What Happens When You Move 10 Miles Down the Road and Everything Changes

July 26, 2016July 26, 2016 Lindsey P. Brackett2 Comments

New living room. Perfect for dance parties and silly boys.

I know things have been quiet around here since I revealed what happens when the three year house becomes the ten year house becomes the sold house. There’s still a lot to say about that and God’s timing and sense of humor and my incredible lack of patience and grace, but y’all… I’m really tired.

Moving is no joke. Can I get an amen?

Ten miles. That’s about how far we went. Far enough to jump the county line and need a new school situation. Far enough to make me choose between my familiar Ingles with the bag boys who learned how to write complex sentences under my tutelage. Far enough to make me understand why this stretch of rural highway annoyed my husband every afternoon for five years.

Somehow we moved into a bigger house with less dedicated space. One less bedroom, a basement in need of a true finish, and a family room big enough for our family of six and all of our friends who are just as outnumbered in this parenting gig as we are.

New obsession with items I have wall space for. Well, porch space actually.

That’s why we bought this house. So everyone can come over and drink sweet tea on the back porch and the kids can run wild on our almost-four-acre subdivision lot without us having any real worries.

But this different space means everything is different. I can’t put the same furniture in the same places. My Ikea tables are woefully out of place. There’s nowhere to plug in a lamp next to my couch. Our master bedroom is ginormous which is good because my kids like to play hide and seek in there. For the first time ever, there’s room under the bed because, hello? Basement = lotsa storage.

It’s a little like living the dream. Really. Even though it’s not my dream farmhouse with a wrap around porch.

(Joshua says he’ll build me one. He’s a much better person than I am in case you’re wondering.)

Yet we’re still wandering around. A little uncertain about things like end tables and dining room chairs and pictures to hang. My friend Brooke said I’m not allowed to hang my beautiful wall art from 163 Design until it truly is Well With My Soul.

So I’m sipping coffee and the Word on the back porch. Soaking up the sounds of birds and cicadas and squalling kittens who won’t leave the dog alone.

Because you should always get new kittens when you move.

You should also knock off from unpacking and climb a mountain with your Florida friends.

Here’s another life lesson about moving. Somehow ALL the kids stuff–including scraps of paper and toys you intended to throw away–will make it to the new house and get unpacked. However, their daddy and I still can’t find:

the alarm clock
the printer
his shoes
the Wii console

So this is where we are right now. Big changes. Little changes. And a whole lotta Jesus being spoke over me by blessed friends who love me through my crazy.

And a husband who is willing to put up with me for another fourteen years and beyond. Here’s to a new house and a new life.

family · Home · hospitality · just write life · writing

When Your 3 Year House Becomes Your 10 Year House Becomes Your Sold House

July 7, 2016 Lindsey P. Brackett1 Comment

I tucked myself into the corner of the sectional couch we finally broke down and bought last year so we would have furniture that fit this tiny living room. Early in the morning the sunlight shafts through a kitchen window I’m not great at scrubbing clean and lights up a worn table with perpetually sticky chairs.

This is my quiet place. For three years I’ve risen early and written hard and sipped coffee and liked this little house best with that golden pool of light beaming on my hardwood floors.

In some ways, we outgrew this house before we ever moved in. When we bought it in 2006 at the climax of the real estate inflation, mere months before the fall, we figured three years.

Three years. New paint. New carpet. A few handy little things and then we’d be moving on. I had two girls then, one toddling and one nursing. My mama told me this house wasn’t big enough for more kids.

Ten years later we’ve raised four kids in that house and hosted friends and family and parties and memories.

We tried to sell in 2010. Again in 2012. Again in 2014. Fourth time’s the charm. Did all the right things–items in storage, fresh and clean, highlight the good. Big backyard. 4 bedrooms… just very little family space. Really 3 bedrooms and an office and don’t forget we have fiber internet!

None of that mattered. When we get all the paperwork signed and sealed our little house that built me into a mother, a writer, a better person–this little house will be sold to a neighbor who felt the timing was finally right for her to take it on and share it with others. This little house is about to be a ministry, a caregiving place, a breath of hope.

We prayed that years ago. Thought maybe we’d even be the ones to keep it.

Y’all, when this house is finally sold it will be at the last possible moment before our loan changed, before we reached the end of our rope with what to do about finding me space to write, the kids space to play, my husband space to work from home.

Always it’s been one of those first world problems. Six people cramped in 1400 square feet. We always knew we could make it work and in the last few years, I’ve made a conscious effort to offer hospitality without comparison. Because I was tired of telling my kids our house was too small to welcome our friends.

That is never, ever true. No matter the size of your place, true friends will sit on a narrow porch and play games with ten kids running around inside because it’s raining.

