summer sweetness & seasons of the soul

It's breezy today and there is a soft grey cloud cover filtering out the strong, hot rays of this past week.  For the fair and freckled, like myself, the day is perfect.  I've opened the doors at either ends of the house to allow the faint scent of the river to flow through and mingle with the humid air drifting in from the lake.

I am sitting alone in my room luxuriating in the delicious solitude of this moment.  The rest of my family left for home a few hours ago and I will join them again in a day and a half.  But in the meantime, I am enjoying quiet; not necessarily silence, but the kind of quiet that lets me hear wind rustling through the leaves, the honking of rowdy geese flying low over the river, two little girls giggling at the park, the rhythm of my own thoughts flowing uninterrupted, and maybe even those whispers of God as He leans in close to share words that nourish my spirit and prepare me to move into the next season as it unfolds. For whether I am ready or not, summer is coming to a close soon.

I've just completed Mark Buchanan's book Spiritual Rhythm: Being with Jesus Every Season of your Soul.  With the carefully crafted words of a poet, Mark takes the reader on a stroll through the four seasons and the activities that characterize them, and then uses them as an analogy for the spiritual seasons of our soul.  Since it's summer now, I've especially related to the observations he makes about this time of year and how it corresponds with a summer of the soul...the beauty, the bounty, the energy, the leisure, the warmth. Who doesn't love summer?

For most of us, there is a unique sweetness about summer that makes us want to savour every moment the way we would savour the taste of a lush, ripe plum picked right off the tree and eaten while the sun's heat still permeates its skin.  (I got to do that for the first time ever this summer.  What a treat for a girl from the praires.)  Yet we know deep down, even as the sweet juice drips through our fingers and off our chin, that we must be present to the moment, giving thanks for these summer gifts even as they occur.

We help ourselves to the plums and enjoy.  If we hold onto them too long, they spoil.

I have to remember this as I try not to hold too tightly to the dreamy stretch of weightless days that have allowed us all to drift and daydream a little; to pause from the rushing, racing, accomplishing we do all year.  There have been so many "ripe plum" moments:  sitting in candlelight out on the front deck listening to my younger son play guitar till midnight, riding bike quietly under the stars with my daughter, walking and splashing along the lake shore with my mom and sister, savouring a few quiet mornings alone with my mocha and my Lord, going for a long swim up the river with my husband and a night swim out on the boat just the two of us, listening to each of my children share personal things that have been significant and meaningful to them this summer, cheering my brother on as he wake-surfs in his 60's (sorry for telling!!) and my 10 year-old nephew do the same for the first time, observing and respecting my oldest son as he becomes a man - making his own choices and stretching out into his independence, watching my kids with their cousins laughing and having fun, delighting in the deep heart-to-heart talks with a life long girlfriend during her visit,  playing volleyball in the sand until it's too dark to see, preparing and enjoying meals with a multitude of family and friends, eating ice cream with gramma and grampa and all of us, laughing at teenage boys dancing to house music beneath pulsing speakers out on the boat....all of this and SO MUCH MORE.  My heart is full to the brim and spilling over.

A year and a half ago I starting collecting letters to make up the word "nourish" to put over a collage of family images at the lake.  This summer I finally completed it and put it up on the wall.  It turned out perfectly, for I knew that our times together at the lake would be times of nourishment, for our bodies, yes, but especially for our souls.

As I spend my last few days here at the lake, I find myself thinking ahead to what next summer is going to be like, hoping for many more wonderful family times together, yet knowing that our oldest son will have graduated from high school by then and be getting ready to leave for collage in another province.  My heart aches at the thought of it.  It will be another kind of letting go and I'm not sure if I've had practice enough to do it very gracefully.  In the words of one of my favourite authors Katrina Kenison:

I looked around...and tried to memorize the moment, to burnish it by my own attention into a keepsake that I might store away now and retrieve later, on a day when the sparkle and intimacy of the holiday had long since vanished from the house...The irony, of course, is that every moment of our togetherness contains the seed of a farewell, that life is always a dance of coming together and moving away again.  Somehow we must learn to be nimble in our steps, to welcome both togetherness and solitude, to move boldly, easily, out into the world and to honour as well the soul's requirements for rest, replenishment and reflection."  (p. 249  The Gift of an Ordinary Day)

So today, in the peace and contentment of some sparkling alone moments, I thank God for all the sweetness and nourishment he has provided this summer, for the summer season of my soul right now, and for the year ahead that is full of possibilities and beauty -- even in the letting go.

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016 (unless otherwise cited)

art on a rainy day

there is something

rather dreamy

about a lazy rainy
day
to play

...when all the elements come together into

something wonderful....

for a lovely friend who wanted some blue.....


words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

lost in lilacs

i think lilacs

are one of my favourite things

about spring

i cannot get enough of them

their colour

their fragrance

their texture

as long as they are in bloom

i will have a vase full

on as many tables

as possible

one favourite memory as a kid

was mom and I with clippers in hand 

going to the neighbour's house

down the street

to cut lilacs

and fragrant bouquets

in every corner.

