This is the summer of . . .

• last pool parties with grown kids and cousins among the daisies

• moving out of our Egan Way home

• praying in Haiku

• summering in the Cascades

• bike riding over pine cones

• lots of trips across the mountains

• losing Tim Keller, Bob Brown, and Becky Farwell

• baby Magnolia is born

• wildfires in Maui, western states and Canada

• learning to spell “shiitake”

• planning a meadow at Ladd Hill

• an owl swooped across my path

As we come to last hot and dry days of August, it is my habit (and yours if you’ve been here awhile) to take a look back at the passing season. Here we aim to remember this summer for the significant moments, some happy, some sorrowful, some ordinary, some extraordinary, all of it very particular.

One way to remember is to make a bullet list like the one above. Another way with a little more story is to capture the season in a short list of lessons that seem to linger. I only have to pause and look around. I can find these in my journals, in my photo library, on my Instagram feed, in my heart.

Here are my summer lessons in no particular order. Even so, these hold a very particular place in my heart and remembering them feels important to easing into autumn.

Wordle helps me practice trusting myself.
Wordle is the New York Times puzzle craze with surprising benefits. I always begin with the same word - ARISE. There is something about even that, having written such a hopeful word maybe 500 times now.
But also, I have made it my challenge to trust my gut with my first thought and let her go without much second guessing. Of course, the longer I work the puzzle, the better my guesses are. I can now feel the times when there must be a double letter, 3 vowels or a “y”.
I am letting this carefree habit spill over into my intuition and discernment in other areas of my life like my reading on a situation, my choice of what is needed next, my sense of an apt word or no word at all. I told my spiritual director not long ago, that it was in fact that more that I trusted Christ in me and the longer I know Him, the more I can experience His way coming through me.

2. How I will miss Tim Keller’s voice in the world.

I’ve lost count of the number of Tim Keller sermons I’ve listened to or books I’ve read. I had a friend who worshiped at Redeemer Pres whenever she was in NYC. That idea touched me deeply. There are other preachers I have wanted to hear before they were gone from this Earth like Frederich Buechner, Dallas Willard and Eugene Peterson. and others I had no chance of meeting like George MacDonald.

I am sad that what we have had of him is all we get.

For now.

3. I finally know how to spell “shiitake”.

It took struggling to choose paint colors for a whole house inside and out, to find ones we both liked, ones that thrilled us and felt timeless all at once, (its a big job that we want to last through many years to come) to finally learn how to spell the word “shiitake”. It’s a type of mushroom, a paint color which will likely be in our new house, and it has two i’s together in a row, something few other words have in their middle parts.

It’s name comes from the shii tree (a kind of oak in Japan) and the Japanese word for mushroom, “take”.

Now you know.

4. Pray and don’t delay.

Have you ever promised someone you’d pray and honestly meant to and then moved on with your day and completely forgot? I sure hated that feeling of a missed an opportunity both to uphold a friend in need and talk to Jesus. And not keeping my word.

I wanted less forgetfulness and distraction and more engagement with friends and family as well as our Trinity community of love.

A few years ago when a request came through in a group text, I prayed right then and there. I felt the immediacy of my friend’s need and an opportunity at hand to call straight on our Father in Heaven without delay. The present time was ripe and ready.

So I paused, pulled in a deep breath, and breathed out my prayer right through my fingertips onto the phone screen. I think I was in a parking lot. I don’t remember many specifics of that prayer except perhaps for God’s nearness and a kind of immediate tenderness for her. But what happened that day opened a new possibility. I don’t have to wait to pray, not for another time, better words, a better place, or being together in-person.

This kind of prayer is a now-prayer - spontaneous, heartfelt, unhurried.

Lately, this prayer-on-the-spot has taken the form of an accidental Haiku. When my friend Annie asked for prayer, this is what I typed out for her over email in the moment.

centered within you

a wise and steady surgeon

Jesus near and dear

Only later, after she called it a Haiku, saying the 5-7-5 cadence was soothing with simplicity enough to remember when she was afraid, did I realize the power of putting my prayers out there swiftly and simply without delay.

Here’s a breath prayer I prayed for another friend on my way to the hospital when the outcome was heartbreaking for all of us.

I bring only Jesus, crucified and risen.

Please, they can’t all be Haikus. Don’t even try. Just fling ‘em into the orbit of God’s Love.

5. I adore daisies and they do smell like sweaty socks.

Last year, I planted mounds of Shasta daisies all around our yard so I could watch their happy faces sway in the wind and clip them for wild bouquets in the summertime.

