Kate Bowler’s work means courage to me. I listen to her podcast and find her perspective so refreshing, so real. She’s the kind of friend I’d like to be with. I’ve also mentioned her a few times in my newsletter. Im glad you were able to hear her speak in person.
Love this. I think about this often when writing my more melancholy posts - the tendency I have to wrap things up with a nice conclusion or lesson learned.
This is a weird connection, but back when ER was on the air, episodes would end without resolving the personal lives of the patients who came into the ER. Did she tell her dad she was pregnant? Did he stay clean? Did the parents press charges? We often didn’t find out, and I think it’s because ER staff don’t know how these things turn out either. Any, so much of life is messy and unresolved.
So I just did some writing with that image as the prompt. With Sunday's upcoming disaffiliation decision at our church, I may have just written the words..."And then I remember that compost and manure make some of the best fertilizer. God will use these hard, stinky, yucky things to grow a beautiful new crop of amazing blessings...eventually. One day I'll be smelling roses. But right now, s!@# stinks."
Thanks for sharing this, Jenny. My prayers for you and your people on Sunday and beyond. It does stink. But I appreciate how you are both sitting in the muck and looking ahead in hope. Nine years on the other side of the PCUSA's last vote, and I can say that it feels like new life is indeed blooming.
Very timely for my life right now. I had seen that image on her post and laughed tithe beauty mixed with the crapper and dumpster. I appreciate your nudge to write. Might be my excuse to not do the skincare routine today.
“I worry every day—about my own cancer coming back, something happening to my kids, my loved ones’ mental health, the decline of democracy. I’m sad about a lot. I want what’s not good for me. I want what others have. And I don’t have a skincare routine.”
This is beautiful writing Julie that I resonate with deeply. I resonate with all of it. I’m sending you hugs for what feels like a hard summer and also for just saying this is hard. Sometimes hard is hard even when the circumstances aren’t, I’m trying to honor that space more and say, I don’t feel great today and I can’t pinpoint it and I don’t have to run away from my feelings. And if I read or walk or do some yoga, maybe I’ll feel a little bit better. For me, I know that sometimes the hard is so close to me, I feel like it’s suffocating and other times I can hold it tenderly and see that there is still room to hold joy too. The good days are not the days without the hard, they are the days when joy and sadness can sit beside each other on the bench and I can feel them both.
Yes, Mary, this is a beautiful comment. It’s actually been a very good summer. Still, I am valuing Kate’s permission to acknowledge the precarity of every day, and honor the space of that, as you say.
“The good days are not the days without the hard, they are the days when joy and sadness can sit beside each other on the bench and I can feel them both.” Thank you for helping me feel both...at the same time...and its ok.
Also, the skincare routine made me laugh. Perfect positioning in that paragraph - I also am lucky if I remember sunscreen
Thanks for laughing in the right place! I just learned we should be sunscreening our hands....
Kate Bowler’s work means courage to me. I listen to her podcast and find her perspective so refreshing, so real. She’s the kind of friend I’d like to be with. I’ve also mentioned her a few times in my newsletter. Im glad you were able to hear her speak in person.
Thanks Stella. Her podcast is powerful—I need to listen to more.
Love this. I think about this often when writing my more melancholy posts - the tendency I have to wrap things up with a nice conclusion or lesson learned.
This is a weird connection, but back when ER was on the air, episodes would end without resolving the personal lives of the patients who came into the ER. Did she tell her dad she was pregnant? Did he stay clean? Did the parents press charges? We often didn’t find out, and I think it’s because ER staff don’t know how these things turn out either. Any, so much of life is messy and unresolved.
I’ll see you tomorrow!
So I just did some writing with that image as the prompt. With Sunday's upcoming disaffiliation decision at our church, I may have just written the words..."And then I remember that compost and manure make some of the best fertilizer. God will use these hard, stinky, yucky things to grow a beautiful new crop of amazing blessings...eventually. One day I'll be smelling roses. But right now, s!@# stinks."
Thanks for sharing this, Jenny. My prayers for you and your people on Sunday and beyond. It does stink. But I appreciate how you are both sitting in the muck and looking ahead in hope. Nine years on the other side of the PCUSA's last vote, and I can say that it feels like new life is indeed blooming.
Thank you for the reminder that we are in good company.
Very timely for my life right now. I had seen that image on her post and laughed tithe beauty mixed with the crapper and dumpster. I appreciate your nudge to write. Might be my excuse to not do the skincare routine today.
It’s such a good prompt, with the porta-potty!
Love this Julie! And I love the prompt, definitely something for me to ponder on this week, thank you 🙏
Thanks for reading, Lyndsay!
“I worry every day—about my own cancer coming back, something happening to my kids, my loved ones’ mental health, the decline of democracy. I’m sad about a lot. I want what’s not good for me. I want what others have. And I don’t have a skincare routine.”
This is beautiful writing Julie that I resonate with deeply. I resonate with all of it. I’m sending you hugs for what feels like a hard summer and also for just saying this is hard. Sometimes hard is hard even when the circumstances aren’t, I’m trying to honor that space more and say, I don’t feel great today and I can’t pinpoint it and I don’t have to run away from my feelings. And if I read or walk or do some yoga, maybe I’ll feel a little bit better. For me, I know that sometimes the hard is so close to me, I feel like it’s suffocating and other times I can hold it tenderly and see that there is still room to hold joy too. The good days are not the days without the hard, they are the days when joy and sadness can sit beside each other on the bench and I can feel them both.
Yes, Mary, this is a beautiful comment. It’s actually been a very good summer. Still, I am valuing Kate’s permission to acknowledge the precarity of every day, and honor the space of that, as you say.
“The good days are not the days without the hard, they are the days when joy and sadness can sit beside each other on the bench and I can feel them both.” Thank you for helping me feel both...at the same time...and its ok.
You summed up Kate’s presentation so well...and so beautifully. Thank you.
Thanks for reading, Connie.
Yes! See you then.
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