That’s how things go, both in body and in soul.

In the same way, sometime in the last three months to five years I’ve been spending a fair amount of time in the mornings staring out the window.

Lately my mornings have started the same way: I walk downstairs, get the coffee, and go directly to the corner of my sunroom, the one with windows on each side. I face east because that’s where the ocean is. I can’t see the ocean, of course, as we are 200 miles inland. But just knowing it’s that way is enough. This is also the direction of the sunrise which is secondary but also a plus.

After lighting a candle, I crack open the window just enough to hear the outside noises, a habit I’ve picked up from John who, no matter the weather, will open a window in the morning while he reads or writes or prays.

And so I sit and face east and imagine the ocean and begin my prayer practice that likely doesn’t look at all like a prayer practice. Because during this time, I try to not say a word.

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“God meets us where we are, not where we pretend to be.”

—Dr. Larry Crabb

I would love to only list the good and beautiful, but there is also the true. There have been moments this summer when summertime itself is offensive, off-putting, and disorienting. Sunshine, beach waves, and crispy cocktails do not cover up or erase the pain of heartbreak, disappointment, or watching a loved one struggle.

We have had pockets of relief, moments of deep joy, and much to be grateful for. We have also been carrying a deep sorrow. Rather than wait for it to go away, we’re working to integrate it into our lives and build a bigger container. This is slow, human and Divine work.

So I’m finding ways to finish out summer with some semblance of my nervous system in tact. I trust you can relate, though I desperately wish you could not.

Incase you can, though, we created a list of some resources for times of grief, including some of my favorites as well as some recommended from readers over the years. It’s a free resource you can download here.

As we continue to do our best to navigate the valleys of life with hope, one thing saving my life is countering my weights, because, as Shannan Martin reminds us, “We can’t counter what we aren’t willing to weigh.”

God meets me where I am and I have to meet myself here, too. I’ve found one way to counter the weight of life is to name what’s been saving it lately.

It could be anything from a favorite product to a spiritual practice, a fun new show, or a meaningful relationship. When it comes to naming the good things of summer, everything gets to count. It’s great to know what helps me come alive, what makes me smile, what’s something I’m loving right now. All of these questions, though they may feel small, inform our next right thing more often than we might realize.

If you value my writing, would you consider a paid subscription? If this is not the season for you to add the extra expense, we are glad to extend a scholarship. Click here for information on how to receive one or become a Founding Member to provide a scholarship for someone else.

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As a reminder, the way to join Journal Club and watch this video today is to be a paid subscriber. It’s $5/month and scholarships are available to all who ask. (More info on the here.)

Here is a link to watch the decision-making workshop I created for you, included with your subscription: How to Find and Follow Arrows.

We use a guided journal with simple lists you can fill out once per week, an easy and low-key way to reflect on your life as you live it.

Past check-ins:

• 1: Getting Started

• 2: How to Use the Arrows Section

• 3: How to Reflect on Your Season

• 4: How to Use the Happy List Plus the 4 Journals I Use Regularly

• 5: How to Journal When Life is Disrupted

• 6: Ideas for Journaling During Times of Grief

Here’s today’s video 7: One Thing I Always Do Halfway Through the Year:

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Even though I was one of the guides on Monday, I still feel like I was cared for and ministered to during the retreat with Pastors Priests & Guides. They have more this year in various parts of the country if you want to see if there’s one near you.

Here are a few things I wanted to tell you before we get back to regularly scheduled programming:

• Journal Club: We’ll do our 7th Journal Club check-in next week. Do you like when I do those videos live or does it matter? Tell me in the comments. Here’s the one from last month.

• Reflection Questions: It’s the end of the month which means I’m sending out my End of Month Letter, one I’ve been writing since 2014. If you don’t get that, you can add your email here and I’ll send it to you. It’s always free and comes on the last day of every month. It’s where I send you 3 questions for your own personal reflection as well as the books I’m reading.

• Discount: Finally, if you’ve been thinking about upgrading to an annual subscription here on Substack, I’d love to offer a 20% off coupon if you upgrade by Friday July 31. (That’s four free months total: 2 for being annual and 2 more with the discount) Click here to snag it today.

As a reminder, we offer scholarships to all who ask (learn more here) but if you’re able to support my work with a paid subscription, here’s what you'll get access to:

• Every post, including these most read of all time:

  • Don’t Wait Until It’s Personal: What I Learned After My Child Came Out

  • We’re Learning to Walk in the Dark: And to Hold One Another in the Light

  • The 8 Word Prayer I Keep Repeating: And What (Almost) Always Happens Next

• How to Find and Follow Arrows: A Decision-Making Resource for When You Feel Stuck - I walk you through two personal decisions I actually made in my life and share every arrow I followed to my next right thing. Examples galore!

