10 Things That Are Giving Me Life: Finding Home 3.5
You know how I do the Five Things I Love at the end of every Tiny Letter? Well.... I think I needed to do more of that this month. So instead of the usual essay, here's an expanded version of that mini list. Scroll all the way down for links to a couple of recently published pieces on similar themes, and please hit reply to let me know what's giving you life right now!
1) Reading Lord of the Rings this summer. It's been too long, but maybe I just needed to re-enter this story now. Sometimes I do feel like I'm passing my days in the Shire or wandering Fangorn like the Ents, knowing there's fear and doom outside my door but trying my best to be ignorant. (whether this is spiritual darkness, or political darkness, violence, division, fear...)
Tolkien's epic tale about four brave little hobbits gives me hope. And even though it's not exactly a happily ever after -- even though the age of magic and elvish beauty has ended and Frodo retires to the west because he's too changed to stay in this world -- there's a hope even in that bittersweet ending.
1a) “There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”
2) Still LotR Related: Last week, Twitter accidentally created Sean Astin Appreciation Day, and the whole thing was quite delightful.
3) A summer of hospitality. My home has hosted a rotation of guests all summer, and it isn't done. And I love it. I love that we can provide a small place of peace, that there are beaches and mountains and cities and farms and good food and good company to be found for our friends and family.
4) If you spend a lot of time on Christian Twitter, (and I can't always recommend this. There is beauty, but there's a crap ton of nonsense too) then maybe you've seen the conversations over two prominent leaders announcing they have left the faith, or at least are in the process of it.
There's a bit of hand-wringing out there, anxiety and anger too, and one particular social media tirade against Christian celebrity making the rounds. (which, ironically, comes from a Christian celebrity? ok then.) Is it an epidemic? Is it a new problem? Or is it just that all this talk about deconstruction means now we finally have language for something that is, when rightly considered and kindly processed, can be a natural step in spiritual growth?
That doesn't sound very life-giving, I know. But this Twitter thread is.
I kept wandering back to it and reflecting on the short stories from people who haven't left. Diverse people. Some friends, some writers and thinkers, some regular folks on Twitter. And for me, it was an oasis from the noise.
5) An embarrassment of new music riches. Last week it was Bon Iver, Wilder Woods, and Josh Garrels. Yesterday, it was Jason Gray, Madison Cunningham, and Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors. Not to mention news about a new project from Rabbit Room friend Drew Miller and finally listening to The National's new one and a renewed affection for vinyl. (Getting a new record player will do that to ya)
6) Speaking of music, my dad and sister were in town, and we found out about a one-off preview screening of this new movie Blinded by the Light. It was so fun, and reminded me so much of what it felt to be a teenager (or a college student) discovering that feeling of a songwriter speaking into your soul, how even in the midst of uncertainty you can find that small space of joy and emotion written in a song lyric. Chris described it as "Sing(steen) Street, but in the best way." Agreed. We kind of loved it.
7) Though our tiny garden was just okay this year, our cucumber plants are insane right now. Currently there's a jar of homemade pickles doing their thing in the refrigerator, and there will probably be more pickles to come. Not mad about it.
8) My goal is to never rush the seasons, to simply enjoy what's beautiful about them and simply be in their rhythm. But I gotta admit... it's always a little bit exciting to notice fall in the air. September gives me a fresh creative burst of energy (is it all the back to school supplies?) and October means Hutchmoot and throwing a Halloween party and changing leaves and cooler air. I still can't quite comprehend how 2019 is already winding down (because wasn't it JUST Christmas last week?) but I am kind of ready for the seasonal shift too.
9) I'm big on noticing anniversaries, even if they aren't publicly celebrated. Late August marks two for me.
Six years ago, on Labor Day weekend, Chris and I got engaged. What I thought was going to be picking him up at the airport turned into a scavenger hunt around some of our favorite hangout spots in Florida, and it ended on a favorite dock in Mt Dora and a perfectly timed rainstorm dumping on our heads. (Classic Florida.)
Two years ago, a season of depression and anxiety and personal darkness began to break. We'd been wandering in the darkness and silence for six months, and finally, the turning point, the first shimmers of light and hope. The close of summer always calls me back to gratitude.
10) "I'm understanding more how important lightheartedness is... I'm naturally really intense and I'm drawn to the problem. I'm just drawn to focus on what the news is saying or whatever. I'm really having to be more intentional about having fun and that joy is a form of resistance." - Cece Jones Davis (The Zeitcast with Jonathan Martin, Aug 6, 2019)
Joy is a form of resistance.
Over and over this week, I've seen reminders of this. It's in podcasts, in showing up, in resisting fear and defiantly celebrating the gift of life, even when there is so much to fear, so much to fight, so much to resist.
Take joy. Make your own list of life-giving things. Take time to celebrate your anniversaries.
It's small but defiant. It's pushing back against the Shadow.
And the Shadow, as our dear hobbit friend realized in the depths of darkest Morder, is a small and passing thing.
A couple weeks ago, I had a new essay up at The Rabbit Room on one of my all time favorite albums. Check out More than My Lonely Nation, a reflection on the impact Switchfoot's 2005 record Nothing is Sound had on 21-year-old Jen, and why these songs still matter in 2019.
"Instead of peppy melodies and self-aware anthems, the sound took a darker tone and the lyrics dwelled on empty consumerism, disconnect, loneliness, and war. It’s Psalms and Ecclesiastes and Lamentations all at once. And somehow, in all that, it lands on hope in the end.
Permission to be angry. Permission to lament. Permission to, in spite of it all, not lose hope."
At my blog, I very quietly wrote a lament for the shootings in El Paso and Dayton. I admit, sometimes I'm nervous about writing on current events... I don't want to add to the noise after all. But sometimes you just need to get things out. I hope it might speak a little bit of peace to you today.
“If you look for the helpers, you’ll know there is hope.”
May it be so. May it begin in my own heart.
That's it for this month's letter. Thanks, as always, for making a little space for me in your inbox. Feel free to hit reply to say hello and share what's been giving you life lately... hope the rest of your summer is filled with peace and good rest. See you in September!
~Jen
jenroseyokel.com