My Year of Reading and Writing: 2009 recap.

In January 2009, we committed to a year of no television, canceling our DISH Network and stocking up on books, books, and more books.  My goal was to read twenty-two books from cover to cover, and, well, I only read fifteen.  I could have read more, but I'm proud to say that when I read, I soaked up every word.  As a result, some of the books I read this past year really changed my life.

One of the greatest things that has come of this is that we have no desire to hook up our TV service again.  All we watch are DVDs occasionally, and even then, it's a planned time rather than just brainlessly surfing through the channels.  I like how quiet our house is and that I have no idea what products are being promoted on the latest commercials.

I don't have as much to show for my writing, but I do still believe I worked on my writing this past year.  Becoming a better reader has been crucial to becoming a better writer.  I've learned to be more descriptive - to "show" rather than to "tell."  Something is holding me back from going full-force, though - perhaps my own fear or laziness, I don't know.  Writing is such a slow process for me.  And right now, that's just going to have to be okay.

In 2009, I learned that books are so much more than paper pages bound with glue.  My friend Lori refers to them as "books that are like friends," and I think that's a great description.  I have some books that actually give me a peaceful feeling when I pick them up in my hands.  They are portals into another's world - or even my own world - and tools that help me slow down and pursue the simple life.

Part of the experience is remembering the settings where I read each book: cozying up one afternoon in the peak of Texas summer, reading the winter chapters in See You In A Hundred Years, or sitting cross-legged and waiting for my mom on a bench at the Albuquerque airport with my nose buried in Bird By Bird, barely aware of anyone else around me.  I had an incredible book in my hands, clean mountain air in my lungs, and the anticipation of a weekend exploring in Colorado.  I took the time to swallow the words, let them to seep into my bones.

So here is my 2009 reading list along with a few selected quotes.  I hope you'll find some books to add to your list.  And please share yours as well!

Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia by Elizabeth Gilbert
"I'm not interested in the insurance industry.  I'm tired of being a skeptic, I'm irritated by spiritual prudence and I feel bored and parched by empirical debate.  I don't want to hear it anymore.  I couldn't care less about evidence and proof and assurances.  I just want God.  I want God inside me.  I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water." (p. 176)

Almost every female I know read this book in 2009, and their opinions are as varied as the three countries featured in this book. Some hated Eat Pray Love and wanted to throw it against the wall.  Some loved it and were glued to each page.   And others, like me, put it down in frustration about ten times but ended up picking it up again.  Ultimately, I'm so glad I stuck it out.  What made this book difficult for me was, honestly, that Elizabeth Gilbert's perspective on life and faith could not have been more opposite than mine.  That is also why I'm glad I read it, though.  I thought I'd had enough by the India section, when it felt like Ms. Gilbert had tipped the New Age mysticism scales.  It makes me sad that she constantly rationalizes where she can find freedom, but ultimately it's not in places, people or things.  She begins to commune with God but stops short of the true picture of grace which, I believe, is found in Christ alone.  But I forged on through and found some absolutely beautiful writings - my favorite being the brilliant pair of poems she shares at the culmination of her time at the ashram in India.

Dancing Shoes by Noel Streatfeild
Have you seen You've Got Mail?  This is one of the "Shoes" books referenced by Meg Ryan's character, Kathleen Kelly, at the end of the movie when she visits the big bad Fox Books Superstore. My dear friend Suz gave this to me for a birthday gift, and it was absolutely charming!  You'll fall in love with the all-girl English dance troupe - Mrs. Wintle's Little Wonders - and the witty characters Rachel, Hillary, and even awful Dulcie. Great, light read.  I've got to read the rest of the "Shoes" books now!

Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyer
I don't agree with everything about Joyce Meyer, but one of the things I love about her is how plainly she communicates so that anyone can understand.  This book describes the war that is being waged in our minds, where negative thoughts can lead to all kinds of negative behaviors, like worrying for example.  She explains very simply and practically how to conquer those thoughts with good, pure ones that lead us down paths of hope and healing.  I know from personal experience that what she says is true.


Savannah by the Sea: Book 3 in the Savannah Series by Denise Hildreth
This is book three in a series about a girl named Savannah from Savannah, GA.  I read the first two in 2008, and this third book was mostly set in Seaside, FL, where I've visited about a million times.  But it was also full of Christian clichés.  I guess I kept coming back to these books because I love Savannah, GA, and I loved the character of Savannah's mother, Vicki.


Same Kind of Different as Me: A Modern-Day Slave, an International Art Dealer, and the Unlikely Woman Who Bound Them Together by Ron Hall and Denver Moore
I cried through the entire second half of this book, finally finishing it at about 2am with my husband sound asleep beside me.  Set in Dallas, the very city where I live, this true story was very real to me and stretched my faith and perspective on the homeless.  You will fall in love with Denver Moore, too.


Girl Meets God: A Memoir by Lauren F. Winner
A life-changer.  I borrowed it from Mary but simply must get my own copy soon.   Lauren was raised Jewish in the South, and this is her journey of learning about Christ and converting from Judaism to come to faith in Him.  She says the Incarnation of Christ is what eventually captured her.  Through this book, I learned so much more about the beauty of Judaism, and it made my faith come alive as I saw the love story painted from the Old Testament to the New Testament.

Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott
"There are pictures of the people in my family where we look like the most awkward and desperate folk you ever saw, poster children for the human condition.  But I like that, when who we are shows.  Everything is usually so masked or perfumed or disguised in the world, and it's so touching when you get to see something real and human.  I think that's why most of us stay close to our families, no matter how neurotic the members, how deeply annoying or dull - because when people have seen you at your worst, you don't have to put on the mask as much.  And that gives us license to try on that radical hat of liberation, the hat of self-acceptance." (p. 215) - just one of the bazillion quotes I loved in this book

I laughed with Anne, I cried with Anne, I wanted to be her best friend and friends with all of her best friends.  Her candid writing makes you trust her.  You can tell her faith is real, and it has been tested and tried by difficulty: divorce, death of close people in her life, single parenthood.  She can write a one-liner that will stick with you for days.  To me, this book feels like cool sun and a warm fire - where I read it on Easter weekend by the pool and realized I definitely wanted to be a mother - not for the fantasy of it, but for the real nitty-gritty of it.  I'll always remember this book for that gift.  And I'll probably read it ten more times in my life.

Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott 
I actually read this before Traveling Mercies, and it was my introduction to Anne Lamott.  A bit on the political side, but it still has Anne's captivating and hilarious stories that will make you want to read everything she ever wrote.

Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott
"So many of us can be soothed by writing: think of how many times you have opened a book, read one line, and said, 'Yes!'  And I want to give people that feeling too, of connection, communion...
It is one of the greatest feelings known to humans, the feeling of being the host, of hosting people, of being the person to whom they come for food and drink and company.  This is what the writer has to offer." (p. 204)

This is required reading for any writer or anyone who wants to become a writer - not just for publication purposes but even just for your own private enjoyment - to write your memoir, your stories.  I was sad when I finished it, because I knew that even if I read it again, nothing would be the same as the first time.  Anne makes it sound like writing can be one of the most sacred gifts you can give someone.  And after reading this, I believe it.


Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality  by Donald Miller
"When you live on your own for a long time, however, your personality changes because you go so much into yourself you lose the ability to be social, to understand what is and isn't normal behavior. There is an entire world inside yourself, and if you let yourself, you can get so deep inside it you will forget the way to the surface. Other people keep our souls alive, just like food and water does with our body."

I was a latecomer aboard the Donald Miller train, but this book disarmed me.  It reminded me why I need people, that I'm not very good at hanging out with people who are different than me, and that I have simply got to visit the Pacific Northwest.  Soon.


The Unlikely Lavender Queen: A Memoir of Unexpected Blossoming by Jeannie Ralston
A fascinating memoir by an interesting lady who reluctantly leaves her high-profile Manhattan life to become a lavender farmer with her husband in the Texas Hill Country.  You can taste Jeannie's struggle as she deals with the feelings of leaving behind a life she loved for a new life she's not sure she'll be able to love.  It's a wonderful ending, and I hope to visit Hill Country Lavender one day to see the farm that she describes so vividly in the book. 

See You in a Hundred Years:Discover One Young Family's Search for a Simpler Life . . . Four Seasons of Living in the Year 1900 by Logan Ward
Another book about a Manhattan family who leaves the city for the simple life.  This book was fascinating - the Ward family - mom, dad, toddler - decides to live for one year in rural Virginia as if they are in the year 1900.  With no bathroom, only a horse and buggy for transportation, and a garden where they have to grow all of their food, it's a page-turner from start to finish.  I read this in the middle of the summer but felt I was right there with them in the dead cold of a rural mountain winter as they struggled to find heat and food.

Serve God, Save the Planet: A Christian Call to Action by J. Matthew Sleeth
I already shared my thoughts about this book.  Great practical advice on how to be better stewards of the planet.  As a Christian, I believe it's one of my greatest duties and privileges, to care for the creation that God cares about, that He made.

Real Food for Mother and Baby: The Fertility Diet, Eating for Two, and Baby's First Foods by Nina Planck
I believe that ultimately, fertility is up to God, but we are also given the tools to help build a healthy baby by feeding our bodies the best way possible in preparation for hosting a human life.  Nina is basically the poster mom for raw milk and has quite an in-your-face writing style, so be prepared.   But the book has lots of great practical advice, including clear reasoning behind her nutrition advice and explanations of why each nutrient is critically important.  I read this before I got pregnant, and I'm currently doing great in my second trimester drinking raw milk and eating real foods like grass-fed beef, pastured chicken, nuts, and fresh cheeses.  And no, contrary to the advice of many traditional dietitians, I do not have high cholesterol.


Abba's Child: The Cry of the Heart for Intimate Belonging by Brennan Manning
Ah, the "Imposter."  Brennan describes the poser living inside each of us and contrasts that against our true identity as God's Beloved.   Just beautiful.

Would love to hear about some of your favorite books of 2009!

14 weeks.

There is a human being growing inside my body.  At 14 weeks, I am still surprised everyday by the wonder of the miracle and the importance of the job we've been given.  What started as two microscopic cells will emerge in 6 more months as a living, breathing human being with thoughts, a personality, and a future - our daughter or son!  Will he or she have Steven's Asian eyes?   My bent towards creativity?  One thing I know...right around Independence Day, we will welcome our first child into the world, and our lives will never, ever be the same.

The understatement of the year: pregnancy is an emotional experience.  It started on a morning in early November when I woke up, peed on a stick, and before I could even put the stick down on the counter, not-one-but-two pink lines appeared.  "Oh my God..." I said as my heart started beating rapidly.  "It worked!  It really worked!"  No matter how many times you imagine yourself pregnant, you are never really prepared for the moment when it is happening to you.  I vividly remember the next thing I said aloud as I stood inside the tiny, locked bathroom with one hand on my belly: "Lord, I receive this baby.  I receive this baby into my body and into our lives."  

Then, I ran into the bedroom and shoved the stick in Steven's face with the instructions so he could verify.  "Look at this!  Look at this!"   For the next several minutes, we just lied there in bed together speechless. What else is there to say at that moment?  We had been given one of the greatest gifts. It was really happening.

For the next nine days, we had our own little secret that left us giggling all day long.  After we awoke in the mornings, Steven would greet me with a glint in his eyes, “Hey, Baby Mama...”  We were bursting for everyone else to know but had no idea how far along I was. So on November 19th, the day before we left for our annual fall vacation to New Jersey, we had an early ultrasound.  The ultrasound tech rubbed the gel around for a few seconds as I shifted nervously.  Then she said, "Yup!  There it is!"  And I saw it - a cute little being with stumpy arms and legs, and a tiny blinking light on the screen - the heartbeat.  Then, tears in my eyes, and a flood of relief.  Because no matter what the pee stick says, you really don't know what's going on in there until you see it with your own eyes.  I was already 7 weeks and 4 days along! 

