Gazing around the circle, joy and delight tighten my throat and wrap warm right around me.
Fifteen faces. Voices mingling. Eyes closed. Open palms. Raised hands.
“Holy Spirit, You are welcome here. Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere. Your Glory Lord is what our hearts long for. To be overcome by Your Presence, Lord.”
The music flows from Tara’s phone and our heartfelt voices raise the melody.
I’ve journeyed beside these lovely women this year, in a kind and safe online space, and it felt surreal to stand in an embodied circle and observe their beautiful faces.
I am completely undone by the apprenticeship of Jesus that shows up in each and every woman circled here together.
Until this November Saturday, I’d not met any of them face to face.
The eucharist adorns the table.
Dark liquid grapes in clear glass and broken bread pieces in remembrance.
Quietly, we each lift a glass, take the bread, return to our circle.
A sacred pause. We pray.
I hold my bread, feel the texture.
We take our piece, break it in half, chew slowly.
Commemorating His suffering, His sacrifice, His sanctifying mercy.
We give thanks. Our lungs breathing gratitude in and out.
Eucharisto for the act of eucharist.
We lift glasses to lips and the sweet reminder of sacrifice tingles on our tongues.
We’ve brought our brokenness and our compassion and our journals and pens. With open palms we extend welcome to each other as we unwrap the gift of bearing witness to our stories, our aching questions, our lives.
Tears fall, voices break.
I note how we are all apologetic about our tears.
I wonder, “Why do we feel compelled to apologize when our pain pours out liquid?”
I apologize with the best of them.
I will cry in private; I deplore breaking down in the midst of people.
Why is this?
Even in this group of comrades I’ve linked arms with, cheered with, grown with.
Why do tears open our most vulnerable places?
Perhaps to clear the wounds, begin the healing.
Processes are slow for a purpose.
Being filled by others, held and heartened, supported in our stumbling, turns velveteen into the realest real.
Eucharisto pours from me in the deepest way. For the deep conversations, the contemplative group gathering, the book exchange, good coffee, delicious food, and then two days with my favorite person in the world ~ walking, talking, laughing, eating, observing. This was the way of delight.
A Wise Mentor
It’s there.
Scattered all across our pathways.
Littered in our days.
Drifting down when we’re gazing the other way.
Sometimes we have to sweep away the layers, looking deeper to see it.
Sometimes tears blur it
.Sometimes questions are all we have to hold in our hands.
Yet it proves a catalyst for healing, for growth, for abiding.
It gives way to joy; opens doors to hope.
It’s brave and beautiful and breathes life.
It sings to our souls and cradles us close.
Laughter is a by product and longings find a place to pillow their heads.
It whispers reminders of the goodness found in the land of the living.
It pours out praise and gazes deeply.
It embodies us; fits us for the hits of hardship.
.Formation and apprenticeship and spiritual practice are afforded to us by this teacher.
When gratitude becomes an unconscious way of life, when gratitude is our practice, THE practice, when gratitude layers all manner of lovely in the moments we hold before us, this, this is truly, the delightful miracle slowly emerging right in the very-est everyday of our wildly beautiful lives.
Right next to the mundane of muddy shoes, toddler size seven,
sweeper without suction size unsure-of-the-problem, challenging relationships, size feels-insurmountable,
grand aspirations, size daunting & quaking,
dwindling bank account size never-enough,
struggling wheat fields size baby wheat in desperate need of rain.
Problems don’t disappear when gratitude shows up.
Pain doesn’t magically melt away.
Sweepers don’t fix themselves; bank accounts automatically fill.
Yet gratitude does faithfully diminish the size of the overwhelm and widens the way of our wonder.
Today, I’m grateful for a wise mentor called Gratitude.
GRATITUDE
deeply grateful everyday {truly}
deeply grateful today {indeed}
practicing gratefulness everyday {too often mixed with angst and anger, complaints and consternation}
practicing gratefulness today {mixed with physical pain and heart pangs for people I love}
apprenticing under gratefulness everyday {steady, intentional, unglamorous work}
apprenticing under gratefulness today {💖}
noticing gratefulness everyday {a hot shower, ice water, curling fingers around my steaming coffee mug skillfully crafted by a dear friend}
noticing gratefulness today {crockpots bubbling, peanut butter pie chilling, cornmeal rolls raising}
singing gratefulness everyday {“Nobody Loves Me Like You Love Me, Jesus”}
singing gratefulness today
{“He is worthy of all blessing and honor and glory”}
gratefully loved by my Jesus everyday {🙌}
gratefully loved by my Jesus today {hallelujah and amen}
Delightful Incidentals
Things I’m loving + lovely gift ideas
A Spotify playlist for you ~ The Delight of Christmas
Olive + June Pedi system
Cottonwood Creek Herbals Sugar Scrubs
Jesse Tree Ornaments
Art from Lindsay Letters Co
Cord Organizer for Appliances
Lovely Christmas stickers
Videos that made us laugh this month ~
Dude Perfect Thanksgiving
I Like to Farm It
Read
Unlock the Door to Happiest Holiday Season Today
Books
- Sounding Joy by Ellie Holcomb
- The Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp
- Emmanuel by Ruth Chou Simons
- Lilibet the Brave by Katy Rose
- The Longest Goodbye by Shelly Calcagno
- The Stories We Tell by Joanna Gaines
- Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies by Marilyn McEntyre
- The Abide Bible
Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2022“Felicity includes something beyond simple contentment. Felicity not only accepts what is, acknowledging and cheerfully submitting to the limitations of one’s condition; it also unabashedly wills and seeks pleasure. It’s pleasures are more subtle than sensational. Felicity comes in lively, sustained conversation; in long walks on which one notices small changes in the landscape; in the silent companionship of an old friend or partner; in serving a good dinner to a family one loves. Felicity seeks happiness actively but its actions are quiet and measured rather than flamboyant and impulsive. It deepens by having reflected enough on one’s own good to realize that one’s own good consists in appreciation and service of others.
I think of felicity as a sign of wisdom. The handful of people I know who I would call truly wise are also happy, and the particular quality of happiness they have in common is felicity. They love a good story that makes a point as it makes you laugh. They live simply, but not meanly, and love to lift the lid of the soup pot and savor the smell of vegetables mingling. They love good company and cherish solitude. They care for children unsentimentally and do not spoil them. They are able to say no to what does not suit their purposes. They are, in their various ways, markedly articulate.”
~ Marilyn McEntyre
Such a beautiful way to describe giving thanks and I especially liked how you described the eucharist (I don’t do eucharist, but in my church, we do something similar called taking the sacrament).