The kids are home now and I have missed writing the weekend blessings, the extended thinking time and the writing time and staring out the window time. I hesitate to even say that because I know many writers don’t even have the school year to count on. You work full time at another job and write at night or you homeschool your kids and write from under your bed.

I don’t know how you do it.

I love the flexibility of my job, but working from home during the school year looks different than working from home in the summer. I have missed the somewhat dependable daily routine.

I read this post the other day by Ellen Painter Dollar – I Have a Kid Hangover (But Manage to Write Anyway) – I laughed at the truth of it, glad she gave this fog a name.

She talked about Donald Miller, how he schedules his time so he can write until 5 pm every day. If I were him, I would probably do the same thing. Of course! Why not? But that kind of time isn’t always possible for everyone.

Her mention of him reminded me of another post he wrote once where he mentioned he was spending some time on Bainbridge Island to transition from his previous book to his next book. It was just a passing comment in a thoughtful post about productivity.

But that comment stuck with me. I thought about how I transition from one book to the next. Ready for it?

I go to bed at night and wake up the next morning. 

It’s life-changing.

Even though my writing time isn’t particularly spacious or romantic, with the ending of school, I have lost the time I had.

But I have gained something, too. I have gained the mid-day bingo, the fireflies at dusk, the snuggles on the couch with a movie again tonight. I have gained my nieces coming over to play at 8 in the morning and hours of listening to them create little worlds with their dolls.

It’s true, I have also gained more chaos in the house and a few more headaches, a shortened temper and a reminder of my graceless-ness when we’ve been cooped up in the house too long together on a rainy day.

But those reminders aren’t always bad. They re-introduce me to my smallness, my limits, my need for help and God and coffee.

I have remembered how much work can be done in the dark morning hours, how time can slow when you pause to savor it, and how productivity isn’t as important as I sometimes think.

It can be easy for me to live with a fractured soul – the kind that pulls in ten thousand directions, the kind that insists I compete, do more, and live up until finally I crash down.

It’s no way to live.

Then why does it feel so normal?

This week I want to throw myself into the lives of my children in ways I haven’t done in a long time. It feels wrong to say that, as if I’ve been neglecting them. I don’t think I have been, but while they’re in school during the year it’s different. They are gone during the day and when they come home, we have all these agendas.

June comes empty handed, her grin wide across her suntanned face.

As schedules shift, so must our souls. And as my soul takes a deep breath in, I remember how it could be like this all the time if I wanted it to be. Not the schedule part, but the centered part. There is a strong stillness deep within me, the place where God lives. He is not pulled in ten thousand directions and in him, neither am I.

And so we welcome June because we must, because to press on as we have been doing hurts too much.

Instead of fighting the change in schedule, I want to let summertime be my sacred companion.

Dear June, we’re so glad you’ve come.

Other times, you work on your projects and try hard to finish tasks but you end up just walking in circles and writing the same to-do list items on seven different 4×6 note cards until you finally realize, Oh. I’m not getting anything done. I suppose I should take some time off.

So here’s to time off – both the kind you take and the kind that takes you.

If you are vacationing, may it be restful. If you are working, may it be fruitful.

And may you have the wisdom to know when to stop if it isn’t.

As I take a few days to readjust to the summer schedule, here are a few things I’m into this week that are helping me out:

• This interview with Fil Anderson, author of Running on Empty, where he shares about his 30 year friendship with Brennan Manning.

I have the privilege of co-leading a retreat with Fil and Nathan Foster this fall (maybe I’ll see you there?)John and I have known Fil for about 12 years now and I highly recommend his books – but I also highly recommend his person. Is that weird? His portion of the interview starts in around 10:00 mins. You can also listen to it in iTunes by searching “Simplicity Podcast.”

“Here’s a guy who’s famous for what he has to say, yet what I remember most about him was how he sat and listened . . . He touched my life with his kindness.”

-Fil Anderson on his friendship with Brennan Manning

• I’ve been listening to this album by Christa Wells and Nicole Witt on repeat. Track 5 called Pray is The Lord’s Prayer and it is beautiful.
• I got my third Stitch Fix! I’ll share what came in that box soon, but I realized I never told you what I kept from my second one: so here’s my keeps from my second fix.

What are you into this week?

If you look within your soul and find worry, it isn’t of Christ.

If you sense shame, it isn’t of Christ.

If you feel an unexplained sense of fear, it isn’t of Christ.

As you become aware of the brokenness within you, know He is standing strong in the gaps. Enter in to His unhurried rhythm of life.

Enjoy your weekend, friends.

I can’t talk about it. You guys, they are growing up. But I also am so happy for them and also for me because from now until forever I have 10 hilarious, brilliant, beautiful, and wonderfully weird little sisters.