The next two months of my life were dedicated to vomiting, gagging, and sleeping.  I barely made it on the plane to New Jersey for our annual trip at the end of November.  Nestled nervously in the aisle seat next to Steven {in case I needed to run to the bathroom, of course}, I clutched my bag of snacks - trail mix, pretzels, crackers, and bottled water - as if they were my flotation devices.  I concentrated on crossword puzzles and those Mensa games in the on-flight magazine to pass the time.  When we finally arrived in New Jersey, we excitedly shared the news with my parents over lunch at On A Roll.  For the rest of the 10-day trip, all the strength I could muster was to arise in the morning, hug the toilet, force down breakfast, and then stumble back into bed at about 9am for a 3 hour nap. Afternoon: same thing on repeat. Remember how much I was looking forward to Thanksgiving?  Let’s just say I might never be able to touch green bean casserole again. 

But I am thankful, so very thankful, that this, my first pregnancy, has knocked me down with sickness. Because the midwife tells me my hormones are “strong” and that means the baby is in there securely. I’ve never been so happy to be nauseous in my entire life.   What I realized during that trip to New Jersey when I had hours and hours to myself in bed: my body is not my own right now.  I am hosting another human being.  It just seems right that you have to suffer a bit in the process of bringing new life into the world.

"Had any weird food cravings?" people ask.  Thankfully, even my cravings have been pretty healthy, like fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice, for example.  I never could stand grapefruit juice before. Now I absolutely must have it.  Everyday.  I go through an 18-pound bag of Texas Star's in about three days and have kept Whole Foods' condiment aisle in business with the amount of crispy dill pickles I've consumed. 

Then there was a three-day stint when the only thing that sounded appetizing was an Italian sub sandwich on a hard roll with oil and vinegar.  Thank goodness I was in NJ at that point, where there's a sub place on every corner {I love you, Main Street Subs}.  After the sub stage, however, for days and days I insisted to Steven that our car smelled like a sub sandwich.  Bizarre.

And the aversions, oh the aversions.  I can barely even type the words oni_n or gar_ic.   So many things I loved to eat are now Repulsive with a capital R, and vice-versa.  Poor Steven.   He has endured my neuroses with such grace and fortitude {or perhaps just resignation}.  About a month ago, I woke him up in the middle of the night announcing that he would have to move to the guest room. "You smell like oni_ns!"  I exclaimed.  I had been lying there, frustrated, wondering what to do.  I couldn't sleep.  All I could do was smell them.  That horrid pungent smell.  Even though there were no oni_ons to be found.  But my sweet husband didn't even hesitate.   He just quietly grabbed his pillow and wearily shuffled off to the next room without a comment.   Now that is love.

So here I am, finally able to start experiencing the beautiful, fun part of pregnancy, and ever so thankful to be healthy, to have the opportunity to be a mother, to raise children with the love of my life. For awhile there, I was wondering if it would ever happen for us.  But at the risk of sounding cliché, His timing is always best.  It just takes patience and a surrendering of my own desires - two qualities I have a feeling I'm going to need quite a bit in the coming months and years, anyway.

This next season.

A new season is beginning.  A season not characterized by the state of leaves and limb but of questions of courage and faith.  As the final batches of leaves flutter down onto my now-dormant flower beds, I'm being stripped naked, too.  I have come to expect this seasonal stripping of self, and I am not fearful - I know it's what needs to happen.

You see, it's been so easy lately to hide in the shadow of others' stories rather than live my own.  About a month ago, my talented husband was given the opportunity to live his dream of becoming an organic personal chef to a family here in Dallas.  Wednesday evenings and Sunday afternoons are now filled with menu planning, cooking, and delivering gourmet meals.  I could not have been more excited for him - he has always loved working with food and cooking for people, and now a way to make it part of his job?  Perfect.  I jumped in right away, taking on new tasks like making desserts, cleaning dishes, and typing up the menus, and in the process worked myself into a nice little hole of not having a single day off to rest and breathe.

And then, a few weeks later, I hit a wall.   I started snapping at people.  I was exhausted.  And I started to feel like I was in prison.  One night as I was returning home from running errands on a rare evening by myself, I parked the car in the driveway and sat there for a few moments quietly, gazing at the full moon through my open moon roof.  The song "Dream" by Priscilla Ahn was playing, and a deep longing rose in my soul as I listened to these lyrics: "I had a dream that I could fly from the highest swing..."  All I could dream at that moment was freedom and escape.  How had my life become this busy and demanding?

Then, I had a realization.  I could still support and encourage my husband without adopting his dream as my own.  Besides, I was doing it all out of obligation and guilt rather than joy.  Yuck. I am not living truthfully at all by adopting someone else's dream.  I have a unique calling on my life to be a writer, artist, creative soul, a courageous and tender woman.  "She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come." {Proverbs 31:25}

So, something had to change.  I talked to my husband and took a huge step back.  And peace followed.

I've always thought it's such an interesting thing about marriage - we are on the same road walking in the same direction, but we each have our own individual stories.  We each retain our precious identities.  One of the greatest challenges is learning how to live out those unique stories while being one flesh together.

Have you ever read Abba's Child by Brennan Manning?  People have been telling me to read that book for a decade.   I am just now discovering its beauty and relevance in my life as I realize that of my almost 30 years as a believer in Christ, I still do not really know what it feels like to know I am God's beloved.

And that's what is really at the heart of this whole thing.

Yes, I know He loves me.   I know He is intimate with the details of my life and orchestrates all of my days.  But I want to know that He is not only intimate with the details of my life but with me.  I honestly don't know what that even means. How do I feel the sweetness of that love?  I know it starts with spending more time just being quiet with God.  His Beloved is already my identity.  If I don't feel it, then perhaps something is getting in the way.

