Living my word for the year...and remembering Wenatchee

Eight years ago today I was sweeping out the rental house where I brought both Jed and Abby home as infants.  Long orange shaggy carpet.  A ceiling stained.  But a house I made a home bright with rugs and paint and dance parties.

We closed the ABF truck in Wenatchee, WA with all our belongings except a duffle bag for each of us in the van for the road trip ahead and life in my parents furnished cabin deep in the woods in NC.  Little did we know it would be 9 months before we opened that ABF truck in front of another rental house behind the post office in a little town I visited as a teenager...Brevard, NC.

We sat on the porch and said goodbye to a life we had come to love...more importantly a people we had come to love.

And today it is still those people that I carry in my heart...Karin, Kristen, Allison, Shia, Carissa, Nicole, Megan to name a few...

To say that I miss you is an understatement.  Yes, life has gone on and new friends have entered the picture but the life we shared, the way you carried me for months on bed rest, the people we served together, the dinners we shared, the ideas we lingered over, the play dates...

I am thankful for that chapter in the Walters story and many days I wish it had more chapters.

It was a place that stretched us and enlarged us.

3 years of young adult ministry for my husband in a church that loves large and loud and true.  A place of healing and hope and laughter that we miss. 

And I am thankful we had the courage to jump when we heard the whispers of change.  When the sleepless nights came and the compass pointed in a different direction.  Its not easy really.

We set off into the evening sun that first day of spring 2007, exhaling with teary eyes.  No job on the horizon.  Setting off into the unknown.  Yet, knowing our ministry would be life together.

Josh was 5, Jed was 2 and Abby was 9 months old.  Lydia was not in the picture yet.  Folks thought we were crazy for choosing to drive 3,000 miles home with 3 small children.

But we knew better.

We knew we needed a slow, long road trip to fully feel the weight of what we were leaving, to grieve and to grow into expectation of what was ahead.

We drove most the mornings, ate P, B & J and fruit for lunch then I tucked everyone in their carseats with a favorite love for naps and read a story and sang.  They slept.  And I crept to the front of the van.

I pulled out a chocolate stash from the glove compartment & James and I held hands and enjoyed a little 'date.'  Towering mountains.  Moving music.  

We were alive.

We were so young.

It was on that trip he decided to go from Jamie to James.  And I from Mandy to Amanda.

Abba whispered courage to us the whole way home.  He whispered hope and joy into our hearts.

And here I sit 8 years later hungering for an adventure.  A next.  A stripping of this American life of consuming and liking and comparing.

But my word for the year is PLUNGE.  So I choose to dive more into my life in this world, in this town, in this family.

I choose to dive into God's big sea of mercy...and float there.

to go deeper into silence and stillness in this season of lent...
to face the yuck of my flesh, the demons in my head

...to throw myself into being the beloved of the God who made the zest of the pink sunrise this morning, the God who made the forest that smells of fresh greens and oaks, the God who made coffee beans (glory be!) and chicken enchiladas.

I choose to plunge into sadness for the heartbreak of cancer that took my sweet friend Kristen last year and is staring down six dear souls in my little town right now...2 of them being children.  I sit with candles lit for each of them and pray groans in the silence where words fail...

I plunge into saying "no" to my phone, to many things. 

 And I say "yes" to true north...

...to tickle fights with my boys
...to reading a Charlotte's Web with my 5 year old even tho my to-do list is hovering
...to fighting for time to workout...to maintain my own health & sanity

I plunge into serving knowing the way up is really the way down...

Far too long have I merely dipped my toes...

Here is a poem from a book I just read that just HAPPENED to have my word for the year in it.  The book is called Dancing Standing Still 'Healing the World from a Place of Prayer' by Richard Rohr.

The Perfect Medicine

You see, I want a lot.

Maybe I want it all:

the darkness of each endless fall, 

the shimmering light of each ascent.

So many are alive who don't seem to care.

Casual, easy, they move in the world

as though untouched.

But you take pleasure in the faces

of those who know they thirst.

You cherish those

who grip you for survival.

You are not dead yet, it's not too late

to open your depths by plunging into them

and drink in the life

that reveals itself quietly there.

-Rainer Maria Rilke

What are you wanting to dive more into?  What is hard or glorious right now that you could sit with in silence?  What is keeping you from plunging?