• Access to our Private IG account (you get the invite when you join)

• Automatic membership to our Journal Club that you can start any time.

As always, I’m glad you’re here and I love to hear from you.

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It’s repeated and shared and said and re-said because it’s something we need to remember, this one hundred percent success rate. That stat is for the living, and that is what we are.

Don’t shame yourself for being in survival mode when everyone around you is brilliant and thriving. First of all, they’re not. Second of all, survival mode is for the damn heroes. Survival is a fight worth having. Keep going.

You don’t have to make a plan for your life. You don’t even have to make a plan for the day. Just make a plan for the next 10 minutes. Less if it helps. What is your next right thing right now? Brush your teeth. Change your clothes. Take a shower, if you’re able. The routine doesn’t have to be fancy, it just has to be followed.

It will not always be this way, whatever this way is. It may feel like this will last forever, but that feeling is just fear who needs a friend, a reminder that you are not stuck.

As always, we offer scholarships to all who ask. It doesn’t have to be weird. Or use this link until July 31 for four free months of an annual subscription.

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“A person of prayer is, quite simply, a person who can cry from the heart and laugh from the belly.” —Fr. Richard Rohr

After years of believing that God was mostly (only?) found in narrow spaces and around small tables, I love the continued practice of discovering spiritual connection that catches me by surprise. Not as a means of collecting more practice for practice sake, but all for the sake of love.

We’re soul minimalists, around here, after all. We’re working to create space, not fill it all up. If it leads to shame? Toss it. If it leads to flourishing? Now I’m back in.

Being a soul minimalist doesn’t mean we empty ourselves and become a blank slate on the inside. But practicing soul minimalism (to me) means being vigilant about what I allow in and how long I allow it to stay there.

For example, I can’t imagine where I would be if I still thought God was mad at me.

So in the mornings when it’s hard to pray with words, I’ve been drawing pictures and writing haiku. Does it feel silly? Sometimes. But am I ashamed of it? Absolutely not.

I’m short on laughter these days, but I’m learning how to put myself in the path of it a little more regularly. I may not actually laugh from the belly, as Rohr suggests, but I’m working on my best chance.

4 current pathways to laughing from the belly:

• I keep a collection on Instagram called LAUGH and when something makes me laugh out loud, I bookmark it to this collection.

• We’re re-watching Modern Family in the evenings and it’s the season where Luke and Manny start high school. Gloria is always yelling, Cam and Mitchell are always telling half-truths, Phil is always doing a magic trick or gymnastics and I laugh out loud at least once every episode.

• Soccer is on most of the time even though we’ve never been a soccer family. But it’s the World Cup and we’re not animals so it’s the right thing to do. The drama of if it all is giving me life. Watch them fall down and clutch their injuries like they’re giving birth!

• One sentence I wrote recently felt completely normal in the moment and then the next day I woke up and reread it and I laughed for ten minutes straight. See the evidence:

It is, as they say, what it is. Or is it?! That is the actual question.

I’m not saying that watching a game or a show or marking funny things on Instagram is prayer all by itself. But being a person who is a friend of laughter and tears, who can access emotion with some measure of fluidity, who can hold the tension of discomfort long enough to let it make an impact—I think that’s part of what it means to walk with God.

Here’s our quote again:

“A person of prayer is, quite simply, a person who can cry from the heart and laugh from the belly.” —Fr. Richard Rohr

7 current pathways to crying from the heart:

• I have a hot flash exactly four to one hundred times a day so I have no sense if it is perimenopausal (it is) or if it’s just because it’s the middle of hot July. At times I laugh at how I fan myself the way I remember my mom doing when I was a teenager and at other times, usually at night, I cry for this body who is still changing and growing and sometimes mystifying me.

If you want to upgrade to Annual and receive the discount, click here. Or you can join at the monthly level as always by clicking the button below.

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“Everyone has three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life.”

—Gabriel García Márquez

“We don’t have to stay long,” I told them, red-faced and breathless, “I just want to see the crowds.”

It was sunset in Manhattan on one of the hottest days on record in over a decade. After walking across the Brooklyn Bridge on the first day of July, I convinced John and Luke—all three of us drowning in sweat and willing to pay 200 million dollars for a cold bottle of water—to go with me to Madison Square Garden one day ahead of the Taylor+Travis nuptials.