I wasn’t even supposed to be their leader. The leader who started with them had to back out half way through their freshman year. So I told John I would be willing to “fill in until they found a replacement.”

Yeah.

So here we are, three and a half years later and they are all driving and half of them have boyfriends and none of them have braces anymore. They are beautiful and learning to be independent, but they are also still terrified on the inside and small and wanting to be seen and loved for who they are – the part no one can see.

I’ve written them little notes and we’ve had lots of conversation but nothing I’ve said so far seems adequate compared to what I want to say. And so I’ll take a little space here on the blog to give the best three-word advice I can think of right now.

Go make art.

Make art with the way you live in your house until college starts – the way you hang out with your mom, the way you laugh at your dad instead of roll your eyes, the way you choose to listen to your baby sister who is going to miss you more than she can possibly put into words right now.

Whether you’re taking a gap year to work or travel or spend time with YWAM, make art with how you enter in – not like a tourist who watches from behind a camera lens and insists all of your usual comforts are close at hand. As best you can, enter in to your new situation ready to be creative and make art with the circumstance you are given no matter how crummy it might turn out to be.

If you’re headed off to college, be it close to home or a day away, make art in your dorm room – not just with how you decorate, but with how you exist with your roommate or suite mate or friends. Be curious. Be open. Hold fast to your confidence when you are among many but remember to share your vulnerability when you are among few.

Learn, not just from your professors, but from your classmates. Be slow to judge, slow to speak, slow to anger. Be quick to listen, quick to pray, quick to look for the hope in dark situations.

If at all possible, laugh until you tee tee in your pants.

Bring your giftedness as well as your insecurity with you as you go.

Bring your story, the one you’ve already lived and the one you want to live. You’ll be tempted to leave out the boring or embarrassing parts as you tell it. Don’t. Every bit of it counts.

Practice thankfulness, silence, and discipline.

Don’t light candles in your dorm room or get in cars with strangers.

Don’t forget who you are.

Remember Jesus. Remember family. Remember love.

And be sure to call your mom.

If you had only three words to tell a graduate, what would you say?

Want to explore more of what it might look like to make art with your life? I wrote a book about that. It’s called A Million Little Ways: Uncover the Art You Were Made to Live. It releases this fall.

Reader Karen left a comment on my “What I Learned in May” post that I should host a link up on my next “What I Learned” post and invite you to share what you learn as well. So let’s do that!

I’m telling you now so you’ll be paying attention all month. Then write a post on your own blog with a simple list of what you learned in June and meet me back here on Friday June 28 ready to link them up.  Some tips on what to share?

• Educational and Informative: In other words, things that make you say, “What?! I can’t believe I didn’t now that!” ex: how the volume button on the iPhone can also be used to snap photos. (See Things I learned in May).

• Mindless celebrity connections: ex: How May Whitman plays Amber from Parenthood and also played Bernice from Hope Floats. (See Things I Learned in February). These are fun for the whole crowd.

• New services or products you use that you realize you either love, hate, or are confused by. ex: how I learned I love Stitch Fix (See Things I learned in May). These will make all of our lives better.

• Weird quirks you have: ex: How I finally realized that every time I type Chris it comes out Christ. (See Things I Learned in April). These give us permission to point and laugh and then say oh wait, I do that too.

• Inspirational and Introspective. ex: How I realized dreaming with my husband is more powerful and life-giving than dreaming on my own. (See Things I Learned in March). These will remind us of what is important.

There are no rules, but maybe these ideas can get you started. So mark it down for June 28, open your eyes, take notes on the backs of receipts crumpled at the bottom of your purse, and pay attention to what you learn in June. Whether profound or ridiculous, all lessons are welcome and celebrated.

I think it will be fun. Will you join us?

I decided to write a post at the end of each month as a way to continue to pay attention to what I’m learning. But as I wrote them, I  discovered most of the things that came out were lighthearted, frivolous, and always included at least one celebrity fact. This surprised me, but not in a bad way.

Most of my writing is serious and introspective, so once a month I enjoy writing on purpose a few things I’m learning that are, well, not so serious. I hope these posts are fun for you, too.

Here are 10 things I learned in May in no particular order:

1. Lennon and Maisy Stella play sisters on TV – and in May I learned they are sisters in real life, too. Also I’m a little bit obsessed with them. Watch this video below (subscribers may need to click over) and in about two seconds you’ll know why:

2. The up volume on the side of the iPhone can also be used to take a photo. What?! I know all of you already knew this. Why didn’t someone tell me this sooner? Changed my life.

3. After three books and over seven years of blog writing, I decided it was finally time for me to have a desk. The sunroom seemed like a lovely place to put it. Having a desk doesn’t make me a better writer, but it makes me feel like a better writer.

