Back in the Saddle {… so to speak}

It’s been a while since I’ve stared at a computer screen, a cursor blinking as I attempt to string words into sentences. Sentences that often seem to only make sense to my tattered and worn soul.

Sure I’ve written, the halls of academia have required it of me — but it’s not the same — at least my soul finds it hard to think that proper APA citations and grammar are the same as unleashing the wilds of my heart with words.

Snow flakes are falling softly out the window and as they meander from heaven to earth along the path of the northern gale I imagine what it might be like to try and gather their essence and cup them in my palms. Just as I reach out to touch their beauty however, they evaporate on my skin.

My words have felt like that of late. Like they are just out of my grasp and when I do attempt to capture what has been rolling around in my mind and my heart their beauty disappears and the courage to write evaporates with them.

I’d like to say I’ve been using this quiet time to rest and reflect. That’s what one’s supposed to do right? When they can’t seem to find the path of words they’re looking for, one is supposed to go deeper into God, find moments of beauty that can be stored in the recesses of the soul for later, yes?

I’d like to say I’ve been using the silence to scratch down words on scraps of paper or in my journal. I’d like to say that I’ve bled pens of their ink with profundity and wisdom.

I’d like to say.

Truth be told? Netflix has been a hard task master these past few weeks. In three weeks I breezed through 8 seasons of Heartland (for those who are curious that’s 6336 minutes of television or 105 hours). The hands of time quietly ticked by, my mind fettered to fantasy. While the mindless TV viewing is not bad in and of itself, I can’t help but think about the minutes of my life that were squandered in the name of relaxation and self-care.

Truth be told? For every hour of TV viewing I have spent the same hours tossing and turning in my sleep because I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something so crucially important. You see, a long with my binge-watching craze I abandoned the nourishment of my soul. Instead of finding solace in the quiet of God’s presence I chose the remote - a cold comfort to be sure.

It really is no wonder my words have been struggling to find their way here.

These past few months my mind has been full to the point of pain with trying to finish my fourth year well. One might say that my escape into mindlessness is warranted, even deserved. But here’s the thing — my mind, in order to function the way in which school demands, needs that for which my soul aches - creativity.

In order to do well, to finish strong as a student I need to be fueled by the fire of creativity, a fire that needs to be kindled and nursed daily. I began to think about how the time I spent on my butt, remote in hand, was impacting the hard work of being a student.

A flickering screen is a sorry replacement for the glorious pinks of a Canadian winter sunset.

Changing channels to find the next screen-filled thrill is nothing compared to swaying your hips and dancing in your kitchen, Adele blaring, while creating a feast for those you love.

Trudging to bed after a day of the same old cycle of work, TV, and sleep, can not be held in the same esteem as sharing a glass of amber-hued whisky with your husband. Your feet propped on his lap as you both settle into the warmth of hearth and home, your hearts finding their way back to each other.

The TV became my final destination — my only destination — after a long day of school and work, it was beginning to suffocate my soul. While we all have THOSE days - you know the ones I’m talking about - my everyday was becoming THAT day and the TV was becoming my saving grace - not the arms of my beloved Saviour.

Tim Willard’s words about time and how we spend it - doing all as unto the Lord can perhaps bring more clarity to the ramblings of this writer’s rusty way with words.

When we view our leisure and our work not as binary but as a composite whole — both as ways in which to bring glory to God — we find a joy that empowers us with confidence as we use our imaginative agency to infuse life with the blessing of accomplishment. But we veer from this when our leisure gets hijacked with pointless entertainment and amusement. {From the book: Home Behind the Sun}

I’m still wrestling with what I need to do…

Actually I know what I need to do and yet somehow fear has made it’s way into my heart, barring me from stating a purpose - a change of course - out loud. Even my trepidation has me shaking my head in disbelief — am I such a slave to mindlessness that I am shackled forever to its bonds?

So with not a little hesitancy I type these next words… I am taking a break from TV during the weekdays. Monday through Thursdays will be about quenching the thirsty parts of my heart and imbuing it with “imaginative agency” and creating space that allows for encounters with God. I won’t be perfect at this - but I also know that His grace is enough for me to find the newest mercies in every day of my journey.

The snow has stopped now. The sun is peaking out from behind the clouds and every snow flake that found it’s way to the ground is radiating the glory of million diamonds.

I realize now that glory can’t be held in my hands. Instead glory is found in the brilliance of the innumerable snowflakes that shimmer under the brilliance of the winter’s sun.