You can’t stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship. – Anne Lamott
I suppose this is my song for today…
So we chose the house 4 years ago largely for its amazing backyard. I envisioned writing retreats where we’d sit out on the deck and talk shop, then zip-line down to the tea house for cheese and wine.
There’s a great winding path the previous owners created that includes many features along the way. Currently, the features are mole holes and an overgrown flagstone waterfall plastered with leaves and ivy vines.
But the stones are there.
And it seems to me an essential stone in the foundation of the writing process is this recognition that we are all of earth, and therefore subject to its gravity. As we hear the call to come build our wings, eventually we must accept that we’ll have to continue to show up for the building process. That’s where we gain the trust in God who rules the earth and the sky. That’s where he asks those of us who accept this journey not to become something more, but to become less, to empty so he can fill us with his new weightless grace.
I walk the old, leaf-strewn path and I believe that is happening. And as my gratitude for that grows I find the trust I need to continue showing up for the building every day.
That’s the writing life we’re all on together–that’s being on the path.
And maybe like the backyard of my dreams, it’s not the end result that will make it so worthwhile. It’s appreciating we’re all in a process, like a big old ship slowly getting there that makes the whole experience a place worth being, a story worth telling.
And maybe trusting who’s behind that process is the way to a life worth sharing….