Face to the Son, Feet on the Ground

A summons to pilgrim together

Evening. The sink is cleared, and all that lights up the kitchen is the strand of Christmas lights I keep up all year, running around the perimeter and casting a golden glow upon the cedar logs that make up my walls and ceiling. Five of my children are nearby, around the extra long dining table, loudly leaning over with their bodies and intents to build Catan settlements and gain victory points. I perch on the metal stool by the kitchen island, flipping through sourdough recipes. A round loaf? Sandwich bread? The book opens easily—a tell, methinks— to the German rye, and that gives me enough pause to consider if I ever restocked the jar of caraway seed. A little riffling around and I find the little jar, a shaker of aromatic promises that somehow involves toasting and a great deal of butter on top later on.

Our family recently implemented what we call “the one room cabin”, and that’s why there is a board game splayed out over the table and rambunctious laughing rising from it. The internet is turned off at suppertime, and everyone is expected to not only clear the dishes and do the tidying up, but to remain for a couple of hours in the “one room”. Granted, our “one room” encompasses more like three—the living room, dining room, and kitchen—but they are all common spaces. There are no rules, really, other than the TV isn’t on more than once or twice a week during those evenings; a person may read, write, craft, work a puzzle, or play with toys. Or, mix up dough in the Kitchen Aid while watching children and wondering how fast could time possibly go.

I thought of this during the second interview I gave regarding my Slow Schooling book (I will link to the first one down below; the second one releases on January 3rd). In the midst of the questions such as regarding Christian teachers and the role of the local church, I reflected on how grateful I was to be a stay at home mother, a keeper of the home. As messy as my house is, reflecting unrelenting activity, it is full of life and a fertile ground for growth. And, as we know, the hour IS short and knocking on eternity with every firmly timestamped second, so we must remain sober and prayerful about how we are spending those hours.

Present was published in 2015. As I wrote, “If I were angry or happy or sad or lonely, the response was always the same: turn to this ether promise of comfort and assurance.” Eight years later, I look around and I see a lot of the tops of people’s heads, ostriches buried in smartphones. I miss their eyes. Their humanness. I never thought this attraction to tech would get worse as time went on, that it would end up enveloping a person’s soul and shrivel so many of them. No wonder there’s hardly restraint on cutting memes and comments and texts; that wicked heart which owners themselves cannot understand are let loose via their fingers and civility is only a quaint reminiscent scent akin to old musky books.

Practices (2018) is a short book, but full of hope and ideas to turn that tide, by implementing habits and routines to cultivate a day in which relationships may be strengthened and goals are actually progressed on. It puts some feet on the ground to the ideals of Present. Feet on the ground, I think as I carry my dough back to the opposite counter, is what we need more of.

I know the world seems nuts. That’s because it actually is, and after the Fall always has been. And despite our own egos of assurance that we are somehow progressing into some vista of human divinity, we are in truth actually descending into destruction even as that tower of Babel is celebrated for ascending. Living by faith doesn’t mean things are going to get better here on earth if you just trust Jesus more. Living by faith means believing Who He is, what He says, and acting accordingly.

So, how do we respond accordingly?

Well, for one, we plant gardens in the city we pilgrims find ourselves in. We don’t just denounce the state of our world, we actively intend to work with our own hands and create something that beautifully reflects Christ while we are here, leaving a sweet savor that will hopefully draw others to salvation. That doesn’t just happen in our homes if everyone scatters to their own screens after—or, God forbid, during—supper.

As I covered my dough and placed it into the proofing box for the night (the only place that gets to 85 degrees almost any time of year here), I considered a summons.

You who miss studying Scripture and reading good paperbacks.

You who long for a more present life.

You who struggle with being equipped for your day.

You who miss the pleasure of wind in your hair.

You who have gifts and talents that lay languishing.

You who are unhealthy and tired.

You who desire better relationships with your family.

You who are exhausted at the end of your day.

I see you, I hear you, I read you in my email inboxes and in the comments you leave me. You are in your house as I am in mine but hear this: YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

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This morning, I’m steeping my citrus green tea and considering how we can connect better to encourage each other. You may already have figured out that I am leaving Instagram, or perhaps have already left by the time you read this. Other than Nostr * I’ll be right here on Substack, continuing to write.

For myself, I will heed my own summons to show up here and write and take time with you all.

For my readers and subscribers (thank you for subscribing!), I will continue to occasionally post essays that I hope will not only continue to sort my thoughts, but to uplift and encourage you. Some women lace up their shoes and go for a run to do the mental sorting, and I salute you. I happen to use a keyboard.

For my paid subscribers, I will send out a journal prompt in the chat that I hope we can use to stimulate our thinking and progress. These prompts were drawn from the work I did to flesh out the book PRESENT, and I used them to create an actual paper journal in which you could write in. You don’t need to have read the book, or even have the journal; I’ll be giving you the prompt directly and we can discuss it via the chat feature. That being said, if you WANT a paper journal, I have exactly 12 journals left (it is out of print) and am willing to send you one, first come first serve, for $20. Just message me.

Also, if you have any questions that come up, send them my way either through the comments or the chat, and I will gather them and respond in a single post in the chat. You can ask me (almost ha) anything.

So.

I’m taking a sip of tea as I’m writing this all to you, and my littlest one who is ready for his day just arrived for his morning snuggle. “It’s the last day you get to be five,” I say. “What do you think happens when you are six?”

His eyes brighten. “Then I’ll be seven!”

True enough. I’m off to shape and second proof my German rye, and to make him some breakfast. I’ve got a full day ahead and I know you do, too. I’m looking forward to our year here together; thank you for your continued readership and support. I hope to be a blessing to your life as I remind you to keep your eyes on Jesus. Thank you for pilgrim-ing along with me.

You can watch my first Slow Schooling interview HERE

* Nostr is a new social media that runs via relays, not a corporation. You can find more information about it here: https://nostr.com/

My public key to find me: npub1vg7z7wmyl48ed6r5ncvvreldgvqx48cy24tk4l6fke2emtzjmxtsff5xds