When Snow Days Bring the Light

Light 

Snow falls deep into the night

Surprised after a week of ice

I grin 

Let the silence of a white 

New day

Dazzle my heart, I light a candle

Sit in the dark...alone

Kids wake, I grind wheat

Toss in frozen berries

Knead & roll & bake buttery scones

Powdered sugar on top

Candle flickering on the table

Amazing how the stillness,

The crunching into snow,

The crafting of Olf & a snow ramp

Makes light 

Trickle into my heart

Softly

I gather fresh eggs

In a sled 

Pulling their way to the kitchen

Where I whip up burritos

Singing 

Through the messes

Inhaling the fullness of it all

Wet gloves, dog that ate the liner

Boot straps that won't stick

Hungry bellies

Dirty pans neverending

Den scattered with books

Attitudes that need shaping

Emails to be sent, words to be written

I plunge

Into the pool 

That is my life

Becoming

All flame

Because death teaches us to savor...

I live with a man.  

I didn't know just how selfish I was till I married him and dove into crafting a life with and raising children with him.   And then I awoke to how cold & nasty I could be over time with the blessed glory of raising kid-o's with him, of long nights, illness, fussy babies, dirty dishes and clothes, with cross country moves and job changes.

He has put up with the whole of me.  And never let me slip away.

When I birthed our son dead and howled the night my milk came in, he held me tight and let me fall apart not speaking a word.

When I went into overdraft, again, on buying gifts for others he just shook his head and went on.

When I kicked the nerf gun into the oven and shattered the front glass to shreds he hugged me and went to Lowes to fix it.

He's a Chemical Engineer turned Pastor turned Executive Director for an assisted-living facility.  He's a summa cum lade graduate, an Eagle Scout.  A man of few words and wild dance moves who loves God, good beer, U2 and can speak Hebrew.  And recently after 7 years in Brevard he has become an avid waterfall photographer.  He has tromped all over this land, alone and with us, leading us down steep banks and deep into glory land.  He comes most alive in nature.  I treasure our memories walking along paths, making up songs, just 'being' with one another.  He has had to drag us out of the house at times but I and they are always so glad he did. 

James is sharp as a tack with a heart deep as rain, after losing his Dad to leukemia at 16, after a college experience of God's total acceptance of him...not based on performance or anything else.  He listens with eyes and heart.  He rises in the dark and drives to Crossfit as I sit with candles and coffee and words.  He works hard and never complains.  

Sometimes I wonder how we ended up together and just how we stay there, but mostly I know we will be this way till one of us dies. 

He robbed the cradle in marrying me, 8 years younger than he.  He was raised an only child in a wonderful stable home that was not  touchy and with few words.  Said he fell in love with the way I hugged and held hands and the way words of life poured fourth from my soul.  

And now I find myself remembering why I fell in love with him and choosing to love despite his lack of getting a new bar of soap and putting it in the shower for me this morning, despite his lack of words which I crave, despite his warts and quirks which no man is without.

We fool ourselves thinking others have it figured out.  And we miss the gifts in front of our noses when we strive and compare.

Because life is fragile and uncertain and hilariously beautiful all in the same breath.  

Because this past week we were passed by a pickup truck that wasn't going all that fast, swerved off the road and back on then flipped multiple times.  The dark night enveloped us as terror struck our hearts.  

We were planning on spending the night in Hickory but had decided to come home because the dog, chickens & lizard needed us.  I was driving because James had worked a 15 hour Saturday the day before.  

Our 13 year old cried out deep gutturals as James called 911, jumped out of the car and ran over to the truck now on its side.

It was an hour of sitting, heart in my toes, knowing that was someone's special someone.  Someone's daughter or son.  An hour of  comforting my 13, 10 & 8 year old talking of kind rescue folks, of 911 use, of  asking "Is he okay?" But mostly.....we sang.  Amazing Grace was all I could mutter and the kids joined in loud and clear.

I texted my Mom and Dad, my sisters and four friends asking them to pray.  Just pray in this space of a life hanging in the balance.

James returned to the car white faced, hands shaking as they reached for mine.  "He is gone."  

And we waited together and exhaled waiting for the state trooper to have us fill out forms.  At home around 10pm in our kitchen James leaned back against the counter tears filling his eyes.  

Josh, our oldest, stayed in my embrace for a long while finally saying, "It makes me feel so vulnerable in this world."

"Yes, son...me too."  

"Me too."

And just like that our hearts have been ripped open for this young man and his grieving family.  And just like that in a fraction of a second life can disappear bringing to a halt a story that wasn't even half written.

My husband has struggled hard this past week.  I see it in his eyes, in the way he lingers in my arms, in the way he is slowing down.  He has sat with many a resident in his buildings as they passed from this world to the next, spoken at funerals even.  So I asked him why this death was shaking him up raw.  "Amanda, I was 31 when I held our firstborn.  This man was 31 when he died."