I've spent a lot of time lately sitting in the quiet of my bedroom, eyes closed, book clutched to my chest, asking for God to tell me how He feels about me.  The words I receive back are all beautiful and encouraging.   He tells me to keep going, keep moving forward.  In my time of waiting, do not stall.  I have gifts to share, words to keep writing, truths to speak.  He tells me, "See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland."  {Isaiah 43:19}

So, step one was breaking ties with obligations that were not part of my unique calling.  Step two is living out who I am meant to be.  I don't know what is coming next, but I know it will be good, as are all things that come from Him.

Serve God, Save the Planet.

"Some people, in order to discover God, read books.  But there is a great book: the very appearance of created things.  Look above you!  Look below you!  Read it.  God, whom you want to discover, never wrote that book with ink.  Instead, He set before your eyes the things that He has made.  Can you ask for a louder voice than that?"  

~ St. Augustine

As I was just sitting outside on the sunny front steps reading this St. Augustine quote, one of the largest and loveliest butterflies I have ever seen flitted into view, practically skimming the tip of my nose.  It was yellow and black with "tails" coming off its wings - a Tiger Swallowtail, apparently.  Beautiful.  How about that, loud voice of God?

As part of my Year of Reading and Writing, I just completed the book Serve God, Save the Planet by J. Matthew Sleeth, MD.   It's prompted me to think more about my role as a believer in God and how I am responsible for taking care of creation.  While I don't agree with every single thing Sleeth said or really adore his writing style, there were a lot of useful and truthful tidbits within its pages.

Lately, it's making more and more sense to me that if I love God {which I do}, then I should love all the things God loves. He created water and sky and ground and vegetation and animals, and of course, human beings, who seem to be the most difficult to love. {I don't see anything about houseflies, though, which is good.}

While the whole "green movement" may be popular right now, it doesn't seem to be as popular among Christians, which is baffling to me.  If we believe God created all these things, shouldn't we be the first ones to step out, to protect the earth, to consume less of these precious resources?

Some say, "Why should I care about the earth?  It's all gonna burn one day."  But that statement really gets under my skin.  I don't know exactly what's going to happen in the "end times" or if we're even living in the "end times" right now.  Regardless, when God created in Genesis 1, it was a blessing.   And it was meant for the provision and enjoyment of humankind.  How can we find grounds to abuse it?

gazania in my back yard

There is the whole "dominion" issue in Genesis 1:28, which some use as an excuse to abuse God's creation, or at the very least, just not care less about it: "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth." {ESV}

The author explains, "'Dominion' comes from a Hebrew term meaning 'higher on the root of a plant.'  Dominion does not mean ownership or even unrestricted use.  Implied in our dominion is our dependency on everything under us.  Cut the root out from under a plant and the fruit above it will perish, despite its superior position."

We have a dependency on creation, too.  

I especially love this in Genesis 2...

"And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east, and there he put the man whom he had formed.  And out of the ground the Lord God made to spring up every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food." (Genesis 2:8)

Others say, "Those people are treehuggers.  It's not right to worship nature."   Why, if you care about the environment, are you accused of being a worshiper of nature?  As the author Dr. Sleeth puts it, "The problem today is not one of nature worship; instead it is the worship of all things made by human beings."  I couldn't agree more.  Or be more guilty.  

That's why I'm making some changes around here.   If I really believe this, what should be my response?  Contributing and savoring and enjoying more.  Consuming less.   God is not responsible for man's destruction of the natural world.  I am responsible for my part.

So here are some things we've already changed in the Bailey household:

• Sold 1 car, so we're now a 1-car family.
• Ride my bike to my friends' houses nearby rather than drive {besides, it's a necessity when my husband has the car all day!}
• Do more outdoor, free activities with friends, such as taking a walk or going to the park.
• Turned off the "heated dry" option on the dishwasher, and only use the dishwasher when we have a ton of dishes or when things are really dirty.  Hand wash as much as possible.
• Shower less - hee hee.
• Keep the air on the highest {summer} or lowest {winter} setting possible and use fans.
• Use non-toxic cleaning supplies so I'm not putting chemicals in the ground water. {You can pretty much clean anything with baking soda, white vinegar, and orange or tea tree oil.}
• Buy as much food as possible from local farms, including produce, meat, and dairy - and only farms that use sustainable practices and no harmful chemicals, pesticides, hormones, etc.
• Unplug appliances when we're not using them {could be better about this}.
• Use candles for light at night, or only have a dim light on in the room we're using.
• Only occasionally watch TV.
• Shop more at thrift stores or on other peoples' curbs.
• Skoy!   For only $5.99, I bought 4 of these cloths made from natural cotton and wood pulp.  Just one cloth replaces 15 rolls of paper towels!!!  And you can wash them and use them over and over.  
• Recycle and compost everything possible!

Things we're working on changing/haven't been good about changing yet:

• Thinking about switching to a clothesline when it's nice outside instead of the dryer.
• Not using heat this winter?  Use electric space heaters as much as possible.
• Turn off automatic ice maker in fridge.  Did you know it pretty much runs all the time whether or not it's making ice?
• Find a viable alternative for Ziploc bags.  It's just so hard to store lettuce or marinate meats without them.  
• Lots more I'm not thinking of right now.  I'd love your ideas if you have them!  And maybe my list will inspire you too.  

"God is not identified with the world, for He made it; but God is not separated from His world, either.  For He made it."   

~ Joseph Sittler

As I type this, I look outside my office window and see that the world echoes His name. Every blade of grass is covered in the golden light of dusk.  I think about the layers of a hollyhock bud, the symmetry of daisy petals, the sky around 7:05 in the morning or 6:30 each night in the fall, the peak of a mountain in Colorado...if you can even see that high.  It's everywhere.  If we do not notice it, we are failing to know a distinct piece of God's nature, or day I say, God Himself.  I don't want to lose that, do you?

hollyhock in las mochas, new mexico

What to do with darkness?

