Weaving a Life . . .

And Other Notes from Home . . .

If you are looking for amazement and wonder, there’s nothing better than going for a walk with a three-year-old. They notice every little thing. Perhaps it is because so many things are new to them, and they have questions.

And their questions invite my questions. How did I not see this? Why haven’t I noticed that? And most importantly, I remember all over again how rich I feel when I pay attention to what is going on around me.

Here’s a lightly-edited, throwback post from the July 2019 issue of St. Peter’s Parish Paper.

Weaving a Life

“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” – Psalm 90:12

The green, oblong plate is just big enough to hold both old and new treasures, the prizes we find on afternoon walks: milkweed, a few interesting pieces of bark, some intricate shells, a variety of pine cones, rocks with shiny specks, a locust shell, a tiny nest with a sparkly piece of Christmas tinsel woven into it.

The nest intrigues the 3-year old today.

The nest holds a tiny blue robin’s eggshell we found on the sidewalk.

“The baby birds are all gone,” he says.

“Yes, but this used to be a good home for baby birds,” I tell him.

We inspect the nest, paying attention to the way grasses and sticks, weeds and tinsel and leaves have been woven together, the way mud helps patches any little holes, the way it was designed to fit snugly into the branches of a tree. He sniffs the nest, and pronounces it “fresh.” He touches the bottom of the nest, then looks it over as if he’s considering what it might mean to move in.

“Birds use lots of little things to make their nests,” he says, yawning. “They make good houses to live in.”

It’s almost naptime, and he is sleepy. But once he has fallen asleep, his observation sticks with me. I think how often it is “little things” that make a meaningful life.

Big decisions are important: who to marry, which career, where to live. But what about those “little” decisions and seemingly insignificant choices we make every day? What kind of “nest” do we weave for ourselves from the ordinary moments of our lives, day by day?

Those every-day little decisions and seemingly insignificant choices turn out to be significant after all; they determine whether or not we draw closer to God, follow Him faithfully, get “a heart of wisdom.”

Throughout Scripture, wisdom appears as a gift, one to be desired and appreciated. But what does wisdom look like, and how do we get it?

Scripture is clear: wisdom is to be desired and sought after; James says it is “first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere” (James 3:17).

Wisdom is not easily won; the psalmist suggests that acquiring wisdom takes time. It seems we need to think about how we spend our time if we want to get wisdom.

This means choosing carefully the little things we weave into our days, and considering which ones help us to get a heart of wisdom. How much time do we give to serving others? How much television should we watch? Do we set aside a block of time for prayer, or thread it through each hour, or both? How many hours do we spend online, surfing? Do we invest in observing the natural world?Are our meals rushed, or are they times of gracious connection with friends and family? Which is more important: our own wants and wishes, or the needs, hopes, and desires of those around us? Or perhaps more important than either one: drawing near to God and asking Him to help us discern what He is calling us to?

Those little nest-building birds have a lot to teach us: choose and weave good materials with care, considering which ones are good for constructing days that will help us to get a heart of wisdom.

-- Holly Schurter

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I checked the calendar this week, and was surprised to realize I’ve been posting Notes from Home on Substack for just over a year now. I’ve tried different schedules, and different material; some schedules work better than others, and I’m still trying to sift and sort what readers might enjoy most. It has been a Genuine Learning Experience.

There are an amazing number of good writers on Substack, covering a wide variety of topics, offering a wealth of information, advice, and entertainment. There are so many fun-to-read, worthy choices, and I am always glad to know you’ve made time and stopped in to read Notes from Home.

Whether you started reading from the early days, or just came along lately, thank you for your time, thank you for joining me in this adventure. Thank you for opening the posts, thank you for reading, thank you for your comments.

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We have begun to realize our puppy has gourmet tastes. She doesn’t pay particular attention to when or how we serve her food, unless there is something other than dog food in the bowl. If I’m using egg whites, and put an egg yolk in her dish, she runs at top speed to get to her dish. If The Drummer puts a shred of cracker or cheese in her bowl, she precisely separates it from the dog food and devours it first. And the hope of a dropped crumb or two of a peanut butter cookie makes her drool.

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Thank you for stopping in—I hope you are doing well. There’s a rhubarb pie in the kitchen, and I wish I could offer you a piece, with some tea or coffee; I suppose we’ll just have to settle for a virtual conversation. But please stop back in for Fiction Friday: Borderlands later this week, and find out how Big Al responds to the Mayor’s somewhat rude behavior as she interrupts his conversation with Josie.