Sea Change

"...that's what happens when you separate the things that don't matter from the things that really do. You end up with a big pile of nothing, next to a very small pile of everything."

--Mike Lescarbeau

We're still very much in the transition stage. Yesterday, a new friend asked me where I live and I hesitated before answering. Long enough that she probably thought I was one shroud short of a full rig (oh, that's not a common saying?) We're so glad to have moved out of our house, leaving it in the very capable hands of our delightful renters. And we're tremendously grateful to our family for opening their home to us and our boxes and our endless parade of dishes and laundry. And we're looking forward to moving aboard next month and beginning to settle into the new routines of life on LiLo. But still. It's a lot of work, this transition thing.

Bryan went straight from all the extra work of moving out to the challenge of boat repair. The boatyard had a unexpected spot in their haul-out schedule so he spent multiple days last week driving to Astoria for bottom paint and other work and then back to Beaverton for the job that pays the bills. I've hardly seen him lately, but I think he's holding up OK.

I've gotten a few breaks here and there, so it feels like I shouldn't have anything to complain about. Physically, I'm recovered from the big push of packing and cleaning. Mentally, I feel capable again, but underneath all that, my spirit is still churning.

In the last few weeks, we've had a spate of breakdowns: the truck, the car, the ipod, the truck again, the house's main water valve (just hours before the renters arrived), the truck again. I may have had a breakdown or 2 myself. My stress level appears to be an inverse function of the countdown to September 3.

We expected this when we set out on this path--the flurry of busy days before the adventure--and I'm choosing to see this as part of the journey instead of just payment-in-advance. Every life has seasons of sifting. Many people don't get to choose the season; we are embracing these good/hard days willingly, but transition has been building for a while.

In the midst of our seismic shift, smaller tremors are shaking my world. A dear friend is moving away, my time of work at our church is ending, the girls are more independent by the hour. Friendships, schooling, creative work, family relationships--so much is shifting, irrespective of our plans. This is a sea change year.

What are you doing here?

If you're reading this and you don't also already read my friend, Beth's blog (FiveKidsIsALotOfKids) you should go over there right now and get caught up on her archives. And then maybe you'll want to take a look at today's post because sometimes she posts words from guest writers and today I'm there talking about the myth of balance. Well, actually, today I'm painting my bathrooms and moving all the furniture out of my bedroom before the carpet cleaners come tomorrow. But I can do both!

For once, the internet is helping me multitask instead of procrastinate. Gotta get back to it!

Moving LiLo

Cousin K. sailing into her first night watch in the ocean

I'm taking a break from the mess of packing the house to look at sailing pictures and remember what all this trouble is for. We spent Memorial Day weekend moving LiLo from Port Hadlock (near Port Townsend, WA) to Astoria and my brother-in-law and his oldest daughter came along as very able-bodied crew. She's been in a Sea Scout for several years now but this was her first trip out into the Pacific. It was delightful to have company on long night watches and extra hands for the trickier than usual bar crossing into the Columbia. It was a typical boat delivery trip, with wind on the nose the whole way. Toward evening the first day, we put up the sails for a little bit anyway. The sunset was so beautiful we didn't care if we were sailing backwards for a while.

We celebrated Meira's birthday with a quick stop behind Pillar Point for homemade clam chowder. Only after we all ate did I notice I hadn't put the clams in the chowder. Worse things have happened on sailing trips. Nothing broke, for once, but we were boarded by the Coast Guard for a random inspection on our fuel stop in La Push. It's hard to search a 32' boat with 6 people already on board but they managed.

We made it across the bar and into the Astoria mooring basin just before the tide turned against us and spent a wet day packing up and getting back. Transportation logistics on the way up included a car, a bus, a van and a ferry so we really appreciated my dad's chauffeur service on the way home.

We can control many steps in this process or work a little longer if we need. We can't control the wind and waves, though, and we are so glad we managed to cross this off our list as planned. Next step: move out and paint the house!

How to...

Hammock Break!

I've been trying to come up with a helpful metaphor for our trip.

It's not just like a move, though we are sorting and packing and leaving our house.

It's not like getting an advanced degree, though there are hints of the same kind of deep learning and sense of accomplishment I see in my friends who choose that route in mid-life.

It's not a permanent downsize, since we're coming back. But we do have to drastically reduce the amount of stuff we will be living with while on the boat and that process naturally prompts other purging. We know we're going to wonder about some of our choices as it is. (If we knew which ones, we would have made different ones!)

