In that day--

Sing about a fruitful vineyard:

I, the Lord, watch over it;

I water it continually.

I guard it day and night

so that no one may harm it.

I am not angry.

If only there were briers and thorns confronting me!
I would march against them in battle;

I would set them all on fire.

Or else let them come to me for refuge;

let them make peace with me,

yes, let them make peace with me.

In days to come Jacob will take root,

Israel will bud and blossom

and fill all the world with fruit.

[Isaiah 27]

When life gives you fig jam...

Obey.

[Fig jam, blue cheese, prosciutto naan tarts.

I mean...]

To know the Healer, wait.

"To know God as Healer is a relationship, not a moment.

Search Me out, He says. There is always more of Me to be found."

[Sara Hagerty, Every Bitter Thing is Sweet]

When life gives you ripe avocados...

Be careful.

Things I also learned:

1) When your evening agenda is to practice the piano, only slice through the top of your finger.

2) If you are typically the one serving your friends, just sit yourself down with a major injury and allow your voice to escalate a teeny bit. They will hop up immediately, and you will be treated like a queen. A few tears, some hysterical laughter, and dramatic statements about the hopelessness of your life cannot hurt.

3) Further, creating a massive amount of drama around an injury and its ensuing bloodiness, plus your general dislike of hospitals mingled with a more specific fear of losing your finger to your own stupidity can really do wonders for a room full of people feeling a little low about life-these-days. Sometimes a nearly sliced off finger is just the emotional release everyone is waiting for.

4) When--within the span of a single month--one manages to stab herself with the blade of the blender, spend an entire day working to salvage the recipe she misread in a multitude of ways and in a multitude of iterations, zest her digits more than the lemon which was the goal, throw a milkshake clear across the room in an accidental fit of rage, and--as if that were not enough--nearly slice off a much-needed finger...perhaps one should consider stepping out of the kitchen for a while...

However:

5) The food resulting  out of all this drama is clear indication:

Anything worth living for is going to require some battle.

A Planful Re-emergence

Part of the point of 

"take a weekend and retreat from the world"

is to immerse myself in nothing

in order to be ready for everything.

Trying to do a little bit of both just doesn't cut it.

And sure enough, after a weekend spent in utter silence,

by yesterday afternoon I was able to say:

Come on world; I'm ready.

But, the re-emergence must be carefully planned.

So, I called on my dear ones,

the ones I can just be with,

without having to work at it.

I sat in my yard,

and waited for them to join me,

and sure enough--

bit by bit, they did.

We sat together in the cool of the night

with the blink of the candles

and all of that food I'd made,

and we just had an evening.

We laughed and we talked and we shared.

We asked and we listened and we encouraged.

And then we closed it all out in prayer,

as the dark grew and the lights strung above my pond shone bravely on.

It was the loveliest thing,

and exactly what this newly emerged little soul needed.

And then today,

I woke up at 4:46,

clearly knowing with every fiber of my being 

that my summer schedule is over.

Day One of classes doesn't mean teaching for me this year,

but it does mean:

The emails and the dinner reservations get a bit more intense.

[You think I'm kidding. This is what I do.]

There was also a meeting, however,

so inspiring that I just sat and absorbed the gift it is to live and work

with brilliant people just waiting to be brilliant,

and in your presence.

A typical day like this would involve a brilliant meeting followed by a 'go here, then go here, teach the piano kids, maybe have some dinner, and then there's another meeting or someone who needs to see you'. 

But, in a move I attribute to my own rather above-average brilliance, my highly evolved emotional intelligence regarding my personal needs, and my carefully thought out re-emergence plan, 

I had already made the decision to hold off the 

piano-teaching-plus-all-else until a date still a bit far off.

And hence, today, at an appropriate hour,

I called my workday to an end,

like normal people do.

I returned to my yard, and set myself down

next to a pile of peaceful things I wanted to attend to,

next to my pond,

curled in a sweatshirt, and with a tasty drink.

I had myself a proper happy hour.

Savoring the last little bits,

arming myself for bear.

Decide Now

I sit with Him and I sit with Him

and I seek His face

and I sit with Him.

Mostly, there is Quiet.

It is, I suppose, simply a season of

sit with Him.

And yet.

"I am Strong," He says.

"Be My Strength," He says.

I make a choice to, when I go walking.

I clothe myself with it,

with strength, and dignity.

I laugh, without fear.

Except in the Quiet,

in the sitting,

I can hear what is being revealed in my spirit:

Am I really truly actually willing?

To live His Kingdom Call?

"Decide now," He says.

Strongly.

In fact, I hear:

His Voice Thunders Through All Of Heaven.

"Decide now, 

decide now,

decide now.

My darling darling girl."

It is a choice I have,

that is clear.

It is, in fact, my decision.

What will I decide?

Because when I decide it,

that will be my Answer.

Can my deep calling to my Deep

decide any other thing than Him

and than His Way?

Lord, to whom shall we indeed go;

I have no answer,

but You and What You Say.

The Lord is my Shepherd;

I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff,

they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies;

you anoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me 

all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord.

Forever.

To end and to begin a season: Cottage Retreat

I know myself well,

after all these years of being me.

