I almost encouraged you first thing this morning with:
BE STILL AND KNOW
I would have used a lovely font on a pretty photo, and we would have called that Day 29 of 31 Days of Right Here, and there would be nothing wrong with that. I’m all for a great quote on a nice photo.
They aren’t cheap words to me, you know — they’re life in this fast spinning world where I recognize my word overload and need for silence and some epic cocooning with my favorite quilt, movie candy and a good book.
But, as always, there are layers, which is why I also considered telling you:
I CANNOT WAIT UNTIL THIS MONTH IS OVER BECAUSE I’VE GOT VULNERABILITY FATIGUE, AND I’VE GOT COSTUMES TO FINISH BEFORE THURSDAY, PEOPLE, AND PILES OF STUFF WHERE I NEVER KNEW PILES COULD LIVE AND I’M PROBABLY A WRITING FRAUD ANYWAY — THAT’S WHAT I AM — ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO CAN’T FINISH ANYTHING THEY START. I’M A WRITER WITHOUT ANYTHING TO SAY.
The font and photo wouldn’t have been nearly so pretty, but this is/was also true. It’s what I’ve felt and feared.
I dreamed of finishing off this series with a real bang, so you’d be glad you stuck around to the end. I wanted you to think highly of me. I wanted to control this right here until I owned it, but I’ve felt like I don’t have anything new to say.
Usually, when I recognize my rising need to impress and make life and words conform to my desires, it’s time for a woman to step away from the computer for a little perspective.
This morning, I walked with my dear friend on the occasion of fall’s first frost underneath a sliver of moon and scattering of bright stars, the sun beginning its ascent as we told each other stories.
I cut my five-year-old’s baby bangs and watched as, all by herself, she packed her backpack with snacks, water and activities for a visit with Papa at his office. Saw her pure joy at his side, wearing her jacket and scarf just like a little business woman.
I had my teeth cleaned and talked with my hygienist about her first Thanksgiving without her dad and about her photos of flowers. About how her mom always loved flowers before she died, and that’s why she loves getting close to them.
I noticed crews blowing leaves and the piles beneath trees that only weeks ago hung from above, all shades of yellow, red, brown and orange. I felt the bite of autumn air laced with warm sunshine and thought of the miracle of seasons.
I left the grocery store with bags of food and cut open with my keys the fishnet sack of mandarin oranges so I could look in the eye and give two to a man with a sign that said, “I bet you can’t hit me with a quarter.”
I ate warm leftovers while Lala ate the sandwich she invented — hummus and cottage cheese on wheat. (I’m not sure it will take off.)
I tucked my girl into her bunk bed blanket fort so she can rest for an hour before we pick up her sisters from school.
These details all so ordinary they barely seem worth telling, but I know this: when I try to hammer and pound out performance, when I act like my primary job is production and not living (and loving), I scarcely see the beauty in any of it.
Too often, we train ears to hear the not enough and the do more and the must master, and often we can only really see life again when we step away to listen to what we might need to let go.
Let go of the grip and the doing and all the words, so we can hear again the music of voices and the shuffle of leaves underfoot. Remember what a gift it is to be here at all.
This is Day 29 of Right Here. Throughout October, I’m joining with a community of bloggers (linking up with The Nester) — all of whom are writing each day of the month about a topic of their choosing. To find all posts in 31 Days of Right Here, click here, or see the listing below.
To continue receiving these daily words, subscribe to this blog on the sidebar at left, click here to Like Draw Near on Facebook or follow me on Twitter @AshleyMLarkin. I am immensely grateful to share the journey with you.