Do you ever find yourself in a period of darkness?  Your soul feels heavy, but you cannot pinpoint the reason.  All seems to be well on the outside...

For once, I am pondering darkness when I actually don't feel like I'm in a season of darkness.  I've felt light lately.  Encouraged.  Joyful. Free.

I've really been enjoying the book Clinging: The Experience of Prayer by Emilie Griffin that Tara Leigh lent me.  And it's the chapter on "Darkness" that's been most helpful to read when I don't feel like I'm in a dark place right now.   It's one experience to reach for help when your mind is clouded and desperate.  It's quite another to read it from a place of peace, more in preparation and protection for what might come. I'm not being negative to believe that the darkness will come again.  It's a part of life.

"I remember clearly (and any day it might come again) the terrible reluctance to start praying on the chance that the first thing I would find is a wall.  And the wall, I knew, would not be a wall at which I was to stop, but one I was expected to walk through.


And when one asks the Lord in prayer about the wall, asking Him to take the wall away, the answer is simply that the wall exists in order for us to walk through it.


But the remarkable thing is that we do.  We walk into and through the wall in a way that is beyond comprehension.  This impossible thing that is quite beyond us and that we nevertheless are able to do shows us both an inevitability and an incomprehensible overturning of the systematic order of things.  It's the what-we-can't-do-under-any-circumstances that is nevertheless to be done.


Darkness comes to deepen our prayer and to strengthen us.  But God does this not all at once and not by seeming to.  This experience is different from any other, akin to pain but not like pain because it has no sharp edges.  It is the bleakness of grief without any object of grief.  No one has died, nothing is lost to us, except perhaps a vision we once had and were clinging to, instead of God himself." ~ Clinging: The Experience of Prayer, pp. 36-37


What do you think of this?

I'm puttering through this book at a snail's pace, because I keep coming across paragraphs, sentences, or phrases that halt me, like the one above.  I could think for days on a portion of a single page, such as, "the wall exists in order for us to walk through it."  Those are the best kinds of books, aren't they?   I'll keep plowing through it...

Becoming rich, becoming poor.

Sunday night, we broke bread together. On the living room floor dotted with specks of pecan shells and bread crumbs, we had our third Poverty Meal. Our dinner: whole pecans in the shell foraged by Terrica in East Texas, and a loaf of whole wheat bread.



Bread and grains are not exactly a part of this 40 day cleanse. Yet, when we got two freshly baked loaves from the matriarch, Debbie, at Full Quiver Farm on Saturday morning, we began salivating. And rationalizing. Oh, just the thought of a hunk of that spongy bread slathered in fresh butter and jam. Soups, french toast, buttered sandwiches. C'mon, how could we resist? And it's homemade, right? It sounded like the ultimate indulgence.

And then we had an idea. What if we used the bread as dinner? Not as a "cheat" that we would gobble up wide-eyed, but as dinner for all of us, as the main course of our meal. And as we sat on the hard living room floor, passing around the ceramic platter and each pulling off our share, it didn't feel like an indulgence at all. It felt like sustenance.

It might sound silly, but it was good to experience the feeling of working for each small bite of pecan as we cracked the stubborn shells ourselves, littering the living room carpet, much to the delight of Greta and Heidi who were on our heels to devour the remnants.



These times that we spend on Sunday nights have become the richest part of my week. As we learn how to make our souls poor, I can see how each of us are changing. I feel more "rich" than ever - that I have everything I need, and not possessions. We might not have been born in poverty-stricken families - most of us grew up in suburbia, playing in the yard with our neighbor friends, being called in at 5:30pm to a hot supper. We haven't spent our childhood days playing beside open sewers in a slum or on a dirty city street. Most likely, our children won't either. But we are asking for compassion now, so we can be changed. We want to understand.

As the late summer sun set and the natural light in the room grew dim, we sat in lantern-light and candlelight, discussing our weeks and how this small meal on Sunday nights is somehow changing all of us, in small and big ways. And what are we doing to take action?

I had a revelation. It's our tendency to make comparisons: "Let's be honest - most of us in this room will never know what it's like to live in poverty." While it may be true, what purpose does it serve? To me, it only continues to breed a feeling of separation between us and those who live with that reality. Instead, what if we asked God, "Will you give us compassion to feel what they are feeling?" Here, we ask for a heart to somehow understand their world, and compassion moves us to action.

As we reflected on the purpose of these dinners and our greater purpose in the city of Dallas, TX, we found this blog that spoke it perfectly...

• We share life
• We break bread
• We celebrate growth
• We share our resources
• We serve those in need
• We challenge stagnancy
• We pray fervently
• We listen intently
• We talk intentionally
• We laugh uncontrollably
• We cry unapologetically
• We party regularly
• We live authentically

What will be for dinner next Sunday? I have no idea. But I hope more people will gather with us and encourage each one of us to multiply our love and compassion for this city. And for the world.

Tonight, I cooked.

With each toss of salt from the red ceramic salt well, I cooked and cooked with an enthusiasm that would have put Rachael Ray to shame. Yes, we do enjoy food around the Bailey home, but in less than 30 minutes, I whipped up three entire dishes from scratch, lit candles on the dining room table, and dished everything into three servings: one for myself, one for my husband, and one for our friend Justin.

You see, for the last five days, I have only consumed juice, and chicken broth with eggs. Several of those in our community, including my husband and I, have been engaged in a 40-day "cleanse" of mind, body, and spirit: no TV or movies at all, no eating out, no sugar {even honey}, no grains, no starchy vegetables, and a daily discipline of prayer, reading, and meditation.

Ultimately, the reasons are different for each of us, but for me, there was a need for cleansing on many levels. I decided to start my 40 days by taking it a step further - with a Parasite Cleanse/Juice Fast – a liquid diet. I’ve recently learned that 80-85% of people have parasites in their bodies. Ewww. Having been to several countries where the food I've eaten has ranged from slightly to extremely questionable {i.e. Is this even meat?}, as well as daily living with two dogs who love to slobber my hands and face immediately after licking their water bowl, I figured it was a good idea. Parasites can live in your body for years, and I wanted to get those mean little guys out. I also had a desire to do something that was different than everyone else, where I couldn't just go with the crowd. I needed something that would take my focus off enjoying food and planning out my next big meal, even if there was no bread or sugar involved.