Maybe it's more like parenting, in the way that it upends all aspects of our lives and is a journey no one can take for us. Though many cruisers uproot even more completely and travel for years, we only plan to be gone for a year. But still, there's not a lot in our lives that will remain unaffected. We are reconsidering communications and wardrobe, sleeping arrangements and laundry, shopping and income and cooking and worship and banking and entertainment and plumbing.

We've followed several other people on the same journey through their writing, both in books and online. Some friends have recommended that we write a how-to book, though I feel like anything but an expert. Just like parenting, there are already a good number of books with vast amounts of wisdom and advice on this topic. And we have learned so much from the cruising community. But also like parenting, reading the books (and the internet forums...and the magazine articles) doesn't get the job done.

We still have to work through our own set of difficulties and find solutions to our own problems. That's true about it all, right? We have to live our own lives. This year, we have to figure out which methods, gear, etc will work for our boat and our family on our route. And then, we still have to do the work. After all the gear choices are made, we have to install it. We have to choose to pack or donate or trash everything. And when we move out, it will be our arms carrying the boxes. And when we say goodbye, no how-to manual will be absorbent enough.

Unmade Bed

I'm sitting on my bed as I write. It's the most comfortable piece of furniture I own. We've signed a lease and are only a few busy weeks away from moving out so I'm getting a bit nostalgic. People ask me if I'm going to miss my piano and I'm sure I will. But I may miss reading, relaxing, and sleeping (sleeping, people! This is a family blog.) in my square bed even more. At my writer's group last week, we were given the suggestion to write about an unmade bed and what emerged highlights some of the many differences between living in a house vs. living on a boat.

I don't have a good photo of our bed. Maybe this old picture of Meira huddled on the locker just aft of my pillow will give you a sense of the space.

He looks so weary tonight. I dip into my energy reserves and summon every last bit of my generosity and offer to make the bed. We're on the boat, so it's not as easy as it sounds.
Our bed is in the bow; only the anchor is forward of our feet. The sharp prow made for cutting through waves is not well-engineered for sleep. Our heads rest on either side of a chasm. It's called a V-berth for a reason. If you open the door of the head all the way, this tiny space converts into a dressing room, the only place to change your clothes in private.

We say goodnight across this gap, "The Grand Canyon," I call it. Or some nights "The Great Divide." Our bodies hug the walls, the changeable sea lapping or slapping just on the other side. The foot of the bed is the only meeting place and I often wake to a tangle of socks and ankles. The ceiling is low (don't try to sit up in the night or you will find out just how low!) and morning dew condenses on the glossy paint, converting our bed into a temperate rain forest. Our breath turns liquid and falls back on us at dawn.

Getting in and out is a pas de deux, a Cirque du Soleil audition for 2. I trace an arc with my legs, over his hands, past his face, horizontal until the last moment, then tip down, reaching to find the cold floor with my toes without whacking my head on the hatch above. The girls are still asleep in their quarterberths, heads and arms shooting out of the tube-like bunks like half-launched torpedoes. I start a kettle for coffee and tea, open the curtains on another picturesque anchorage and begin another morning afloat.

No one keeps score on who made the coffee yesterday or who volunteers to straighten the covers at night, turning them carefully on point, intentionally kitty-corner so they don't bunch up in the pointy end, tucking the excess back and piling the layers so we'll stay warm through the night.

We wouldn't last a week if it was about fairness.

The Big Trip: FAQs

At the dock at Hot Springs Cove

Many of our friends and family have wondered about our plans for a year-long trip on our sailboat. I've tried to answer many of the frequently asked questions. If I missed yours, leave me a comment!

When?

Weather patterns govern our departure. We have to leave the NW coast before the autumn gales hit toward the end of September but can't cross into Mexico until the hurricane season ends at the beginning of November. So there's no reason to leave until the beginning of September. That said, we will be at the mercy of the weather for the entire trip, so all schedules are flexible. We plan to be back in the summer of 2014, likely July or August.

Where?

Again, weather rules. Winds and currents in the North Pacific travel clockwise so we'll be heading south along the west coast. Over the last few years of boat travel, we've learned to be very flexible with our destinations. Strict timelines and destinations encourage stupid decisions. They say, "Schedules kill sailors." We have several sailing-specific guide books and will be making many destination decisions as we travel. So, while we're heading south, and plan to spend time in Mexico and several other Central American countries, we don't have a set itinerary. If you have any recommendations, though, we're happy to hear. Just remember that once we hit land, we'll mostly be traveling on foot!