The heat dome was heat dome-ing so they didn’t have the strength to resist me when I offered to avoid the train and pay for an Uber to take us from the Financial District to Midtown. As it turns out, the bottled water was only two dollars and we downed several before ordering a car and heading up town.1

When we got out at Penn Station, we had our first glimpse of MSG. I don’t know what I expected, exactly. A small crowd of fans? A line of camera people? More interest? The venue was still lit up in Knicks colors and though there were pedestrian barriers blocking the back entrance to the venue, they were hardly needed. Approximately three people were paying attention, and I was one of them.

We watched as a long, slow line of trucks unloaded mysterious props and equipment, covered in black. With the details of Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce’s wedding under mostly wraps (literally), all we knew at the time was that she had rented out the venue. As it turns out, the Internet was much more interested in what was happening than anyone on the street, I can promise you that.

We were in New York for three days to move our very first born baby child to Brooklyn. How were we to know it would be the some of the HOTTEST DAYS IN THE LITERAL HISTORY OF HOT DAYS but enough about the weather.

While we waited to board our flight on our way out of town, I read on Threads the back and forth criticism about Taylor Swift: Why is she renting out the biggest venue in the biggest city if she wants her wedding to be a secret!? And the discourse continued about the difference between a secret wedding vs. a private wedding. Of course it seems she never needed it to be a secret, she only wanted to control the narrative.

As it turns out we flew home right around the time the guests began to arrive and as the plane circled the city and aimed itself south, there was a moment when, through my clouded up window, I could see the Hudson River and Manhattan in the foreground, the East River and Brooklyn in the background.

As the plane climbed, I thought about Taylor and fame and New York and parenting and grief and joy.

I thought about privacy and secrecy. And I thought about God.

Note: The second half of this post is for paid subscribers. If you value you my work, would you consider joining The Soul Minimalist for $5/month? I never want money to keep you out so if you want to read the entirety of these posts but can’t swing the cost, no problem. Click here to learn how to get a scholarship or to upgrade to a Founding member to help counter the cost for someone else.

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Reality can be the worst kind of bully to memory.

This week we celebrate 25 years of marriage and we headed back to one of our favorite stops from our honeymoon: Bar Harbor, Maine. We’ve had a similar experience here as we have had in our own hometown: some things have remained exactly as we remember them while others have fallen prey to time.

The last time we were here was this very week in June 2001, before I owned a cell phone, a digital camera, or had a blog. It was eleven years before Instagram was invented and three months before 9/11. One thing we brought with us back then was my fancy film camera and a large, very bulky tripod with a self-timer. Two weeks later we came back with 13 rolls of film to develop. We’ve had so much fun recreating some of those photos this week.

In honor of our anniversary, we’ve been reflecting on pivotal decisions we’ve made in the last 25 years. I promise I tried to just be a simple normal person and make a list. A list, Emily! A simple bullet pointed list!

But I could not. I had to explain everything.

I’m sorry and you’re welcome. Here are 25 decisions we’ve made in 25 years:

1. John takes a job as a staff deacon for the middle schoolers at a local church: This job didn’t start out as a pastoral position and paid less than $25K annually. Even though he had his MDiv and was technically over-qualified for this job, we decided for him to take it because he wanted to work with students and we wanted to stay in Greensboro after we got married.

2. Not to have a TV when we first got married: In 2001, the only way to watch a movie, a show, or the news was to have a TV, end of story. We decided to start our marriage without a TV so we could focus on love or whatever. It did not last long at all, dear reader, and became one of our first (and worst!) marital fights TO DATE.

3. Painting our living room orange: During my senior in high school, my bedroom was painted the most wonderful shade of coral and when John and I got our own place, I tried so hard to find that shade for our living room. I never got it right and we lived with orange walls for two years. I thought it was giving Pottery Barn but in reality I think it was more Halloween.

4. Taking a full time job at a local university: I worked very part time when we first got married so working full time as sign language interpreting coordinator was a big lifestyle change for us. Looking back, I think I pursued it because I was restless, a little bored, and felt like I wasn’t doing anything “important”.

5. Having a baby: We made a conscious decision to have a baby at the end of 2002 and then I kept not getting pregnant, month after month. Six months after that decision, a test was finally positive (and the second and third tests I took to be sure were too!) A month later we learned it was twins.

6. Allowing my national certification to expire: I worked hard after graduation to become a nationally certified interpreter. But because I couldn’t keep up with the continuing education requirements after the twins were born, we decided to let it expire.

