If you are new to Monday Manna, I’m so glad you are here. My prayer with this little pause on Monday mornings is to offer some nourishment (“manna”) for you — via my reflection, prayer, and painting — as you are nourishing the world around you. Together, we are watching for the ways God is with us and for us as we take one day at a time….
Good morning, friends, and much love to each of you in this new week ~
We made it to and through the ending of school last week with all its emotions and events, and if this has been a part of your landscape as well, I hope and pray you are finding some soul-grounding amid the change and threshold. As a way to be gentle to myself, and because we have some new folks who haven’t seen this one, I am re-posting a reflection I shared from Monday Manna last year. I am needing this return to gentleness and “trying softer,” plus it feels right in line with my post last week. So here it is….be gentle, try softer…
***
I was leaving my kids’ elementary school one afternoon this week after what felt like the 53rd special event planned for the first three weeks of May. I chatted with the father of my son’s best friend, peeling off my orange “visitor” lanyard in the front office and opening the door to sunshine’s warmth outside the heavy door. We were talking about plans for the rest of the day, the sports practices he needed to shuttle kids off to, the overall constant push of this pace.
“How about you,” he asked. “What are you going to do the rest of today?”
I paused, feeling the landscape of fatigue I’d been carrying after travel for me last week, travel for my husband this week, and kids who’ve been expressing big feelings about all this transition (not to mention the uptick of things at school).
“Well, I think my plan for the rest of the day is to just release the expectations and standards.”
He laughed, but I didn’t. I knew my sanity depended on it.
I’ve been reminded recently of a book I listened to a couple years ago — Try Softer — by therapist Aundi Kolber. The main premise, as you can surmise from the title, is a refutation of the push-grind-try harder water we’re all swimming in. It’s a book about grace and ease, about believing a gentle approach to life can actually take us where we want and need to go (and be a lot more pleasant in the journey).
This hardly comes naturally to me, as someone who’s operated most of her life believing buckling down and gripping harder will fix things. But if there’s anything I’ve learned in the journey of grief over the years (or parenting, hello), it’s that forcing makes me feel like even more of a failure. That flow is where it’s at, even if that means a lot less done or some hard emotions to sit with/in.
And really, grace is the most foundational cornerstone of our faith. God is God and you don’t have to be (and shouldn’t try). God unconditionally loves you, holds you, delights in you, is proud of you, because you are, no matter the mess in your heart or your home.
I wonder what it looks like to live as a friend to yourself, checking in regularly to ask, “do I really need to do this?” “How am I feeling right now?” Of course there are responsibilities we carry and some things that are much trickier and less optional to release. But what if we approached even those things with a “try softer,” “be gentle” stance?
When I feel I need to respond immediately to all the communication…try softer.
When I feel the urge to grip my child’s hand harder and pull them along to school…be gentle.
When I look at my day’s to-do list and realize I got half of one thing I’d written down done…grace requires nothing of me.
So, friends, when someone asks you what your plans are for the rest of the day, you might offer the “release the standards” response. I recommend it.
A Prayer
A prayer for releasing and trusting, for flowing instead of forcing, from my book Ash and Starlight: Prayers for the Chaos and Grace of Daily Life, Second Edition…
When I’m filled with frustrations and questions
God, my Rock,
You hold me fast.
You keep me steady in seasons of waiting.
You keep me trusting in seasons of struggle.
You keep me hoping in seasons of confusion.
I thank you, God, for holding me
in all these times and for
keeping all my questions…
I hear once again your call
to hold my life with open hands.
To realize I’m not as
in control as I want to be.
I plan, prepare, hope, and pray,
but sometimes, surprises blindside me.
I try to make things go my way,
but sometimes, they don’t.
I work to change people I love,
but sometimes, they won’t.
I do my very best and work my very hardest,
but sometimes, it’s still not enough for what I want.
With your renewing fingers,
stretch and mold my spirit to
gracious nimbleness
and joyful flexibility.
Please teach me, God, to
breathe in your peace
when all seems uncertain,
and exhale anxiety
when all feels unknown.
To know it’s not the end of the story
when everything feels blocked…
And so, dear God,
I open my hands,
letting all I am and all
I hold fall into
the trustworthy hands
you stretch toward me.
Amen.
Psalm 116:7 * Lamentations 3:21-24 * Luke 22:42
“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
God’s mercies never come to an end.”
– Lamentations 3:21-22
Something that nourished me recently…
*We made it! Last day of school, plus an end of the year birthday celebration at school for our middle guy. It was sweet to go in to his classroom and get to share a little more about him as a baby. He wore his crown for the rest of the day.
*Speaking of the school year’s ending, our kids made little jars of homemade lavender bath salts for teachers. A simple, sweet-smelling gift that’s fun to make (and just a little messy depending on who’s wielding the spoons). Here’s the recipe…
4 parts epsom salt
1 part baking soda
2 parts sea salt
Lavender essential oil
*My friend,
, just released her newest book last week — “Mid-Faith Crisis: Finding a path through doubt, Disillusionment, and Dead Ends.” She and her co-author, Jason Hague, write with deep vulnerability and honesty about the pain they’ve experienced in the church, the difficult questions they’ve wrestled with, and how they’ve found a new kind of faith. In her post about it last week, Catherine said, “We write about doubt and losing the comforts of certainty, about being harmed by the church or abusive leaders. We write about unrelenting suffering and depression and feeling like prayer (or at least, what many of us learned to believe about prayer) might be a sham. We write about the disorienting moment when you simply cannot believe what you believed before—or think Jesus would, either. And we write about so much more. And then we look for a path forward.” Who among us hasn’t wanted to walk away from the church altogether? You will find solidarity in her stories.
Ash and Starlight, plus other good things…
*MY ETSY SHOP ~ While I continue to focus most of my attention on getting ready for my art show this summer, I have a small assortment of prints, greeting cards, and originals for sale now in the Etsy shop, with more to come later this summer. You can view the shop here.
*SECOND EDITION OF ASH AND STARLIGHT ~ Find the updated edition of my book here at Chalice or at the Bookshop link.
*MONDAY MANNA ARCHIVES ~ You can view previous Monday Manna reflections here, or for the really old stuff, go to my website.
*WHAT DOES MANNA MEAN? ~ Check out an earlier post to learn how this little bit of “daily bread” got its name…
Keep breathing in all the grace, friends, and exhaling all the frenzy. Keep praying. Try Softer. Be Gentle. It’s enough.
Love and Light,
Arianne
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LOVE your shirt in your picture! I have the same one and it's my favorite this summer!
Thank you for the shout out for Mid-Faith Crisis! I think it pairs well with the invitation to return to gentleness (and thank you for that reminder, too!).