Heading to town in Port Townsend, WA

Why?

If you really want to know why, you'll have to come help us pack the house and let us talk your ear off. The simple answer is that we want to spend a year with each other, exploring our amazing world and experiencing different cultures. Sailing is not the fastest or easiest way to travel, but we find the challenge and simplicity very satisfying. We don't expect this to be a relaxing vacation, though there will be relaxing moments. We do expect to learn a lot along the way—about ourselves and our world.

Bacchante Bay, the end of a fjord on the west coast of Vancouver Island

How?
We've been thinking about and working toward this trip for almost 15 years. We will be leaving our jobs (though Bryan may be able to go back to work at his company when we return), selling my car (the only vehicle worth selling), and renting our house (know anyone who needs a rental?) We have been blessed enough to put a little savings aside and would rather travel very (very) cheaply for a year than more extravagantly for a few weeks. Sailing can be a rich man's sport, but can also be done very simply. We hope to err on the simple side with a few creature comforts.

We often break out games and hot drinks on chilly evenings

Creature Comforts:

Our sailboat, LiLo, is a 1964 32-foot Islander. It is comparable to a 20-foot RV with a cockpit and an aft (the back end) storage locker. It's 10 feet across at the widest part but narrows toward each end (especially the bow—the pointy part) and underfoot. Though small, with less than 200 square feet of indoor living space, our boat has almost all the comforts of home.

We have places to sleep, spots to sit while reading or eating, and lots of nooks and crannies for storage. We also have plenty of outdoor space and exploring a new piece of shoreline every few days keeps us from getting cabin fever. Our 11-foot nesting dinghy, Splitpea, acts as our car for carrying us to shore from our anchorage. We will use it to cart groceries, laundry, water, and fuel for our stove and our auxiliary engine (useful for maneuvering into marinas).

Splitpea nested and tucked away on the cabin top for a long passage

Ed. Note: Meira deserves full credit for landing on the perfect name for the little green, 2-piece dinghy we built together a few years ago. LiLo is the original name for our sailboat and it seemed rude to change it after all these years. We like the Hawaiian meaning, “Generous One."

The galley has a small sink, an icebox, and a 3-burner propane stove with oven (as well as a small grill on the back deck). We have a toilet but no shower (don't freak out; people all over the world get clean without showers). We can do laundry on shore or by hand on the boat.

Look closely for evidence of the mundane in the midst of grandeur.

We will have occasional internet access and are still exploring the available phone options.

Snagging wi-fi from a B.C. coffee shop after hours. We bought plenty of their coffee, don't worry!

We have a solar panel (more to come) to charge the main batteries and provide power for LED lighting, radio/GPS, stereo, laptop, video/photo equipment, and our electric toothbrushes:-) We will take plenty of food with us, but people everywhere have to eat and we are looking forward to trying some new foods along the way.

New friends passed along extra salmon from the day's catch

Safety:

Driving on a freeway isn't safe. Sitting in a cubicle all day isn't safe. Life isn't safe. That said, we have done our best to consider how to keep ourselves well while we travel. We have (and wear!) lifejackets and harnesses. We have lifelines and safety netting. We have an EPIRB (Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon), several radios and multiple GPS units as well as celestial navigation equipment. We have multiple spare parts for our equipment and a substantial medical kit.
Guns? Many countries confiscate guns upon entry and don't return them until you leave. Given that we will be leaving from a different port we enter, that would be problematic. Also, in the unlikely event of an attack, we would be much more likely to have our gun used against us than have the skill and presence of mind to use it for defense.

What about pirates? We read the piracy reports. Though random attacks can occur anywhere in the world, including here at home, we don't plan to travel in the areas with pirate activity.

Meira calls herself the "high-maintenance" girl and tackles small repairs up the mast

Bryan takes care of the tedious repairs

On the go:

We've been homeschooling the girls since preschool and feel confident that this year will offer plenty more opportunities for learning. The girls will be 7^th and 8^th grade during our year away and we think this is a great age for a grand adventure. Hannah and Meira have a knack for finding interesting museums and asking great questions. We hope to learn a lot about the history and culture of the places that we go.