DELICIOUS!!

Mom and I still do this-

just a little more sneaky 

these days

( padding around in my

girlfriend's backyard

paradise

with clippers in hand

while she is 

away!)

Another slice of heaven.

words & images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

roots and blooms

I went for a walk a couple weekends ago while my daughter was at an early morning volleyball practice.  It was a gorgeous, cool, spring morning and truthfully, I stopped a lot more than I walked.  My intention was to walk over to a local coffee shop and spend a few quiet moments writing but I got a little distracted along the way.  Luscious blossoms everywhere were just begging to be touched and smelled and photographed.

When I finally arrived, the thought foremost on my mind was the transient beauty of spring.  The transient nature of beauty itself.

Spring always provides a feast for the senses.  Each year we are gifted with the opportunity to witness the stunning unfolding of fragrant new life, the sudden arrival of bold yet delicate buds and the warmth and sunshine that coax them into bloom.

There is something exquisite about a blossom opening to the world.  It is an image of courage and possibility.  It is beauty unspeakable, fragile, temporary.

I think we sometimes long for a life of endless spring, a life teeming with newness and dreams unfolding.  If only every day of our lives could look like such a spring morning, a shocking splendour of colour and texture and possibility.  But...there is no spring without winter.  And this is the part we disagree with; this is the part that we would likely do away with altogether if it was in our power.  After all, why suffer through the cold, the desolation, the dormancy, the dying?  And now, only a few weeks later, the blossoms have faded, the fragrance has passed and the glory of spring has lost its edge a little.  Spring surrenders to summer.

I guess this conversation makes me think about roots.  Unlike blooms, roots never have the spotlight.  They never arrive on the scene to take our breath away or inspire.  They are unseen and unexciting, simply growing deeper day after day, year after year, in every season.

I think I can sometimes spend too much energy trying to find ways to keep my life in constant bloom -- wanting it always to be colourful and interesting and new.  I want to see my dreams blossom (and preferably against a backdrop of dappled light, thank you very much!).  But given how quickly spring passes and the dreamy, fragrant petals fall to the ground, I think I would do better to spend my energy on growing deeper roots.

The creator and author of all eternity has a beautiful, perfectly crafted plan and his plan includes seasons -- all of them.  He works out his purposes, each in their own time.  Whether the ground is frozen or bursting with life, whether storm clouds build or the skies are cloudless blue, whether branches bend heavy with fruit or are stripped stark and bare, God is still faithfully and mercifully at work.

He is growing our roots.

Strong. Simple.  Beautiful.

Words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

spilling with delight

there are days

i am especially aware

and spilling with delight

days i can barely get enough

of the beauty

and all the joyful taking in

beauty

to inhale

to strain my ears towards

to gaze at

to lose myself in

and oh....those 

moments of simplicity

and dailiness 

 - tiny hints of heaven -

to celebrate

with a dear friend

or truest love

those unencumbered moments

when joy springs fresh

teasing me into the chase

to capture 

with heart and soul 

and even sometimes 

with a lens

my heart is spilling with delight.

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

needing a little spring?

::: 

wishing you a few moments

of happy

and

spring smiles that spill over

into laughter

maybe even a carefree afternoon 

to take a long walk

listen to the birds sing

and enjoy a little sun

on your face

:::

(I wish I could give proper credit to the photographer who took the image of the women above -- which I absolutely love.  I tore this image from a magazine but forgot to note the artist.)

a difficult "yes"

You asked 

something important of me

and I said "yes"

not a thunderous kind of yes

that throws open doors

and reverberates through hallways

but a single

fragile

feather-kind of yes

one with almost no weight 

of confidence

at all

the kind of yes 

that might require some shelter

to keep it from wisping away

with my heavy exhales

i can only trust 

that even in its frailty

You hear it 

that it counts

somehow

it is mystery to me

that You are able 

to take one delicate yes

upon    another

upon           another

and create 

something warm enough

to cover me 

during the cold

winter

drift

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

life in transition

transitions

almost

imperceptible 

at times

a quiet whisper of change

  a slight shift of balance

a subtle transforming moment

when one thing nudges up against another

becoming new in the process

it can be a touch 

so gentle in passing 

that unless intentionally regarded

it slips away

unnoticed 

but sometimes 

like a growing, rushing wave

that meets the shore

with life altering force

transitions come

unexpected, untamed, unimagined

leaving us reshaped

unfamiliar

even to ourselves 

all that was buried

beneath layers of busyness

or soul distraction

or forward momentum

surfaces

everything is visible

uncontained

uncensored

just laying bare upon the surface 

of this life we've been building together.

It's a lovely sort of chaos

like modern art

hard to understand

but possibly beautiful.

words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2016

hidden in the woods

I've been walking through the woods near my house a lot lately.  It's one of those magical places where I can lose and find myself all at the same time.  