7. Not seeking help for postpartum depression: This wasn’t a decision, exactly, but maybe a lack of curiosity about my own well-being. The twins were born seven weeks early in January. The dark, cold days combined with their fragile little bodies and learning how to be a mom to two whole humans—it all did a real number on me. Looking back, I now know I was struggling a lot more than I (or anyone around me) realized at the time.

8. Having a third baby when the twins were only two: Three under three was WILD. But now having three who are 22, 22, and 20 years old is a relief and a reward. That third baby healed a little something in me. He was born in June (warm and bright!) and he was a happy, full-term, sing-song-y doll.

9. Getting a dog: I wrote about When A Non-Dog Lover Gets One back in August of 2010, just days after we got our dog. I could not have imagined the next sixteen years with an actual dog living in my house. But here we still are.

10. Moving to the cul-de-sac: In 2008 we moved into a house next door to John’s brother’s family. It felt risky to live so near family, but our kids were small and we loved the idea of living near cousins. This was one of our favorite decisions of their childhood. We still live in that same house but my brother-in-law’s family moved across town in 2020. Those 12 years solidified a bond that I don’t think we (or especially our kids) would have had if we hadn’t lived next door.

11. Sending our kids to public school: When we had babies I had no idea the decision-making process we would wrestle through about schooling: Homeschool or not? Public or private? Magnet or neighborhood? In the end, we sent them to public school and we’ve been glad for it.

12. Writing a book proposal in 2009: I have a lot of pivotal work-related decisions that of course crossed over into family decisions. Writing that first book proposal was a decision John and I had to work through together. I figured nothing would come of it (!!) but it was something I was glad we went into with our eyes open.

    

13. Traveling when my father-in-law was sick: John’s dad was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2010, the same year I finished my first book. Before it released in 2011, I had some work related travel scheduled. Frank was very sick and I debated whether I should cancel my trip. John insisted I go and so I did. At the end of the trip, on the highway one hour from home, I got the call that he had died. Not being there is still one of my biggest regrets.

14. Traveling to Italy for our 15 year wedding anniversary: We went with a group of writers and their partners (including my sister and brother-in-law) and I remember debating if we should spend the money, if it was all too extravagant. In the end, we went and it helped to solidify for us the importance of marking milestones. We still have a bottle of wine we brought home from Italy that we haven’t opened yet.

15. Going to grad school: I distinctly remember saying to John as I was making this decision, “I know there isn’t a wrong choice and that’s what makes this so hard.” It would have been easier if he had felt strongly that I not do it. In the end, I decided to go for it and graduated with my Masters in Christian Spiritual Formation and Leadership in 2019.

16. Staying in Greensboro: There were several seasons over the last 25 years where we considered a move to Pasadena, California and also Nashville, Tennessee. But we kept choosing Greensboro.

    

17. Leaving churches: Three times during our marriage we’ve left a church behind: once because of John’s job, once because of mine, and once because we discerned it was no longer the right fit for our family (I wrote a whole book about the last one).

18. Deciding not to have more kids: It’s no small thing to make a permanent decision about future children, but John took the necessary measures and we have never looked back.

19. Adopting unconventional roles: For the first 12 years of our marriage, John worked full time and I stayed home (aside from those 2 years when I worked before we had kids). I did the majority of the meal planning, grocery shopping, house and kid stuff and John worked at churches and did all things related to cars, trash, and grass. In 2013 things shifted and John took on more of a stay-at-home dad role while I began to work more. It’s been a gift to have a partner who is honest about what he enjoys doing and encourages me to lean into my gifts, too.

20. Traveling to Hawaii: John was asked to officiate a wedding in Hawaii and the bride and groom-to-be offered to pay my way, too. I almost didn’t go (can you even imagine?) but decided to go for it and it remains one of our favorite trips. I’ve not had better Thai food before or since.

21. Visiting a Quaker church: We had both been drawn to Quakerism for years but had never attended a meeting. Once we did, some things just seemed to click for us and we remain Quaker curious Christians, finding this to be an authentic expression of our faith.

22. Becoming spiritual directors: Some decisions are so gradual you can’t point to a time you made them. But much like Quakerism, spiritual direction just fits for both of us.

23. Re-examining theological convictions: Hopefully this will be a life-long rhythm for us. But we continue to weigh long-held theological convictions against the life and ministry of Christ. As we do, some things hold and other things fall away. May it continue to be so.

24. Releasing our expectations on who our kids will become: Last night during dinner we sat near a young couple who had 8 month old twins. At one point, we caught eyes and John mentioned we also have twins who are now 22. “Any advice?” the young dad asked him. We spouted off a few words of encouragement, looks like you’re doing a great job! And left it at that. But upon reflection here’s what I would say.

