noticing the details......

images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2014

Practicing Sabbath

It's officially spring.  I am soaking in a hot bath with the window open, watching lazy snowflakes drift inside.  I settle into the quiet. I breathe.  I listen.  I let the beating of my heart accompany the spring-infused song of a lone bird on a bare branch out back.  

I admit there is a tiny, persistent voice asking me if I really deserve this luxury - this lavish gift of peaceful stillness, but I ignore it.  I resist the impulse to fill this vacant moment with something more productive than just "being."  

I choose to practice rest, to honor this gift of a moment by giving God thanks for it and by paying attention to it. This sabbath --this sacred seeing--is something I'm longing to understand more fully and practice more regularly; but it is counter to the way most of life spins around me and, therefore, it feels suspect at times.  It feels indulgent.  If feels "princess-ish."  

Still, I persist.  And in doing so, I find that my heart keeps filling with each quiet moment till I spill with gratitude and my perspective shifts in surprising ways.  The heaviness I've felt for all the hurting people in my life simply lifts.  I'm reminded that I can trust them to God...that He knows their needs and promises to be their refuge.  I can release them to his providential care and just rest.

I pay attention to this moment instead; and to the simplicity of beauty around me --the treasures of shells and rocks and driftwood I've collected along water's edge, the candle that smells like spearmint, the heart rock I found at the bottom of a stream, the  pewter letters that say "B E", the coconut shell we once broke open, drank of its milk, nourished ourselves on and then re-filled with beach-found treasures. 

I notice.  I give thanks. 

Mark Buchanan in his book The Rest of God.  Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath writes:

"this is the essence of a Sabbath heart: paying attention.  It is being fully present, wholly awake, in each moment.  It is the trained ability to inhabit our own existence without remainder, so that even the simplest things--the in and out of our own breathing, the coolness of tiles on our bare feet, the way wind sculpts clouds into crocodiles and polar bears--gain the force of discovery and revelation.  True attentiveness burns away the layers of indifference and ennui and distraction--all those attitudes that blend our days into a monochrome sameness--and reveals what's hidden beneath: the staggering surprise and infinite variety of every last little thing."(pg. 50)

I find myself hidden in the cleft of the Rock, safe and secure.  My heart rests in this quiet moment --a moment filled with beauty, birdsong and God's unspeakable peace.  

I practice Sabbath.

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2014

(Unless otherwise cited)

my heart at home

within this place

I find a space...

where I am safe to be me

allowed to stand tall or fall

and nothing changes

where love is framed 

on walls along the halls

and inside arms

where there is always room

to grow and know

it's never crowded 

where there are hugs and smiles

to treasure through weather 

of changing seasons

where peace is not a stranger

where living is forgiving

and hearts heal

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2014

the absence of silence

 "Timely silence, then, is precious, for it is nothing less than the mother of the wisest thoughts." ( Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Way of the Heart, Connecting with God through Prayer, Wisdom, and Silence p. 45) 

I've written very little lately.  For someone who loves to write, the pages of my journal and this blog have been conspicuously empty.  Volumes of thoughts, ideas, and questions are reverberating within, but somehow I'm not sure that my words matter much right now. Instead, I've been craving silence. Though I confess, I'm not sure I even know what silence is.   

I recently began reading Henri Nouwen's The Way of the Heart, Connecting to God through Prayer, Wisdom, and Silence.  The bold words on the back cover say "Ancient spiritual wisdom to 

heal our troubled modern souls." Nouwen writes that "in this chatty society, silence has become a very fearful thing.  For most people, silence creates itchiness and nervousness.  Many experience silence not as full and rich, but as empty and hollow.  For them silence is like a gaping abyss which can swallow them up." (p.52)

I can't help but wonder if our propensity for words has more to do with the fear of silence than the longing for wisdom.  Is it possible that the more we say, the less we think?  The more words we fill ourselves with (in a frenetic fast-food sort of way), the less we actually distill and digest?  Could it be that our souls are becoming malnourished even as we continue to feed?

I have felt bombarded by words lately --a strange confession from someone who usually loves words.  Snippets of words seem to be coming from every direction, all clamouring for my already chronically divided attention.  There are words in texts, blogs, books, pod casts, voice mails, team-snap reminders, magazines, tweets, facebook, and e-mails and they are all firing at once especially when I'm trying to have a good, old-fashioned phone call or a face-to-face conversation.

   

It makes no difference whether I'm soaking in the bath, sitting with my family at the dinner table, waiting in line at the coffee shop, or half asleep in bed, there are plenty of bells and beeps and blings reminding me that WORDS are waiting, personal and impersonal alike.

What do we do with the vast deluge of words that inundate our daily lives?  How do we discern which ones are worth our precious time and attention?  I'm not talking about the inane stuff that we filter out right away (highlight and delete 20 or 30 messages) or the boring but necessary stuff of our day to day living.  I'm talking about the really great stuff: the text or e-mail from a friend, the hilarious or heart-warming story that will "only take a few minutes of our time," the multi-media presentation educating us on the plights of others, the podcast that is thought-provoking (assuming people still take time to think), the book that is an absolute must-read, the regular blog of a favourite author, and hey, there's always the Holy Bible (is it politically correct to call it that anymore??) --we could even crack it open and quickly pick a few inspiring words to consume on the run.  (I shutter, even as I type, to think how alarmingly close I have come to treating the life-breathed Word that is central to my faith as just another quick hit of "feel-good" that I can use on demand, whenever I need it.)   

