Link Love and Other Formational Things

I have always tried (for almost twenty years now—Sayable turns twenty in 2020!) to be one of those bloggers who keeps a regular and regimented schedule. And I have always failed. I just don’t work well within those constraints and I suppose I will have to stop trying eventually. However, one restraint that has always worked for me is to keep all the tabs open on my browser of all the things I want to share with you until one day I realize I cannot find the new tab I’ve opened because there are 60 tabs preceding it. And this, dear reader, is the day I then pen a Link Love.

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My writer friend Aarik writes mighty and beautiful words on the regular and here he is at Image writing about living in the word softly. I was almost crying by his closing words. He is a wordsmith I hope you read.

Speaking of living in the world softly, I think it takes a willingness to listen to opposing views or merely differing views in order to carry tenderness through these ages. Here was a surprising read from an artist who made a name for herself by confronting the world instead of listening to it.

For the past few years, and the past six months in particular, I have struggled to sleep. I struggle to fall asleep and I especially struggle to stay asleep. My friend John Starke (who has a book coming out soon, which you should preorder), wrote this on his newsletter, which I read after the rare gift of a good, deep full night’s sleep and I loved it.

Please don’t skip over this one. I know you’re tired of all the Mister Rogers articles and movies and documentaries, but…oh wait, what? You’re not? Well, bless me then, here’s another and prepare your heart.

Here’s a short video from Josh Garrels on taking the Lord with us in our work, and it’s nothing less than everything I’ve come to expect from Josh. Full of the Spirit and Word, with truth, beauty, and goodness.

Over the past six or seven months, as I’ve been doing some soul care work of my own, I’ve also been trying to root out the source of my anxiety. If you’ve followed me any length of time, you know I am not against medication, therapy, meditation, or any other common grace of God for the common maladies of the living. However, I know I was also probably exacerbating my anxiety by the unregulated use of legal additive substances like coffee. I cut coffee two months ago and it offered tremendous relief almost immediately. Another thing that has helped, though, is this tool from Curt Thompson. I highly recommend you take a look and, even if it isn’t helpful for you (though I can’t imagine that it would hurt to try), perhaps you could pass it on to someone else.

Nate and I listened to Dolly Parton’s America while on a road trip this past week. Jad Abumrad is one of my favorite radio writers and producers, so I should have expected nothing less, but it’s so entirely good that I hope you’ll give it a chance.

We also listened to this episode from The Place We Find Ourselves and were both thoroughly convicted and comforted.

Lastly, my writer friend Tyler Braun interviewed me about touch in light of Handle With Care’s release in less than three months! You can listen here.

Autumn Soul Care

Over the past two months (and on through November) as I head toward the release of Handle With Care, I wanted to quiet some of the unrest and unhealth in my soul. There have been some patterns of anxiety, ignoring my gut sense or intuition in favor of what seemed “right” or obligatory, and a general passive engagement with the Lord. In laymen’s terms, I was “going through the motions.” So, in true form, I sat down, made myself a curriculum, and set myself on it. It was robust, full, ordered, and I knew it would jar my spirit and soul in the ways I needed.

I know so many authors who pour their hearts and souls into their books and then into the marketing process, so much so that they’re always one step behind a burnout or selling themselves out just to get the book sold. I absolutely do not want this. I love writing and I want to write for a long time, so that means recognizing that I am not primarily a speaker or a marketer or a podcaster or an expert in any way. I am a writer. I will do my best not to sell this book, but to be faithful to what God is asking of me each day. Part of that, for today, is making sure my soul is well-cared for and not going into the release on empty.

This was a long way of telling you that I have been eye-ball deep in soul-care material this fall. All my prioritized reading is related to the care of my soul and I am not feeling one bit guilty about the pile of other books waiting to be read. I thought I’d share a few of the books, links, podcasts, and exercises I’ve been working through in this time. My homemade curriculum is 16 weeks and specifically tailored to areas where I needed to grow, but perhaps some of it might be helpful to you as well. I’m just sharing source materials below, the course itself has practices, written reflections, and writing exercises built into it as well. It has already been so hard and so good for me.

My texts for these 16 weeks are:

Sacred Rhythms, by Ruth Haley Barton. This is my third time through her easy to read book on Spiritual disciplines and it’s my favorite Spiritual discipline book.

Who God Says You Are, by Klyne Snodgrass. My friend Mason King recommended this to me last winter as a resource for Handle With Care, but I’ve been working my way slowly through it all this year and it will probably be my book of the year.

As I Recall, by Casey Tygrett. One of the main works of the first month of this time has been working with my own memories of blessing and memories of trauma. Casey has been a good leader for me.

Holy Noticing, by Charles Stone. Again, working with paying attention to memories, histories, circumstances, and not letting those things terminate on themselves.

Soulful Spirituality, by David Benner. I haven’t gotten to this one yet in the course, but I’ve paged through it and really enjoyed The Gift of Being Yourself by Benner in the past.

The Relational Soul, by James Cofield and Richard Plass. This one has been on my to-read list for a few years now and I just haven’t prioritized it. It comes highly recommended by people I trust.