Do your best to begin releasing your expectation around who your girls will become. Let them be their own people, even now. The sooner you can begin to let go of who you think they will be or should be, the more deeply you will enjoy the process of parenting them.

25. Releasing our expectations on who we will become: Of course this is life long. But part of growing older is learning how to let go, not just of the little things but of all the things, including ourselves. John has been my greatest teacher in this area and we are always encouraging one another to this end. Every day there’s something to let go of. In the release, there is always a surprising combination of grief and joy; a curious kind of death and a new kind of life.

Here’s to all of the decisions you’re making and will make; and to the person who you are and are becoming.

As always, I love to hear from you and I’m glad you’re here.

epf

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P.S. This post is free for everyone. If you like what you see here, would consider supporting my work and becoming a paid subscriber? You can unsubscribe at any time and we offer scholarships to all who ask. Learn more here.

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• ideas for how to journal differently during times of grief (10:26 and at 14:12)

• what I do with my journaling practice while on vacation (2:55)

• how to life-giving/draining lists led directly to a clear decision (3:40)

• more about questions and arrows (6:28)

• a peek into my doodling journal (13:30)

• my favorite quote of the month from Quaker meeting (20:00)

Here’s a visual for what I describe at 15:40 as well as an entire post with how-tos and background about it: Feeling Anxious? Try This.

As a reminder, the way to join Journal Club and watch this video today is to be a paid subscriber. It’s $5/month and scholarships are available to all who ask. (More info on the here.)

And also mentioned in the video, here is a link to watch the workshop included with your subscription: How to Find and Follow Arrows.

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“JFK Jr.’s plane disappeared. They think it may have crashed.”

That week we kept the TV on more than was typical for us at the time, watching as the terrible news unfolded. Of course we didn’t know know John F. Kennedy Jr. or his traveling companions: his wife, Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy and her sister, Lauren Bessette. But we knew them in the way everyone knew them and were compelled to see the news when it broke, however bad the news was to be.

And of course the news would be devastating.

That night, while the plane was still missing, we went for dinner at a crab shack on the island and one of the servers—tall, pleading wide-set blue eyes, dressed in all black, slick-backed ponytail—looked so much like Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy that she ended up addressing it.

“I know I look like Carolyn Bessette,” she finally said to a table near ours. “It’s all anyone is talking about.”

And it was. Because it seemed a little bit possible that this was Carolyn Bessette.

Maybe they were so sick of the paparazzi that they decided to disappear. Maybe they chose to go undercover and move to a tiny island in South Carolina. They got married just down the coast from here, didn’t they? They like the Lowcountry after all? Maybe she’s working in this crab shack because it’s the last place anyone would look. What if it really is her?

We ate our seafood, but we spoke quietly, stole glances her way without her seeing, and shared wide-eyed looks with other patrons. Speaking in a normal tone would clearly break the spell this Carolyn look-alike had cast over the room.

In her book The Year of Magical Thinking Joan Didion reflects on the sudden death of her husband saying, “How could this have happened when everything was normal?”

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Maybe the most backhanded compliment definition I’ve heard of my name is Emily: The Elegant Overachiever.1

Oh dear.

Working hard is baked in to my personality and so is a fierce independence. I have the internal motivation to meet external goals and that independence serves me well most of the time.

But when I’ve wanted to create, make, or explore opportunities that require skill sets I don’t have, I’ve had to accept that collaboration or even long-term partnerships are necessary for certain endeavors.

I’ve been through seasons where I had to learn the importance of saying yes to collaboration, to being willing to jump in and see what happens, to move toward people rather than away, and to believe that we really are better together than we are apart.

I’ve also been through seasons where I jumped a little too quickly, when my eyes were bigger than my schedule, or my hope of something outweighed my ability to see clearly. I’ve been guilty of falling in love with the potential of a partnership rather than the reality of it.

When that has happened, it’s easy to swear off collaborations forever. While this could be a good reset for a season, that’s not how I want to be. I love to work alone, but I don’t want to only work alone.

Making a list of dream collaborators is a good practice for me. I write down actual human people (some I know, some I don’t) who I would love to link arms with in some way. If I have a project I want to explore but don’t have the skills or bandwidth to do it alone, I can consult my list. In turn, if people on that list reach out to me, I’m one step closer to yes!

