One summer when our children were young we were not able to go on a vacation and instead, decided to have a Staycation. Each day had a theme, including the "B Day"--books, bakeries, and Batman. We got treats at more than one bakery and bookstore and in the evening went to the new Batman movie. Another day was "Culture Day." We went on a backstage tour of the Guthrie Theatre and attended a performance of "Harvey" in the evening. We enjoyed an outdoor music festival one day and spent the day at a beach on another day. Each night we returned home happy to sleep in our own beds, but eager for the next day's adventure.
We made the best of what had not been our first choice for a vacation.
That's the way last summer felt to me.
My themes for last summer were "Summer Stillness" and "Summer Simplicity." I stayed home. I rested. I spent more time reading and writing and praying and meditating. I made pesto and walked in the neighborhood. I attended church on YouTube and met with my clients on ZOOM.
As much as I missed family time last summer, I experienced a new kind of contentment--a quiet acceptance and an agreement to be present to what was offered and what was possible.
What about this summer? What are the possible themes?
For many of us this summer is one of celebrations--a specific happy event or the very fact that we can gather. Perhaps this is a summer to stretch after being confined at home for so long or a summer that feels more spacious and spontaneous. Perhaps this summer feels new and fresh, and we are more attuned to summer senses--what we can see, touch, taste, smell, hear--to all the ways summer can dazzle us.
As much as I am grateful for a return to a more open and freer summer, I don't want to lose the gifts of last summer --the ability and willingness to enjoy the stillness and to treasure the simplicity of cutting roses for a bouquet on the dining room table or eating lunch at the bistro table in our "Paris" space. Or roaming country roads, but returning to our own bed at night.
Barbara Mahany in Slowing Time, Seeing the Sacred Outside Your Kitchen Door says it so well:
light, you look up, you realize: Something sacred just
passed by. It came from who-knows-where, but along
the way, it surely graced me.
And so it is with summer, with those wisps and darts
of weightless wing. With the moments when the heaviness
of all-year-long is suspended, when breeze blows through
the screen, garden leaves flutter, light practically sparkles,
and you feel your shoulders drop their heavy load....
Where summer settles best is in the soul. In the part of
you that remembers not to worry for the moment. To
soothe the long ragged edges. To breathe. (pp. 103, 105)
As June slips into July, I wonder in what ways you encountered God last summer and how do you continue to be aware of the movement of God in your life now, in this summer?
What are the new invitations, the new learnings this summer? I would love to know.
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