Hello Friday: All In

Hello Friday is a look over my shoulder at the events of the past week. I notice what was life-giving and then share it with you, a week-ending examen. Maybe you’ll find something in it that brings you life, too; maybe even try your own.

A tornado ripped through our favorite beach getaway last year, a sleepy bay town on the picturesque Oregon Coast usually shielded from such trauma.

Whether we would join our grands and their parents this year was up in the air until the last minute when we decided, “we’re all in.” We would leave and return when they did; eat and sleep and play when and where they did; stay in the rented house together and be present for the entire six days. All of us, all of them, all in.

We skipped last year, opting for a different beach, but when we rounded the curve and saw “our” beach, inhaled the ocean air, I remembered the magic of the place. The green, translucent mug declaring in gold letters, “I come to the sea to breathe,” has survived several rounds of cupboard clearing. It’s still my fave. (I also remembered getting lost after dark in the state campground just up the road because I turned the wrong direction leaving the shower building…but, um, that’s a story for another time.

I’ve been reading Richard Rohr’s Divine Dance and Ian Cron’s Chasing Francis. Both books have a lot to say about Francis of Assisi and his way of living all in, and seem to be watering a thirst in my soul of which I wasn’t even aware.

I watched someone kite surfing (watch this!) for 30 minutes today. It made me wonder what would happen if I lived every day abandoned to the flow of God’s Love, Power and Goodness the way this surfer rode the ocean’s breakers, kite to the wind.

It wasn’t all romance and reflection– there were two-year-old twins in the cottage and more “hangry” kids ranging from six to thirteen. That’s a lot of cereal, tuna and chips! And lots of sand, wet towels and sunburn–with plenty of screen time thrown in. Salted caramel ice cream (nooooo!) was less than a block away and the beach, just four.

Can you ask for more? Yes. Yes, you can. Awareness. Awareness that it is all gift, lavished on us as abundantly as the water that fills the sea. The gift of:

  • My daughter’s belly-laugh over Jen Hatmaker’s latest book, Of Mess and Moxie
  • Running down the sidewalk to take in one more effusive sunset
  • Fragrant morning coffee at Bread and Ocean
  • Sticky hands in mine helping littles across the street–fourth day on the same jawbreaker notwithstanding…
  • Snuggled next to Mr S watching Lion on the Kindle late into the night
  • Petting EVERY dog on EVERY leash–and they are legion

Equally life-giving was a quick day trip to visit another family campsite.

PNW: Grownups’ playground

Good eats and glamour

Our favorite meat market

New to me: Kombucha…Yumm!

Finally, on Wednesday, Genesis 28 gave me this phrase:

“Surely the Lord was in this place, and I was not aware of it.”

And you? What has given you life this week? Where was the Lord in your places?

The End.

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Awareness: Day 3 of “31 Days”

It’s day three of the 31 Days of Blogging “craze,” if I can be so irreverent. If you’re looking for days one and two, don’t. I didn’t.

But, I promised myself I’d take on the challenge so I’m here, writing about Awareness. And now it’s late and I’m cranky, wondering where the time went, though I know full well. It has been filled with the stuff of life, stuff that I almost miss the chance to be grateful for when I’m not paying attention. Like…

  • savoring the smell of salsa crockpot chicken when I open the front door
  • Hobby Lobby exchanging the $10 can of spray that only worked thrice
  • the joy of watching a grand-girl in her first season of volleyball
  • arms that feel like jelly after a workout
  • time spent listening to a friend
  • showering in hot water for which I did not have to walk
  • how many reds there are in Fall–our burning bush, the sumac on the canal bank, the last of the geraniums
  • the pink and white cosmos that has taken over the garden
  • a covered patio on which to park my car–and Mr. S who cleared the space
  • time to study and a migraine that only threatened

So I pause at the end of this day making time for a moment of stillness, step out of the traffic, someone has said, and tell God thank you.

“Thank you for the nudge to notice, for leading me to gratitude, which leads to…to You.” 


Join me? What did you almost miss today today that you remembered in the stillness? For what are you grateful? Share in the comments.