Here are 5 questions I ask myself before entering into a collaboration:

1. Are we aligned?

The necessary points of alignment are up to you, but in general the wheels have to be turning in the same direction if we hope to get anywhere. For me this includes:

• Do I know this potential partner’s core values and do they know mine? They don’t have to be the same, but they do have to harmonize.

• Do we agree on what success looks like in this endeavor and do we have a way to measure it?

• If this is a faith-adjacent project: In what ways will our theological convictions impact how we make decisions?

2. Have we done something small together?

It’s important to have some experience working together in a small way before committing to work together in a big way. For example, I recently announced that I’m collaborating with The Apprentice Institute and James Bryan Smith to create the Formation Writers Guild, a 12-month guided journey for writers who sense a vocational call within the field of Christian spiritual formation (applications are open until July 10!) But before I decided to link arms with them, a few things were true.

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• 1: Getting Started

• 2: How to Use the Arrows Section

• 3: How to Reflect on Your Season

• 4: How to Use the Happy List Plus the 4 Journals I Use Regularly

• #5: How to Journal When Life is Disrupted

In today’s video check-in I’m sharing a few specific examples from my own journal, specifically questions I wrote down in May and the arrows I’m listing as my next right thing. I’m also diving back in my journal archives to April 2023 where I’ll read you all the questions I was asking that month and what arrows they led to, for example:

As a reminder, the way to join Journal Club is to be a paid subscriber. It’s $5/month and scholarships are available to all who ask. (More info on the here.)

We use a guided journal with simple lists you can fill out once per week, an easy and low-key way to reflect on your life as you live it.

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Today’s post is free for everyone. If you would like to have access to every post I send out as well as our Arrows Workshop and private Instagram, consider joining as a paid subscriber. Thank you for supporting my work!

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After finishing my work yesterday afternoon, I walked outside to send a voice message to a friend. When I walked back in, John called from another room, “The power’s out.” And so it was. It was 4 p.m. and the estimation from the power company was that it would be restored by 9 p.m. which is hardly an emergency except for the fact that the Survivor finale started at 8.

There are few things we watch live any more these days, but this finale is one of them. We ended up finding another place to watch the remaining survivors battle it out to the end on the island of Fiji, thanks be unto God, and the power returned near bedtime. (I promise no spoilers here as I know not everyone watches these things live.1 )

Even as I write this about losing power in our residential neighborhood for a few hours, an image of another island came to mind: a darkened city in Cuba in the midst of ongoing blackouts and energy grid failures.2

This is what often happens, more lately than ever. I see my full plate, closet, pocket, table, YouTube TV queue. And then I remember the gaping need, the suffering, the struggle nearby and around the world. I see my plenty and I see their lack.

On the one hand, this is a good practice that can lead to gratitude and humility. But the opposite can also happen: guilt dulls the gratitude or superiority dulls the humility.

What I’m working to do (and this is a lifelong work) is to find ways to stop the whole cycle of comparing and contrasting because it does a subtle work in me that I do not like and serves no one. It’s a dangerous kind of othering wears a thin veil of something that seems like compassion (I feel bad with you and I want to help) but when you really get down to it, behaves more like pity (I feel bad for you but am mostly relieved it’s not me).

We have guides in this quagmire of being human.

Shannan Martin is one, who continues to find ways to shepherd us through seeing the needs around us without othering the needy. Robin Wall Kimmerer is another, who heralds the mutuality of flourishing. Kat Armas is a third, outlining the history of empire and its pervasive influence on our relationship to power.

I know the Internet influencers (the thoughtful ones, anyway) have grabbed on to the “two things can be true at once” statement and run it to the ground. But just because it’s commonly repeated doesn’t make it irrelevant. It also doesn’t make it easy.

I’m always holding that tension of deeply understanding the importance of living our full lives with joy and living all the way inside them while also doing what we can as we see need around us, both near and far.

Part of the work is knowing and naming the need (and the neediness!) within us.

Part of the work is doing for one what we wish we could do for all. And allowing the one to do for us, too.

Part of the work is caring without carrying.

Part of the work is caring AND carrying.

I practice soul minimalism (a term I made up and am continuing to work to define) because I know my tendency towards all or nothing. Seeing the world through the lens of soul minimalism helps me discern what is mine to do in a world where everything is an option.

We can be people who hold gratitude for working lights and TV show finales and compassionate presence and social responsibility all at the same time. This is what it means to be a person.

As always, I’m glad you’re here and I would love to hear from you.

epf

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A Few Last Things

A Life Update: From last week, a bit about what’s been going on around here.

Journal Club: Check-in #6 coming next week! It’s included in your paid subscription and it’s not too late to start.

