Oh hey! Four posts in the last month and half of them are What I'm Into posts? You're welcome. I am nothing if not timely, consistent and diverse. This month's lack of blogging is brought to you by the entirely too fun course I'm taking at the Irish Writers' Centre (more on that later), freelance writing that has suddenly picked up and requires things like research and discipline, and the extraordinarily stressful experience known as Irish Driving Lessons.
I received an A+ in Drivers' Ed in 11th grade, thankyouverymuch. My dad was a police officer and I learned to drive a stick in inner city Chicago, but I have never been more anxiety laden and self-doubting about my 20 years of driving than when backing around a corner with the nicest Irish gentleman softly telling me every single thing I'm doing wrong. I just can't, world. It makes one feel like packing up and going home.
But instead, I'll get on with this post.
READING
Ummm... ermmm... apart from missionary biographies and feature articles, absolutely nothing. But I'm delighted to begin reading Debra Hirsch's book Redeeming Sex. Any summer book suggestions? I'm in need of some fresh blood. For when I do read, let's be friends on Goodreads.
WATCHING
Matt and I have been staying up way too late watching youtube clips of Letterman's final week. I'm very sad to report that since we moved to Ireland, The Office, Parks and Recreation, The Colbert Report, The Late Show with David Letterman and (soon-to-be) Jon Stewart have all left the air. We're anxious for more episodes of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee (an absolute favourite; 18 minutes of caffeinated laughing) and planning an after bedtime showing of Saint Vincent.
LISTENING TO
Confession of an unpopular opinion: I kind of love the new Mumford and Sons and I really dislike the new Joy Williams. Discuss. Also, I know it's getting repetitive, but Carrie & Lowell has turned into the perfect reflective, healing soundtrack for the events of the past month. I have listened to very little else.
LOVING...
To be honest, May has been quite difficult. We are in the midst of an unexpected transition, trying to look ahead at what the next year will bring, and walking through a season of mourning. Still, God has been gracious to us, allowing us some space and time to rest, be with our kids and anticipate family and friend visits in the summer months. Still, we seem to find mounting evidence of grace:
A freelance journalism course I decided to take on a whim. The focus is on feature writing and arts criticism and I leave each session on a huge high, walking down O'Connell Street with every idea in the world in my head. I love this town and it is a huge privilege to learn from Irish writers and journalists.
Writing work that has come my way recently. I'm so thankful for friends who reach out and ask me try something new. And it has been absolutely fascinating to research pioneer missionaries to places like Scandinavia and Japan. It's equal parts encouraging and challenging.
Walking alone along the pier and a brief encounter with the shiny nose of a seal! He was wary of me and before I could point him out to the Italian tourists behind me, he was gone, headed who knows where.
Ella finally mastering two wheels. She's a pro at bicycling and I love our evening walks/rides together, usually with Asher (pre-knee-injury) along on his flicker scooter.
Daylight into the evenings. Bedtime is a bit harder when it's light past 9pm, but even with cooler temps the long days are a gift.
A weekend away in Northern Ireland, just us five. It rained half the time and we had an epic Giant's Causeway meltdown, but the little "glamping pod" we stayed in was perfect for this non-camper. We even had a late night campfire, complete with chocolate digestive and marshmallow smores. That's how we do Americana on this side of the pond. (Nearly a month later and I'm going through pictures, which obviously need their own past... stay tuned...)
Enjoying the UK elections and not having to hide anyone in my facebook feed.
Congrats, you have an all male panel!
And finally, our couch. Moving every two years has taken a toll on the lifespan of our furniture. We buy something, we sell it. We borrow something, we give it away. We find something we love, we move away. And there's one thing, my personal white whale of furniture, that for some strange reason I imagined would complete my feeling of home. A dumb Ektorp sofa from Ikea. But then! A gift, and a chance look on a craigslist-type site, and voila:
“My dear children, let’s not just talk about love; let’s practice real love. This is the only way we’ll know we’re living truly, living in God’s reality. It’s also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even when there is something to it. For God is greater than our worried hearts and knows more about us than we do ourselves.”
Linking up with lovely Leigh Kramer for What I'm Into. What were you into this month?