And every once in a while there comes a weekend when all I need is to:

Retreat.

Or I feel like I will die.

So. Since this was the last weekend between summer and school-year, 

it was no surprise that once Friday 5:00 hit:

I turn my ringer off on my phone.

I get my kitchen ready.

I turn to the Lord and say:

'It's you and me,

here we go.'

And I clean

and I cook

and I listen.

And though I have created this retreat for myself in all the many charming locations I have lived over these years, I have to tell you, though it probably will not surprise you: 

The Cottage does it best.

This new toy gives me reason to live.
Who knew weighing ingredients could be so addicting?

Figs are the strangest prettiest things.

Traditionally, I do not like figs.

Traditionally, I do not like jam.

But I LOVE this figgy jam.

Summer harvest: SO MUCH BASIL.

When life gives you basil, make pesto.

Quiet Productivity

And then, I spatchcocked a chicken!

In good food is good rest.

What ice cream sundae?

Remember when I got all dramatic and declared it to be:

The Summer of the Ice Cream Sundae!

Remember that?

Yeah, well.

That was before it proceeded to rain every other second,

and before I discovered I had made plans 

to continuously travel the planet once again.

[At least my range was smaller this year...]

Anyway,

it doesn't matter,

because my dear friend Kyra saved the day

with her discovery of:

The Mexican Chocolate Milkshake!

Really kids,

it's delicious.

We had it one day when we were celebrating a milestone in her life,

and then I had her and Amy and Caleb over one night and

--before we knew what was happening!--

we somehow ended up making them again.

[That was also the night I ended up throwing my precious milkshake clear across the room, but that is another story. 

Speaking of being dramatic.]

But, now that summer is over and Katy has come back,

we discovered yet another reason to indulge.

Hence, this week, there was a "yay you're back!" dinner,

 and then Kyra and I set to work.

 [This girl is serious about her milkshakes.]

 I whipped up the [secret!] ingredients in my new fancy blender,

 distributed it evenly among some glassware,

 and there you have it kids:

 Heaven.

Summer may be over, 

but we are now reunited,

and with milkshakes!!!

Then, I went to Philadelphia

[Are you tired yet? What happened to my 

"I'm going to be so quiet and sit in my cottage and not do a thing" 

summer? Anyway.]

After returning from Chicago late in the night,

and being home for, approximately, 5 minutes,

I took a megabus down the state, to Philly,

in order to meet mi mama,

who wanted to have a date.

Who was I to say no?

Of course, as soon as we headed out for grand adventure,

 it began to pour down rain.

Never fear, however, because it turns out my mother 

has "always wanted" to take a duck boat ride,

 which has convenient coverings.

 We drove all around 

 and saw all kinds of interesting things

 all over the main circle of the city.

 Kath loved it.

 Our tour guide was pretty knowledgeable,
even guessing that the sun would--indeed--come out to play.

[That was good,
because otherwise we wouldn't have been allowed in the water,

which was really the main appeal to sitting in a boat
with "duck" emblazoned across the side.]

 Anyway, we putted around the Delaware River,

seeing all kinds of things

 [please note the Battleship in the background,

and the trash in the fore...]

 just across the way from Camden, NJ.

 Then we returned to the streets,

 seeing historical things like Betsy Ross's house 

and Ben Franklin's post office.

 Eventually it was time for dinner,

 followed by ice cream at this charming place.

 We were happy,

and then we went to bed.

The next morning we arose and looked for breakfast,

 and then we hopped on a bus

 headed toward the reason we were in Philly in the first place.

See, my mother had gotten it in her head 

that we should see the Impressionists exhibit

 at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, so that is what we did.

We heard the story of how the Impressionists were really 

not welcomed on the scene way back in the day

 but how there was one man who believed in them,

and made a way for it to happen.

The exhibit was his story along with theirs,

was very well done, and very very interesting.

Once again, I found it so interesting to set my mind back to a day where this style we are so used to now was actually new and quite bizarre, 

and not particularly liked.

And I was impressed at the lengths Paul Durand-Real went,

to walk in faith of what he believed in.

What wouldn't we have today,

if he hadn't been so bold?

But eventually we came to the end of the tour,

 and it was time for yummy lunch on the roof-top terrace

 before seeing the rest of what the museum had to offer us.

Eventually we needed sunshine,

 so we stepped outside to the fountains,

walked down the famed stairs,

 and took an obligatory photo of [random guy with] Rocky.

Then, we walked for a bit, found a bench,

 refreshed ourselves and chatted.

We had planned it well, to end up in front of 

 the Rodin museum.

Recognize this guy?

You might know about Rodin's Gates of Hell

and the variety of sculptures that made their way into it,

and this museum had a variety of those pieces in large size 

 both indoor 

and out.

It is safe to say I loved it.

I even made my own in honor of him:

[Alright, really I was just waiting for Kathy,
and amusing myself in the meantime...]

Then it was time to hop back on the bus 

in order to return to our car and head for home.

[Along the way we passed this family band,

and I couldn't resist a picture...

It was beyond words cool.]

Our date not quite over, 

we got in the car and headed to my home,

for a sleepover.

But the next morning I sent said mama on her way,

and returned, again, to my real life.