Pastors, Priests, and Guides Retreat: Registration opens next week on May 27! I hope to see some of you in Raleigh for this one-day retreat I’ll be co-leading.

Find Your Inner Compass: The Next Right Thing is on a short summer break but will be back with a bonus episode in the next few weeks and Psalm Summer in late June! Here’s our final episode of the season.

April brought some clouds of sorrow to our lives but here in May we’re seeing some life bloom again. It’s a good time of year for a personal update, a human check-in, a proof of life. As we continue to be human together, here are some highlights on what’s going on around here. So let’s get into it, bullet-point style.

If you value my writing, would you consider a paid subscription? If this is not the season for you to add the extra expense, we are glad to extend a scholarship. Click here for information on how to receive one or become a Founding Member to provide a scholarship for someone else.

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• Essay: They Orbited the Moon But I Keep Coming Back to the Crew by Priya Parker — an essay she wrote here on Substack about how they worked together as a team

• The Daily Podcast: Your Kids Asked the Artemis Astronauts Questions. They Answered by Rachel Abrams for The New York Times

The day Artemis II flew behind the moon, I watched the quiet C-Span coverage for six hours straight. There was a lot going on in our life that week and I decided that my one and only job was to watch the moon slowly turn dark. The image on the screen was mostly the same all day long, with only occasional wide-angle views of mission control. Sometimes there was no sound at all as the astronauts simply did their work.

As I watched, I thought of how almost everything good lacks a fast-track.

This coverage was the inspiration behind this week’s episode of The Next Right Thing: Don’t Rush It (which you can listen to, watch, or read right here.)

Later this same week, Rachel Abrams from The Daily podcast sat down with the crew—Victor Glover, Jeremy Hansen, Christina Koch and Reid Wiseman—to ask them questions sent in by kids from all over the country about their ten day mission around the moon.

After listening to several delightful voices of the children who called in wanting to be astronauts, Rachel Abrams summarized several of their questions in this way:

“What would you tell a child about the qualities that allow you to do what you do, to be astronauts? And how a child might cultivate those?"

As I listened to their answers, I realized the Venn diagram of the qualities it takes to be an astronaut and to be a person of character is one full circle.

Here’s what they said and how their answers reveal the wonder and mystery of being a scientist, a saint, and a soul minimalist.

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To join us, you don’t have to be “a journal-er”, don’t have to have a fancy routine, and you don’t have to wait until the beginning of the year to start.

How do you join in?

1. Grab a copy of The Next Right Thing Guided Journal

2. Join The Soul Minimalist at the monthly, annual, or founders level

3. Watch this video I made about how to get started

4. Watch today’s video below.

I still love this particular journal because it’s basically a collection of weekly, monthly, and quarterly lists designed to help you reflect on your life as you live it so that you can increase your own awareness of who you are, what you want, and the decisions you’re making.

Every month I’m sharing a short video of how I use my journal, what I still love about it, what’s working, and what’s not working right now for me.

Here are our core values for Journal Club:

• We are consistent.

• We are low-key.

• We have fun!

When you join as a paid subscriber, you’re automatically included in my Journal Club updates. Join in any time. You’re not behind!

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Two years ago at The Apprentice Gathering in Wichita, Kansas, Brian Zahnd offered a counter narrative to the idea that we are meant to change the world:

“Our task is modest. We don’t have to change the world. We just have to be that part of the world that Jesus already changed.” —Brian Zahnd

I am becoming someone and so are you. I know my life has been and is being transformed by God. I know that in the face of suffering and injustice, my job is not to do nothing but neither is it to do everything.

If Zahnd is right, that means I have a participatory responsibility to spiritual formation and to live as one who is loved by God.

This will show up in a million little ways.1

It means honoring my gifting and not discounting myself.

It means waking every day, getting dressed, doing my work faithfully, and stopping when it’s time.

Being part of the world that Jesus changed means paying attention to what makes me cry because tears are often tiny messengers that carry evidence of where my heart beats strong. And where my heart beats strong reveals something of what matters to me. And what matters to me matters.

It means being honest about my invitations and my limitations.

It means honoring the courage it takes to start something, and knowing that sometimes it looks like simply showing up.

It means saying yes and saying no.

It means being willing to not only look, but to see; to not only hear but to listen.

It means making dinner and being a regular person and speaking up and staying quiet.

It means being my own friend and taking a nap and wearing soft pants.

It means holding the tension longer than I thought possible.

It means asking for help and being the helper.

It means refusing to play games about who is in and out and, instead, setting a lavish table of welcome.