Some of those true friends helped us load a U-Haul with material wealth and drive ten miles down the road this week. To a place that’s bigger–and plenty better in some ways.

But that house that grew us into a family will always be out true first home.

P.S. I know you all want a tour of the house…. I’m working on it! Had to clear up some space on my fancy video camera, i.e. phone.

Notice the difference between Annabelle’s friends and Madelynne’s… of course, they did unpack all the books to find the ones they wanted to read.

writing

It’s Summertime, Y’all

June 27, 2016June 22, 2016 Lindsey P. BrackettLeave a comment

It’s summertime y’all. Summer entrenched itself as my favorite season during my tenure as a teacher. Before that, fall was my favorite with its cozy campfires and corn mazes.

But fall is anticipation and excitement and the word that I refuse to allow in my summer: STRUCTURE.

Listen, I know structure is good. There’s a loosy-goosy handwritten routine of our everyday up on my refrigerator right now.

I made it so my kids would know at what times during the day it was permissible to subject me to endless rounds of Disney channel canned comedy via Netflix.

A very small space for that is right after rest time and before dinner time. I delight a little much in shredding mountains of zucchini in the food processor and interrupting their show.

Mostly our daily routine includes “free time” and “activity time”. It’s less structure and more a guideline. Like my friend Michael Flake used to say the yellow lines on 129 over the mountain to Suches were.

Our guideline of a routine reminds me to leave plenty of room for margin, but recognize that my kids thrive better when they have an idea of what’s coming next. It’s helping me say no to some of the great things we’ve always pursued in the past, because, let’s just face it. Nobody can do everything all the time.

So far this summer we haven’t made it to the library. Not because we are well over our $10 fine limit. (Just helping keep the lights on, that’s all.) We just haven’t found space for it yet.

We haven’t been camping, even though it was on the calendar. Weather channel said it was going to rain. That prediction, coupled with the fact that we’ve never camped without rain, meant this trip got cut from the schedule.

We haven’t swum at Lake Russell. You all know why that is.

Just kidding….we don’t usually frequent Lake Russell. Our swimming holes come with a state park pass and a picnic under the beech trees down by the creek at Unicoi. On Memorial Day, we hunted up the Seed Lake recreation area. My husband is already planning an adventure, so I’ll guess we’ll be up there sometime soon.

We haven’t cut open a watermelon because I don’t care that Ingles marked them down to $3.98. Watermelons aren’t in season around here yet. But we also haven’t stopped at Fritchey’s or had peach ice cream at Jaemor’s.

We did make it out to Red Dust Ranch for Farm Day. I do a little work on the side for the Hook family, who owns 70 acres of sheer beauty and delivers a weekly CSA bag to my doorstep. We go to Red Dust to remember why our garden is small, and how I’m handier with Microsoft Word than soft dirt.

But summer’s just begun. It’s barely tipped its toe into the waters of June, and there are weeks ahead waiting for the glory of being filled. Even if it’s with nothing more than popsicles on my front porch.

Originally published by The Northeast Georgian, June 2015.

Guest Posts · just write life · writing

Slow Down and Dwell

June 24, 2016June 24, 2016 Lindsey P. BrackettLeave a comment

The first new friend I made at the Florida Christian Writers Conference this year was Lucinda Secrest McDowell. She beamed a smile and a southern welcome and gushed with excitement when she heard about my Edisto novel. Then she connected me with her Edisto friend who can help me get this book into the hands of readers.

All before we finished a meal. Lucinda is genuine, faith-filled, and delightful. When we met up again at Blue Ridge for another conference in May, it was my pleasure to buy her new devotional book before the bookstore had finished unpacking the box.

Dwelling Places offers a one word pondering for each day of the year. Categorized by seasons, and so very timely for my own life right now, it is my honor and pleasure to share Lucinda’s words with you today.

Driving through Pebble Hill Plantation I saw the road sign that caused me to grind to a halt.

“Slow Down. I Mean It!”

And Pansy Poe, the owner of this beautiful estate outside my Georgia hometown, had signed her name to give it more authority.

Actually, God could have authored that sign as well.

I believe He sends signs warning me to “Slow Down” all the time, but I’m usually running by too quickly to notice. Missing what God has for me – “My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.” (Isaiah 32.18)

Or, as one seasoned pastor advises, “You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry.”

When was the last time you really rested? Hard to do, isn’t it? Our environment is constantly depleting us with noise, distractions and the compulsion to always be in a hurry. We are just too busy to rest.

“Busyness does not mean you are a faithful or fruitful Christian. It only means that you are busy, just like everyone else,” claims Kevin DeYoung, a pastor and father of six who struggles with finding true rest. “It’s not wrong to be tired. It’s not wrong to feel overwhelmed. It’s not wrong to go through seasons of complete chaos. What is wrong – and heartbreakingly foolish and wonderfully avoidable – is to live a life with more craziness than we want because we have less Jesus than we need.”

