autumn moods playlist
I love curated playlist by moods, and after a recent conversation (see my last post) I decided to create one based on the season of Autumn.
Enjoy.
https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/1243610738/playlist/5bQW0v6IxCR2W61GPPSOVc
of seasons and heartbeats
I had an online conversation lately with a few men who were sharing Spotify song lists for the Autumn season. I read in fascination how they described an emotional change that occurs when summer ends and Fall begins; how the music they listen to shifts. One suggested it was about a mood shift from the upbeat tunes of summer into “sleepy” music transition that would eventually lead into Winter. Another guy mentioned the mood of longing, how Fall brings out feelings of nostalgia for him.
This morning I was listening to one of the playlists recommended, and I felt my heart rate slow down. My mind wandered into remembering an old friend, and as I clutched my cup of coffee, I felt the gift this was: a slowing down.
I missed feeling the seasons change when I lived in Arizona.The temperature changed, but the seasons didn’t. Well – I take that back. It sort of felt like a season change in the spring when the Palo Verde tree blooms and sent my allergies into a tailspin. But at least a color changed…. the only time of year that really happened.
Looking back on that I’m realizing what I missed more was a shift in mood (though the beautiful scenery changes of the Midwest were certainly part of it). I missed the contemplation that settled into my heart during the Fall, the slowing down the snow fall would bring. And then the rejuvenation that happened in my body when I watched the brown earth turn into a thousand colors in the Spring, and the energy of Summer as flip flops and t-shirts became my uniform.
So as I sit in this contemplation today, feeling the chilly Fall weather from my head to my toes, I feel my heart beat just a little bit differently. I remember. I’m… wistful. Fall feels like the Sabbath we forget to take during the week. Perhaps God built the seasons for us so our bodies would send us the signals we need: to slow, to rest, to remember, to long.
kingdom come
Pray then like this:
“Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
(Matthew 6:9-13)
It’s pretty common for me to use the phrase, “pushing back the Fall” when I’m speaking or teaching. This is part of the privilege of being God’s hands and feet on this earth. He uses us to bring healing, to bring light. In God’s providence, we are daily given opportunities to make the earth more like how God intended it to be when he first created it.
This weekend I’ve been struck by the line in The Lord’s Prayer, “as it is in heaven”. In the context of the prayer, Jesus is speaking on how God is sovereign – that his will is done on earth and in heaven. But it got me thinking about how this phrase reminds us of the great ache we all have: the ache of longing for a home we aren’t yet in, but standing in this place, forgiven, called to advance his kingdom on earth. Already given grace… not yet fully restored to glory.
As it is in heaven
Longing for things to be as God intended is part of the human experience, even for those who can’t name that. We all inherently understand this world is just so broken. And it’s so much easier to look at the world as broken, forgetting that we are, too. It starts with us. This is how revival begins, in the heart of one who recognizes that they are forgiven and are meant for more… yet before the “more” we must stand here on earth and call God’s kingdom down to be part of Jesus’ redemption story.
Redeeming the world one step at a time. And it starts with me.
of gentleness… and anvils
I’ve always wished I was one of those “soft” people.
Not weak, of course. But tender. With no rough edges. The kind of person whose presence makes you feel calm. The kind of soft that responds carefully and with compassion, rather than jumping to judgement and self-righteousness and a “my way is right” way of thinking. Without defense and thought of how it all affects me, but considers what else might be going on in the situation.
A very soft person has come into my life recently. I’m in awe of her. She responds to everything in love. She is always concerned for me and how I am adjusting to a whole new life. She is ready to jump in and help whenever it’s needed, and often anticipates needs I could never foresee. When a difficult situation arises, she has this way of making it all better without compromise for what is best.
She is modeling to me the great fruit of the spirit: gentleness.
I’ve far too often felt like a bull in a china shop. Stumbling over people with my agenda. Running wild and free with a grand plan ignoring everyone else’s. And any warning signs along the way. My clumsiness has gotten me in trouble so many times, I’m not sure numbers go high enough to count.
But also isn’t even about “getting into trouble,” honestly. That would be as if I just didn’t want to get caught in my sin, rather than actually not want to sin… to be changed from the inside out. To not “appear” like this bull is like the Pharisees with their shiny and polished cups on the outside. To actually not be the bull is to have a fully clean cup.
Matthew 23: 25-26
For years, I’ve tried so hard to be the gentle and wise person on the outside (with varying degrees of success.) I make so much of trying to appear soft, that I think if I fix that part, the actually being soft will follow. It’s just like trying to glue the fruit onto the branch. So I know, deep down in my heart that I am going the wrong direction… so why do I keep going back to doing instead of learning about the being? For the task is so much easier for me to understand and grasp then the abstract idea of being present and considering everything holistically.
Deep-seeded in this sin of mine, and it may even be that all-important root (i.e.the idol, not just the surface sin) is self-righteousness. It’s a very strange thing knowing that I have a very low self-esteem, but realizing one of greatest sins I struggle with is self-righteousness. But it makes sense. I’m
simply looking for other ways to make myself feel better, and I am looking externally for those things. How I appear to the world is one of the ways I do that. And believing I know better than so many others is my sick and twisted way of trying to feel better about myself, forgetting how this causes me to view others as less than.
I don’t know how to be gentle. Maybe I never will. But I guess I can take some solace in the anvil. Knowing that I am being reshaped and formed into God’s image. An instrument is only useful if it’s the right shape for the task set before it. If I’m on the anvil, it means God still see me as worth reshaping.
sandcastles
Sitting on the soft mound of dirt and sand, I carefully craved a long and narrow path with my hands in this sandbox. Digging deeper in some places, I created ups and downs for the water to flow. Then dragging the water hose over, I filled up this path and began to imagine and dream.
The summer of my 11th year I was obsessed with making sandcastles. Every morning I first threw on a t-shirt and shorts, ran out to the barn to feed the rabbits. Carefully pouring pellets into their bowls and filling the bottles with water for the day, I impatiently did my chores. Then I was off to the sandbox my dad created, where I’d spend hours building.
It wasn’t really a sandbox. It was just a pile of sand over by the shelter of trees protecting our property from the country road that would often kick up dirt during the dry season. The sand mixed with grass and dirt, and when I added the water so I could have the all-important moat, it nearly turned into mud. But I had figured out how to contain the moat to perfection and even create a bridge with a discarded piece of wood… imagining the bridge drawing up to protect the princess from the dragon.
Small buckets created the tower and painstakingly I would create finials at the top of each tower, creating places for those watching over the princess to hide behind and shoot arrows at the dragon. Smooth out the sides perfectly, I created towers and towers of different sizes and shapes. It was my dream home. I relished the moment when I filled up the pathway with the water, watching it rush through and around the castle I built. This would protect the princess even more.
I look back on that summer of building sandcastles and wonder if there was some kind of metaphorical dragon in my life. I was clearly the princess, but at 11 years old, living a very sheltered rural farm life, I can recall no dragons. Perhaps the dragon simply resided in the holes of my heart. But for one perfect summer, those sandcastles created happiness with my hands. And my heart.
Stephanie Nelson 