, surfing, clicking. Her story arrived in my mailbox recently, and now my sleep patterns are off because I've been reading beyond my bedtime. Guess what? She sent me a book to share with you! So, not that I want to mess with your sleep, but I'm fairly certain your scrolling will be interrupted because #whatfallsfromthesky is a phenomenal story of one woman's willingness to dive deep with God. Holy Week is such an appropriate time to finish Esther's memoir and share it with you too - it seems a perfect time to admit my weakness, my struggles, my doubts, my joys, and celebrate the good things the promise of Easter offers each of us. What are your struggles? Do those get in your way of living fully? Could you go a year without digital conveniences? Would you be willing to give it a try? What does the less-traveled path look like, and is it accessible to you? Contemplate and share your thoughts below if you'd like. I would love to hear from you. You don't have to comment for your "chance" to get this book in your hands, but be sure to complete the form with your email address because I would love to send this gift from Esther to you! Esther Emery was a successful playwright and theater director, wife and mother, and loving it all - until, suddenly, she wasn’t. When a personal and professional crisis of spectacular extent leaves her reeling, Esther is left empty, alone in her marriage, and grasping for identity that does not define itself by busyness and a breakneck pace of life. Something had to be done.
What Falls from the Sky is Esther’s fiercely honest, piercingly poetic account of a year without Internet - 365 days away from the good, the bad, and the ugly of our digital lives - in one woman’s desperate attempt at a reset. Esther faces her addiction to electronica, her illusion of self-importance, and her longing to return to simpler days, but then the unexpected happens. Her experiment in analog is hijacked by a spiritual awakening, and Esther finds herself suddenly, inexplicably drawn to the faith she had rejected for so long. Ultimately, Esther’s unplugged pilgrimage brings her to a place where she finally finds the peace - and the God who created it - she has been searching for all along. What Falls from the Sky offers a path for you to do the same. For all the ways the Internet makes you feel enriched and depleted, genuinely connected and wildly insufficient, What Falls from the Sky reveals a new way to look up from your screens and live with palms wide open in a world brimming with the good gifts of God. Lately, I've been hearing God remind me with a gentle whisper, "take me with you" in all you do. Take me with you to the bank. Take me with you to the store. Take me with you in rush hour traffic. Take me with you in long lines. Take me with you, not simply when you show up to teach, lead a retreat, or facilitate a yoga class. Take me with you always, God whispers. No, the whisper is not audible. Yet the whisper is clear. Take me with you, God says.
As a kid who grew up in church, we went to church to meet God every Sunday and Wednesday. I knew God was with me (on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday) in my head - I had been taught good theology. But, I don't think I fully understood God's longing and desire for me to embrace this fact all the time - and in all places. For most of my life, I did not grasp that I could indeed take God with me. And, most importantly, that God longed for this invitation - to be taken along. On the yoga mat, was one of the first "outside the box" places I truly began to take God along with me. I discovered the power of breath and the depth of God's spirit within me through each breath. My mat soon became an altar, a place to meet with God. Eventually, I began sharing this passion and offered others the chance to roll out a mat and meet their creator, God, in body and breath too. Discovering God all around me is something I relish - not simply in church or on a yoga mat but in the trees, clouds, meals, relationships, experiences, travels, music, scents, and even the crises and challenges of life. Some days are better than others. Where are you God? I am here. Take me with you. Today I was renewing the tag for my car (a week in advance of the expiration I might add - celebrating the fact that I only procrastinated this long - not until the very last minute). The kind person receiving my fees for this postponed chore was wearing a diffuser necklace - containing her favorite essential oils. We quickly began a conversation regarding some of our favorite oils and she mentioned the browser tab on her computer was open to explore herb and essential oil sales from one of her favorite sources when she had a break. I smiled and thought - we have something in common - we could be friends. The line was building behind me. I glanced down as I handed her my check and noticed a rock under her computer monitor. The word PEACE was inscribed on the rock. A reminder for her in some special way. And a reminder for me too. Take me with you, God said. My favorite word, peace, brought a smile to my face as I considered the commonalities. Under my arm, in my purse I held my favorite essential oils - anchors for my soul. Reminders of God's presence with me through the gift of aromatherapy. I never leave home without them. They remind me of God. The scents along with her word peace (my word too) resonated. When I feel far away, overloaded with tasks and chores, I whisper the word peace. The oils and the word resonated in this moment - as I experienced God's presence - in the line for my license plate renewal. I take you with me, I said. I offered a smile of thanks to the woman assisting me in daily ordinary tasks. She offered me a reminder of how I take God with me. And, she reminded me how I share God with those at whom I smile. Take me with you, God whispered with a grin. Through words, through images, through scents, through strangers, through smiles. I acknowledge the joy of this privilege and invitation - of taking God with me - everywhere I go. I exited past the long line into the sunshine of a suddenly less crowded day. I do, I said. This image (of me!) leaves me in awe of God. The awe is not simply because I am standing on my head.