The Intrepid Explorer of Watta Creek

The majority of our time will be spent near shore but while out at sea, we stand watches around the clock. Cooking, navigating, and standing watch take up much of our time. We have 2 options for automatic steering, one electrical and one mechanical, but safety still requires a dedicated watch-person (possibly with an assistant) to pay attention to other traffic, navigation aids, and the radio as well as log our progress on the chart.

Hannah is well prepared for chart work

We all enjoy reading and I am hoping to do quite a bit of writing while we travel. Bryan is hoping to take lots of pictures and edit many hours of video footage into an accessible amount. The girls are infinitely creative and I expect much writing and many craft projects will clutter up the place before we return.

We won't have room for my baby grand piano or Hannah's guitar, but we have a few smaller wind instruments we like to have aboard. I'm hoping to run across a decently-tuned piano or two on the journey and would love to meet musicians in other countries. We look forward to learning more Spanish and attending church in towns along the way. We can't wait to experience the wonders of the wild world in a new way and expect to cherish most of all the unforgettable people we meet along the way.

Safe at anchor in Effingham Bay

Climbing a Hill Together

On the top of Mt. Galiano, Galiano Island, B.C.

I've always yearned to live in community, to do the hard work of learning to love another person, stinky feet, messy house and all. Originally, the plan was for some sort of compound where others with similar ideals (like-minded, but not too like) would co-exists in perfect balance. After I got married, it still seemed possible. If everyone was as conflict-averse as we were it would work out just fine.
But then the girls came along. Two more people did not double the interactions; community is an exponential experience. Now I am content to work for kindness in a smaller community.

We were making hearts with our shadows, see?

It had been cold down on the water but as we got away from the edge, the sun quickly drove us to shed what layers we could. We stashed our coats behind a tree and made a blaze in the path so we could find them later. About halfway up the mountain we realized we hadn't brought nearly enough water but we rationed carefully and made it to the top in good spirits. The view was spectacular, looking out over the islands, a life-sized relief map of the navigational charts I had studied on the trip up. I could see the current flowing through the tight passes, the power all the stronger for the nearness.
The girls ran ahead on the way down, scaring us a little. We took separate trails to the bottom to make sure we didn't miss them but they had found the right path. "Just running a marathon," they said. The walk back down--that's the thing about climbing a mountain on an island, you have to start at sea level--was long and hot, but ended with ice cream and a cheerful row back to the boat. Any way you measure it, that was the highest point on our journey, so the next morning we turned south and began the work of returning, the power between us all the stronger for the nearness.

The Ring

A little story from last month's writers' group.

He knew she'd always wanted a ring. She wasn't a necklace kind of girl, a which-one-to-wear-today girlfriend. She wanted something for everyday wear. It was winter, the land at rest, so he couldn't just walk next door and offer Mike his strong arms. Couldn't just spend a week in the hot sun stacking bales of green energy seven high. "There's always work in the shop," Dad had said, but for him, the shop manufactured tedium and he dreaded the monotony. 

She was worth it though, and a week or two later found him in the little jewelry shop in town, awkwardly craning to see the underside of all the little white price tags in the case on the end. He finally settled on a simple band of rubies. Nothing flashy or juvenile. He hoped she'd like it.

The night of the party, he hid the box in the glove compartment, hid his nerves behind a young man's kiss. She was smiling, fragrant, glowing. More sparkle than he could handle. He closed her car door and slid behind the driver's seat, wondering if he'd made the right choice. How could something so brilliant be content with his solid simplicity? How would he hold up to everyday wear?

The Contest

Just for fun...


She'd read about the contest in the newspaper and, yes, now that she thought about it she had noticed more strangers around lately. But everyone knows no one ever really wins these sorts of things. She's always been pretty sure the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes is fake, the shocked winners and plastic host just hired for the occasion.

And yet. There's no denying what's in the hole at her feet.

She hadn't read the clues or followed the webcasts. Not for her the fan forums filled with treasurehunter1967 and strike_it_rich09 commenting at all hours about lat and long and what the latest revelation could mean.
She'd just come out to the desert to bury Snookums, the last of his litter (turns out it doesn't matter how often you brush a dog's teeth if he won't stay out of traffic) and now here she is, looking down at a dead dog and a box of gold.