Do you want more of Jesus and His rest?

I believe our greatest threat is distraction. Did you know the root of this word is the Latin word distractus which literally means “to draw or pull apart?” No wonder we feel torn in every direction!

The author of “Sanctuary of the Soul” says that we have noisy hearts. “The fact that our schedules are piled high and we are constantly bombarded by multiple stimuli only betrays that we have succumbed to the modern mania that keeps us perpetually distracted. The moment we seek to enter the creative silences of meditative prayer, every demand screams for our attention.”

How can we quiet our hearts and discover these “undisturbed places of rest?”

Unplug. Sign out. Turn off. Hang up. Be ‘Closed for the Weekend.’ Clean up your surroundings so fewer projects call out your name. Put sleep and ‘nothing’ on your agenda and then keep those appointments. Determine your greatest distractions and energy-drainers and decide to be proactive about curbing their power over you.

And then go to Jesus and rest in His care. “Faith means resting – relying – not on who we are, or what we can do, or how we feel or what we know. Faith is resting in who God is and what He has done. And He has done everything.”

Slow Down. I Mean It!

Lucinda Secrest McDowell is passionate about embracing life — both through deep soul care from drawing closer to God, as well as living courageously in order to touch a needy world. A storyteller who engages both heart and mind, she offers “Encouraging Words” to all on the journey. A graduate of Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and Furman University, Cindy is the author of twelve books, including Dwelling Places, Live These Words, Refresh!, Amazed by Grace, Quilts from Heaven and Role of a Lifetime. Whether co-directing the “New England Christian Writers Retreat,” mentoring young moms, or leading a restorative day of prayer, she is energized by investing in people of all ages. Cindy’s favorites include tea parties, good books, laughing friends, ancient prayers, country music, cozy quilts, musical theatre, and especially her family scattered around the world doing amazing things. She writes from “Sunnyside” cottage in New England and blogs weekly at EncouragingWords.net

just write life · Margin Mom · writing

Cosmos From Chaos

June 20, 2016June 17, 2016 Lindsey P. BrackettLeave a comment

They gather in a darkened gym in the early morning before the heat has baked the parking lot into a reflective oven. Some are heads taller and light years older and wiser than the littlest ones with their childlike faith in absolutions and fairness. They have scabbed knees and restless hearts; feet that dance because they can’t stand still; fingers that look for keys or strings or brushes to strum into submission.

For five days, I pack lunches to be eaten on a playground and dust off my teacher hat and two dozen sets of warped dowel rods. I may be the queen of over commitment—but this isn’t bondage. This is service and creation and cosmos out of chaos. This is a chance to share Jesus in what I believe is the best way—by celebrating the gifts and talents of those who are compelled to create.

God the Father created first, you know.

In the early mornings right now, I curl on our couch with my laptop and the rewrites of a novel that has potential—but first, I break open the words of Madeline L’Engle in Walking on Water alongside my Scripture. “We are human and humble and of the earth, and we cannot create until we acknowledge our createdness.”

L’Engle maintains unless we let ourselves be mentored by Christ, we cannot separate cosmos—beautiful, boundless art—from the chaos that surrounds this world. Chaos like gunmen in houses of worship, and prison workers who side with convicted killers.

For five days every summer since 2008, First Baptist Cornelia has hosted those who seek the divine through art—art that is both ethereal and everyday. Amidst the usual repertoire of classes for dancers, musicians, and sketch artists, there are offerings for aspiring quilters, potters, and puppeteers. I put sticks in the hands of children who are afraid to speak and teach them to praise the Lord with interpretive movement. We call the class God Rods, and I’m always amazed by the kids who take it over and over each year. Usually, they are not the ones with a natural aptitude for drama, but rather ones who timidly return, believing their small part of the whole is great and worthy.

I tell them we’re storytellers—putting images to the lyrics of songs they can sing, but do not understand. We chose Casting Crown’s “Voice of Truth” this year. A song about hearing cosmos among chaos, the voice of truth among the cries of failure and defeat. A song about how faith can evoke powerful actions: walking on water, slaying a giant, even painting a picture.

We call our camp MOSAIC: Mentoring Our Students Artistically in Christ. I wasn’t around when the original band of artists and dancers and musicians saw a need in our community. A need for our children to not only have the opportunity to experience the fine arts, but the opportunity to experience the fine Creator of all art.

I am grateful every year, that now, these are my people. Together, we see the world, in its chaos of blood and fear, and we find the cosmos. The kaleidoscope of color and beauty that God created, and then placed in our hands to return as a song of praise.

Originally published by The Northeast Georgian, June 2015.