I’ve kind of fallen off the bandwagon lately, too. As my husband put it so eloquently on his blog, "Knowing the cleanse was coming up, I was shoveling in dairy, grains, and sugar as if I were in a pie-eating contest." And I felt horrific. We had a night a week ago - actually last Thursday when we went to see an advanced screening of Julie & Julia {more on that later} - when I positively binged. Two Julie's organic ice cream sandwiches {when it's an ice cream sandwich, does “organic” really matter?}, 1 1/2 huge walnut chocolate chip cookies, several handful's of movie popcorn, organic cheese puffs {again,“organic”? really?}, and "Oh My God" cake from The Kozy, one of our favorite restaurants in Dallas. This was all between noon and about 11pm. That night, I went to bed ashamed of myself and my stomach puffed out to kingdom come. At that point, I knew I was ready to get things right again – food is for sustenance and for enjoyment to a certain point, but it can easily turn to abuse and worship.

So over the last 5 days, I went to bed hungry every night and awoke in the morning with hunger pangs. I did not get to have what I wanted when I wanted it. I slurped bland chicken broth while the kitchen was filled with intoxicating smells of grass-fed beef sautéeing in a pan with onions, and eggs with chicken sausage. I was reminded of a story from a Sudan ministry we work through my job at Mocha Club where an orphan boy from the bush asked, “Mama Kimberly, what does meat taste like?” It was a humbling experience because I began to understand how pathetic I am...that I have to "put myself on a fast" to even experience real hunger and sacrifice. How far am I from the world's reality that freshly squeezed juice and homemade chicken broth are even considered a sacrifice?

Ultimately, this isn't about parasites or overeating. It's about the spirit. I have felt utterly hopeless lately, unable to manage my own anxiety to the point that I thought I might need to get serious help. Nothing has brought me joy. Excitement...gone. I told Steven I thought I was going through an identity crisis. And even watching When Harry Met Sally for the hundredth time or whipping up another batch of coconut macaroons was not going to solve that. I knew, deep in my bones, that is was a spiritual problem. I was worried, so worried, that God has forgotten about me. That the plan for my life was long forgotten.

On Sunday night, we hosted our first “Poverty Dinner” in our home. We perched the “Sabbath basket” on top of a bar stool by the front door so everyone who entered could immediately deposit their keys, cell phones, and any other distractions. And then in the candlelit living room, seven of us gathered in a circle on the floor and ate a small serving of rice and beans as a reminder of what the majority of the world has for a meal {which, compared to this photo of what the orphans ate everyday in India, was a pretty good serving}. We read stories of what God is doing in different countries - amidst hunger, genocide, unimaginable horrors. We processed some difficult thoughts and let others hang there like a big question mark between the seven of us, as we didn’t have all the answers. Then, we sang. Kyle brought her guitar and led us in “We Believe in God” by Amy Grant. It was the truest picture of community I’ve had in my life in awhile. There was a spirit in the room of, “I'm not sure why I'm here, but I'm just showing up." And God met us there. I felt it in my soul.

Today, I read this passage in Matthew that deeply encouraged me - I love how it says in The Message...

"If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met."

~ Matthew 16:30-33

God-provisions. Well, that's not very easy to receive when I'm trying so hard to take care of myself, and "feed" myself with all kinds of distractions.

After five days, I ended my juice fast. I guess it started to get easier, more "routine" to survive on juice and chicken broth, and that's when I decided it was over.

And tonight, I cooked. Chicken breast coated with crispy almonds, green bean salad, and sunburst squash sautéed with red onions.

And then I ate. After I ate, I looked down at my stomach that had shrunken over the last 5 days of liquid, and it was full to the brim. I looked at my empty plate, and for some reason I felt sad.

Maybe it was kind of like buyer’s remorse when you wander through the store wide-eyed, picking out all these items that are going to change your life and make you happy again. But when you get home, you still feel empty and go back to the store and return everything. Or maybe it's the disconnection you feel when you get back from a mission trip, when you want to go back to the way it was there - where life was more honest and simple. Or maybe it was guilt. One thing I do know - it was not food that I have been craving.

I’m a fool to think that five days – or forty - is going to permanently fix all the things that are wrong with my heart. But I do think these days will remind me once again how much God provides for me and how much I don't deserve this grace, and my heart might be in the right place again. Until next time.

Peaceful morning.

I am learning how to pray again. Thank you to Tara Leigh for the book recommendation...

"But the best reason to pray is that God is really there. In praying, our unbelief gradually starts to melt. God moves smack into the middle of even an ordinary day. He is no longer someone we theorize about. He is someone we want to be near."

~ Clinging: The Experience of Prayer
by Emilie Griffin

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Four years.

Four years ago at this moment, the closest people in my life were in a cozy room together at Maggiano's, stuffing ourselves with mushroom ravioli and Nonna's Pound Cake. And celebrating...celebrating the fact that two people can be picked out for each other in this crazy world where it seems to be a one-in-a-million chance.

And today, I am here in our cozy little home, so thankful for the last four years of life, of growth, of love. And boy, do I have a story for you from this past week, the week before our anniversary...

Wednesday night is date night around here, a tradition we began when we first got married and vowed to keep no matter what. So this Wednesday, he took me out to dinner to an Asian tapas restaurant, Nandina. Then, when we pulled up in front of our house after dinner, he told me I had to wait in the car because he had a surprise...

"What? What kinda surprise?" I asked as I clasped my hands together like a 4 year old.

"Just wait here. I'll come out and get you..." he said.

So I sat in the car and waited. And waited and waited. For 10 whole minutes. I looked out the window. Checked out the house next door that is being remodeled. Noticed how dirty our dashboard is, picked up wadded up pieces of paper from the floorboards. Wow, we really need to clean the car...

