Notes on Seeing (Another Tiny Letter Reboot)
Before we begin… welcome, new friends, to my TinyLetter community! Some of you have signed on in the past few months, only to never hear from me because that’s how this year goes.
This is (supposed to be) a monthly(ish) space to share simmering thoughts, eventual essays, links to new writing, and other good things loosely gathered around faith, art, and finding home. I use TinyLetter because I believe in keeping things small, simple, and friendly. If we haven’t met yet, please hit reply and introduce yourself! And don't miss the end of this email where I share links to things I've been up to, a link to $5 off a She Reads Truth study book (!), and how you can join me for my favorite event of the year from your house!
And now, about that inbox absence…
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Well, apparently I am excellent at following my own advice.
My last letter went out on March 29. I called it Permission Notes for a Pandemic, a missive to this small circle affirming that no, you don’t have to write another King Lear right now, and no, you don’t have to spin yourself out taking care of everyone, and yes, you can just take one small step at a time in your one small life to get through this one very large crisis. (If you are new here and missed it, you can read the full and final version at The Rabbit Room)
I sent that about two or so weeks into the “Everything is Closed Now What” phase of the pandemic. Six months later? Well, more things are open, but the chaos is real, and the crises have kept on coming — violence and injustice against more Black lives, deepening political polarization and related casualties, devastating fires on the west coast, the all too human ache of death, from towering cultural figures to people whose names are known only by their loved ones.
At my worst, every new hit numbs a little more, tempts me to keep my head down. In the more grace-filled moments, something deep inside groans, "How long, O Lord? Will you forget this pale blue dot forever?"
That’s not to say 2020 is all doom and gloom. We have a dog, and she fills our days with delight. I graduated from my spiritual direction training program and have taken the first steps into working with a couple of wonderful directees. We started having non-virtual church again, albeit in a very small, backyard singing and communion way. My work life, so uncertain and hazy at the beginning of the year, has turned into a batch of meaningful freelance gigs. My niece got married and we had a lovely wedding to celebrate with her. My husband and I got our (negative!) COVID tests then peaced out to Acadia National Park, a gift made possible by a canceled Nashville trip and both of us working from home.
I started to keep a gratitude journal. I'm not as faithful as I used to be, but dutifully writing down little graces -- a good cup of coffee, a walk in the woods, a silly TV show -- somehow draws out the hidden beauty. For all the ache of this year, growth. For all that we lament, all that's burned away, still some seeds planted in hope.
But I’m going to be honest: I haven’t felt much like creating these days. I’d hoped to write, to build a solid manuscript for poetry book #2 over the summer and print it in this fall. (I have a title and a cover mockup and everything. But not enough poems yet.)
I started attempting morning pages again, because September always awakens a desire to create. I don’t find this rhythm alarming anymore. Summer is for resting and adventures and filling up on time with family and friends. Usually, I struggle to let it go, knowing the beauty of fall is a harbinger of winter’s sharp cold.
But not this year. This year, I take each day’s presence as it comes. And now, as the first official days of autumn settle into earlier evenings, changing leaves, and grocery store shelves lined with apples and pumpkins, I’m ready. Ready to let this crazy, stupid year go.
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So, let’s talk about the name change.
This letter has been called Finding Home since the beginning, because back when I started it, I was a newlywed, lifelong Floridian settling into life in New England. I was so interested in home and stability in those days, and truthfully, I still am. But somehow, in the unplanned hiatus, I think this space may have outgrown the name. Today, I feel more at home, more comfortable with the rhythm of this new life.
A few days ago while I was showering (of course), the phrase “Notes on Seeing” popped into my head.
I don’t know if it will stick, honestly, and I reserve the right to change it if things start veering off topic. But for now, I’ve been thinking a lot about the value of noticing, of seeing what you see and telling about it. (I also recently spent a lot of time listening to writing lectures by Jonathan Rogers, so I think his repeated admonitions to write about “what you see with your eyeballs in the world God made” is rubbing off on me.)
The content isn’t changing much, but I suspect, as I stretch into this new vocation as a spiritual director, there will be more to say about seeing.
David the poet-king was no stranger to terrible days, yet he wrote "I am certain I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." (Psalm 27:14) Not in some airy hereafter, but here, while living. And Rich Mullins, a modern psalmist if there ever was one, wrote, "There's so much beauty all around us for just two eyes to see / But everywhere I go I'm looking." (Here in America)
So perhaps, I can keep looking too. At least I'm in good company.
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WHAT I’M UP TO
Though the Tiny Letter has been dormant and creative writing/poetry has been… um, similarly dormant, I’ve actually had a busy summer. So here are a few things worth noting…
I’m officially a spiritual director! I finished my training in June, and have started slowly building a practice. If you’re looking for a safe, non-judgmental space to explore your experience with God (or just feeling curious) you can learn more about it here, and reply to this email with any questions.
In a similar vein, I started an Instagram account solely for SD things. Follow me there @alongside.soulcare if that’s your jam.
SHE READS TRUTH: I’ve been steadily contributing to SRT over the summer, and have a bunch of new devotionals coming out with each new reading plan. Go here to read my latest contributions.
Speaking of SRT, I discovered recently that I have an affiliate code, so that’s pretty rad. If you’d like $5 off one of their study books, click here to order. (May I recommend the recently finished study, The Presence of God? Beautifully designed book, and such a meaningful subject right now. The Advent book is up for preorder too, and it looks equally lovely!)
THE POETRY PUB: Poets, Chris and I are working on some fun things for the fall, including a brand new community chapbook and online workshopping spaces. You’re welcome to join us in the Facebook group for all of those things! We’ll also be keeping our tradition of working through November Poem-A-Day together.
A NEW POEM: Okay, I actually have written a handful of poems this year, and one of my favorites was published at Foundling House last month. You can read “In Praise of Limits” right here.
HUTCHMOOT HOMEBOUND: The sad news is, no traveling to Nashville for Hutchmoot this year. The good news? EVERYONE can come this year, because it’s going virtual. My friends at The Rabbit Room have planned an insanely good virtual moot full of story, art, music, community, and delightful surprises. (Been beta testing the website and seriously, it’s the best thing.) Also, it’s $20. BONKERS I SAY. If you’ve known me long enough to wonder why I disappear to Nashville every fall and won’t shut up about a conference with a goofy name, please register and experience it for yourself. Because you must.
This is more than enough for now, i think. Thanks for sticking around. Looking forward to getting back to our regularly scheduled letters. :)
Peace,
~Jen