I do not listen to many podcasts. Maybe because I am a little over-stimulated by them, or because I find it hard to follow when there are multiple voices involved. But I have really come to appreciate Adam Young’s podcast, The Place We Find Ourselves. I recommend starting at the beginning of the first seas onand working through it all slowly. It has been tremendously revealing for me in my own lack of emotional health.

I also appreciate Potter’s Inn Podcast on Soul Care. These are longer listens, so they just require more time for me.

Last week Mike Cosper released his episode of Cultivated with Chuck Degroat (who you should absolutely be reading) and I listened twice. I am deeply grateful for his work. Here are two recent posts he wrote (first and second) and a class he offers on contemplative prayer. In fact, it was Chuck’s words that helped me to realize that if I kept going at the rate I was, without stopping to care for my soul, I was headed for some destruction, either of my own or others.

These aren’t included in my Soul Care Curriculum, but they’ve been helpful pieces or videos for me to mull on in a deeper, more reflective way the past few weeks. Perhaps one or two will bless you.

The Hazards of Online Faith Writing

On Living

Every Idle Word

What does it mean to pay spiritual and moral attention to the conflicts of our lives?

When Dreams Die

Tools for the Art of Living from OnBeing

Finally, as I do this work, here are the two playlists I’ve been listening to:

Beholding Beauty in All Its Forms

When God created his people, he put them in a garden. Before he gave the mandate to work, to be fruitful and multiply, he set them in the center of beauty, goodness, and life. It is almost as if he wanted them to be primarily people who beheld rather than produced. It didn't take long for the beauty of the best to be thwarted by the enemy though, and so absorption of the self instead of the Creator has been stealing our gaze ever since. We are still all worshippers though, some of us blindly and some of us perennially reminded to lift our eyes to a better hill, one from which our help comes. The temptation to produce our own glory instead of absorbing the glory God wants us to behold is always near to us and we must become experts in bouncing our gazes back to him. 

Here are some (hopefully) true and beautiful and good words I've read, said, listened to, and feasted upon this week. 

Listen

We listened to this short talk from Andy Crouch this past week about high friction and low friction and I cannot recommend it more highly. It has been ringing in our ears for over a week now. 

Beau Hughes is the pastor of The Village Church Denton (once a campus of my church, now a plant of it), and he shared these words with us last week. It was one of my favorite testimonies in my near ten years at TVC. 

I spoke with my friend Christine Hoover about her new book, Searching for Spring, and my own journey with waiting for marriage, babies, and just all things slow coming. 

Sing

This album is coming soon from Audrey Assad and you're going to want to feast on it. 

Sandra McCracken just released her newest and it's the perfect Lenten soundtrack. 

This album has been going nearly non-stop in our house the past week. 

Short Reads

This interview with Karen Swallor Prior and her husband Roy is one of the best things I read online this week. Take a few minutes and feast on it. 

A few months ago Eric Schumacher sent me the draft for this article at Risen Motherhood. It was just before our most recent miscarriage and what a blessing for both Nate and me to read. 

My friend Tony Woodlief is (thank God) writing more regularly again. This piece on parenting his new twin boys in this season of life is rich, rich, rich. Read through to the end. We all need this reminder. 

Long Reads

Nate and I have been dreaming of a big backyard garden since we first saw our property in Denver. It hasn't come to fruition yet, but we're still dreaming. This book is helping. 

This is a memoir written by an upstate New York farmer. She's from one side of the Adirondacks and I'm from the other, but the culture, weather, farming, people, and anecdotes are all very similar. I loved this book. 

I first read this book in high school and started rereading it again last week. I'd forgotten how perfect it is. 

. . .

I hope you find some beauty in some of these recommendations or other sources you find on your own. I hope you can still your own hand of production long enough to appreciate the gifts, minds, and works of others. And I hope, more than all that, you can lift your gaze to the good, good Father who gives every good and perfect gift in its right and perfect time and never one single moment before. 

Seasons, Readings, Writings, and Thanksgivings

I've been a bit MIA around these parts lately. Part of that is due to our month long fast and the other things my fingers found to keep busy. Part of that is just that it's winter and winter, for me, has always been a hibernation time. I think God created the seasons for a reason and he means for us to live into them instead of living into the seasons we make for ourselves. I think part of the reason our world is so tired and hurried and anxious is because we are constantly trying to force unnatural rhythms onto life. We take vacations in the summer and fill our autumns and winters with activities galore, never minding that God designed summer for growth, autumn for harvest, winter for rest, and spring for planting. If we were to truly live into those seasons just as they are, I think we would be less prone to throw around words like "contentment" or "season of life" or "exhausted" as lazily as we do. God meant for winter to slow us down, to slow our production, to sometimes cease our growth, and to let dead things die if they must. And none of that is bad. It's just our perspective that needs to change. 

Also, though, I've been sick the past week and it's easy to talk about hibernating when you can't breathe out of your nose or your mouth and when your head feels like it's under twenty feet of water. So there's that. But also, seasons. 

I read a lot throughout January and although most of my reading wasn't online, I did read a few pieces I wanted to share with you. They might interest you too: 

I cut this one out of our Sunday Times and taped it to our fridge I loved it so much. The Poet of Light by Christian Wiman on Richard Wilbur. 

If you've seen Look & See: a portrait of Wendell Berry, then you probably had the same complaint I did: we hardly saw anything of Berry himself! But something I loved about the documentary was the delightful presence of his wife. Here's an article on her that made me want to be a wife like she is. 