Until he finally came out and got me, walked me to the front door, and put a sleep mask on my face as a makeshift blindfold. He opened the front door and grabbed my hands, facing me, and walked himself backwards through the house as he led me to my destination. Frank Sinatra was playing in the background, and I could smell tons of candles burning. Through the livingroom, into the hallway, down the hall, turn right...and we landed in the guest room.

He sat me in a chair and took some photos of me. What on earth is he doing?

And then, he read a letter he had written for me. It was beautiful. It was obviously very personal, but this line, I just had to share...

"Tonight I want you to know how creative and lovely your life is. That you bring the silly, fun, and warmth into our home that so many have enjoyed. Christine, I never want you to be anything that Jesus doesn't want you to be. And I hope He can inspire you..."

When the letter was finished, he removed the blindfold, and I could hardly believe my eyes....there it was...the painting that I fell in love with over 2 months ago!!!!!

"He Drew Me Out Of Mighty Waters" by an artist named Carolyn Rekerdres.


I was literally speechless. For ten whole seconds, I just sat there with my mouth wide open, shocked, with tears in my eyes.

It was "my" painting! The one that inspired me so much, the one that spoke to me of summer days and freedom. And then I realized the room was aglow with about one hundred candles...which explains why I waited so long in the car!




Next, I stammered, "How...wait...what? How did you do this? Where did you get this?" I knew that the original painting the artist made was 7 ft. x7 ft. - huge, like the size of an entire wall. In my mind, it was just fantasy, really. Then he told me how he took all the money he had been putting aside to buy a Compost Tumbler and scrounged around for as much extra he could find and offered it to Carolyn, the artist, hoping she would take it and paint me a copy of my very own, in my own size. She graciously agreed!

Steven said he had picked it up at her studio that morning. And then while we were at dinner, our friends The Fletchers had sneakily come over and hung it for us above the bed!

And the most inspiring thing is what this painting symbolizes to me. Its title, "He Drew Me Out of Mighty Waters," comes from the Psalms. And one of the greatest challenges I've been working through recently is finding my own voice. I love to blog because it's a place for me - on my own - to speak, and to share. But written communication comes easily for me. Verbal communication, not so much. I have a great fear of being bold verbally, of speaking out. And I've seen a million ways lately how my God wants to draw me out of that fear into a place of courage.

Even in the painting, you can't see her face. Her body is submerged still, just reaching the surface, but her face, her voice, has already surfaced.

It's a daily reminder...

"He reached down from heaven and rescued me;
he drew me out of deep waters."
~ Psalm 18: 16

I am thankful to be married to a man who loves me, encourages me, and infuses my life with hope and goodness. He challenges me in the many ways I'm weak. Oh, but it's a very good thing.

Any struggle we could face is like a dandelion in the wind measured up against this kind of love.


The man responsible for it all...

Cold Tangerines Winners!

It was so inspiring to read all of your comments to the Cold Tangerines book giveaway! Each of our worlds are so different, but we can learn so much from each other and inspire one another, as we learn to better embrace everyday life!

I used random.org to generate the 5 winners, and here they are!

#11 - Lauren
#17 - Kelly
#18 - Linda
#23 - The Morginskys
#26 - Shawna

If you know me personally, you know how to email me your mailing address. If you don't know me, just send it to dream[at]dreammore[dot]com.

Hooray!

Cold Tangerines. (book giveaway!)

"But this is what I'm finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I'm waiting for, for that adventure, that movie-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets - this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of us will ever experience."
~ Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist

I've returned home from glorious Colorado, but before I start gushing about the beauty of the mountains, I wanted to share some reflections on a book that has become very dear to me: Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist. I've mentioned it here before, how the book was an inspiration to finally start writing my own stories more, to be brave with my writing, and to be brave with my relationships.

Cold Tangerines is about celebrating everyday life as it occurs in individuals: individual moments, and individual people. It's about real, honest, gritty struggles that inevitably happen and how we reconcile them and deal with them in the light of courage and hope.

A review by Shane Claiborne says, "This is a book you can taste," and that is a great description, because as you read, you can taste the risotto simmering in Shauna's kitchen. You can taste her joy after being awakened from busyness by a striking red tree in Michigan's autumn. You can taste the longing she feels as she recounts summer family vacations and friends' babies being born and birthdays being celebrated.

One of the chapters that most resonated with me when I first read it last year, and even now as I type this, is the one entitled "On Waiting." Because aren't we all waiting for something? It seems that my pinball-machine-mind is always in a state of "what comes next" - What is our schedule for tomorrow? Where are the next three places I'm traveling? Five years from now, will we get to have that charming old farmhouse nestled in the trees? How much longer will my parents live?

And we all do it - we all wonder. But the crisis is when you live like you're waiting for life to happen, while life is actually happening right now.

"I believe that this way of living, this focus on the present, the daily, the tangible, this intense concentration not on the news headlines but on the flowers growing in your own garden, the children growing in your own home, this way of living has the potential to open up the heavens, to yield a glittering handful of diamonds where a second ago there was coal. This way of living and noticing and building and crafting can crack through the movie sets and soundtracks that keep us waiting for our own life stories to begin, and set us free to observe the lives we have been creating all along without even realizing it."
~ Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist

Most days, I don't get it right. The few days before I left for Colorado, I'm ashamed to say the only words that could describe me were frazzled, stressed, irritable. My poor husband had the intensely painful shingles and needed my time and care, our teething puppy was chewing everything in sight, and I was on my fiftieth load of laundry while staying on top of a demanding 8-hour work day. The phone rang again, and I almost burst into tears, and that is when I knew I needed to stop.

