celebration of lines

Pat and I recently celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary. We have a tradition most years of spending the weekend in Red River Gorge in Kentucky. We love it there. I am a huge fan of tradition, so going to the same place to do the same thing each year is pretty meaningful to me. Seeing the same incredible rock formations, walking the same paths. (Okay. We tried a new one this year, but we're going to go back to the old rough trail again next time.) This year, I noticed that the enormous fallen tree that had been uprooted my first time there now looks fairly unimpressive. Some things change, I guess.

At one point, I turned the camera around and snapped a picture of myself. Glancing at the picture, I realized my face is to be counted among the "things that change." I hadn't really noticed it. Some of you will say you still don't, but it's happening. I have some places eager to wrinkle here. A couple places have made a habit of it. Part of me wants to panic; part of me wants to just say that the corners of my eyes and my forehead are just settling into the shape that suits them. It's just that I looked pretty much exactly the same for ten years and, well, now I don't.

You may have seen a video circulating that compares the marks children leave on women's bodies to various beautiful marks in nature. Maybe it's because I had seen the video. Maybe it's because I've always enjoyed noticing the lines growing and eroding in the Gorge. Maybe it's because I like taking too many pictures. But I spent a bit noticing the lines of time and change around me that weekend while realizing in a new way how time, growth, impact, friction, and movement leave their marks. Rising up and eroding away, growing and decaying, stretching and shrinking back can have a way of beautifully occupying the same space. Too bad it's a struggle to appreciate the beauty of time on a face (especially our own) in the same way we appreciate the way these forces impact the rest of the natural world. Of course we grow in wisdom and beauty on the inside, but I'm going to choose to believe what happens concurrently on the outside serves only to emphasize the goodness of that inward progression.

Here are my observations on lines of growth and change in Red River Gorge. Lines marking growth, lines of imperfection and idiosyncrasy, lines from holding on, lines from letting go, lines of protection, lines of newness, lines from fading away, lines that help you see, lines marking great feats, outlines of tear-drops, lines of companionship, lines of separation, lines from miles traveled, lines going deep. 

 

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P.S. For another of my gleanings from this time in nature, head over to my other blog: godsmountainpeople

sustainable faith

Last week was the last week of our summer break. Most of summer did not feel like a break, as we invented volunteer opportunities that took a lot of time. We considered a field and bought it, bringing another 10 years of work to our own personal property. We worked on finishing the upstairs. (Still not finished, but much closer....) We enjoyed visits with old friends.

At the beginning of the summer, we had a business meeting where we set goals in the areas of "fun," "work," and "church." Many things on that list remained undone as our last free week approached. We debated on what to choose. We chose "weekend retreat for two." We allowed it to be a week-day retreat, because, well, we could. We are so glad we did.

view from our window
This was a great place to swing.

We spent our time in Cincinnati in a space designed for personal retreat: an old convent building now run by Dave and Jody Nixon. I was first introduced to the place about 10 years ago and have visited it 3 times by chance, it seemed...until now. The space is so...

quiet.

It is free of everything. Free of clutter. Free of noise. Free of agenda. And it is full of everything. Full of (quiet) music. Full of time. Full of rest. Full of good company if you want it and solitude if you don't. Meals are taken care of. Dishes are taken care of. Good books are provided. A dish of chocolate sits on the table. Dave happily prepares coffee for you -- by the cup -- if you want it.


This very affordable haven is called Sustainable Faith. And that's exactly what we were looking to have. And it is what I hope I have brought back with me. We're simplifying. I'm simplifying. And planning on a life with less stress and more beauty. (Did I mention the Cincinnati Art Museum is free and about 5 minutes away?) Here's to Sustainable Faith!

~a bit blurry in the art museum~

~a small part of their garden~