One of my directees when visiting the Cottage (a small chapel in my backyard for spiritual direction) agreed she loved their smiling faces but that she always thought they smelled like sweaty socks when cut. Well, we were both spot-on. As planned, I watched them sway from my kitchen sink. And I cut big bouquets, gathering them into old ironstone pitchers which made me smile back at their warm faces.

But I left them out on the patio as they did leave my hands smelling like an old gym bag.

Still, their pungent smell has a purpose, to attract pollinators and discourage insects and I do enjoy them swaying int he summer breeze at the edge of the yard.

6. Lessons from “The Bear”.

Mike and I have enjoyed watching “The Bear” after work - a show set in Chicago around a chaotic family restaurant. Carmy is a Michelin-star chef come home to Chicago save an unruly family sandwich shop where a death in the family has exposed a history of pain and dysfunction. It’s a fast moving story full of grit, grief, friendship, and frenetic-paced, chaotic creativity.

Here are two lessons I have taken to heart fromthe show, one from Richie and one from his cousin Carmy.

Service to others will change you.

Richie learns this when he thinks he has been exiled from community only to wake up early and polish forks. (Think Daniel’s wax on/wax off with Mr. Miyagi in the Karate Kid.)

But he is changed from the inside when he can finally see his reflection in the forks. When he de-centers himself and attends to others in his care, a calm and purpose come over him. Serving others opens him up to experiencing how deeply he is loved and to loving himself.

Get your jeans out of the oven.

Carmy is an award winning chef. He cooks everywhere but at home because he is using his oven to hold another treasure, his vintage Levis. What finally prompts him to take his jeans out of the oven and fire it up is to cook from love again.

I’m pondering what I’ve got stored in my creative furnace that is keeping me from creating from love. I’m beginning to think it’s something good that might be misplaced.

These two lessons are tied to the two questions I’ve started asking myself for clarity.

7. Two questions I’ve been asking myself for clarity.

• Who am I serving now?

When our service is to one person, project, or purpose, it can seem simple enough. But then, what about when we are the ones who need care, rest or attention? Or the need is something important yet not urgent? Or God is calling us to say no even though we could be available?

When we had all of our grown kids (4) and their spouses (3) and their kids (7) under our roof, it was beauty and chaos and decision overload. There were 16 of us in the house and lots of needs. I heard this question on a walk one day (something I had learned was a service to everyone when the house is full of beautiful people). I took it as my own, “Who are you serving now?”

It was a question that helped me when I was needed in several places at once. Just the pause to ask the question slowed my heart rate and opened space to consider a few more options. Before I jumped to any service by habit or request, I could consider many angles: To whom was God calling me in this moment, on this day or in this week that could not be offered at another time, in another way or by another? Was I serving/nurturing/attending a married kid, grand kid, expectant mama, single kid, myself or my own marriage, one of our aging parents, a friend, a project, a client at work, time with Jesus himself?

A moment of quiet with that question and my ear to the Spirit’s heartbeat helped me sift out my callings. When multiple people or projects needed me (or I was the one in need), this question and an arrow prayer helped me sift out what was mine to do (or not do) in the moment and in the big picture.

• Where is my creative energy going?

This question asked by my friend Jenn Giles Kemper has also helped me discern difficult decisions. Answering it helped me notice what was taking up my mental space and see why I was so tired even though things were left undone on my to-do list. Sometimes, we don’t notice what it is we are actually doing with our energy. Especially when we are waiting, wondering learning new things, or grieving.

I realized we were selling our home, moving out, building a new home that required so many decisions and would not be ready when we moved, and we were waiting on a new grand baby. We were entering a season that required us to be nimble, nomadic and nuanced. Just naming my season helped me see the extra energy such a time would require. Times of transition and waiting and rearranging can be exciting and tiring. Both are forms of stress.

I took an inventory I call “Naming the Now.” Completing a few fill-in-the-blanks helped me see I would need creativity and patience in the months ahead.

This is the Naming the Now I wrote into my journal and then talked to my friend Jesus about it.

This is a season of being nimble, nomadic and nuanced.

My creative energy is going into moving out of my current home and building a new home.

I feel the loss of my home, neighbors, and familiar paths of the last 18 years.

Ryan and her family with a new baby, Kyle with his job transition, Colleen and her family during Henry’s cancer treatment, being between homes all need my nurturing and attention.

Still waiting for house to be finished and done waiting on baby Magnolia to arrive.

Feel free to fill in your own blanks and see what insights you gain from naming your now.

Now, I feel ready to sharpen my bouquet of No.2 pencils and welcome September.

What We Learned This Summer (2023)