It means knowing “all flourishing is mutual.”2

The love of God has changed me. Now my work is to live like it’s true.

As we continue to ask ourselves: What is mine to do? I hope we will add this question to the mix: Who am I do be? or What does it look like to live loved?

My list is not exhaustive here but I wanted to put down some half-thoughts as I considered turning that question over. What are your half-thoughts?

As always, I’m glad you’re here.

epf

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It was two weeks ago Sunday during Waiting Worship, the part of the Quaker service where we hold communal silence and friends have the opportunity to share what Spirit might be laying on their own hearts.

When my friend Sara Beth shared her prayer practice with the congregation, I wrote it down in my journal. I couldn’t have known what a lifeline it would be for me only a few days later.

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If you’re just joining Journal Club, here are the previous Check-in Videos:

• Check-in #1: Getting Started

• Check-in #2: How to Use the Arrows Section

• Check-in #3: How to Reflect on Your Season

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Next week on March 25 at 7 p.m. I’m going LIVE here on Substack to share our Journal Club check-in for The Next Right Thing Guided Journal. PLUS we’ll talk about journaling in general, including other journals I use on a regular basis and what roles they play. We’ll save the recording incase you can’t make it live!

Paying subscribers are automatically in Journal Club, including this live check-in. You can upgrade to the paid level today and start your journal on April 1. Learn more about Journal Club here.

Invisible things impact our decisions at every turn, things like unnamed grief, personal backstories, unconscious bias, and cognitive stereotypes. We will likely never rid ourselves of these mostly invisible perceptions, but we can practice shining a light on them, starting with being specific.

We’re not talking about the egregious things here, like abuse, neglect, or blatant discrimination. These are mostly the “small” things, the quiet ones that are part of the water, so much so that we think they are the water.

This essay is imperfect and incomplete (and honestly feels more vulnerable because of that?) but these are things I’ve been thinking a lot about. Maybe reading about my thoughts and experiences will help you think about some of your own.

1.

In the spring of 2019, two days before I graduated with my masters degree in Spiritual Formation and Leadership, one of my professors asked me if my church back home was excited about my degree.

“I mean, yeah, my friends are happy for me.”

“What about your pastors? Are they pumped you’ve received this training?”

He was eager, smiling. I could tell he wasn’t expecting me to say what I said next.

“Well they don’t know. One of them does, and he’s rooting for me. But the others, I don’t think they know I’m doing this. And I’m not sure it would matter to them one way or the other, honestly.”

“Wait, they don’t know? Why not?”

“I haven’t . . . told them?”

Until that moment, I had not for a single second during my two years of graduate school thought it might perhaps be strange that the leadership in my small home church would be indifferent to my course of study. It had never crossed my mind to let them know.

It’s not because our church was huge (there were less than 200 attending on a given Sunday) and it’s not because we weren’t involved.

John and I were deeply invested in our small group and even led one for three years. We served alongside them for various service days and volunteered once a month to prepare the coffee and hand out programs on Sunday morning.

For years I was on the scripture reading team which meant once every few months, I would receive an email with that Sunday’s passage, sit near the aisle on Sunday morning, walk to the podium before the sermon, and read the passage for the week.

This is the Word of the Lord. It is absolutely true and given to us in love.

So, yes, we were involved. But it was not at all obvious to me that what I was doing in grad school would in any way impact the leaders in my home church even though I was studying CHRISTIAN SPIRITUAL FORMATION AND LEADERSHIP.

Maybe they would have been eager and interested if I had told them. But as I reflect, it’s curious to me that I never felt compelled to. I have no indication it would have mattered to them one way or another.

2.

During the second residency of my grad school experience, I counted eight fellow students who told me they had read one of my books in the span of time between our first and second residencies.

Eight.

They were all men.

Through tears, I wrote down all of their names in my journal on the plane on the way home and wondered why it was so meaningful to me that they had all read one of my books.

I realized it was because I didn’t know of even one man from my hometown who had read any of my books (outside of my husband).

Not one man from my hometown but eight men I had only just met.

3.

Even though my gynecologist, dentist, dermatologist, primary care physician, somatic therapist, and gastroenterologist are all female, when I hear the word “doctor” my brain delivers to me an image of a man. I shared this on our Soul Minimalist private Instagram1 with a poll asking if you can relate and so far, 100% of you said yes.

4.

This next one is more complex.

If you value my writing, would you consider a paid subscription? If this is not the season for you to add the extra expense, we are glad to extend a scholarship. Click here for information on how to receive one or become a Founding Member to provide a scholarship for someone else.

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