4. Since I’ve been spending more time in here, however, I have remembered there is a reason we call it “the sunroom.” There are windows on the ceiling, people. Sitting here much after 1 pm and I am literally a hot mess. So I try to finish my work by 1-ish or there will be sweat prints on my laptop.

5. I do indeed love getting clothes in the mail. I wrote about my first Stitch Fix but not about my second one because I didn’t have a chance to take the photos before I had to send back what I wasn’t keeping. Would you like to hear about what I get in my third box?

6. My 15-year-old nephew says now in Drivers Ed they are teaching them to hold the wheel at 7 and 4, not 10 and 2. I need you to confirm or deny this for me because 7 and 4 makes me very uncomfortable. Is this what our youths are learning?!

7. When you tell people your husband is quitting his job, they are generally supportive and kind and gracious to share with you about their own transition. And then you will learn that there are way more people in transition with you than you initially thought. Sometimes they will even send you leads and job descriptions for positions at their churches. This will make you smile and warm your heart.

8. I learned to always double-check even after I spell check – or I may be saying asses when I mean to say assess. And this might not be a big deal, but when you make those kinds of typos on your highest viewed post of all time, you will hear about it because more eyes equals more editors. And then you will kick yourself. And then you will laugh hysterically because you are 12, apparently.

9. Flower Patch Farmgirl texted me this week:

So I did, and I had to kind of agree with her. And then I had to prove it by staging my own photo because I have absolutely no work to do at all and my house cleans itself and my book edits are definitely not due Monday and there is no better way to spend my time than to have my 9-year-old take photos of me. (And also, yes, I have Shannan in my phone as “Shannan FlowerPatch Martin.” Obviously.)

So I guess I learned in May that Melissa Michaels has a daughter who kind of looks like me as long as she is looking down at a laptop and wearing a striped sweater.

10. Or I learned that I am a MASTER at finding creative ways to avoid doing my work.

***

Here are the lists of things I learned so far this year. Except for January. Evidently I learned nothing in January.

• 10 Things I Learned in February
• 12 Things I Learned in March
• 12 Things I Learned in April

I watched my son fly off the low-dive, swim to the ladder, walk fast back to the diving board line and fly off the end of the board again. He doesn’t even think about it.

But that isn’t the case for some. While he made his rounds on the low dive, I noticed a little girl – maybe 8 or 9 – standing at the end of the high dive. She wasn’t jumping.

Instead, she stood there looking around for another way down. She bent her knees like she was preparing, but quickly stood up straight again.

Bend, straighten, repeat.

After a few tries like this, other people began to notice her and it wasn’t long before all eyes were on her. Her dad appeared from the crowd shouting encouragement and waving a thumbs up.

It happens a lot at the pool – some kid gets scared at the top of the high dive and everybody watches from below. Secretly? I kind of love it. I don’t love watching scared kids – I love watching scared kids jump. It never gets old.

Someone started to clap. Soon, everyone was clapping, cheering her on. We could tell she desperately wanted to jump, but I heard her say faintly, “It’s too high.

She couldn’t do it and slowly climbed backwards down the ladder.

My heart sank for her. But you know what else? My heart sank for me, too. I wanted her to jump. I don’t know this girl personally, but I understand her fear.

Ten minutes later, I saw her climb back up. I nudged John next to me, “Look! There she is again.”

She seemed more determined this time, standing on the edge. She bent her knees same as last time. And again, she straightened back up.

Crouch . . .

Stand.

Crouch . . !

Stand.

The crowd began to clap again, this time with more energy. Several people from across the pool started a countdown – 3 . . 2 . . 1 . . and with one slow motion crouch, she flung herself from the end of the board, arms straight above her.

As she fell, we all whooped and hollered, our collective happiness coming from a genuine excitement for her. I know she heard us before she hit the water.

Here’s the thing: kids jump off that board every 30 seconds and nobody cares. They turn flips and touch their toes and they do it 10 times in a row.

But it isn’t until someone hesitates that the crowd gets involved, even a crowd of strangers.

With a little more than a month left in the only job John and I have ever known as a couple, I feel like we are not only standing at the end of a diving board, we’ve decided to go ahead and set up a tent there on the edge.

Last week I spent some time with the other pastor’s wives at our church. They were kind to gather in the midst of a busy month to spend some time with me and say goodbye. As we sat around the table eating pimento cheese spread on crackers and a delicious chocolate cake with my name on it, I cried as I shared with them my excitement as well as my fear.

They prayed for me, and in a very real way, I felt like I was standing scared at the edge of the diving board. But I had a profound awareness that for those moments, these women were a tiny crowd around me, encouraging me to jump.

If I hadn’t told them I was afraid, they may not have known to cheer.