This was a quiet podcast for a quiet evening, both of which I quite enjoyed. Krista Tippett interviewed John O'Donohue for OnBeing. 

Speakings of podcasts, Nate and I worked through this series from Beau Hughes (The Village Church, Denton) on shame. I cannot recommend it more highly. 

I hope you took a few minutes to read Rachel Denhollander's words at the conclusion of the Larry Nassar trial. This is a great follow-up interview at Christianity Today with her. 

I subscribe to Poetry Foundation's Poem of the Day feed and you might want to as well. Listening to poetry is such a good discipline. Reading it is fine and good too, of course, but poetry is lyrical and best experienced heard. 

Also, I just wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to all of you who support Sayable on Patreon and who have downloaded the e-books. I have gotten so many messages from you saying you're being encouraged by the work there. That means so much to me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I am only 30 away from 200 supporters on Patreon, at which point I'll be starting to coach a small writing group. Details about it will come after that point, but I will say there will be an application process and it will be opened first to Patreon supporters. I will only be able to invite 20 people into the group (which will last between 12-16 weeks, still undecided on that), so if you are at all interested you'll need to begin preparing a 300 word non-fiction writing sample (on anything). There will be a cost for participation in the group, but it won't be astronomical, just to cover my time coaching. I read through my tentative plan to Nate last week and started getting pretty excited about this endeavor. Everything we'll be doing has been part of my process of becoming a better writer, thinker, and receiver of criticism. I hope it helps each of you as well. Again, more details on that after we reach 200. Grateful for each of you. 

View from the sickbay. Harper is under there somewhere...and Nate, I think. 

Link Love for the Journeying People

It's been weeks and maybe months since I've shared some things I've read around the Internets. I know no one reads blogs anymore (that's what they say) but sometimes I happen along a blog or seven or an article or two that I think more people ought to read. I love the blogging format for what it is: an opportunity to invite the world into today's thoughts. It's one of the reasons I won't quit anytime soon (even though they say no one reads blogs anymore). I love knowing here, today, right this minute, this is how I see the world. It may change in two years or twenty, but for a moment, this slice of life is served up. 

So for that reason I'll also keep reading a few blog sites, a regular rotation of what my soul needs to feast on: other writers stumbling along in words and life, offering their crumbs or delicacies or finest fare for those in need. I need too. 

Winn Collier has this Advent reflection. 

Bethany Douglass on Thoughts for the Overwhelmed Homeschool Parent. I am not an overwhelmed homeschool parent, but I know many of you are. I was glad to see the grace in this and you might need it today. 

Again, not a mother, but this advice is for every Christian. Carolyn Mahaney on her Biggest Mistake as a Mother. 

Nate and I are eating the words of Wendell Berry in spades these days. This piece on him resurfaced recently and I loved it. The Hard Edged Hope of Wendell Berry. 

The Mainliner who Made [Russell Moore] More Evangelical. One of the things I like best about Russell Moore is how widely and out of his camp he reads. This piece is proof. (And I love Buechner too.)

This reflection on the Wendell Berry documentary, Look and See, is from Brett McCracken and I've thought about it so many times since I read it. Wendell Berry is a Dandelion Man. 

This blog from Timothy Willard on the Value of Retreat is just necessary for all of us. 

I hope even just one of these pieces encourages you, makes you think, or challenges you this week. These writers are all inviting us into their process, thoughts, and sacred spaces. I hope you find comfort or rest for your soul when you join them. 

Also, I just wanted to say a quick thank you to my Patreon supporters. Many of you pledged a simple dollar a month but I want you to know: that dollar a month means the world to me. It says to me that money is tight, but you care about me and you care about Sayable. It says, I don't have much, but such as I have give I thee. It says, like the widow with two mites, you're giving what you can. I just wanted you to know that small act of generosity means millions to me. That's not hyperbole. I mean it with all my heart. Thank you. 

Link Love and Some Beauty for Your Tuesday

Now that most of the United States got themselves in a flurry for the total eclipse and found themselves sorely disappointed when it turned out to be merely a partial eclipse for most of us (Anyone? Just me? I don't do science good.). And now we're all tired of memes and funky glasses and is Total Eclipse of the Heart on repeat in anyone else's head? I wanted to share with you Annie Dillard's classic essay on her experience of watching a total eclipse. I can only imagine mine would have been similar if I lived within the totality region (Good news, in seven years it'll hit a bit closer to home.). Here's her essay, take twenty and read it slowly. 

One of my favorite writers from Image Journal's blog, Good Letters, has come through with another soft piece that landed in all the right places for me. Even though our situations are different, I find myself in a similar season of subtraction. Entering the Age of Subtraction. 

Also, because Image Journal redid their website and it's so much more readable again (Hoorah!), I'm going to recommend another recent piece from their blog, simply titled Miscarriage.

The most notable thing about this piece from Elyse Fitzpatrick is the order in which she lists her advice. Too many burgeoning writers begin with number three without considering—or putting their writing forth for consideration by honest folks—her first point. I'm not a Writer, but I Write. 

I love this quote my friend Mason posted on his site. 

Finally, Erin Loechner, has this poetic piece on injustice, naming, and experience. It's beautifully written. 