This is me in awe of a healing journey. If this life were only viewed through my lens, this moment would not have been possible. Instead, there is an invitation for me (and for you) to view this world through God's lens. A lens that loves and believes. A lens that heals and gives hope. God sees beauty in ashes. Maybe when you look at this image you simply see me standing on my head amidst stone architecture. Honestly, I shy away from sharing this (or others like it) for a few reasons. We'll get to that in a bit. First, what do you see? Maybe you see shadow and light. Maybe you see victory and wholeness. Maybe you see brick and motor. Maybe you see fear and instability. Maybe you see strength and courage. Maybe you see healing and hope. Images such as this one are often shared by slender, young, popular yogis and yoginis who practice their asanas at the beach or on mountaintops. This space is not a scenic destination and I am not young, slender, or popular by Instagram standards. The ground is uneven and the traffic was constant. My friend (with her camera) and I snuck into this corner during a recent retreat as I told her it would be really empowering for me to "try" a headstand on the uneven surface of this sanctuary. My feet floated to the sky on the cool uneven stone that day as I protected the sensitive spots on my head from touching the earth. This is ordinary me doing something extraordinary - for me, for God. It's not comfortable for me look at or share images of myself. Which is an interesting turn of events since at one point in my youth, I aspired to be Katie Couric...on screen and clearly in public view. Today it's uncomfortable for me to "see me" in images or on screen and I was not sure why until I saw this image. It's hard to see myself through God's lens. Yet I'm learning to see as God sees - all around me. So, that includes me. I share this in hopes that you may see through a God lens too. When I see this photo as God would see me, I see a woman of 40 who has overcome many physical health obstacles. I see a woman who mourns because she was told she shouldn't attempt pregnancy again. I see a women who has beat the odds of cancer, stroke, and brain surgery. I see a woman who loves God so very much...in spite of all that. I see a woman who believes each person is unique and beautiful and important yet sometimes struggles to believe this for herself. I see a woman who attempted things she never thought possible - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Sometimes you look at yourself and don't recognize who you are, how far you've come, or especially how far you have to go. This image helps me appreciate each. In 2005, I could barely consider standing on my own two feet, and definitely never considered standing on my head. The months that followed included a walker and a cane. I even traveled around SuperCenters in motorized carts. I was scoffed at a time or two for what appeared to be a joy ride by some who saw no physical scars or struggles of paralysis. In those dark days, I knew I could praise God again (somehow) and thank my Creator for this journey. But, I did not expect it to be my feet I raised in thanksgiving. The feet that have held me up now pull me closer each day. I never fathomed I would lift these feet to the God who made me. But, that's what happened. Nearly ten years of taking the next step. A step to find the right physical therapist or yoga class. A step to meet with a spiritual director and counselor. A step to finish 13.1 miles. A step to learn. A step to lead. A step to listen. A step to heal. A step to slowing down. A step to lean in. A step to savor motherhood, family, and friendships. A step to embrace losses and missed steps. A step to living in to the person God created me to be - imperfections and all. Steps of faithfulness have included lots of boundaries and disappointments. They also included saying yes to God over and over again and being amazed by faithfulness. The gift I received when my life was turned upside down, indeed took my feet out from under me. In a sanctuary of stone I realized this...when your life is turned upside down, it really can be beautiful, even if you're the last one to notice it. Look through God's lens. |
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