Questions for Reflection
What are you anticipating this week?
Who made you smile or laugh?
Where did joy surprise you?
What showed up on your Bingo card that you weren’t expecting?
Who crossed your mind more than once?
Where did hope and tears intersect?
How are you living as a beginner?
What would you like to try if it were that easy?
What’s a long time dream that keeps nudging you?
What did you sip from your mug this morning?
What’s one delightful detail in your daily rhythm you can wake up excited about?
What is your go-to order at your favorite coffee shop or bistro?
How are you playing or resting?
What are you reading?
What are you creating?
On Becoming
Slumber slips away
And I
Toss back the comforter
Pad through the kitchen thinking
Of the warmth and aroma of mug and espresso inside
Anticipation of a waking routine
Carved by years of caffeinated coffeebeans
Weighty in my hand
I open
The book cover
Pages rustling, turning, pausing,
On 302
I read the passages and ponder
the philosophy of life
the rigors of being human
And I remember
Life will not always be as it is today
And I hope
I am becoming
Bit by bit by bit
A bit kinder, stronger, better,
Befriending all within me
Curating the truest version I am now.
A Benediction For Our Summers
I hope, my friends, this summer has been good for you. Not perfect. Not hashtag blessed. Not even fantastic.
No need to glance at all the glossy appeal the highlight reels might give us. Instead, may we gaze around, and in, the interior of our real lives we live one quiet day after another.
I hope laughter lingers in your memory.
I hope courage keeps you company.
I hope lament lays open the way for moving slowly through the aching angst & haunting grief come to call.
I hope your brokenness was held by the beauty of one who could sit & stay, who could bear witness to the wild ache, the washed away dream. I hope you were held.
I hope you sang and danced.
I hope music poured from Spotify, from speakers, from instruments, from your diaphragm.
I hope you delighted.
I hope you found holy the sacred practice of noticing.
I hope you discovered again and again small, hidden wonders to delight in.
I hope you welcomed your emotions, silenced the shame when it showed, and found the boundaries you needed to set you free.
I hope you embraced your body in which you live and move and have your being.
I hope you texted friends & chatted over coffee.
I hope you apologized when needed; heard “I’m sorry” when someone you love lived out a crabby day.
I hope your compassion & empathy was the catalyst of inspiration your neighbor needed that Tuesday. I hope trusting your intuition became a little more second nature.
I hope you read, long into the night, on more than one occasion.
Friends, I hope this summer held bouquets of fresh flowers to bring beauty to your days.
I hope you ate chocolate cake. With milk. And no one to judge you. And savored every crumb.
I hope there was pizza & fresh raspberries & mashed potatoes & sweet corn on the grill. I hope you had hummus & stayed too long exchanging confidences around a bowl of chips & queso.
I hope HOPE held a champagne flute high & toasted you across the charcuterie.
I hope simplicity sat with you & peace permeated your pathway.
I hope you learned to live just a bit more in the tension of a both/and world.I hope grace lit your way like a lantern aloft & steadfastness radiated around you.
I hope you lived.
Adding Anticipation
“You’ve inspired me.” My friend replies to my voice note about this week’s Artist Date. “I’m going to schedule a pedicure,” she says. She continues to tell me about the delight she’s added to her week, twice so far, by driving through a cute local coffee spot and ordering a salted caramel cinnamon streusel iced latte with cold foam.
My smile stretches wide.
It feels like an arrival and achievement I didn’t even know was on my Bingo card.
The bubbles of joy fizz up and through me.
I am completely grateful and deeply delighted anytime I get to participate in passing along play and delight. I’ve often been the recipient of good sown into my life and to scatter the seeds forward is always a gift.
Often, I need a nudge to remind me to look around me and add anticipation to my days.
To pause and notice the kindness quietly blooming in so many little ways.
Walk at the park.
Buy the flowers and arrange them.
Bake a cake for fun.
Rearrange a room.
Drop off cookies.
Order the craft kit.
Set up a little free library.
Read in the hammock.
Fill a favorite bowl with rocky road.
Stick the stickers on happy mail.
Pull out markers and the coloring book.
Order a book for a friend.
Place a mailbox for exchanging notes of encouragement.
Plant the daisies.
Text a Chick-fil-A gift card to your niece.
What adds anticipation and delight to your days?
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