Alaska friends

I'm still reveling in memories of the last few weeks when we had the joy of hosting some friends we knew in Alaska. We hadn't seen Ryan since we moved away but at the end of June, he flew into Seattle, snagged Natasha (who lives there now) and caught a train down for a visit. My goal for their time here was to give them a glimpse of our lives in Oregon and to catch up on 10 years of stories. It's a good thing I didn't include "being well-rested" to that list, because somehow in a week and a half of visit, we managed to smash in a trip to the Columbia River Gorge, one to the beach, a day at the Aviation Museum, 4 days of sailing, a day enjoying Portland, church, 2 orthodontist appointments, a trip to the library, 3 hikes and lots and lots of good food. 

They met much of our family and many of our friends, and, despite the full schedule, we spent many hours just enjoying each other's company and remembering why we were friends in the first place. None of us had been particularly nervous about how we would relate, but it was delightful to slip back into old friendships with the same feelings of connection and affection we had 10 years ago. Of course, the girls are so much bigger now (Ryan had never even met Meira) and it was wonderful to see them interact with Ryan and Natasha with so much ease and joy. We all agree that 10 years is way too long to let pass before we see each other again! 

Feel free to skip ahead and just look at pictures if you want (necessary credit: they're all from Ryan's camera). I don't expect you to care nearly as much as I do about the minutiae of our time together, but if you have a few minutes, grab a cup of tea (with milk and sugar, British style) and read on.

The first day of the trip, Beth, (a mutual AK friend who lives in Portland now) was having a birthday party, so as soon as we picked Ryan and Natasha up from the train station, we drove up into the West Hills to see her. It seemed strange to see so many Alaska friends together in Portland, but it was great to see Beth and meet her new son.

Sunday, the girls and I helped lead worship in church, and then we spent the afternoon out at our CSA farm. Our farmers have recently added a significant amount of land to their property and it was fun to get a tour and hear their plans for the future.

Monday's weather predicted evening showers so we headed east to the Gorge in hopes of avoiding them. Our plan worked, and we spent the day hiking a 5.5 mi. loop from Multnomah Falls to Wahkeena Falls. Natasha was kind enough to hike at my pace (read: very slowly, with frequent breaks to ward of the peripheral warbling of an asthma-induced migraine) and Ryan took the girls ahead at his pace (read: very quickly with frequent stops for log/rock jumping and creek wading).

He and Hannah had been very close when he last saw her (at 16 months old) and it was fun to see the way they reconnected. He later said he had wondered a bit if they would want anything to do with him and we all laughed--that was not a problem!

On our way home, we stopped by Crown Point for some picture-taking and hand-rail acrobatics.

Tuesday, we'd expected rain, so despite the sunshine we got, we spent the day at the Evergreen Aviation Museum. Bryan's company has passes for 8, so we snagged Jenny and the kids and took them along too. The last time I was there, the Space portion of the museum wasn't open yet; it was fun to explore all the new exhibits. And we ended the day with a picnic at Chad and Jenny's, Bryan's cousins who live across Lafayette. Again, it was a joy to include Ryan and Natasha in a typical evening activity and to see people from our separate communities interact.

By Wednesday, Tuesday's rain was supposed to have passed through. But Tuesday's rain had held off, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to see rain clouds on our way to the beach. The forecast said "scattered showers" though, so we pushed ahead with our plans for a hike at Cascade Head. Soon the showers turned to steady rain with the occasional downpour and we resigned ourselves to a wet, muddy hike. Hannah and Ryan went on ahead and were rewarded by the sighting of a herd of elk in the mist.

Meira and Natasha and I made it to the lower viewpoint ( a misnomer on a day so misty we couldn't even see the surf below) and turned back to slog through the puddles back to the parking lot. Anyone who has ever spent a wet day at the beach can imagine our scramble for dry clothes and hot drinks, but the promise of a trip to the Tillamook Cheese Factory kept our spirits up. We watched the factory workers and the cheese parade, bought some fudge for Bryan (who stayed behind for that pesky job-thing) and headed home.

Thursday, we spent the morning getting the girls ready for cousin camp. Earlier in the spring, my parents had reserved the 4th of July weekend for my younger brother's daughters and our girls to get together. They had a full weekend planned, a trip to Tacoma's glass museum, Silver Creek Falls, and on the 4th, the Canby General Days celebration. 

We met Bryan at the Nike campus (where he's currently working) for lunch and a quick tour, then swung by the orthodontist's office before dropping the girls off in Canby and stopping to see my mother-in-law.

