The Liturgy of a New Year: a Poem, a Pot of Tea, a Song, & a Prayer

Our feet crunched the snow with every step through the little Bavarian village tucked into the Cascade Mountains of Washington. Surrounded by festive lights and happy tourists sledding, we walked through the fairytale town of yesteryear. A little adventure in the mountains, a time of respite as a family, a time just for us to celebrate the covenant of our marriage, our 16th wedding anniversary. We ate pretzels and remembered our early years. We browsed through the book shop, perused a charming pottery and art store, tried on hats, and enjoyed the culinary offerings of this alpine village almost buried in snow.

The space between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day is always a joy for me. The beauty of the Christmas season, the lights and the snow, the comfort of blankets and slippers, the contentment of loved ones enjoying their gifts, intentional moments of tradition to curate and add to family memories, the celebration of our wedding anniversary, the peace of knowing my Redeemer is alive and what He came to accomplish, and the joy of knowing He will return to bring the fullness of His Kingdom and reign over the whole earth… all these things bring a calm to my soul and quiet peace as I sense the closing of the year and the beginning of a new one. A new year dawns, and I am drawn to a favorite poem, a favorite reflection, a favorite song, and a new year’s prayer. It is my delight to share these things here.

A Poem - At the Gate of the Year, by Minnie Louise Haskins

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.
And he replied:
Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.

So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

So heart be still:
What need our little life
,
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low,
God hideth His intention.

God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until
God moves to lift the veil
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life's stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God's thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.

The first time I came to know this poem was in the early 2000’s while living abroad in Scotland. A dear friend and missionary gave me a portion of this poem, and it embedded itself into my soul as a message of hope and light.

A Reflection - Tea & Liturgy by Sandra McCracken

“As the water boils and the afternoon sun calls out the evening shadows, a new space opens up for us to listen to each other, and to meditate on less urgent but more significant matters. As we wait for the tea to steep, the unspoken, dried out thoughts within us are now able to expand like the leaves in the warm water. And when the fragrant tea pours into our cup, the nourishment begins to set in. In Bird By Bird, Anne Lamott speaks about the business of writing. She persuades us that the best part of being a writer is not the thrill of success or book sales — it is the joy of writing for its own sake. She draws a parallel with tea: ‘While you thought you needed the tea ceremony for the caffeine, what you really needed was the tea ceremony.’ ” - Sandra McCracken

This article deeply impressed me over a decade ago when I first read it, and I often come back to it, even for brief moment of recollection when I steep the tea, when I compose hand-written cards, and when I take time to slow down and allow my mind to embrace the present moment. I will probably forever come back to these beautifully written words all my life:

“I want to write love letters with a paper and pen. I want to make house calls. I want to waste time on things that matter. On things that leave a mark in this world and the next. I want to carve out time to stop and boil the water. To bring out the china and the silver. To ask good questions of myself and my neighbors. And to listen patiently for the subtle answers. I want to live a life of love and liturgy.”
-Sandra McCracken



A Song - The Space Between by Sandra McCracken

“Free fall, feet off the ground
A clean, white page, fresh snow, no sound
Here as we wait, from dark to dawn
New paths before us, the old is gone
Unplug the lights, take down the tree
The less we have, the less we need
From Christmas night to New Year's Eve
We bless the space that’s in between
We bless the space that’s in between”

A Prayer - New Year, The Valley of Vision

Give me a grace that precedes, follows, guides,
sustains, sanctifies, aids every hour,
that I may not be one moment apart from thee,
but may rely on thy Spirit to supply every thought,
speak in every word, direct every step,
prosper every work, build up every mote of faith,
and give me a desire to show forth thy praise;
testify thy love, advance thy kingdom.
I launch my bark on the unknown waters of this year, with
thee, O Father, as my harbor,
thee, O Son, at my helm,
thee, O Holy Spirit, filling my sails.

A lantern post in the mountains… Narnia? Hmmm…

The Keeping of Advent

Thursday was all prepared. We had the turkey, the potatoes, the stuffing, the dinner rolls, a pie given from a friend, and green beans amandine. My kids had all come down with a stomach flu this week, but were slowly recovering. With my mom and dad visiting from Canada, our house was full of anticipation for the week of holiday celebrations and preparations to enjoy together. One day was down with several of the kids sick, but there was hope that all would be well. Around noon, while the kids and I were working on a puzzle, the nausea I had already experienced only grew. Alas, I missed the whole Thanksgiving dinner.

