Meet Harrington

Last weekend my roommates and I were out of town. Upon arriving home, it was discovered that we had a new roomie – a morning dove that had nested on our porch light. I was still making my way back home when I saw the picture L posted on my Facebook. I took one look and immediately christened her Harrington (although it is traditionally a boy’s name). I felt a connection, even before I saw her in person (birdhood?). I loved that this bird felt safe enough to perch on our light. That of all the lights, by all the condos, she chose ours. The next day, as I was recovering from my family reunion and jet lag madness, I thought some more about Harrington. As I passed by her on the way to the laundry room I felt a desire to help her, protect her. As I considered that, I realized that there was nothing I could actually do to encourage that. My greatest gift to Harrington was to allow her space to live and nest and care for her babies when they come. Anything else would interrupt her birdy ways and interfere with her natural instincts. In fact, most anything I could do, runs the risk of harming her.

It reminded me of the ministry of spiritual direction. When I meet with a directee, I am not there to direct his or her life. Neither am I there to fix their problems. Instead, I am there to offer a space. A space to step back. A space to enter in deeper to this life with God. It is a beautiful thing to witness, but I am still tempted to intervene and problem solve. This experience with Harrington has been a gentle reminder as I begin to meet with directees again. I am invited to participate, but I am not called to be God. What a relief!

I do not know how long Harrington will choose to nest here. It may be days, weeks or months. I am grateful that she is here though and how just by being herself, the Lord is teaching and reminding me of how He loves.

Final thought: by having Harrington here, we have literally “put a bird on it”. How hipster of us.

On the Road Again

I both hate and love traveling. I love the excitement of exploring a new place - even an airport. Especially when said airport has yummy french cafes and birds that fly around inside (Terminal 5 at JFK). But trying to sleep on a plane? The worst. I've tried it all, but nothing works. Yet, a day of zombie-like behavior is worth it for an adventure. 

Today's adventure takes me to Syracuse, NY for my Aunt and Uncle's wedding renewal. (On a side note, it was impossible to find a card for that situation. At least it was impossible at Target. How can you give a card saying "Here's to beginning your life together" when they've been married for 30 years?)  The last time I was in Syracuse was 15 years ago - half of my life ago. I was an awkward 15 year old who had just lost all her friends.  This time I come from such a different place. Still a bit awkward, but enjoying it. And more secure with the relationships in my life. Earlier this week I began to feel nervous about the trip, fearing that I would feel left out. It's just now, as I slowly type away on my phone, that I remember the fragile state I was in 15 years ago. And I also remember that I am not there today. I return to New York, holding that 15 year old girl as well as the 30 year old woman, moving forward and allowing this weekend to be what it is. 

Writing a Successful Blog

I met with a friend for lunch yesterday. It was a time to catch up, but also to talk about blogging. I have been more intentional about blogging this past month (mostly because I have had the time in which to do so) and she wanted to pick my brain for any suggestions as she started her own blog. I didn’t have much advice to give. Well, at least not advice that I actually had used in writing my blog. I told her she should have a catchy title, which also captures the essence of what her blog is about. “Jen’s Musings on Life and More”? Well, you know what it’s about (in a very vague way), but it’s not catchy and borders on feeling like a cliché. Although, I do think my other blog follows that advice (Husband Hunters). So, I’m one for two. I told her to set a schedule for regular blogging. Uh…excepting this past month, my posts are few and far between. On both sites. Finally, I recommended she set certain days as theme days (i.e. Wednesdays are funny posts). As that idea came to me I thought to myself “I should try that out”. However, knowing myself, that most likely will not come to fruition.

I have two friends who have started a blog. They have a great concept and have set up a regular rhythm for posting. They’re already being interviewed by other blogs and its one of the pages I follow most regularly right now. I kind of want my site to be that. I keep thinking of “Julie and Julia”, where in the end she gets a book deal. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there’s this hope that someone will read my blog and that will be the avenue to fame and fortune.

Blogging is a strange thing. There are parts of me that just want this to be a place to write honest words and encourage others into their own honesty. I want it to be a place for friends and family to keep up on my life. Yet, there is this quality about blogging, the fact that anyone could access these words, that hits neurotic places within me. See me, see me, see me! I want my writing here to be an aid to my growth as a creative person, not an aid to fill places of my heart that feel lacking. But some days, I just want to let it fill the places that only God can fill. At the end of the day, it’s a hard line to balance and I continually step onto both sides.

Sings My Heart

Sometimes I find a song that just sings my heart. Somehow it perfectly captures my feelings and expresses them in ways in which I am unable to. It is difficult to explain how or why these moments occur. I only know that I feel understood, expressed, known. The weird thing is, so often these songs are instrumental. But the music itself conveys emotions that I cannot verbalize. These emotions are larger than words. Words can be limiting. They are just not enough.

My heart resonates with the piano. Something about its tone just matches me. It is the perfect shade, with a warm, autumnal sound. Its possibilities are great. It can explode, forte forte, or diminish to pianissimo, barely a whisper. There’s so much range in the piano. It can lull me to asleep, but can also bring tears to my eyes by its somber melodies.

This is what sung my heart Sunday night when I wrote this.