I'm determined to make, buy, borrow, or steal the makings of this wreath this fall. I love it. I don't know where this one in particular is from, I just have it saved on my Pinterest board, D I R T. 

Link Love and a Thank You

Every summer I take a minute and say thank you to all of you. When I started the first iteration of Sayable back in 2001, I was writing at LiveJournal on a beast of a computer in a closet of the library of the home I lived in. Our family was falling apart at the seams, I was six hours from everything I had known my entire life, my brother was just killed in an accident, and my parents were about to go through one of the worst divorces and custody battles I've ever seen.

I had no idea what I was doing plucking away at those grey boxy keys sixteen years ago, writing words about strawberries and a poem I loved and mourning and the color green. I had no idea that Sayable was going to become one of the most sanctifying agents of my life, that on her I would wrestle through doubt, faith, life, the gospel, church, theology, relationships, humiliation, shame, fear, regret, joy, pain, sorrow, celebration, and more. I did not know that she would also be a place where I would come to see the goodness of Father, the sufficiency of the Son, and the help of the Holy Spirit. I did not know how faithful and gentle and kind and loyal all of you readers would become. And I could never have known, most of all, what a gift Sayable would been to me. I hope she has been that to you, but I know she has been that to me. So really, in a way, by writing here for you, you have given me the gift of listening, and I'm so grateful to you. 

I have Sayable set up so she doesn't get comments, but so you can email me instead, and I do this on purpose. I don't want Sayable to be a place where discussion happens as much as I want it to be a place you take what you read here and discuss with people in your own life, agreements or disagreements. I also don't want to need your affirmation in order to feel the legitimacy of writing—comments and analytics can often become this for bloggers. I also want you to know, I read every single email that comes in. There are a lot of them, hundreds of thousands of them, and I read every single one. It is one of my greatest sources of ache that I do not have the margin to reply to all of them—I carry that burden gladly because I think it's good for one who communicates to know it is not to a vast unknown, but to specific people with specific cares and concerns and joys and fears. You are people. You are not just the Internet. 

And I am grateful for you, every one of you. By name, from just this week so far: Deb, Sharon, Carol, Emma, Beth, Rob, Megan, Jeffery, John, Alyssa, Carol, Emily, Grace, Alana, Mike and Pat, Amy, Lottie, Ellen, Steve, Mike, Wendy, Edward, Fran, Joy. I read all of your words today and I ache to respond. And last week, all of those words more of you wrote, and the week before, and month before. All of the words, I read them, thank you for trusting me with them. I can only respond to a few of you, but I do want to say thank you. 

Sayable is for you. It is first and foremost for God, but I hope someday you think to yourself, 'Man, I read something a few years ago that really stuck with me, that helped me to see God and myself better. I can't remember who wrote it and it doesn't really matter, because my sight is so consumed with Christ partially because of those words." I hope you can't remember the name Sayable and certainly not my name, but you remember the name and renown of God. That would make all those years of plucking away on gray boxy keys worth it to me. 

Today I wanted to share the writings of some others. You won't have to mine very deep to find something beautiful and true and good in each piece. Enjoy! 

Seven Ways to Love Your Pastor

Adult Children of Divorce

(Wo)men of the Word

The Inner Ring

Finding Peace at Home

On Living in Two Worlds at Once and Paul's Inconsistencies 

Nate and I are reading these books this week: 

Just Mercy

The New Jim Crow

A Great Reckoning

Davida's Harp

I love you, but I did not take your advice, and I painted our fireplace white this week. I love it. I'm so happy with it. 

Link Love

It's been a long time since I've done a Link Love around here. Mostly because my online reading has plummeted in the past several months, but partially because I want to be very choosey about what I share and to not share links simply because they exist. At last, though! I have gathered a few here and there that you might enjoy—or need—as much as I did. 

My dear friend Danica from back home in Upstate New York has kept a blog for years. I mostly puruse it for glimpses of the growing kids or their sprawl of land, but she wrote this post this week and I knew I wanted to share it. It is so excellent on the subject of Christ at home in us and in our home. 

Moving so much has given me deep desire to declutter, and also great pleasure in it. I'm not a minimalist—we live in this world, and like the poet said, "Love calls us to the things of this world." But this article from the Boston Globe talks about the mastery of stuff so many live under. 

This advice from Lewis to a schoolgirl on writing stands true today. All of it. 

Scott Sauls is pastor in Nashville, but he's also got a pastoral gift that stands out among men in my theological circles. He never fails to shepherd his readers into the corral of what Psalm 16 calls the "pleasant boundaries" of God's best. This piece on shame is an excellent example. 

One of my favorite musicians is putting together a commemorative show on one of my heroes of faith: Rich Mullins. Nate and I can't go (and are not a little heart-broken about it), but if you can still get tickets, you should go! If you can't travel to Nashville for this, though, make a plan to attend Andrew's Behold the Lamb show in December. It will probably be in a city near you and is one of my favorite Advent traditions.

This is it for now, friends. I hope one or all of these pieces bless, encourage, challenge, or strengthen you in some way today. If you find you need some not-so-bad-for-you Chocolate Cake to help you along, I made this last night and it was okay. Not great, but okay. The recipe called for honey and that's what I used, but I think I might add a bit more next time. My philosophy, that I just now am making up, is: if you're going to make a chocolate cake, it might as well taste good. Click here for the recipe if that's your thing. 

