One of my favorite parts of getting ready to send my book into the world (nearly a year ago!) was putting together grief and hope tool kits for some of my early readers. I made some extras so I could continue sharing them.

Two weeks after the first stories were posted on that North Carolina wall, I burned them with rosemary (for remembering), mint (for love), and copal (for honoring the dead and for purity) as the holy offerings they were, asking for the God who promises to be near the brokenhearted to send each of them a sense of goodness or grace as I did.

When I was six years old, I recited the twenty-third Psalm into a microphone as big as my face one night at church.

I’ve been thinking about ways of being I want to cultivate so that when I am old(er), I’ll be kind and gentle and maybe even a little bit wise. I’ve been thinking about it because I lost a parent last November. And because I’m a grandmother, which looked and sounded extremely ancient to me as a kid. I’ve been thinking about it because some of those I host in spiritual direction have been considering the kind of people they hope to become when they reach old age. Not for the first time, I am spurred on to love and good deeds as I bear witness to the stories, wisdom, and good questions of others.

I was in Tennessee when John Piper gave his famous “Seashells” talk at Passion’s One Day on a cold and rainy spring day in 2000. If you listened to the Rise and Fall of Mars Hill, that message’s significance was explored in episode 6…What I loved (and still love) about what he said that day is that it is a call to live for God and for others, to not waste your life but to spend it well. It’s a chance to consider, as Mary Oliver asked in “The Summer Day,” “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” Piper’s critique of the toxic individualism and acquisitiveness bound up within the American Dream was apt.

What I have come to realize, however, is that he missed something significant about embracing rest and appreciating (and tending) creation

I love the story of Mary. I love that she was anything but a weak or passive vessel, simply glad to go along with whatever she was told when Gabriel arrived with shocking news. In the spirit of slowing down, I want to offer a simple practice of reflecting on that moment a bit. Maybe you’ll engage it now as you sip morning coffee or evening tea or maybe you’ll be drawn back to it later today or this week. It’s a practice you can engage alone, with family, or with your book club or community group.

God is full of lovingkindness and is as gentle as a nursing mother. And God is fierce and even hostile toward those who hurt his little ones, like a mother bear protecting her cubs. And since we’re made in God’s image, we’re also invited to be both gentle and fierce.

Too many of us have forgotten how to rest. We need to remember it is our ongoing invitation to receive rest and refreshing even in the midst of all that is hard and beautiful and complicated in the world.

That’s why I’m excited to announce that I’ll be speaking at The Invitation, a First15 Digital Retreat on September 17th to help address the challenges we face in connecting with God in this frenetic cultural moment.