POSTS IN THE SERIES
An introduction: Welcome to 31 Days of Right Here
Day 1: For You, Too
Day 2: Fear’s Invitation
Day 3: My Portion
Day 4: Five Minute Friday: Write
Day 5: Rise and Shine
Day 6: My Joys Mount As Do the Birds
Day 7: A Mother’s Fierce Love
Day 8: When Life’s A Mad Rush – How To Slow Time
Day 9: The Fight For Right Here Told Through Two Tales of Epic Whining (Part I)
Day 10: The Fight For Right Here Told Through Two Tales of Epic Whining (Part II)
Day 11: Five Minute Friday: Ordinary
Day 12: When Right Here’s A Mess
Day 13: O God, We Thank You
Day 14: The Date That Almost Wasn’t
Day 15: One Thing That Makes Us Human
Day 16: That We Might See And Remember
Day 17: In Which I Hit A Wall
Day 18: Five Minute Friday: Laundry
Day 19: When You Can’t Hold All The Moments
Day 20: Let Me Walk In Beauty
Day 21: Tend This Seed
Day 22: Just One More Click Away
Day 23: A Reset
Day 24: What We Hold
Day 25: Five Minute Friday: Together
Day 26: The Middle School Dance
Day 27: A Prayer For Hands, Mind And Heart
Day 28: On Cupped Hands And Giving From Right Here
Day 29: What You Might Say When There’s Nothing New To Say
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
![Sometimes nothing says it quite like the way of a child. Before the rest of the house wakes, I read the account of Easter morning in the Jesus Storybook Bible: "And it seemed to [Mary Magdalene] that morning, as she ran, almost as if the whole world was singing for joy-- the trees, tiny sounds in the grass, the birds...her heart." The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive, and so are we. And it is new. Once again. Yes, it is always new...He is risen indeed!](https://scontent.cdninstagram.com/t51.2885-15/s320x320/e35/17934124_1877271335863004_8139172358331039744_n.jpg "Sometimes nothing says it quite like the way of a child. Before the rest of the house wakes, I read the account of Easter morning in the Jesus Storybook Bible: \"And it seemed to [Mary Magdalene] that morning, as she ran, almost as if the whole world was singing for joy-- the trees, tiny sounds in the grass, the birds...her heart.\" The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive, and so are we. And it is new. Once again. Yes, it is always new...He is risen indeed!")
I love you friend, and the stuff you described. I get it so much. I am anything but consistent when it comes to my writing and while it’s bad for blogging, it’s good for my soul. Sometimes I’ll post everyday for a week and then nothing for a few.
It’s just so much easier to manufacture all the perfect things we’re supposed to say and much harder to actually be where we are. I’m learning that quiet is good. Quiet makes room for the real stuff. And sometimes the glorious ordinary real stuff is the stuff that finishes things off with a bang and makes us glad we stuck around. I’ve got your posts saved in my pocket app along with all of my other favorite writers I haven’t had time to read while going to Allume and preparing for Africa and I’m looking forward to sinking into some beautiful truth as I kill hours in airports and on flights. LOVE YOU, GIRL! That deserved shouty caps as well. ;)
YES. What Alia said. The quiet makes room for the real stuff. It makes room for quality and depth and the REALness of our job which IS loving and living and not producing. I’m so thankful for your words today. The raw reality and vulnerability of them even when you’ve got vulnerability fatigue. You’re brave. So appreciate you.
“The quiet makes room for the real stuff” is SOOOOO true. Dana, meeting you through this 31 days is one of my very happiest blessings from all this. You are a joy.
I love you, Alia, and I know you relate. What I’m trying to figure out is how this 31 day thing can possibly work with the ebb and flow of real life. My traditional method of retreating to fill, entering back into writing to pour out, etc. isn’t working here. This is such a crazy constant pounding — a completely different deal. Anyway, you’ve got so much going on with your travels to Allume and all your preparations and Africa!!! I cannot wait to hear all about it!
And I’m thrilled you’ll be coming to the Faith & Culture Writers Conference again! Hope to see you again sooner than that. Praying for you, girl. Love you.
You have put yourself out there (right here) every single day for 29 (!!!) days. You sat down in front of a blank canvas, having no idea sometimes what in the world you had to say. And each and every day you put words to something I – it IS all about me afterall – :) something I needed (needed!) to hear. I am one tiny voice speaking thank you into this leaf-strewn fall day. Thank you for being brave. Thank you for caring for your readers. Thank you for stepping out, over and over, in faith, vulnerability and honesty. And Thank God that you are YOU!!
I love you Ashley!
Thank you so much, Mama. An appreciative heart right here. xoxo!
Just lovely, Ashley. Every bit of it.
Thank you, Diana. Beautiful to see you here.
Ashley-I actually like your writing about the “ordinary” better than anything else. Love the picture too!
Ah, thanks, Julia. You recognize that field, I bet. :-)
OMG Ashley, you had me laughing, then reading intently, then nodding my head. When you don’t have anything to say, you actually say a whole lot. I absolutely love this and you. And what exactly is a satsuma? I’m clueless.
I love you, Shelly. I think “satsuma” might be a regional thing. I looked on the tag, and I guess they’re actually called “mandarin satsumas.” Truth be told, in our family, we call them “juicy ones.” :-)
Ashley this month I have learned once again the painful truth that I own and control nothing in my life. Everything is a gift from God and He is completely in control. I do and I don’t like that, especially when life doesn’t turn out the way I want it to and I don’t understand why. Without God I am never enough, I never measure up. I have no words to speak or write, no wisdom to share. I also know because I have God it doesn’t matter. He has the words and the wisdom. He always gives me what I need, just not what I want. I do live in gratitude for the gift it is to be here each and every day. I never take that for granted. You have much to share even when you think you don’t. Don’t discount the power and the value your words have in my life and the lives of others. You make a difference in my life. Keep writing even on your bad days.