Are you ready for a break?

 Me too! But we had a weekend aboard planned; check back soon for sailing stories!

No right writing

Here's a pantoum from April's writers' group. I was grateful for the chance to record a conversation with Meira, one that meant a lot to both of us. Maybe you will be inspired to try your own pantoum. (You might not want to read the wikipedia definition before you read the poem; it makes writing a pantoum sound a lot more complicated than it actually is.) 

“There is no right writing,

There is only better writing.”

I wiped her tears as I spoke,

deep from my own brokenness.

There is only better writing.

I yearn, like she does, for perfection

deep from my own brokenness.

And she doesn't always listen.

She yearns, like I do, for perfection.

“Can I help you with your work?”

She doesn't always listen,

she doesn't know how much I understand

“I can help you with your work,”

I wiped her tears as I spoke.

She doesn't know how much I understand—

There is no right writing.

True memory prompted by a Grand Canyon postcard

It was the third, maybe the fourth day out when we finally arrived at the Grand Canyon, all eight of us unfolding from that tiny RV. The trip had been my mother's idea and, as such, plotted with the precision of a military invasion. But no plan survives first contact with my father so we often found ourselves on detours surprising and serendipitous.
Today's destination was not an surprise however. It's next to impossible to drive through Arizona without being caught in the gravity of the Grand Canyon. We stood on the edge--"not too close, kids"--and were surprised after all. For something so grand it got the word in it's name, no one was all that impressed.
Maybe it was just too big to comprehend, like the national debt. If we could have ridden down on a donkey or rafted it's length, perhaps we would have been able to hold the wonder.
But Grandma couldn't stand the altitude and the youngest ones were bored so we turned away and drove back down, content to explore the smaller wonders: Bryce Canyon, Mesa Verde, a family of 8 in agreement about anything.

Glitter

It seemed reasonable in those first few weeks

after the Elvis-costume-making party,

And also when the girls were young 

and princesses seized control of the kingdom.

Now it appears, like nothing in nature

except perhaps a virus, traveling

from door-handle to palm,

falling off sweaters,

settling on corduroy.

Does it alight even on the hunter

deep in the jungle,

Sparking wonder at this sliver of starlight?

Does he worship the speck, tiny mirror,

Or sense the distance it traveled to connect 

the enormity of this small world?

And what of his have I?

God is Good (all the time?)

I shared last week at my church's Women's Bible Fellowship. We're studying James Bryan Smith's “The Good and Breautiful God” and I spoke on the chapter about the goodness of God.

Each chapter in the book is coupled with what the author calls “Soul Training.” This chapter's exercises directed us to sit in silence and work to experience God in nature. Several people asked for a copy of my thoughts so I'm posting them here. Now if you read on, at least you'll know what you're getting into. We sang a bit together and then I sat (safely tucked where I feel safe—at the piano) and shared something like this:

As you read this week, maybe you wondered, as I did why the quality of God's goodness is so important, so central? In the list of the fruit of the spirit, it's tucked into the middle; after the cheerful “love, joy, peace,” it whizzes by just about the time my mind beings to wander and before I finish up with that dreaded “self-control.” Frankly, it feels a little wimpy—

Good dog

Good girl

Good job

Good enough

A few years ago, with the professor's permission, I sneaked myself into a Gary Fawver Christian Classics class. We read many books that semester, but Julian of Nowich's “Revelations of Divine Love” was then (and remains now) one of the most influential personally. At the time, I read passages like this one from the 6^th chapter with so much confusion:

For the Goodness of God is the highest prayer, and it cometh down to the lowest part of our need. It quickeneth our soul and bringeth it on life, and maketh it for to waxen in grace and virtue. It is nearest in nature; and readiest in grace: for it is the same grace that the soul seeketh, and ever shall seek till we know verily that He hath us all in Himself enclosed.

OK, so maybe I needed to get past some of the out-dated language, but I still spent a while working through how the goodness of God could be so important, so central to his character.

For the Goodness of God is the highest prayer, and it comes down to the lowest part of our need. It quickens our soul and brings life, and makes it to grow in grace and virtue. It is nearest in nature; and readiest in grace: for it is the same grace that the soul seeks, and ever shall seek till we know truly that He has us all in Himself enclosed.

If he were not good, the God of all holiness would be impossibly demanding, an all-seeing God would be no better than a peeping-tom. Without goodness, an all-powerful God would be a tyrant.