The World Spins Madly On, but Find Joy

It has been nearly nine months since I pressed mute on the clamoring crowd and invited in the poets and home-makers and song-singers and the unknown pastors. I made it my aim to listen to the folks who were just going about their days, practicing quiet faithfulness in a world gone rogue. Here's what I've found there: joy. 

I unfollowed the instagram feeds showing me their perfect salads day after day because when you're in the middle of moving for the third time in two years who has time to make a salad with every color of the rainbow? I unfollowed all the obvious Republicans and Democrats on Facebook—if I could tell their political leaning by their status, I unfollowed. I muted all the pithy pastors and wanna-be-published-ers racking up their followers on Twitter. I mostly stopped mindless scrolling and but mainly stopped mindless clicking. I stopped reading anything on the Big Christian Article/Blog Sites unless I knew the author personally. I wanted to be as woke as the next person, but I could not sacrifice my soul on the altar of information, and my soul was wilting. 

Instead I started reading fiction again (I'm super into mysteries right now, like this and this.). I started making salads when I could, but also was just a-okay with eating a PB&J for the seventh day in a row because everything was packed. I started reading non-fiction that didn't beat me over the head with All The Things Wrong With This World and instead stuff that was interesting to me as a person and a human (Like this, and this, and this. Oh, and this.). I opened my bible before I opened Twitter most mornings. I found myself genuinely sad when tragedy hit, but not really sad or surprised when the next political brouhaha happened. I gained a gross distaste in my mouth for quick Christian articles that are a dime a dozen. I read blogs about making homes and preserving tomatoes and folk music and the process of illustrating children's fiction and rural pastoring—the slow, faithful work of being. All these people, doing what they were made to do, and finding such joy in it. 

I expected to find monotony and boredom, wondered what people were writing about when they weren't trying to get hits or likes or link-backs or their fifteen seconds of fame. I expected to find simplicity, deep thoughts, and intentionality, but I didn't expect to find joy. 

It's pretty brilliant what you find when you're not waiting for applause or note or double taps. You begin to find joy in the way the sun coming through the curtain hits the wall not just one day, but every day thereafter. You're amazed by it day after day. You pay attention to the ombre of an overwatered leaf and to the cadence of a sentence and not just the content—and in these, you begin to find joy. 

My friend Steve said this yesterday, "The day you stop trying to do the thing God gave to others and instead do the thing God gave to you is the day your contentment blossoms." It's an awful lot like what dear old Beuchner said, "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet." Or what the master said to the faithful servant in Matthew 25: "Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master."

Don't you want to enter into the joy of your master? I do. I really do. But I can't do it if I'm following naysayers around at a rate that would make our ancestors go mad. There are probably a lot more of me, maybe even you, out there right now, and I just wanted to check in and say, nine months in, it was good decision for me. If you're considering it. If you've grow battle-worn and are walking around limping with your arms and legs so battered they're numb, check out and check off. Shut it down. Close it. Unfollow (Even Sayable. Seriously. If this place is just noise for you, click that unsubscribe button. I admire you for it.). 

Some books that are helping and have helped me in this little journey (And seriously, the best way to start this journey of unplugging from the mass of media, is to engage in media that fills that gap and points you in the right direction):

The Tech-wise Family (short, solid, very practical)

12 Ways Your Phone is Changing You (mid-length, readable, and practical)

The Big Disconnect (long, full, very informative)

Abundant Simplicity (mid-length, solid, and convictional)

Thoughts, thinks, and links

Sometimes I still think of this little piece of the web is as quiet and all mine as it was sixteen years ago. Back then I knew exactly who my reader was because she was the only one. I have found one of the best disciplines for me in writing to be that of knowing my audience—and these days that audience changes often and is thousands more than one, which can make it hard to know them. Sometimes she is a stay at home mom. Sometimes a pastor wanting to shepherd women. Sometimes a friend. Sometimes a stranger. Sometimes a single. Sometimes a poet. Sometimes a priest. I am unsure of whether that makes my readers the chameleon or if I am the chameleon. Sometimes I open messages from people saying things like I am their new best friend or kindred spirit and I think, this is the price and gift of writing with my heart on my sleeve. Thousands of people think they know me, and maybe you do.

I think we are too protective of our stories, though justifiably so. Sticks and stones and names and bones—people do have the power to hurt you, never mind what my grandmother told me in the attic of her Cape May house when I was five. My lip was quivering because I wanted to believe what she said, but also, I had been hurt and didn't that matter too? Of course it did and she gave me a strawberry candy, and put the conch shell to my ear so I could hear the ocean and forget about the names I'd been called.

Paul said in whatever situation he has learned to be content, and I think some of that contentment came from understanding the story he was telling wasn't his own, but his Savior's. Contentment comes easier when we aren't comparing and contrasting. But who has time for that these days? Everyone has an opinion or wants an opinion.

Thank you for joining (if you did) along on this week's series about challenges for the newly married. I knew I was writing to a particular demographic, but was encouraged by the few unmarried and long-marrieds who read as well. I'm also grateful to my husband for being the sort of man who trusts me to write about these things and never reads over my shoulder. He tells people he wants to minister with the grace he's been given and my heart bursts because that sort of humility is hard to come by and usually comes by discipline that hurts.