I don't mean to be overly harsh here, but I wonder if the sheer volume of words available to us has rendered them less meaningful in the grand scheme of things?  

It wasn't long ago that I had to wait eagerly for the next book release in order to read new words from a favourite author.  But waiting is a thing of the past, isn't it?  Unless, of course, I count waiting until coffee break when I can finally snag a moment to click on the author's blog and read today's words hot off the press.  And with a few more clicks of the finger, I can follow a multitude of links introducing me to three or twenty other sites that have something to say on the matter.   

I can read, browse, surf, and peruse more, and yet process, integrate and grapple less.  I can take in a surplus of words and still end up with a deficit of wisdom and understanding. I can consume until I am crammed and utterly filled with the ideas of others and not have had one original thought of my own.  

Can it be any other way as long as I am a stranger to silence? Where else but in silence, can a thought find soil in which to germinate and grow until it brings forth life?

I guess I'm beginning to wonder if less really is more when it comes to words -- even the really good stuff?

words  and images (unless cited otherwise) © copyright Melody Armstrong 2014

good news....

is your heart ready for it????

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013

...being Canadian!!

Seriously???  Yes - and just

another reason to love being Canadian!!

just one of those days.....

I don't know if any of you have had the rare experience of hearing and seeing your microwave door burst open in an explosion of spaghetti squash......but I have.  After the mild heart attack my kids and I had, we busted up laughing.  Half my kitchen was splattered with the stringy yellow stuff.  And my microwave....well the pictures say it all.  I don't know how I had the presence of mind to take pictures of it, but I'm glad I did.  It was just one of those days. 

So much of my life is like this - splattered, messy, yet still kind of beautiful in a totally weird way. 

I'm sure you've had days like this too when you're hanging by the skin of your teeth, trying to laugh instead of cry and reminding yourself how good you've got it compared to most everyone else on this planet?  (And you do!  Me too!)

The day before yesterday was another one of those days for me.  It began by spending 2.5 hours on the phone for technical support over someone repeatedly hacking into my apple ID.   A couple hours later, I wiped out on my friend's icy, concrete front steps and landed square on one butt cheek (at least one reason to be grateful for extra padding).  Then, after pulling my sorry butt up out of the snow, I hobbled over to my car, got in and proceeded to dump an entire container of granola mix I had just purchased, all over the floor and seat.  Finally, after arriving home and vacuuming up the mess in my car, I went to the kitchen to heat some store purchased soup (yes, another stellar effort at dinner) and spilled half it on the counter. Not a good day.  One might wonder at the wisdom of me cleaning out my china cabinet the next morning!!!

If, like me, you can also laugh at the craziness of your life -- then we both have so much to be thankful for.  

Just thought I'd share.  xo

words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2013

first snow...the morning after

first snow...the morning after

it is stillness dazzling white...

it is a lone leaf whispering goodbye

to it's bare branch

and floating down to sleep on

blankets of fluffy jewels

glittering in sunbeams...

it is coolness welcomed in

through windows cracked open

and a crisp-air kiss

on a warm cheek turning rosy...

it is playful rhythms of

frosty melt

drip, drip, dripping off eaves

and flying free....

it is water blue

glanced through naked trees

and tiny teasing icicles

wanting to play at the liquid surface...

it is black and white magpie

hopping happy in the empty yard

finally king on his own

frosty bird-feeder throne...

it is pillowy white clouds

thrown onto sky-blue duvet

and painted jet-stream stripes

that disappear...

it is everything wrapped 

in stillness dazzling white.

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013

first snow

thank you Ali for capturing pure joy!!

first snow...

it is

jitters and giggles growing

in a bubbly frenzy

til finally kids can

burst outside

in boots and mitts and snow pants

too big and too small

pulled from the hidden recesses

of closets and bins

still in summer hibernation

it is 

 hollars from the garage of 

"where's my .....[everything]"

and the two of us behind them

following happy chatter 

and frosty footsteps

tracked all the way up the street

to the new best hill behind the neighbour's house

it is 

doorbells ringing and 

more crazy kids 

smothered in scarves and outgrown jackets

peeling and reeling

 into the wonderful

chilly white world

of 

first snow.



Words © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013
photo credit:  friend Ali  M.

in the shadows

The weight of pain sits heavy in the shadows.  

My heart aches for so many of you, dear friends.  If only words were enough.  If only I could hug you all the way to wholeness.  If only....... anything to lessen your pain and make this journey easier.  

This poem is for you.....

 feeling lost again

journeying in the shadows

dark halting my steps

half-seeing

heart-frenzied 

by the deafening sound 

of fear 

pulsing silent...

  this heaviness 

stretches places 

already shadow-thin

within

and how to mend a 

thread-bare soul

with strands of light 

so frail?

oh Savior, save!

rescue me with courage

set for me

a path anew

flooded 
in the light of You

where my foot is sure

and my heart hears

only

the love in

your whisper.

Psalm 27:1 "The Lord is my light and my salvation--whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the stronghold of my life--of whom shall I be afraid."

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013