Friday was the day we would head out into the woods to chop down our $5 Christmas tree, a new tradition we absolutely love to do together. We bring hot cocoa in a thermos and enjoy the sips in the frosty snow-laden forest. If there’s enough snow, there’s sledding too. Its one of our favorite ways to celebrate as Thanksgiving feasts give way to Advent preparation. Alas, another cancellation due to this unanticipated illness.

In the hours of quiet, tucked away in my room, while the house was aflutter with happy voices and delicious smells, I was grateful and prayerful. My mother kept reminding me that there is a reason for all of this, pointing my heart to trust God, and she is a woman who has learned to trust God.

Traditions and holidays are a joyful and creative way for us to celebrate the meaningful events of our faith. But these things are also not meant to become forms of idolatry. When plans change and expectations are unmet, we can throw our hands in the air or we can choose watchfulness. In the many hours of rest and recovery, I was able to think (between waking and falling asleep again) plans for celebrating the season of Advent at home with our family.

We’ve been keeping the season of Advent ever since our kids were babies. Through the years, we added various traditions, homemade crafts, advent wreaths, homemade ornaments, festive activities, several devotional style readings, and of course our favorite chocolates. This year, the Lord led me to some new resources to add to our collection.  And while the advent season, or Christmas, or Easter, are not commanded by our Lord to observe, as He is all-sufficient and He indwells His people, still the rhythms of remembering help us to intentionally interact with the events of our faith and renew our hope and focus for His second coming.

I have been greatly inspired by this list of advent resources and am eagerly awaiting a few of these items to arrive in the mail. To be sure, none of our traditions are necessary, only Christ is necessary and fully able to satisfy our souls. But I look forward to the generosity of these sub-creators who have used their artistic and literary gifts bestowed on them from above to help our minds and souls engage with the stories of our faith, the meta-narrative of Scripture, the timeline of redemptive history. In keeping Advent, we are practicing remembering.

In the quiet of Saturday morning, with enough strength to brave the tree nursery down the road, my dad and I took my kids, while my mom and husband were the next to catch the virus. We picked out the Christmas tree and poinsettia, decorated the tree with Vince Guaraldi’s Charlie Brown Christmas playing in the background. I prepared the mantel with clippings from the bottom of the tree, some acorns, and an old white window frame given to us years ago which I rediscovered in our garage storage room. I also had managed to dehydrate some sliced orange pieces I wanted to use to decorate our tree.

My dad was sitting in the chair nearest the tree, and I asked him if he was watching the game or reading, and he said quietly, “I’m just reading in 1 Corinthians.” My pastor-father, meeting with the Word made flesh, in the quiet of the early afternoon. I sat beside him and threaded my dried orange slices. We listened quietly to the mid-winter carols that would accompany my family through the watchful season. It was the beginning of Advent.

Welcome Autumn, Welcome Frost

Good autumnal morning! That seems to be the appropriate way to start this post this morning. When I took our dogs outside this morning, the joy of the first frost welcomed me into a new season, that of late autumn in the Pacific Northwest. In three weeks, we went from having 80 degree weather, a pleasantly long summer, to freezing temperatures. Our typical Fall was short this year, but the frost is a welcome change with sweaters and scarves and pumpkin scented candles, fires crackling in the hearth, and children donning their slippers I made for them last year.

Occasional seasonal posts seem to be all I have capacity for in this season of church planting. My days and weeks are joyously full. My husband has to remind me to slow down and rest. But I love to minister to others, and it gives me great joy to care for my home, light the candles before the guests arrive (or have guests light the candles for me when I forget), and have the kitchen ready for the next deluge of crockpots to be brought and plugged in. My kids set up the extra long table and pull chairs from around the house to seat as many as possible as other furniture is shoved to the sides of the room to make more room. I recently bought a beautiful yellow linen apron, quite inexpensive and simple, but it delights me as I prepare. The baskets of baby and toddler toys are pulled out so the littlest guests can play, and the board books from my kids’ earlier days are still being loved (and chewed) by the little ones in our church family. Recently, I decided to purchase a new front door mat as our old one (from only two years ago) has worn away with all the feet that have crossed our threshold in two years of church planting.

I will share in this post about two studies I am pursuing this Fall. The first is listening to the audio of a class on Hebrews to Revelation, by Dr Dan Doriani from Covenant Theological Seminary in St Louis. Together with a friend, we are listening to this series of lectures and once a week, discussing what we are learning in an hour long video call. This has been a great way to dig deeper into Scripture together. I love to listen to the audio while folding laundry, doing chores around the house, taking the dog for a walk, or driving to town for errands.