A few weeks ago I read Shanna Mallon quote Tish Harrison Warren's post on Courage in the Ordinary and have been meaning to share it since then. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did.

I find it hard to come by good new poetry online, but John Blase is a constant feed to that void. America's Tomorrow was poignant and I haven't stopped thinking about it.

Here was a great little piece on how we ought to be like Sherlock as Christians.

Wesley Hill wrote a long-form piece on Jigs for Marriage and Celibacy: you can't die to yourself by yourself. Make yourself a cup of tea and settle in for it. It's a good one.

Also, because so many people asked after my Instagram post, Grove Collaborative has a cool little thing where if you click on this link you get $10 off your first order and I get $10 off my next order. My husband said, "It's like a pyramid scheme without the pyramid or the scheme. A win-win." He's right. We love Grove and order all our cleaning supplies from them quarterly (which, if you know me and how many lengths I will go to to avoid shopping in an actual store, is a game-changer). This is our latest loot and they always throw in free things (we got free soap and free dish-towels on this order).

If you missed any of this week's series on Challenges for the Newly Married, here's a quick list:

Intro to the series Making New Friends, Keeping the Old Ones Choosing Churches Sleep, Schedules, and Sleep Schedules Two Becoming One

A Smattering of Thoughts, Thinks, and Links

I hope your Thanksgiving was lovely and full, if not of food, then of love. And if not love, then food, which is a kind of love too. Before I got married I thought often married people had a built in presence of love, a constant reminder that they were loved and known and kept. But living life forward is meant to teach us about what has passed under us, not about what comes in front of us, or as the philosopher said, "Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards." I wish I hadn't thought that holidays were harder for me as an unmarried person than they would be as a married person. The truth is both have beauties and both have challenges. In many ways my holidays or birthdays or other celebrations were richer and fuller when I was single, and that's partially because we are far from those we love and are loved by most. But in other ways it is because we are in the infancy of our marriage, growing and bending and breaking in new traditions. I love everything to do with celebrating others, giving gifts, and making every holiday special and unique, but the husband God gave me cares more about the every day of our lives, rhythms and routines of life, discipline, the predictable motions of the week and weekend. I crave New! and Special! He clings to solid and faithful. For us, holidays and special days have actually been hard to learn how to do well, how to serve one another in, and how to not feel hurt when things don't go as hoped. They are actually just as painful as the feeling of aloneness I had in singleness, not more or less. And I wonder if this is the case for more of my married sisters, particularly the newly married ones.

I've had a few conversations with some of my newly married sisters (within the past two years) in recent months and been surprised that though we may be all over the place in terms of age, work, location, etc., we have some very similar struggles. My heart has grown burdened for this demographic and I've wanted to talk about it more on Sayable, but feared losing readers who are further ahead in the journey of marriage and think it is over-reactive, or those readers who long for marriage and for whom reading one more post on the struggles of those who have what they want would be painful. But the more I've thought and prayed about it, the more I've decided I think it's important, so next week I'll be writing on a few things that affect us in our newly married-ness. I hope you are encouraged, whatever season of life you're in.

Here are some things I read this past week and wanted to share:

Neither a Republican nor a Democrat. Words from Mark Dever, pastor of Capitol Hill Baptist Church in D.C. on the Sunday after the election to his church, made of both Republicans and Democrats.

The Challenge in Praying with your Spouse. Nate and I have found we love to pray for and with one another, and yet rarely do it together. This article challenged me to do it more.

Friday Night Meatballs. The seasons of life where a weekly dinner has been a part it, have been some of the best times of community in my life. I got to know Nate during one of those weekly dinners. A total win in my book.

Ten Spurgeon Quotes for Wounded Christians. It is a comfort to me a thousand times over that this giant in faith struggled so deeply with the same besetting wrestle I have.

Why Read a Poem at a Time Like This. More of us should make the reading of poetry a part of our everyday, especially at times when the news from every angle threatens to push us over the edge. Poetry grounds us and reminds us.

One of my favorite things to do when I was small was to page through photo albums and ask my parents about the photos in it. One of the sad things about this new digital age we live in, is we're less likely to print photos for keepsake books. Chatbooks is a great way to do this. Whenever we get a new one in, Nate (who isn't on social media) sits down with it and pages through each photo and caption, reading, laughing, and remembering. Your kids will probably do the same. These cost the same as a roll of film cost back in the day, and you get to curate each book to your liking. A total win in my book.

The Kind of Wells We Find at Home

I had promised myself to post more here these days. To be a hunter of beauty and a finder of joy in a season where everywhere we look are reminders of fracturing and fragility. I don't really believe that, though, I think. Lately I've been reminded of how whole and perfect and beautiful things are and are becoming. Staying away from the angry articles and interviews and response blogs and angry response blogs and retweeted tweets is helpful for that though. Eternity really is written on the hearts of men, but I guess sometimes we think hell is eternity and not heaven. I've been grateful for heaven this past week. I went home and on my way there I sent a text to Nate: "Where is home for you?" I asked. "If there's anywhere in the world that feels, smells, tastes like home, where is that, for you?" He responded a bit later. "Virginia or D.C., I thought, but now that we're here, it doesn't. Maybe Germany. Not Turkey. Not New Jersey. Not Michigan. Not Georgia. Maybe Texas, I lived there the longest. What about you?" I wasn't sure how to answer but as I continued to drive north and the bite of cold worked its way into my bones and the leaves grew more and more brilliant, I knew it was here, or at least here was the way to home. Eternity is written on our hearts, but earth is worked into our soles, embedded there with soil and leaves and tastes and scents of home. And so, I went home for a few days and it was lovely. New York in the fall always is.