Now before you get the wrong idea, I want you to know something about this group of women - these other wives and I are not best friends. We don’t have Bible study together or go on vacation with each other’s families. I like them, I respect them, I love to spend time with them. But we hardly ever see one another and it honestly would have been easier and more comfortable for me to not let them see me cry.

After that evening with them, I reminded myself of this: Don’t insist your encouragement should come from a particular person or group of people. Be open to receiving God however (and through whomever) he may want to show himself.

Sometimes it’s good to let them see you sweat even when it feels awkward. Fear seems to grow in the darkness of isolation. But when you expose it in the light of community, it tends to lose power. Sharing my fear is often the path that leads to courage.

So here’s to climbing up on top of diving boards and being honest about how terrified we are. May you push through your insecurity and fully admit your fear. And may you be open to receiving the kind community of people there waiting to cheer you on.

“While no two military wives’ personal circumstances look identical, all military wives share common threads woven throughout this lifestyle. We battle frequent seasons of loneliness, fear, separations, and feelings of missing out. So whether a military wife has just walked down the aisle or driven through her tenth base, whether her husband has deployed a dozen times or not at all, I believe Serving You will speak to each woman in emotional, spiritual, and practical ways.”

Kristen Strong, Serving You

Visit Kristen’s blog to find out how to download your copy for free – and I hope you are able to enjoy this day no matter what life situation you currently face.

May your weekend be filled with the nearness of God. May you be accepted for who you are rather than who you want people to think you are. May the strawberries be sweet, the lemonade be chilly, and may the conversation around your backyard table linger with you well into next week.

Here are some reads for your weekend:

Beginnings, Middles, Ends – A Trilogy by Elizabeth W. Marshall at Wynne Grace Appears

What Women Can Do by Lisa-Jo Baker

2013 Summer Reading Guide by Modern Mrs. Darcy

My First Stitch Fix by me. I finally wrote a little re-cap of my first experience with Stitch Fix, the company that delivers clothes in your style and size right to your doorstep. One of the most fun things I did in April.

Enjoy your weekend, friends.

Change the world is a tired, over-used phrase. I know that. But you know, we could say the same thing about “I love you” so I’m just going to go with it. These three questions are for anyone who wonders if it might finally be time to do something – write, teach, move, speak, listen, join, or quit. They are questions that help me – but maybe your questions are different. I’d love to hear what they are.

In an interview Jeff Goins did with Seth Godin, he (Seth) said all his books were a result of his being frustrated by something. (By the way, raise your hand if you have ever called them Jeff Godin and Seth Goins – I mean, really. Could their names BE any more similar?)

Seth: “For me, I don’t wake up in the morning saying I need something to write about or I owe the world a book. It’s totally fine with me if I don’t have anything. If I’m gonna name something or if I’m going to bother going the year long trouble of writing a book, it’s because I’m frustrated. The only reason I do any of this is because no one else has done it in a way that I think is going to push an idea forward that I think is worth addressing.”

I’ve thought about this for a while and compared what he says to the way I feel about why I write or explore an idea.

I wrote Grace for the Good Girl and Graceful because I saw myself in the girls in our youth group. Jesus didn’t seem to be an answer to real problems in their lives. He was only an example to follow when they wanted to be good Christians.

This gross distortion of the Gospel broke my heart and made me mad. Are we teaching our students a compartmental salvation? And am I partially to blame for that?

So yes, frustration was the first spark of my motivation.

Being frustrated didn’t make me qualified or ready. But it did wake something up within me, something that compelled me to move, something that made me want to get ready.

The frustration rolled into a compulsion towards change – passion to communicate a message, to move into the chaos of the questions even if I didn’t have all the answers.

But being frustrated about an issue and compelled to do something about it won’t sustain the message for the long-term. For me, what really keeps me moving is the hope of something better.

In my experience, when I am frustrated and passionate without hope, I’m vulnerable to cynicism. If I don’t have hope for change, despair creeps in and I want to give up.

Am I able to peer behind the mysterious curtain of the present and catch a glimpse of what could be?

Am I willing to move into the darkness even though I don’t feel fully qualified or confident or prepared?

These are important questions for me to ask about the work I do. There are plenty of things that frustrate me. But that doesn’t mean I am called to tackle them all. It’s only when I sense all three of these motivations working together that I begin to accept I might need to explore an idea, a thought, or move towards influencing change.

Frustration wakes me up.

Passion gets me moving.

Hope keeps me going.

What about you?

What frustrates you?

What compels you?

What do you most hope for?

Maybe these questions will help you define and refine your goals, your dreams for yourself or for others, and your desire for change.

A quick thanks to you for your kind comments, emails and prayers regarding my last post. John read some of your responses as well and afterwards he looked at me and said, “Wow. A lot of people are in transition.” So here’s to waiting, to believing, and to seeing what’s next.