Reading This Beautiful Truth at Ohanapecosh, Mt Rainier, Washington, Fall 2022

The second study I am pursuing at the moment is an online book club called Book Girl Fellowship by Sarah Clarkson in England. Last year, her book, This Beautiful Truth: How God’s Goodness Breaks into our Darkness, was released into the world. I recently finished this book, and think that I may have to write a book review on it. It is a light shining in this world of deep darkness. I had to read just little bits at a time, to savor each section. I didn’t want to put it down, but I also didn’t want it to end. It means so much to me that she willingly wrote such a personal and vulnerable account of God’s goodness in mental illness. Because of this book, I wanted to hear more of what she has to share with the world and be one of those receiving the light of Christ she is reflecting through her words as she discusses great works of literature and theology.

And now I must be off to fold laundry and listen to the next lecture in the Hebrews study, while my children are at school today. May autumn leaves fall softly on your fields, and may the warmth of candlelight illumine your day. You are so beloved by the Good Shepherd.

Wild Things & Castles in the Sky ~ A Book Review at Story Warren

I snuck downstairs early before dawn, lighted my Wax & Wool candle, Pacific Coast scent, and wrapped myself in a knitted baby blanket I keep upstairs with my toddler baskets for when Mamas and Littles come to visit. Its quiet in the house right now. I hear a few cars driving by, people heading to work in town or in the plethora of orchards and fruit warehouses in the valley. My earl grey tea from an eastern European country is steeping while I type. I love to know where things come from. I read the back of the tea box and it tells me all about the beginning of tea cultivation in the far away country of Georgia, where a dear friend lives with her family:

“It was back in 1809 when the first tea plant was cultivated in Georgia under Mamia V Gurieli, Prince of Guria. That marked the beginning of two hundred years of Georgian tea history.”

I’m thankful for the gift of friendship and tea. When you know someone carried a box of tea in her suitcase to share with you all the way from the other side of the world, that cup of tea warms the heart in a meaningful way. It tells a story.

Tea and friendship and stories are all included in the gift I want to place in your hands. A few months ago, a dear friend from Bellingham, Théa, asked me if I would be interested in writing a book review for her first published book. I was elated, of course!

Upon visiting her lovely home in springtime, she gave me a copy of her book. I began to explore this tome of essays that she had both the opportunity to be editor of, as well as contributor. When I heard her name mentioned on The Habit podcast, I was overjoyed as I listened to Jonathan Rogers and Leslie Bustard discuss this brand new work of literature.

When beginning to write my review for the Story Warren website, I found that I had inadvertently written a half page about our friendship and how much she meant to me! Alas, I had to start from scratch, and remember to review the book, not the author!

Before I introduce you to this book, I want you to get to know Théa, and you can do so in and amongst the pages of her corner of the internet, Little Book Big Story, where she winsomely writes children’s book reviews and shares glimpses into her life with her husband and four daughters. We have been friends ever since our eldest girls were crawling and learning to walk. Fourteen years later, we no longer discuss birth stories and the latest in diapering accessories. That was necessary back then, but our roots have grown deeper and usually our conversations take a deep dive into our life journeys, joys, struggles, adventures in motherhood, reading, writing, music, things we are learning about our gentle Savior, and the way He continues to transform us.

I’m holding out to you a gift today.

It is a gift because when received, it has the possibility of forming hearts and minds, developing imagination, and creating a greater capacity for one’s mind to be expanded like a hot air balloon which can carry one away to behold new glorious life-enriching vistas.

There is a movement happening among our generation. It is a reading movement with a catchphrase… a leitmotif. The clarion call is for “truth, beauty, and goodness”. I hear this catchphrase so much in the books I read, the communities I’m a part of, and the podcasts I listen to, that when I hear it, it is a sign to stop and pay attention. It is a symbol that wakes one up to the reality that there are others among us who also hold to these values - values that come from the heart of God, the Creator of truth, beauty, and goodness. I call Him: my “gentle Jesus”.

Truth: Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. John 14:6

Beauty: How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.” Isaiah 52:7

Goodness: Good and upright is the Lord; therefore he instructs sinners in the way. Psalm 25:8

What is your reading journey like? Have you looked into your past to see which books have shaped you and are forming you into the person you are today? The reading life is a powerful life of formation.