While I was there I made it my aim to spend time with two women I love and with whom my time is always too short when I stop there for a few days. We had good conversations and talked about hard things. Mostly they talked and I listened but I felt my heart swell with love for both of them. And I also felt it swell with the kind of admiration I want to have for more people and don't. They are walking through hard, hard, hard things and doing it well. Broken, sad, hurting, questioning, but this is the kind of well I think more of us need to draw from. The deep and aching sob of hurt reaches down past the normalcy of everyday, the kinds of days full of predictable nonsense and unexpected joy. These wells are deeper than that and rare to find. I think of the book of Psalms, the 84th chapter:

Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion.

The valley of Baka, or Baca, means the valley of tears, and another translation says, "They make it a place of wells." This is what tears do, if we'll let them. They pool in us deep caverns of proven grace, proven character, and a proven God, and they become wells. Spring rains bring life and flowers and greens everywhere, but autumn rains pull the dead and dying leaves from their stark trees, making dead things seem deader. But the poet said once, "Be like the trees. Let the dead things drop."

The dead things, I find, for me these days, are feelings of shame, fear, uncertainty. It has been a rocking year, one I would never repeat if offered prizes of greatest worth. Shame has been my constant enemy and fear its close neighbor, tears have felt at times like my only friend. But if I can just let this valley of tears pool itself into wells, I know there is sustenance to be found there. I believe it with all my heart.

. . .

I was glad to arrive at the weekend with no knowledge of any election news, no interviews with famous Christian women, and a naive belief that God was repairing and preparing this world instead of breaking it. I dipped my toe into the latest for a minute, but found the well of my tears a better pool to swim in these days. Here are some beautiful things I've read this week:

From John Blase (whose poetry you should be reading, and whose letters to Winn you should also be reading): I’ll never forget that rainy day I wore my Scout uniform to school not knowing our meeting was cancelled. Those were halcyon days before group text messages and reverse 911s.

From Cloistered Away: Training sounds like such an intense word, but all it is: reestablishing the order and peace of the home. The goal isn’t to lead perfect lives; it’s to heed the red flags as helpful guides letting us know some things need to change. Today always offers a fresh start and new mercy. When life feels chaotic, here is what we do to cultivate peace in our home again.

From Literary Hub: Writing is facing your deepest fears and all your failures, including how hard it is to write a lot of the time and how much you loathe what you’ve just written and that you’re the person who just committed those flawed sentences (many a writer, and God, I know I’m one, has worried about dying before the really crappy version is revised so that posterity will never know how awful it was). When it totally sucks, pause, look out the window (there should always be a window) and say, I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing.

This quote from George Eliot in her Letters to Miss Lewis keeps going round and round in my head. I read it many years ago think of it every autumn. I hope you love this season as much as I do, and if you don't, I hope someday you do. Just because, no reason, just because. Below is a photo I took at home. I stood there and was reminded me of her Delicious Autumns.

Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love - that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

Link Love for your Weekend

I know people have lots of opinions on "social media fasts," but here's what we know and are coming to know more: our souls are fragile things. Not the eternity kind, the kind that stays forever with Christ the King in the new heaven and new earth—those souls are eternally secure. But the earthly soul we carry around with us in our tent, the kind that is prone to wander, to weep, and to wonder. The soulish part of us that is so affected by things like the seasons or how much protein or sleep we're getting or the poem we just read or the poem we wish we could write or person who won't pay attention to us or the crowds we pay attention to—that part of us is the soul of which I write. Ours were wilting under elections news and Whole 30 recipes and CNN and theological how-tos and how-not-tos. We found it time for a break for our family. This morning, after being off Facebook and Twitter for the better part of the week, I found myself delighting in a poem I read this morning and a book about maps and this quote from Madeleine L'Engle's Walking on Water:

It is interesting to note how many artists have had physical problems to overcome, deformities, lameness, terrible loneliness. Could Beethoven have written that glorious paean of praise in the Ninth Symphony if he had not had to endure the dark closing in of deafness? As I look through his work chronologically, there's no denying that it depends and strengthens along with the deafness. Could Milton have seen all that he sees in Paradise Lost if he had not been blind? It is chastening to realize that those who have no physical flaw, who move through life in step with their peers, who are bright and beautiful, seldom become artists. The unending paradox is that we do learn through pain (pg. 67). 

I have felt that deeply in this season. There is something in all the pain of this year that God wants to teach me if I will press myself into it and not away from it and that paradoxical way of life is, as I said a few days ago, antithetical to our nature. It is, in a sense, super-natural, above nature, and only empowered by the Spirit of God alive in us. For the atheist pressing himself into pain is masochistic, but for the Christian, it is following in the steps of their Savior. The world tells me to pull away from pain and sometimes the Church tells us to live our best self now, to also pull away from pain. But the Bible says, "He who will gain His life must lose it," and if we believe the Bible, that is the phrase we cling to in the darkest time, seeing what art God may build of our shambles.