We need God to be good, so we can trust him to be everything else, all knowing, infinitely powerful. The problem is, our experience sometimes (in these days of world-wide media, often) doesn't appear to prove that theory.

So we make up excuses, “It'll all work out eventually. It's all for my long-term good. I'll understand it when I get to heaven.”

But if I really stop to think about it, I can't deny that it feels an awful lot like circular reasoning. “If life is good, it's because God is good in a way that is clear. If life is bad, it's because God is good in a way I can't understand.”

The Bible says that “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights in whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.” (James 1:17) And it also says that “all things work together for good to love who love God and have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

So everything is good, or if it's not...wait long enough and it will be made good. My inner skeptic scoffs, “Isn't that convenient!”

Last weekend, Bryan and I went to the beach. We hadn't been away alone (except on our boat) for almost 10 years. It was so nice to be together in a place with standing head-room, flush toilets, one that didn't drift around at night, with absolutely no chance of sinking.

And I was in the mood to enjoy it. About halfway through the weekend, I caught myself exclaiming over one more blessing—“Isn't it wonderful that the B&B isn't too full? Isn't it great that the weather is so nice?”—knowing full-well that if circumstances had been otherwise, I would have been rejoicing in the chance to curl up inside and watch the storm or the opportunity to meet all these wonderful people. I am my own spin doctor.

Tuesday, we got a call that my pregnant sister-in-law had been in yet another car accident, her second during this pregnancy. It was a minor one, and the baby is OK (and she will be too, eventually). And we breathed prayers of thanksgiving to our good God.

But in the times in my life when the disaster has not been avoided, I have still found ways to see God's goodness, still work to praise him. This is both Biblical...and completely illogical.

Seeing the silver lining comes naturally to me, more, I've learned over the years, than for many others. And yet I still fight for faith.

Am I just beliving in God's goodness because I can't face the thought of living without that assurance? What if I knew I would never understand his reasons? Would I still choose to believe that he is good?

In the book, James Bryan Smith shares that Jesus pointed to the goodness of God. Despite the early death of Smith's daughter, even through and because of it, he came to believe more deeply in the goodness of God. That God would never harm a small child because of the sin of the parents.

But we just finished a study about David where it seems pretty clear, God did just that. I don't understand. I know that I have found ways to reconcile tragedy in my own life with my hope for a relationship with a good God. But there aren't easy answers.

Yesterday in the shower, where my mom says all good thoughts are born, I had a new wondering, one that even feeds my desire for logic.

For many people, the problem of evil in the world is a huge hurdle in their pursuit of God. If God is good, why is there so much suffering? Well, smarter people than I (with lots more free time) have spent their lives pondering this question, so don't think I have an answer for you.

But the opposite question is just as mysterious. If God is evil, why is there so much good? An evil God running a world where goodness persists makes a lot less sense to me than a good God working to redeem a world marred by his gift of free-will.

No matter how you look at it, it remains a mystery. We can't KNOW that God is good. All our experiences that point to a benevolent Creator can be countered with just as many to the contrary.

If I'm honest with myself, my circular reasoning about the goodness of God gets me through my days mostly sane and even happy. I'm not about to give it up.

But I have to admit it remains a mystery, something I don't understand, but choose to believe.

Here we stopped and sang together “Blessed be Your Name.” Lyrics like “Every blessing you pour out I'll turn back to praise. When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say, 'Blessed be your name.'” are hard for me to understand without the body of Christ around me, showing me what this looks like in real life—messy, catastrophic, mysterious.

Then I shared a bit of my experience with the “Soul Training.”

Initially, I was confused as to why the soul training exercises were coupled with this particular chapter. I mean, I like sitting in the quiet or with nature as much as anybody, when I can get it. I wondered if the author had a list of spiritual exercises to get into the book and figured this chapter was as good for these as any.

But as I worked through my difficulties with the quality of God's goodness, and came to peace with letting him be more mysterious than I like, I realized that nature and slience are perfect ways for me to interact with the mystery of God.

There are so many things I don't understand about nature—it's not always tidy or pretty—but God speaks to me so clearly through his created works; he orchestrates the universe as the chief worship leader and my heart can't help responding.

This week, the winter trees sillouhetted against the sunset called me to worship. The waves on the rocks at the beach bowed my spirit to his power. The fog in the trees outside my window hinted at his gentleness.

