Year 35

a devotional for summer

Photo by Alice Donovan Rouse on Unsplash

I sit among the libraries
the collections
the archives

and I strain to hear Your voice. 

but the books are silent,
dust gathering on their crowns.

I wonder:

have they stopped speaking?
or have I lost my ability to hear?

and yet, the robin
summer-mother, her fledgelings flown, 
still sings in the dying hemlock
in the early morning hours,

and in her voice I hear an ancient echo
of the song that woke the waters

and spun stars like gold
from time's wool. 

On Saturday, I celebrated my 35th birthday. To me, birthdays are the perfect excuse to take stock, take a pause, think through where you are and where you want to go, and ask yourself: do they still match?

So after some gentle, soul-filling festivities yesterday with family, I sat down with a notebook and pen and wrote down a few things I’d like to focus on, to revisit, to find my way back to.

At my best, I am a very tactile person. God speaks to me through my senses; it’s just how He made me. But this also means that when the going gets tough, the first thing to disappear is my sense of groundedness, of being present and active in my body. I escape into my head and feel trapped there. And I think we can all agree that the last few years have been…interesting, in ways that are unique to each story, so I’ve found myself hiding in my head more than I’d like to admit.

Standing on the edge of my 35th birthday, I realized that there were some things—some good, fulfilling things—that I had lapsed in doing, simply because I wasn’t prioritizing them. The garden has fallen by the wayside, I’m woefully behind on harvesting and preserving what we do have, and the increasingly-untidy house reflects my own messy feelings. Overwhelmed, I have been spending time distracting myself, hoping the tasks would go away.

But, most of all, at the core of it: I have not prioritized daily spiritual practice the way I once did.

As a tactile person, I love my devotional tools. The tangible things I can hold and savor to remind me of the invisible God. But all of the prayer books, all of the devotionals, all of the prayer cards and prayer beads and illuminated art and desktop labyrinths and smooth wooden crosses that you can hold in your hand are ultimately fruitless, if you’re too overwhelmed to use them.

So. My 35th year begins with hopeful penitence, approaching my Father with hands open and empty, because I know He can fix what I’ve gotten myself into. He always does.

And I start small. With my head covered, the daily veil a symbol, a reminder of my fresh purpose, and nothing on my lips but the psalms, every morning. There is no hurry.

Yesterday, I began watering the garden again, whispering my apologies into the soil. Soon, I will pull last year’s berries out of the freezer and can them up into jam so we can harvest this season’s bounty. One task at a time, one tiny goal for each day, celebrating every one as their own victory.

Slowly, I move forward. I take the smallest steps I can, every day, to let God lead me back to the path I strayed off of.

True, it may look different now, but that’s just the beauty of getting older.

Discussion Question:

When you are struggling, what do you use to escape? And when you find yourself straying off your own spiritual path, what remedies bring you back?

---

Moved by this piece (or simply feel like supporting my coffee habit) and want to contribute a one-time donation? Click the Tip Jar button below!

For more writings like this, subscribe for free!