. . .

Here are a few things I read this week that I loved and hope you might too:

From Mary Oliver: But just as self-criticism is the most merciless kind of criticism and self-compassion the most elusive kind of compassion, self-distraction is the most hazardous kind of distraction, and the most difficult to protect creative work against. How to hedge against that hazard is what beloved poet Mary Oliver explores in a wonderful piece titled “Of Power and Time,” found in the altogether enchanting Upstream: Selected Essays.

From my friend Danica: You’re stuck at home. You’re not doing anything fun with your life. You can barely play through a Chopin waltz! You’re always saying No to people — don’t you think they have a low opinion of you? And so on and so on. But I am learning, and it is this: Every time I am haunted or taunted by all of the “NOs” in my life, I remember — those are simply the result of a huge, resounding Yes!

From a link I found while unfollowing 200 Instagram accounts this week: Then I grabbed another Pop-Tart (frosted strawberry this time), unfollowed all the food bloggers and world travelers and muscular princesses, and went on a hunt for regular moms with a beautiful eye. You guys? It's been life-changing. It does what social media is supposed to do - bring us together. When I scroll through Instagram, I feel part of a community, even if they don't know I'm there.

And here are two verses from a passage of scripture I've been thinking about this week, as I pray for myself and pray for my friends:

The Lord makes poor and makes rich; he brings low and he exalts. He raises up the poor from the dust; he lifts the needy from the ash heap to make them sit with princes and inherit a seat of honor. For the pillars of the earth are the Lord's, and on them he has set the world. I Samuel 2:7-8

I hope your weekend is rich, full, and emptied of the things that steal your eyes from Him. I will be spending my weekend enjoying being back in a place with beautiful autumn colors, like these we saw yesterday on our way to a hike in a nearby forest.

Link Love

It's been a long, long time since I've done a weekly Link Love. Life got a bit in the way, and also social media (where I find most of my links) got a bit infuriating. Life is still in the way and social media can be as infuriating as ever, but I still come across gems and I still want to share them with you.

This talk from Andrew Wilson on gender and intersex. Andrew is asking the question here: “How should we respond to people whose experience of their gender doesn’t fit with their biological sex? Or who have taken measures to change it? Or whose biological sex is unclear? What does love look like?”

This article from Cosmopolitan on an alternative to Planned Parenthood. "There's this pressure that women have to go on the birth control pill. I have to tell you, it's a very empowering when you realize, 'I don't have to put that synthetic hormone in my body. I don't have to be chained to the birth control pill,'" she said. "There's a movement of people for whom the birth control pill isn't organic, it's not green, it's not holistic. We think we're going to fill another niche or a gap that's lacking, actually, at clinics like Planned Parenthood."

This piece by Ron Belgua in the aftermath of the Orlando shooting. I have, in the past, complained about the apparent allergy among conservative Christians to looking at the faces of LGBT people. In talking to friends, I am not the only one who has perceived a gap in the way Christians have responded to other tragedies, and the way they have responded to this one.

This article on Christianity Today about friendships in the world today. There’s good news and bad news. The bad news is that friendship in adulthood is harder than it looks. Long-term friendships are a rarity. The reason is that they take work. Most of the time something else becomes a priority, either out of necessity or out of choice. As a result, I go back to dropping the bar of expectation. It doesn’t mean I don’t want good, genuine friends, but it does mean that I can’t necessarily assume that because I have all the right ingredients it’s going to happen.

This from Nicholas McDonald on eight different ways your marriage could function. And because we are complementation, I “won out” in the end: I asserted her desires over mine.

Link Love

Do Women Look at Pornography?

But if I Preach Christ in Every Text: Christ crucified is the central point, in which all the lines in evangelical truth meet and are united. There is not a doctrine in the Scriptures but what bears an important relation to it. Would we understand the glory of the divine character and government? It is seen in perfection in the face of Jesus Christ. Would we learn the evil of sin, and our perishing condition as sinners? Each is manifested in his sufferings. All the blessings of grace and glory are given us in him, and for his sake.

Seven Ways We Can Guard and Protect Relationships: Let’s judge ourselves, even as we give each other the benefit of the doubt. Matthew 7:5 says, “First take the log out of your own eye.” And 1 Corinthians 13:7 says, “Love believes all things.” In other words, love fills in the blanks with positive assumptions.

She's Your Collaborator, Not Your Competition: This biblical perspective obliterates all the bad advice that's ever been given to single adults. An accomplished woman is a blessing. This passage, written by a wise king, nearly shouts at us, "If she is supposed to be your wife, then she's your collaborator, not your competition! All those accomplishments could be your gift in marriage."

Fear and Faith: Women, gather for a panel discussion about Trillia Newbell's new book, Fear and Faith, living in a fallen world and following the One who is sovereign over all. Join Trillia Newbell, Jani Ortlund, Kristie Anyabwile, Jen Wilkin, Catherine Parks, and Lindsay Swartz (moderator) for a candid conversation on the fears women often struggle with and the trust found in the character of God.