James is seeing the gifts more clearly as he grieves a man he wishes he'd known now that stories of his life trickle forth. 

James read to us at the breakfast table that this man has a baby girl.  My 8 year old daughter gulped hard and dripped alligator tears into her grits.  

The older I get the more I realize I don't know.  And the more I ache that to taste the sweetness of life one usually has to taste the bitter, the pain, the trauma.  And I know my heart is going to break a thousand times to watch my children experience this in whatever way their story unfolds.  But as I read recently and I am coming to understand, the two main paths for transformation are great love and great suffering.

And so I light a candle in the morning for Mike and pray for his Mom and Dad, his partner and daughter.  And I sit with the weight of loss and of gain.  I sit with all the endings and things yet begun.  I sit knowing God's great kindness in putting a nature loving, soul awakened, praying man like my husband on the Rosman Highway to be with Mike as he breathed his last breaths.  

And I pause to let the sadness shape me without fixing it.  And I pause to say, 'Thank you, Father of Lights for the gift of the here and now and the beautiful imperfection of it all.'  And I say thank you for the 'word' that is now James's guiding word for the year.  He has never adapted this concept with me but as we crawled under our quilt and found each other in the dark the night of Mike's death, I asked him to consider asking Jesus for a word for the year.  He said, "I think I already have it."

"Savor."

falling apart and praying

Its all pretty fragile really.

All of it.  Every last drop of the day...this thing called life.

And when your trying to get off sugar (which is crack for me) and your best friend is being ripped open vulnerable from cancer, and your sons amazing tutor just lost her husband of 60 years and you see the loss in her eyes each week, and a sweet fella of 5 in your community and kids sunday school class has a brain tumor and is waiting for results from a biopsy and your friend and kids violin teacher of 3 years is recovering from throat surgery that may affect her voice, and another friend is close to walking away from her marriage and kids...the breaking point isn't all that far away.

Life is messy.  So I cuss in front of my kids, throw the game across the room and run to my room, squat down in the fetal position in the darkness.  And I cry.

As my self talk goes negative and harsh, I catch myself, or the Divine, Holy One who created me catches me and I free fall into grace...into His arms like a nursing mother gathers her hens.  Yea....those arms.  The squeeze you tight and squishy pushing the tears up and out kind of arms.  Leaving me head down grinning, lifting a hand up in the air kinda way, palms open ready to receive some fresh rain.  Kinda like my cousins new bride did last summer after their hot Charleston wedding.

"Jesus" I inhale..."I belong to you," I exhale.

I learned this in a class at church during lent last year as a way of praying, of being mindful.  It sure has a way of helping me get my feet back on the ground.  Helping me remember who I am and that I'm not alone in this messy world, in my messy heart, this messy house for that matter.  It helps me not be lost for the whole day long.  And that prayer isn't all neat and tidied up when your hair is done and your sitting happily in church or sipping tea in the quiet.

It is called the "Breath Prayer."  And you can so do it.  There are many different ways and words to use.  First address God in any one of the many names He has...Abba, Father/Mother, Spirit, Holy One then with your exhale breath you either offer a thanks or a prayer.  Pretty down right simple.  Lord...Help is a great one I've also used...or Father...Your so good...or Jesus...I need you.

And for me...in these days of constant, simple is good.

And as I have eyes and a heart to see and weep over the hardness all around me I also have eyes to see the beauty that pushes itself up into every day around here.  But for now, I'm not ignoring the pain, I'm bravely feeling it and in a way carrying all these dear fellow brothers and sisters to God's big ole' heart.

Dear Amanda

(these are unpublished words from last summer...finally brave enough to post & need to read!)

Dear Amanda,

You need words girl.  And you need to read and re-read some words.  All us Momma's do really.  Full time, part time, all the time, old, young, spotted or straight.

But as you ran so hard on that precor  yesterday listening to electric violin & the Dallas String Quartet that took your soul a flyin' in the midst of the weariness of the constant work & to-do list your brain ran through a picture rolodex of the last few weeks of your life.  And it was good.  And you wondered how you can darn forget the goodness from one day to the next.

Kind of like those silly Israelites that wandered and wandered forgetting who they were & just what God promised.  I too wake up feeling like an athethist most days,  "Who am I again?"  and "How did I find myself here?"  "Why am I doing this job again?"

 Life at the Monastary making cheese by day, walking to vespers & lauds, sitting in silence with other broken, beautiful souls calls to me often.  I dream about it at night, actually.  But then I put my feet on the ground and am jolted to my reality when a little person crawls up on my lap sucking her thumb in the fetal position just asking to be cuddled.