“A woman who reads is a woman who knows she must act: in courage, in creativity, in kindness, and often in defiance of the darkness around her. She understands that life itself is a story and that she has the power to shape her corner of the drama.” -Sarah Clarkson, Book Girl

Please join me on Story Warren, as I introduce to my readers Wild Things and Castles in the Sky: A Guide to Choosing the Best Books for Children by Leslie Bustard, Théa Rosenburg, and Carey Bustard, where truth, beauty, and goodness are whispered on every page, and every page prepares our hearts and minds for the inspiring journey of reading with children.

The sun is rising, and I have so much more to say, but I’m closing my computer now to go outside and quietly watch the dawning of a new day over the eastern sky… because The Story is still unfolding each and every day.

Featured on Story Warren: A Book Review: Wild Things & Castles in the Sky

On the First Day of Spring

On the first day of Spring, I opened the blinds to welcome the rays of sunlight that eagerly wanted to be allowed in. I showed you, my little one, a sweet video from your school teacher as she sang a song of hope and peace, strumming on her guitar from her treehouse. I ground freshly roasted coffee beans and prepared a pot. We gathered around to read God’s Word and be reminded of the greatest Story ever told, the real Story. It strengthened our souls for the day.

On the first day of Spring, our days looked very different than we ever expected. Your days were spent at school from Monday to Thursday, with a home study day on Fridays. I had just started working a part time job at a flower farm. With two and a half months left, we were almost through the school year, anticipating a major move across the state.

On the first day of Spring, our world had succumbed to a global pandemic as an invisible enemy, a deadly virus, swept swiftly across the world, infecting hundreds of thousands of people and killing over 10,000. All major league sports shut down first, then came the schools. Restaurants, cafes, and large retailers closed their stores. Daily, we were waiting and watching expectantly for the next set of recommendations from the government to slow the spread of the virus, to self-isolate in our homes, and stock up on food and supplies.

On the first day of Spring, we went outside to bask in the sunshine, to climb a tree, to talk to a neighbor, while making sure we stayed six feet away. The weather was warmer, and our windows were wide open. We needed to expand our living space. Looking out into the woods behind our house, I longed for you kids to run, climb, and explore in nature. I grabbed my garden clippers and called to you children to follow. I pulled up one of the many tree stumps from the trees our landlords had cut down last Fall. I picked up a smaller tree stump and precariously heaved it over the chain fence, intending to upend it as a stepping stool when I wanted to climb back over. As I stepped up onto the stump, I wondered how I’d get my 42 year old self over this chain fence and land safely on the other side.

On the first day of Spring, I was determined. I went for it and got myself up onto that fence and over with almost as much class and agility as I had when I was a teenager. I was determined. You kids followed, one with excitement, one with curiosity, one with much uncertainty, and one of you stayed in the hammock, safe and sound. I started clipping away at thorn branches, and overgrown wilderness, clearing a neat and tidy pathway into our new wilderness. If we were to self-isolate, we needed a magical place to escape to, to feel normal in, to imagine, wonder, and create.

On the first day of Spring, I prepared a clearing, surrounded by ferns, fallen trees to climb, coniferous trees, a moss-covered stone and a scattered assortment of large white feathers by an unknown bird. I named our paradise, The Castle of Timberwood! It is a magical place of pure delight and natural beauty. And when the sun sets in the west, it weaves its rays of light through the trees and the ferns to wave farewell to the close of the day, clinging to the hope that there will be a tomorrow.

It was the first day of Spring.

Maple Ridge, British Columbia, Canada, March 2020

“When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things…”

(Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things, New Collected Poems, 79)

Cliff Falls, Maple Ridge, British Columbia, Canada, March 2020

Swings, Slides, and Following Jesus

My parents taught me about God and His love any time of the day and night: while we hiked high up into the back woods behind our home to overlook the lower Fraser Valley to the heights of Mt Baker south of the Canadian border; while we drove to school each weekday morning; when we drove friends back to their homes after a youth group event; sitting around the table asking questions at dinnertime; and as they tucked us in for bed at night, when even more questions arose! Discipleship moments happen all throughout the day. We ask God to open our eyes and make us aware of the moments when the Holy Spirit is leading us to speak about Him to others. We want to always be ready to give an answer to anyone who asks us about the hope we have in Jesus.

This week, Deeply Rooted Magazine featured a short article I wrote about discipleship at the playground! I hope you can head over to their website to read more!