The moment I step into this world of soft, filtered light, evergreens and pine needles, rotting branches, and fallen leaves, I am filled with a sense of wonder and delight.  My heart beat quickens, my senses awaken and I feel especially alive.  I know that even as I walk, the big white Jack rabbit I saw a little earlier is still watching me, waiting to bolt if I come too close. I can hear a squirrel up high in a nearby tree.  Maybe he's checking his secret winter stash.  And sure enough, there are deer in their winter camouflage, standing beyond the bluff with their ears perked, listening to my every footstep.

It's easy to feel like I can get away from rest of the world when I'm hidden in the woods.  But these days I've been looking for the opposite.  Instead of wanting an escape from life's daily rhythms and minutiae,  I've been longing to enter my life more fully, to see it more clearly and to live it more attentively.  This moss covered forest is a quiet, sacred place where I can actually pay closer attention to the subtle ebbs and flows of my own inner world.  It turns out that this is what I really need, because what inevitably follows is a greater understanding and appreciation for God's simple gifts of grace in my life, whatever shape or form they appear in.

Do you have your own version of "the woods," a place where you love to go and be alone with your thoughts?  A place where you can let peace and quiet wash over you, where you can ask some tough questions or listen to some answers, where you discover by surprise some new ways to enter your life more fully with gratitude and eyes open for gifts of grace?

I hope the answer is "yes."  If you are looking for a place like this, just follow your eyes and heart (all my non "romantic" friends groan and roll their eyes!!!)  But, really!!  You may not have to go any further than your own bathtub or bedroom, a nearby park, a long ride on the train/tub/subway/bus going nowhere, a quiet corner in a cafe.....

I would love to hear of your special places and the things that you've been discovering in your times spent there.  (I know this blog is a pain in the butt to try and make comments on.  Please give it a try and if it doesn't work, feel free to drop me an e-mail at melodyinbluejeans@gmail.com )

And...in case you'd like a tiny glimpse into the ideas that have been percolating from my time in the woods... Here are a few of the gifts I am grateful for:

- the art and beauty I find in my daily life.  I love that I notice beauty in unexpected places.  I think that is one of my gifts that I can share with others
-that I can choose my own attitudes and emotions -- they really are having an impact, good or bad.
-that I am dearly loved by my husband, and while there are ways I wish he could express that love more frequently (adoring words :), a million kisses and hugs and touches...) his faithfulness and kindness is a gift I never want to take for granted.
-that my body is strong enough to let me live an active, healthy life -- despite the injuries, and weird, random aches and pains
-that my mom, at almost 89, sleeps over most Tuesday nights and it is a treasure our whole family enjoys
-that I have faithful friends who always have my back, see and believe the best in me, and will continue to love me when we're old, old ladies.
-that I have a sister and brother to share life's joys and sorrows with
-that my kids love me, talk to me, trust me, laugh with me, and even occasionally share their secrets with me too.

(I love to keep copious lists of gratitude..........it's just what I do.........so I will stop now and let you work on your own list.)

And here are a few thoughts coming into sharper focus for me:
-Transition is exciting but tough! And since we are smack dab in the middle of it, extra does of patience and grace will go a long way towards keeping a happy home.
-Time with my children is precious.  It used to seem like our days together stretched forward endlessly but I'm realizing that this is not the case.  I want to enjoy today, right now.
-Simple moments together with friends and family matter.  Small gestures add up.  I am reminding myself to take those few extra minutes at bed time to rub someone's back, to hear a story from the day or listen to a favourite song.  I want to have time for coffee or a walk with a friend.
-I can give myself a little slack.  There is room for my mistakes.  There is forgiveness for all of us.
-I am unhappy when I procrastinate.  I feel burdened when I procrastinate.  I want to do it less.
-I actually feel downright happy and giddy when I do the things that need doing -- this feeling of accomplishment could become addictive if I'm exposed to it enough.  Haha!!
-I realize that I sometimes let fear of failure (meaning: not meeting my own high expectations) stop me from trying to attain certain goals.  This is NOT how I want to live.  So.......I've got a little work cut out for me on this one!!



and with that.... let me send you all hugs and wishes for a lovely, joyful week.

xo. melody

words and images©copyright Melody Armstrong 2016 

waking in winter

There was another amazing sunrise this morning.  (Is it really the third day in a row that I've barely made lunches in time because I'm too busy taking photos out on the snowy deck in bare feet??)

Another moment to draw in a breath of pure wonder.  And exhale thanks.

What a crazy gift it is that morning after morning, the blazing skies draw our gaze upwards,  urging us to see past the circumstances that squeeze in so tightly, and fix our eyes on the expansive possibilities beyond our yesterday.  Each fresh wash of color and light across the canvas sky comes with a promise that new beginnings are possible again, even today. 

Each morning masterpiece offers a glimpse of the numinous in the ordinary.

It's so much more than my mind can comprehend, but my heart response is effortless.  

It instinctively knows to stop and oooooo and ahhhhhhh and call everyone's attention....it knows to give praise to the Promise-Maker, the one who paints the sky to remind us when we forget.

When my sister arrived at my house this morning, I just knew she would have seen it too.  And sure enough, I couldn't help but laugh a little when she exclaimed that the sky was so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes.  

She thinks He did it just for her.

words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2016