Author: ferylfiles

I grew up in a faith tradition that has strong prescriptions around a day of rest. Sundown to sundown–it was a 24 hour period of a whole lot of don’ts. At least that’s how it felt as a kid. There were many pieces of the don’ts and their exceptions that confused me. Don’t work on the Sabbath, unless you’re a doctor or a nurse or the pastor giving the sermon or one of the deaconesses putting together a whole potluck or a family hosting a lot of folks for dinner. Those don’t count, you see; they’re outside of the rules. And you can be in nature, but don’t work, but climbing that mountain totally doesn’t count. I think with most things it’s hard to pin down metaphor and philosophy and apply it practically. Do this and don’t do that simplify broad truths, but I think that’s where it’s easy to get into trouble. It’s incredibly easy for humans to get caught up in minutiae without looking at the bigger picture or the why.

Herculean effort isn’t sustainable, not for anyone. And while it’s been oft-repeated, I believe it to be absolutely true–the body keeps the score. If we don’t rest, our bodies find ways of making us do so anyway. Too much stress can lead to illness of both body and mind. Rest isn’t the negative or absence of something and I think it’s often framed that way. To me rest is restoration to fullness. We sleep (hopefully) every night so that we can be awake and our full selves the next day. Psychosis and a whole host of problems happen if we don’t sleep. In like manner, regular intervals of rest help us replenish to be our full, best selves.

For me, though, rest isn’t just time of NOT doing. Rest is the place where I can focus on being. Sometimes this is alone, contemplating in nature or creating art. But the rest I most appreciate and the rest I celebrate today during this gratitude challenge is the rest I find with people who help remind me of myself or give me the space and time to be myself. Safe. Welcoming. Kind. Warm. Space to restore. I have spent time with very dear folks in the last couple of days who help foster that rest. My hope is that I can also be a restful space for those who need it, too.

The wild critters out at Mill Creek, all the dogs I get to visit on my walks, the neighbors’ chickens, and my three furry libertarians have been an incredible source of joy. I am so thankful for their presence and their demands on my attention. Life with animals is so much richer. We do not deserve them and yet they choose to be with us. If that’s not grace, I don’t know what is.

Music is probably what keeps the aliens from destroying us(laugh with me!) What can so easily shift a bad mood, lift a sad spirit, emphasize a joyous moment like music? I appreciate how music tells the story of our lives–we’re really living in a musical every day, we just need to pay attention.

My mom played the piano and organ and insisted we all get piano lessons at the very least and encouraged us to play an instrument–trumpet for me. She often had the classical music station on in the car. Dad would play Kenny Rogers or the Statler brothers or Steve Martin’s “Grandmother’s Song.” Todd brought us rock-n-roll and made sure we had MTV incorporated throughout our day (when it consisted largely of music videos). I remember my Aunt Daisy sent my dad a mixed tape of “oldies” and we listened to that on regular rotation, too. There were hymns and singing along to musicals and even the Irish Rovers. We sang, mostly in tune, sometimes not.

Music is time travel. Just a few notes from a song can throw me back to a particular place and time. Music is medicine. It is said to be able to soothe the savage beast and even the savage Becci. Music is a translator. When I don’t have the words or the capacity to process my emotions (see yesterday’s post), music offers me a language to do so.

I’ve written about many things this year that have helped me on my grief journey. Music absolutely lives in the top five. I’d like to share a few things that have been on regular rotation recently:

1. Happy Bach in the morning with a big ol’ cuppa Joe sets the tone for my day. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0VKzYELdgDs
2. I’ve loved Ella since high school and this offers over three hours of her music. I’ve been listening to her a lot more this autumn. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzNbt6Ufcv4
3. Sometimes you just need some heavy cello in your life. I tell ya, doing chores to dramatic cello music makes a person feel like a gothic heroine about to discover some seriously important clues while also getting the dishes done. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5JX-vf048k
4. And of course there are those delightful, guilty pleasures that are fun to jam out to. I’m not even sorry. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bz61YQWZuYU

I am so thankful for music. I appreciate recommendations, too. 🙂

[Thanks so much for reading my blog. If you get anything extra meaningful and feel so inclined, you can put a tip in my “tip jar” here: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1]

HEAD’S UP. THIS ONE ISN’T NICE.

Good grief. I’m supposed to write about how I’m thankful for emotions when pretty much they’ve been an agonizing assault for over a year? Just when I can almost articulate one, I’m smacked with six others all at once. There’s not time to process or even fully feel them all. They come in a giant wave like a tsunami or many little ones like a bout of nausea.

Right now, I’m thankful for anger. Because at least I can acknowledge that’s what I’m feeling and it’s helping me stay a little warmer on this bone-chilling day. I’m thankful that I have emotions because that’s a good indicator I’m not a sociopath; I’ve got that going for me, which is nice. And not only do I get to feel all of my emotions, I probably feel half of yours, and his, and hers, and theirs.

Fear not reader, I’m not looking to eliminate emotions, or numb them into oblivion. Today, I’m frankly not really equipped to post how joyously grateful I am to have them. Because sometimes, I AM NOT. They’re too big. They’re too heavy. They’re too messy. And I’d kind of like a break.

But that’s not life or reality. So I get to put on my big girl pants and feel the feels and be thankful I have the chance because some don’t get to. Shit.

My mom always seemed to love the naughty kids best. I think it’s because she saw it as their asking for love in unlovable ways. From her I learned that it’s by loving that something or someone becomes lovable. Love gentles, sands off rough edges, and rounds out flat sides. Love is the wonder-spackle of the soul.

Love changes people. It makes broken people whole again. It heals. It’s the magic sauce. The real deal.

I am thankful for that love–the love that gentles and heals, the love that takes broken parts and makes them whole. I am the recipient of that kind of love. Anything about me that is good is because I was loved first. And the ripple effect of that is that I can and do love, too.