You made milkshakes for dinner tonight, surprised the heck out of your children, and created some great memories. 

Keep going woman.  Don't give up, throw in the towel, shut down.  Keep LIVING...fighting for life.  

Remember John Eldridge's words,"Make no mistake, every movement towards life...WILL...BE....opposed."

I challenge you this year Amanda Scott Jones Walters to speak more positive, life giving, scripture affirming words to yourself this year.  Keep being the person you want your children to become.  They are watching your actions even more than your words.

Amanda
which means 'worthy of love'

Celebrating our first...13!

We Walters have our first teenager over here!  We ushered him into this year real good, letting him know we acknowledge he is growing up.  We honored this transition into manhood with a fine china sit down dinner with his choice of men & special people he admires around the table as well as his choice of food.  Truly, he is no longer a little boy.  James & I talked with him months ago about what this mile marker birthday would look like. I am soul fat & happy over how it all panned out.  

We celebrate your life Joshua Henry and your place in our
family as the firstborn.  That comes with both privileges and responsibilities I know.  Hasn't always been easy as Dad & I have figured this parenting thing out.  Gosh darn, if we haven't of made a million and two mistakes along the way and felt like surely, we have ruined you now...yet, mercy follows us and you kids are more resilient than we think.  And truly, you have learned along with us and your personhood has been shaped into a compassionate, intelligent leader who is ready to tackle tasks and offer an encouraging word.  I am proud of you!

After our delicious meal your Dad had you sit in a seat of honor beside he and I.  He shared words from his heart and scripture.  He affirmed you letting you know as you enter this next phase where your not going to be as sheltered as the younger kids from evil and whats going on in the world around us that you have both us and the folks at this table to process life with.  I respect your Dad's courage to admit that he does have lots to offer you and teach you, but he doesn't have everything and welcomes you being apprenticed by others during these next few years of school/ work/ life training.  We feel extremely blessed by God to be in such a community of folks with such diverse gifts.

Your Dad then gave everyone at the table a chance to say a few words about what they saw in you.  It was sacred ground.  As your Mother I was so proud to hear of your work ethic and leadership that others saw in you when I haven't been there beside you while you were in sports or at a job.  You grinned large, nodded and offered a humble, "Thank you."  Today, the day after, you said those words people spoke was one of the best birthday presents you got.

Then, in front of these wonderful folks, your Mama Jo, your Pop-pop and big cousin Grant too, we presented you with the inner piece of your first guitar.....a First Acts one when you were 3.  There are blood splatter marks on the piece of wood from where you played it so hard your knuckles blead.

Then....we presented you with the electric guitar you have been drooling over for months...and you cried and hugged us.  It was all just magical.  Mama Jo gave you a framed collage of pictures of you as a child on the drums, with a guitar and dancing.  It is priceless and shows your love of music from a young age.  What a treasure!

And then you and your best bud for 7 years hung out, tinkered with your new toy, watched movies late into the night, drank butterscotch beer and ate junk food.  You were so content.  How does one night change the view upon a person?  You grew up before my eyes tonight in a major way. I miss the sweet baby days with you my son, but even more so I am looking forward to being a part of the next chapter and watching you go into the world with confidence, providing and protecting, being a giver and not a taker. 

Then the boy party on Saturday...the combining of friends from different circles to have a boy day at our house even tho it was rainy was what you so wanted.  Your sisters went to play at a friends, and the Mamas of the boys brought snacks to keep you guys fed throughout the day.  It was fun to see you guys laugh, play card games, shoot sling shots, talk about music and watch a movie.  Our house is a wreck but sweet is the aroma of boys who said "Thank you, Mrs. Walters for having me."  And deep and happy is your heart for having buddies in your space for a day.

 

I love you.  I like you even more.  As you try new things, tackle new challenges, try your wings, attempt daring projects with your Dad know I believe in you and like your Dad said so well at your man dinner...."You have what it takes."

Remembering October & the struggle for freedom

October was a dream month.

We lived loud & loved strong.  Sure, we fought some too.  Not trying to kid anyone around here.  I can pull the wool over my own eyes looking at sweet pictures of my sweet ones, but then plop right back in to this real life skin with a door slamming or crocodile tears in my face because of an injustice done at any given moment in my day.  But just so I don't forget...

In October....

We woke at 5am to drive up to the parkways to watch the sunrise.  I packed hot blueberry muffins & hot chocolate & tucked kids in cosy blankets close together then snuggled with my hubby to watch the worlds lights slowly turn on.

We moved our read aloud time in our school day to first thing in the morning, sipping something hot & diving into Theodore Roosevelts life.