So I pulled my hair back to the nape of my neck and went into the backyard where I hadn’t stepped in days, unless you count the beeline to the driveway to let Greta and Heidi in and out of the dog run. While I was inside feeling sorry for myself, in the meantime this entire wondrous thing was happening out there: new life was sprouting and growing before my very eyes, and I hadn’t noticed it. Our first tiny okra had made an appearance. A pear-shaped tomato was becoming golden on the vine. Orange wildflowers had opened their buds while I was inside stressing over loads of laundry and packing and my sick husband and my schedule and my to-do list.

I knelt down, pulled up some stray shoots of grass, watered the squash. I leaned close to the basil and inhaled deeply. I tore off some leaves the size of my palm and remembered that fresh basil is one of the best scents in the entire world. And then I went back inside and apologized to my husband for not loving him well, for not being thankful that I have this house, this life right now, these people with whom I get to walk through life. And then I thought about my caring mother and how many hours she has put into planning this trip for the two of us to see the beauty of the mountains together in Colorado, and how I had been so short with her on the phone. And I got choked up a little. Because once again, I had missed it.

Yet, the undeserved gift is that life keeps pointing me in that direction, even when I stray so far away. A message on my tea bag. A bottle of wine brought by a friend and shared over dinner. A chance to hold a baby and notice that her smile is changing everyday.


So, here's to life's best moments. I don't want to breeze through them anymore. This "pedestrian life" is the best thing I've got, and I'm not going to miss it.

* * *

AND NOW FOR THE BOOK GIVEAWAY...

Shauna Niequist has kindly sent me 5 autographed copies of Cold Tangerines to give away to my blog readers! If you'd like to win a copy of the book, post a comment below, and include at least one way you celebrate everyday life. This Friday, June 26th, I'll choose 5 winners from a random drawing.

Why I need people.

The Year of Reading and Writing is going well, {more details to come soon} and I'm currently reading my 9th book in 2009: Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. Yes, I know...I'm probably the last person in the world to read it, but I'm actually glad I didn't jump on the Donald Miller bandwagon five years ago with everyone else. If I'd read it then, it certainly would have felt more radical and revolutionary, as my thoughts and beliefs align more closely now with Don's. But now, the timing is just perfect. It's speaking exactly to where I am right now. It's giving order to some of my tangled thoughts that I've had trouble putting into words.

Blue Like Jazz is reminding me how much I need community, how much I need people. I'm so introverted {an INFJ, the rarest of the personality types...oh dear...} that I can even border on reclusive at times. I know I need a lot of alone time to refuel, but I also realize that being reclusive = not good. We were created to be with people. God shows Himself through people. We can never truly be successful...or happy...living a life of complete isolation.

So this part of chapter 14 meant a great deal to me...

"I am something of a recluse by nature. I am that cordless screwdriver that has to charge for twenty hours to earn ten minutes use. I need that much downtime. I am a terrible daydreamer. I have been since I was a boy. My mind goes walking and playing and skipping. I invent characters, write stories, pretend I'm a rock star, pretend I am a legendary poet, pretend I am an astronaut, and there is no control to my mind.

When you live on your own for a long time, however, your personality changes because you go so much into yourself you lose the ability to be social, to understand what is and isn't normal behavior. There is an entire world inside yourself, and if you let yourself, you can get so deep inside it you will forget the way to the surface. Other people keep our souls alive, just like food and water does with our body." - Blue Like Jazz page 152

"There is an entire world inside yourself..." That is exactly how I have felt for so long, yet it's a feeling that's been incommunicable to me. It's why I can become frustrated when my idealized world is not realized; it's why I can become frustrated with people who are too practical.

It feels like my soul is being stifled to harness that imaginative part of me. I say "harness" because I don't think it should ever be completely cut off, but I do hope to find more balance. Creativity and imagination are what make me an artist; they are what make my outpourings unique from others. But I must never allow these gifts to be misused as an excuse to not allow others into my world, or to not take time and emotional energy to pour into other people.

See...this is why I read. There is nothing like finding inspiration in another person's story... and then knowing that somehow, in some way, it was written just for you.

The light of the world.

"Jesus said, 'I am the light of the world.'"
~ John 8:12

Today is Easter - Resurrection Sunday - and I want celebrate this light that has entered the world...my world. Today, I am struck with the fact that I've seen the literal light of God shine down on so many places in this world. I have seen the skies open up over Florence after one of the hardest rains. I've seen dots of crystal dance on the water in a New England bay, and greenish-goldenness highlight a single blade of grass in New Mexico. There is so much light around us, so much light to be captured. I think it's amazing we were given this light first in Christ Himself. And then we were given things like grass and sky and sea and people's faces, so we wouldn't forget. Oh God, I hope I never stop seeing it.

{For more, see The Perfect Time Of Day. And last year's post on Eastering.}

{rome, italy: vatican city}

{dallas, texas: SMU campus}

{florence, italy: sunset from piazza michaelangelo}

{india: peace city orphanage}

{dallas, texas: my livingroom}

{las mochas, new mexico}

{palos verdes, california: my and jen's shadows}

{manhattan beach, california}

{franklin, tennessee}

{dallas, texas: at the arboretum}

{clinton, new jersey: roadside harvest stand}

{kampala, uganda}

{nairobi, kenya: at new life orphanage}

{new york, new york: central park}

{east texas: blueberry farm}

{nashville, tennessee: centennial park}

{san antonio, texas: guadalupe river}

{nashville, tennessee: belmont campus rose garden}

{seaside, florida}

{maine: acadia national park}

{deer isle, maine}

{new york, new york: my and steven's shadows in central park}

{mackinac island, michigan}

{tuscany, italy}

{cinque terre, italy}

I watch this morning
for the light that the darkness has not overcome.
I watch for the fire that was in the beginning
and that burns still in the brilliance of the rising sun.
I watch for the glow of life that gleams in the growing earth
and glistens in sea and sky.
I watch for your light, O God,
in the eyes of every living creature
and in the ever-living flame of my own soul.
If the grace of seeing were mine this day
I would glimpse you in all that lives.
Grant me the grace of seeing this day.
Grant me the grace of seeing.

~ from Celtic Benediction by J. Philip Newell