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.