Kentucky Thresholds

So, there was time, (say last week) that I was trying to push July along so as to feel “settled.” And then, I realized, in talking to many folks, that I kept saying something along the lines of, “it’s strange not being in some sort of routine.” I’m sure I said these words because it is strange to be on summer vacay in my new nest, but it’s also way fun. We are loving the quiet in this sleepy hollow of a town, any “heat” just isn’t when you’ve done Texas in July for the past six years and in addition to all that, the dusks are glorious. Every evening the sky seems to get ready like it would before a thundershower, but instead it busts open with all kinds of peachy colors. I wish I had a poet like Mary Oliver to come sit with me on the front porch and narrate everything because it looks per-fect. She would especially be wonderful to have when the fireflies came out. They don’t stop coming. They don’t stop blinking and twinkling their little selves and giving an extra dose of mood and energy to the whole dusky scene like smooth jazz music or a big bonfire might.  These fireflies– they are very good at their jobs and it’s more than enough–definitely more than those routines I was lamenting the absence of. So, I stopped doing that and resolved to press in hard to these God given days and all of its tremendous Kentuckyness because that is where we are.

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Now July is almost over, I turn 29 tomorrow, I’ve found that my tree-hugging/van-building Luke writes really heady, smart papers (knew it. proud.),  we go to Farmer’s Markets a lot and I start work on Monday, August 12th.  Aja has some doggie playdates in the works, I got lost in a novel and also had a garage sale in the rain. You see, I could write a lot of these disjointed, listed sentences because life has been really list-ish and scattered. I think it’s because I get stressed out by list rigidity and become scattered. Luke tends to think that it’s not sticking to these lists that makes me scatter. Myers Briggs people: it’s a total P/J thing. Insight welcome. Whatever the case– over the past couple weeks, I’ve found myself looking for the spice rack while deciding where the lipstick plant should go all the while tiptoeing around the pile of dirt in the kitchen because I STILL CAN’T FIND THE DUSTPAN.

On a non-scattered, clear-as-day note, we went to a new church on Sunday and had lunch with some very funny, kind and talented couples who seem to love Jesus and community and each other a whole heck of a lot and oh, how that makes my heart swell with all kinds of things, but mostly peaceful hope. Peaceful hope is clear as day.  And I think it can also be blinking like fireflies. Or busted open with peach like the Kentucky sky. Peaceful hope is happening, even when we are in the middle and tiptoeing around the dust pile and moving locations which is the ultimate “everywhere and nowhere” feeling like my friend Jennifer says. I also know it is Divine, always– but especially for someone like me, who, can be a little rushed, a little fretting a little disconnected and a lot anxious. A lot more anxious than she likes to admit especially when this transitional journey has been so imperfectly beautiful and every day I seem to forget that we have been led.  And so, once again, I find myself in the soft and mysterious folds of my spirit, my mind and this transition. Are we not always at this kind of threshold?  Trying to break through–to the other and more certain side– organized spice rack in one hand, lipstick plant in the other? So this day, this new day, in the tiny, before-the-threshold and very liminal space, I am quieting down and taking up residence.  As is the case with all true and worthwhile things we must have the courage to press on and in AND the courage to say–  not too hard, now. Ea-sy. Not. too. hard. And here is where the peaceful hope walks in with another sunrise.  Or, this morning, it was a prayer that I had once written in one of my journals.  An old-old benediction sounding prayer from St. Patrick’s Breastplate:  Christ be with me /Christ before me/ Christ behind me Christ in me /Christ beneath me/ Christ above me/Christ on my right /Christ on my left/ Christ where I lie/ Christ where I sit/ Christ where I arise/Salvation is of the Lord. 

So simple and grounding and so very perfect for the threshold.  Walk on. Go forth. Stay still. Welcome in. blog 1

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2 thoughts on “Kentucky Thresholds

  1. Sarah,

    You have a beautiful way with words. So much of what you wrote captures exactly what i am also experiencing. The sky bursting into peach and the fireflies are luscious images!

    • Thanks for your encouraging words Susan…have been thinking of you guys! Drove through Northern Arkansas on our way up here…beautiful country there, too! I bet you are also enjoying your share of fireflies.

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