I hope you experienced similar moments in your life this week. Would you speak out a word or characteristic of God you saw displayed in nature this week?

The women responded with such a variety of God's character qualities. I wish you could have been there to hear the words of praise.

After all these weeks, you won't be surprised that I want to read a poem about daily noticings.

To light a candle without a prayer,

takes a practiced inattention.

It's hard work to listen to children laughing,

Revel in a perfect melon,

Watch the dusk fade into night,

Without feeling the soul respond.

This requires:

Clenching my heart shut,

Holding my spirit's breath,

Pursing the lips of my soul.

When will I relax into fearlessness,

breathe again the natural inhalation of mystery

and be at peace?

Over the past 11 years of motherhood, I've gotten really quite good at recognizing God's presence in my daily activities, in nature, in my children, my husband, in captive moments here and there.

This fall, for the first time, there has been space in my life for irregular meditation—not regular, my life is too scattered for that, but I have been practicing sitting still with my breath several times most weeks and have found it to be a very helpful practice for this season of my life.

I wouldn't presume to suggest that this practice is right for everyone in every season. In fact, I agree wholeheartedly with the writer I read the other day, Dr. Kristen Shepherd, who said about both meditation and yoga poses, yoga asanas,

“Today, despite wanting to fill you with the deep desire for stillness, I'll say this: Don't meditate until you want to. (In truth, I feel the same about asana. People email, occasionally, saying they hate yoga but would really like to work up the oomph to have a regular practice. My response is, don't do it. Stay away. Go on with needlepoint, caber tossing, or Vietnamese cooking. Pursue the things that are already delicious to you. If caber tossing brings you peace and a sense of oneness, caber tossing is your yoga. Yoga should not be a battle.) Meditation may be endlessly interesting, challenging, and blissful, but if your heart isn't leading you there, go with your heart.

I'm learning that it only makes sense to approach the mystery of God with a method of prayer that doesn't make much sense. Sitting still and thinking at least sometimes feels productive, but sitting still and NOT thinking—how could that ever bring me closer to an understanding of the infinite? Not to mention all the warnings I've heard along the way about not emptying my mind for fear something will enter.

I finally came to a place in life where I had the space and inclination to read all the books on centering prayer I'd been collecting and then, even, to experiment with practice. And because research is a great procrastinatory technique, I've also found many resources in the area for silent prayer, like the monastery and options for personal retreats; if you're interested, talk to me after.

I've found a few ways to sit with the presence of God, mental images that help me to calm the constant mental clutter, breathing practices that help to focus me, body and soul. And I've found , well I don't know what I've found...it's a mystery. But I am closer to the mystery than ever.

Jo spoke last week about God's ability to transform us through indirection, not willpower. And sitting in silence, meditating, centering prayer...whatever you want to call it...is a fabulous way to surrender into God's mysterious presence, that which is infinite and personal, he who is good enough to accept us and good enough to work in mysterious ways to change us.

I'd like to share a few more words read these slowly, please) from Julian:

For as the body is clad in the cloth, and the flesh in the skin, and the bones in the flesh, and the heart in the whole, so are we, soul and body, clad in the Goodness of God, and enclosed. ...all these may waste and wear away, but the Goodness of God is ever whole...

For the Goodness of God is the highest prayer, and it comes down to the lowest part of our need. It quickens our soul and brings life, and makes it to grow in grace and virtue. It is nearest in nature; and readiest in grace: fo it is the same grace that the soul seeks, and ever shall seek till we know truly that He has us all in Himself enclosed.

I don't know if you had a chance to find silence this week or not, but I'd like to give all of us the opportunity to meet with God in the quiet this morning.

Maybe it would help you to see your thoughts as a train rushing by, one you don't have to catch. Or maybe you could use the image of your mind as a still pool, not to be disturbed by anything, good thoughts or bad thoughts, good emotions or bad emotions.

Let's sing together and then enter a few minutes of quiet. Make sure you're comfortable, shift to the floor if you need so your body can help teach your mind to relax and be still. I'll keep an eye on the clock so you don't have to think about it and call us back to close in a few minutes.

At this point, we sang Steven Curtis Chapman's “Be Still and Know,” spent a few minutes in quiet together and responded with a little more worship in song. It was a lovely morning in God's presence, one that can't be captured in mere words. Thanks for coming along for the recap.