One day, my kids and I were at our local playground. Three other neighborhood kids were there. I asked one of our little friends about her family and church. A young eight-year-old boy named Abraham overheard us and wanted to know what we were discussing. He sat on the bench beside us and listened to our conversation. He asked questions like, “What is a cross?” and “What is Heaven?” which followed with many more questions.

Read the rest at Deeply Rooted Magazine!

My Unmoving Mansion of Rest

Growing up, we often moved as my dad enjoyed building and selling homes. It was thrilling for my sisters and I to participate in all the details. Everything from looking at the architectural plans, painting the wooden staircase spindles, picking rocks from the dirt, and painting our parents bedroom, the latter of which was halted after we turned their wall into a canvas of creativity! Smells of hardware stores and lumber yards still bring me back to happy summer days on the building site. As I poured through home and garden magazines as a little girl, a longing for my own future home began to grow. Would it be a cozy log cabin in the woods or a sprawling homestead atop an evergreen mountain? Daydreams are longings within our heart that are enjoyed and expressed through imagination. I daydreamed often.

Fast forward many years, my husband and I and our little family have moved to four different cities and now have returned to one of them, and nine homes in twelve years! At the flower shop the other day, a clerk asked, “Are you in military service?” Paying for my lavender and aloe plants, I smiled, “No, we are in church service!”

We have been called to a life of many ministry moves. Each one, intentionally placed within the framework of our story for God’s purposes. Moving a lot was never our intention, but it was always God’s. With another impending move in two years, after further training in church planting, I am coming to a calm contentment that my times are in His hands (Psalm 31).

In Morning and Evening, Charles Spurgeon writes:

““The Israelites in the wilderness were continually exposed to change. Whenever the pillar stayed its motion, the tents were pitched; but tomorrow, ere the morning sun had risen… and the fiery, cloudy pillar was leading the way through the narrow defiles of the mountain… They had scarcely time to rest a little before they heard the sound of “Away! this is not your rest; you must still be onward journeying towards Canaan!” They were never long in one place... Yet they had an abiding home in their God, his cloudy pillar was their roof-tree, and its flame by night their household fire. They must go onward from place to place, continually changing, never having time to settle, and to say, “Now we are secure; in this place we shall dwell.” “Yet,” says Moses, “though we are always changing, Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place throughout all generations.”… My unmoving mansion of rest is my blessed Lord.””

— Charles Spurgeon, Morning & Evening, February 27th

My heart still aches every time I think about leaving family and friends again. A knot still forms in my stomach as we talk about another transition. When these feelings come, I am comforted by those who have felt a similar call. Missionary to Burma, Ann Judson wrote often of her inward struggle in leaving all she knew to pursue a call to Burma with husband, Adoniram Judson. She wrote,

““It seems as if there was no resting place for me on earth. O when will my wanderings terminate? When shall I find some little spot, that I can call my home while in this world? Yet, I rejoice in all Thy dealings, O my heavenly Father; for Thou dost support me under every trial, and enable me to lean on thee…” ”

— Ann Judson: A Missionary Life for Burma, Sharon James, pg. 68

In the New Testament, Paul writes of God now dwelling in the hearts of believers in Christ. The dwelling place of God is now in human hearts through faith in Christ. He has become our home. I am rooted and grounded in love.

““For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” ”

— Ephesians 3:14-19

When the enemy tempts me to despair in the midst of so many moves, I look to my Savior, the One who chose me, rescued me from sin, and gave me a purpose on this Earth. God is the one who gives us the desires of our hearts and he has given us a passion for the calling and work he has prepared for us to do. It is in surrender to God’s will, that the morning of joy dawns and a peaceful contentment arises. Being firmly planted into union with Christ, I am “at home in my God”, and can confidently wander this Earth to serve the One who did not have a home. 

“And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.””

— Luke 9:58

As we settle into our new temporary home, with the fresh smell of the woods behind our house, pine needles and little acorns to be swept off the patio, we are grateful. The Lord has been kind to give us a place to welcome friend and stranger, to know and be known, to love and be loved. We continue to daydream of a home and a church and of many people coming to know Jesus. And our greatest dream is that all who enter here become rooted and grounded in Love.

“Let prospects be blighted; let hopes be blasted; let joy be withered; let mildews destroy everything; I have lost nothing of what I have in God… I am a pilgrim in the world, but at home in my God. In the earth I wander, but in God I dwell in a quiet habitation.”

— Charles Spurgeon, Morning & Evening, February 27th