Thank you, Barb. This has me nodding: “Everything is a gift from God and He is completely in control. I do and I don’t like that…” Yes, it is certainly both. So grateful it’s God who has the words and wisdom and gives us what we need, though — both for ourselves and to share. What a mess it would be if I were truly the one with the reins. Love you, friend. Thank you as always for being such an encourager in my life. xoxo
Oh dear Ashley……….everything you have to say and share IS IMPORTANT – especially to your Heavenly Father ! Every single word, emotion and action. And guess what my friend ? Those of us who CHOOSE (and remember we do choose to do this) to follow your writing are always blessed that you choose to be vunerable with us..because it helps us to be transparent ourselves. We do not need to be impressed and we are glad you aren’t in control…..because then it would highlight our insecurities about our own lack. Take whatever time away from writing that you ne
ed – just don’t forget that we have loved
to when you open the pages of your heart againthese almost 31 days with you and will wait in anticipation of any time we spend with you and your wise words and th
ed….
Got kind of messed up at the end…just want you to know we have loved these almost 31 days and the heart you have shared with us. Blessings on you and your keyboard !
Dear Mary, someday when I visit my sis, I will be able to hug you in person. Can’t wait for that day! I love what you say: “We do not need to be impressed and we are glad you aren’t in control…..because then it would highlight our insecurities about our own lack.” Isn’t that so true for all of us? Thank you for speaking the truth back to me today, friend. Glad to walk in vulnerability with you.
I far too often, and too regularly don’t see, or seek the beauty in the day. Thank you for opening my eyes to that!
Here’s to seeing and seeking, as you say, Krista! Such gifts all around us! Thank you.
Wow, girl. You are owning this move away from performance and doing and people pleasing – all this that you write about, about drawing near and being right here and entering in to the miracle that we are here at all (as you so profoundly stated) – I know I keep recycling this throughout my comments, but I’m just so proud of you. So proud to know you. I respect, so much, that you care more about your life telling the real story than couching it in pretty words that impress but aren’t always real. I love you, dear heart. Your rest is almost here – and you are finishing well, in the most beautiful sense of the word :-)
I love you, Amber. Yes, that our LIVES would tell the REAL story. How that is exactly what I want!
my dear friend…you’ve done it…been honest from the marrow of your bones, let the truth run from your veins and we are all so lucky to have your voice….because we (I) can relate..
i particularly was taken with:
“Too often, we train ears to hear the not enough and the do more and the must master, and often we can only really see life again when we step away to listen to what we might need to let go.”
i need to hear those words everyday.
I love you and am so thankful for your voice in this world!
Thank you for your sacrifice, to share with us!
I could not have written this post without our walk together that morning. You helped me speak it out, to see what I was feeling, so that I could receive the gift that comes in letting go. Thank you.
Call me crazy but this might have been my favorite post in your series…the beauty of your ordinary life, which is really anything but ordinary.
Crazy!
Just kidding, Elizabeth. Thank you for walking with me in the ordinary. Such power in seeing and speaking out what seems so plain to recognize it as beautiful.
The heartbeat of this right here is so healthy, I would say if I were a doctor. It is pounded and pulsing and just singing as it takes in the oxygen and nutrients and all good stuff. And it has been excercised regularly this heart I would say if I were a doctor. But I am a soul friend and so I say the heartbeat of this right here is pounding and dancing and lovely, oh so lovely. I love you my soul friend. And your words sing and whisper and shout and bless.
Thank you for looking straight through to the heart, dear Elizabeth. One of the things I love very most about you.
Thanks for your continued honesty & writing even when it’s tough! Love you & truly appreciate your writing!
Some of the best stuff in us happens through the tough — right, friend? xoxo
I find your ordinary divinely beautiful, precious Ashley.
Thank you for blessing me with YOU today.
You are a gift, Julia.
Oh Tiggie, your words are not brought to life by you because you have to see what your mind hears! Your wisdom, keen sense of observation and acceptance of self-doubt are brought to all of us with grace, good humor and humility. How can I not love you as much as I do. Always, your PaPa
Thank you for appreciating who I am and “what I bring,” Pops. I love you.