Slowly, But Surely

On age, and grace, noise-reduction, and stumbling towards what's next

I woke up to an empty calendar today—a rarity in a season of raising/coaching four teens/young-adults. I say, coaching, because we are firmly in the shifting season of transition from parenting older teens, to coming alongside them, the way coaches do, in the way consultants do. The years of steering their decisions out of our wisdom, are falling away, making space for us to act more as consultants, to cheer them on the way coaches do, and to stand back and let them feel the full weight of their choices. (Of course, we’ve always been their loudest and fiercest encouragers—no amount of years or “growing up” will ever change that.)

Should I take this new position at work?…

Well, what do you WANT to do? How will the increase in hours affect your ability to keep up with your classes?

These are the kinds of moments we are having here. And I love it all.

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June came and went in a moment. I have no regrets about spending it offline, and battled the familiar questions around whether or not to even re-engage those spaces when the month was up. I did step back into my old corners there, but my relationship with the socials is tenuous, at best. Currently, I love the swell of activity on Substack, and am grateful that so many of my favorite writers, artist’s, thinkers, and theologians are putting their work somewhere other than Instagram.

The biggest shift I notice whenever I am “offline” is the ability to think my own thoughts. To pick at a thread, (or notice one that’s begun to dangle) and follow it to some kind of end—or at least, to follow it long enough to determine if it’s going somewhere I ought to pay attention to.

June was a month of self-care in all the ways. I finally made it in for my physical, which led to an in-depth appointment with an audiologist, which led to the confirmed suspicion that I am losing my hearing. I had asked for the referral because I had noticed that I was saying, “what?” a lot to the people in my house when they’d speak to me. This was annoying us all and I wanted to know if it was just my distractedness making it difficult for me to hear them, or if there really was a physiological thing happening. While I DO live in my head a lot (#writerprobs), it turns out that the issue is more than them trying to call me back from my distant imaginary adventures. I literally am struggling to hear or understand what they are saying to me. Especially if there is any background noise.

I hadn’t made the connection until just this moment (!!!) between the ways that the steady chatter of social media making it difficult to hear my own thoughts (and what God might be saying), is a parallel to what is happening in my own actual body. (This delayed processing is evidence of why writing is important for me. As I mentioned in my previous post, if I’m not writing, things get jammed up, a kind mental constipation.)

The audiologist gave me some tips for making sure I can hear my people, including minimizing background noise when they are speaking to me, and reminding them not to speak to me if my back is turned. In other words, if I am to hear them, my full attention needs to be towards them—no distractions. Huh.

I’m not at the hearing-assisted device wearing stage yet, but she assured me that day will come, we just don’t know how long it will take. Based on the data from my testing, my hearing loss is not age-related, but likely genetic, or related to something else. I have my suspicions, but I am awaiting a follow up appointment with a different specialist.

Of course, now I’m thinking a lot (again) about the importance of minimizing background “noise” in my online life as well, and how to do that in a way that feels helpful and doesn’t disconnect me from the people I care about, but only get to interact with online because we live so far from each other. This is a conundrum I have yet to resolve. But I’m listening—or trying to.

What else happened in June (The highlights and lowlights)…

I took my watercolors to the lake and it was the best decision ever. Making art en plain air is its own kind of therapy.

I spent June reading books, and working on my upcoming curriculum for the middle school art class I am teaching this fall. I made art in the cracks of my days, hosted an “Art of Prayer” workshop for some ladies at their church, and spent time contemplating upcoming projects, dreams—both old and new—and thinking about where God might be inviting me next.

In June, I spent untold hours in the trenches of my own soul, working on forgiving some offenses that I’ve been hauling around, and keeping up with my Bible-In-A-Year reading plan.

In June, my dad was diagnosed with cancer, and has since begun treatment.

In June, I gained weight and bought a new bathing suit.

In June, the company my husband has worked for for 18 years was purchased and dissolved and he now works for a new company. Change is hard. Even when it’s good.

In June, I worked in my flower beds and worked on High School Biology with two of my kids (fascinating and also ugh!).

In June, I went to graduation parties and attended Holy Yoga classes enough to determine that I love it and need to do this as often as I can.

In June, I rode roller coasters until dusk, sewed a skirt, and chased the light wherever it could be found.

June came at us with her drama, and stress, and grief, surprises, and joy, and beauty, and wonder, and ice cream, and complications, and not-enough-sleep. June unfolded like my slow-to-bloom Cana lilies, and at the same time, like a tornado barreling through our lives. We remain rooted—flourishing, even, but we have felt the scorch of her heat.

Books Read in June (and July)

• Your Brain on Art: How The Arts Transform Us (Fascinating and just SO good!)

• Friends, Lovers, And The Big Terrible Thing: A Memoir (Harrowing, R-rated, and Hopeful)

• Robert E. Lee and Me: A Southerner’s Reckoning With the Myth of the Lost Cause (Whew. Shocking and Important.)

• The Bait Of Satan (A worthwhile read)

• Confessions Of A Funeral Director: How Death Saved My Life (A little melancholy, also interesting)

• Don’t Give The Enemy A Seat At Your Table (Inspiring)

• Your Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit (A must-read)

• Redeeming Vision: A Christian Guide to Looking At and Learning From Art (Beautiful, and important)

• How to Stay Married: The Most Insane Love Story Ever Told (Heartbreaking, shocking, laugh-out-loud funny, poignant and full of grace and hope)

• Acedia & me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life (A re-read for me, and one I will return to from time to time)

• The Evangelical Imagination: How Stories, Images and Metaphors Created A Culture In Crisis (Currently reading, highly recommend)

• The Body Revelation: Physical and Spiritual Practices to Metabolize Pain, Banish Shame, and Connect to God with Your Whole Self (Currently reading, so good!)

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In June, I published my first paywalled Substack post. I have debated this for over two years and finally decided that I prefer being able to share more intimate aspects of my life, my art, and my writing in a separate space. If you’re interested in access to the more behind-the-scenes subscription you can choose an annual subscriptions at 20% off for an entire year.

Whether you choose to upgrade your subscription or not, I want you to know that I’m grateful for YOU. Thank you for inviting me into your inbox, and for always encouraging me.