I bought a new notebook for all 6 of us & we started chronicling what we are thankful for....through drawing pictures for younger ones & writing it out for olders.  We aim for 5 but somehow end up writing many more and are happier for the writing it out thanks to Ann.

We took a week off of school & work & went to the creek house.  And that is where life came back into view and I was able to step off the rat race of do, do, do, go, go, go without a breath of air.

When they were babes I struggled to feel only good for one thing...like a milk machine but now I feel like the entertainment machine, the taxi driver and meal maker on top of a part-time job.

I fought hard to get us to the creek house- my parents cabin deep in the woods.  And it is there I began to see more clearly, there that I fell apart and began to be made whole again.

We finished Just David- a killer read aloud for ages 0-99 all cuddled up with hot chocolate.  We went for long bike rides.  The kids piled in the hammock with blankets on top just swinging and talking.  We played checkers.  We watched movies.  We slept in & turned off alarms.

My Dad spent 2 days with us while my husband was working.  He taught my boys to fly fish. And then he taught me.  He set us up with a little kids rod to learn & practice on and one fit with a fly and all to really fish with.  His voice was calm and full of wisdom & belief in us all.

Something I have dreamed about doing for years (who doesn't after watching A River Runs Thorugh It) but felt was too hard, too much gear, too.....so that I have stayed away from it and let it be other peoples hobbie all the while dreaming it could be mine too.

After both boys had the exhilarating experience of catching their first fish with a fly rod I had Dad show me.  He said, "It's not as hard as people make it seem."  I relaxed and surprised myself by getting the hang of it.  Then he had to leave and I watched him pull away into the canopy of trees as I stood on the bank alone with a fly rod, tears in my throat.  I would rather of known those moments with him, my kids with their granddad than gain a week in any school curriculum.  Why do we push so hard?

I lingered alone up and down the bank of the creek.  I got the line stuck in the tree & cussed a little.  Now what?!?  Instead of giving up, I cut the darn thing off and found his string and tied it back.  I kept fishing pretending like I knew what I was doing, rehearsing his words in my mind till I really did know what I was doing.  And just like that, I had a fish!

I screamed and laughed so loud the kids heard me from the cabin & came running which was good because I really don't care much for the grab the slimy fish part & maneuver the hook out of his mouth.  Josh did this work and I just got to stand there and laugh tears and glory over our dirty jean selves, mist of rain falling down on us, listening to their applause of their old Mom catching her first rainbow trout with a fly rod.  Glory be!

They scampered back up to the house with the rain thickening.  But I had to sit there and soak it all in.  Feel the realness of the moment even tho I was a bit wet.  Somewhat amazed too that I am in the season of parenthood without a nursing baby or toddler to be constantly tended.

I began walking up the gravel road toward the dam and little hill that takes you up into a canopy of trees and forest on right and creek on your left, rain lightly pelting on my jacket, hands deep in warm pockets.

How does one live in this 24/7 world with a heart alive?

Because mine is sinking.

And just saying it out loud brings tears.  But somehow in the honesty I am being made whole.

I remember something a leader a church would say on stage..."If you haven't noticed life is hard you must not be paying attention."  Unfortunately, I think a lot of us are asleep, or fooling ourselves & trying to fool those around us more than we'd like to admit.

The invitations for kids activities, decisions of which to do, which is best, how much money are we willing to spend is all utterly overwhelming?  Is a warm home, chores to do, a family to love you & food in your belly enough anymore?  Or do we all need that plus art & music lessons, soccer, swimming, and ballet.  Oh, and sunday school each week and a play date?  And smart phones at 10 or 11 so you can have access to your parents at all times PLUS access to a million and two games, activities, information galore, and all the cool things your friends are doing 24/7.  Will that make you happy?  Or utterly overwhelmed & depressed & stuck on the treadmill of always wanting MORE or the next big thing in the long run?

I don't have the answers but I am living the questions as we are a month away from having our first teenager in the house.  And two weeks away from his younger brother being 10.  And it is all just getting harder and harder.

Yet, JRR Tolkiens words ring in my ears....
 
      "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

So today as I wake up and realize we are half way through November and I am bound tight and struggling for air, I choose to remember I am free.  What a gift.  And I DO have choices.

Because really I want to be like Mary Oliver who said,                                                                            

"When its over, I want to say all my life I was a bride married to amazement."

Not...all my life I was a bride married to hurry, to not enough, to always busy, always stress.  Because really, are those things what make us important?

So today, I say thank you October for reminding me I am free to choose.  And thank you Dad for reminding me that I am never too old to learn a new skill cause really, it's not as hard as people make it out to be.