Though I often crave caffeine, I can only tolerate it until noon, when I must stop drinking it or risk lying awake until two in the morning. Fortunately, I glanced at the clock on the stove: just after 10:00 a.m. I had time.

I spooned some caffeinated black tea into a paper loose tea filter, lowered it into the deep pottery mug, poured steaming water from the electric tea kettle over it and let it steep while I answered a few e-mails. A few minutes later, I returned to the kitchen and drizzled some honey into the mug and stirred. Breathing in the aroma, I knew this would keep me going for a few hours.

Both physical and virtual paperwork awaited, as well as phone calls and e-mails. Later in the day, an errand or two. The to-do’s of the day were flowing like the steady stream of a kitchen faucet—not as forceful as a fire hydrant nor as annoying as a drip, but I had to pay attention or the sink would fill and overflow, figuratively speaking.

So I kept at it, task after task, decision after decision, e-mail after e-mail, errand after errand. These things weren’t overwhelming; just steady. Somewhere in the afternoon, though, I needed a pause.

My cup, as it were, was empty.

I’d drained my literal cup of tea, and I had drained my figurative cup, my very self, of rest.

Life needs pauses.

I’d scheduled tire rotation and a medical test for my daughter, shopped for groceries and filled the gas tank; I printed off papers for my daughters’ schoolwork and agreed to bake brownies for a church function.

But…a pause. I needed a pause.

Late in the afternoon I returned to the kitchen and opened the cabinet to stare at my boxes of tea. I saw some chai tea. Decaf. By then it was past 3:00 p.m., so I could only handle decaf.

Filled the tea kettle.

Instead of racing around the corner to my desk, I leaned against the counter while the water boiled.

I waited.

Paused.

How easy it would be to check my phone for e-mail while the water boiled.

But, no. I paused.

And when the electric kettle bell dinged, I lifted the plastic kettle from its base and poured hot water over the tea bag, watching the bag rise with the waterline, all the way to the top, before it was soggy enough to sink. I took hold of the tag and dipped it down and up several times then let it settle at the bottom.

I briefly considered carrying my drink to the desk, but changed my mind. Instead, I walked to the table and sat for a moment, both hands hugging the mug to warm my palms.

Tea, I decided, is necessary.

Tea, I realized, is a slow-down solution.

Tendrils of steam drifted up from the glimmering dark surface of the tea and dissipated.

I lifted the mug and blew across the top, making ripples.

Then I tilted the mug and the tea touched my lips.

Slowly, I sipped.

_______________________________

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:::

For the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—though we love to try new dishes, your post doesn’t have to be a recipe. We’re pretty relaxed over here, and stories and photos are as welcome as menus and recipes.

The post Food on Fridays: Tea Is Necessary appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

(smaller button below)

For the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—though we love to try new dishes, your post doesn’t have to be a recipe. We’re pretty relaxed over here, and stories and photos are as welcome as menus and recipes.When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the broccoli button (sorry for the delay on the promised button battle…more later on that) to paste at the top of your post. It ties us together visually.Then fill in the boxes of this linky tool to join the fun!

Food on Fridays with Ann

When the kids were little, I’d been a sale-seeking, coupon-clipping mama, rooting out the cheapest peanut butter and oatmeal in town. I turned to the Frugal Zealot, Amy Dacyczyn, author of The Tightwad Gazette, for ideas and instruction on how to live frugally.After a few years our budget wasn’t quite so tight, so we loosened up a little. But the squeeze everyone is feeling these days is squeezing us, as well, and so we’re cutting back in several areas, including groceries.I don’t know if I’ll renew that intensely zealous approach right away, but we happily ate a meat-free meal yesterday (it’s healthy and saves money), and I found pork chops and chicken on sale at Kroger.I haven’t made pork chops in ages, but there they were, offered at a ridiculously low price. So I bought them.An Internet search for “pork chop recipe” turned up several interesting prospects, which I cut-and-pasted into Evernote until I decided which one to try.After consulting with the kids, I settled on a slow cooker recipe, but I’ll tell you what—my pictures don’t look as dreamy as the Taste of Home glamor shot. Mine show you the results of an average cook trying something for the first time.The recipe says you have to coat each pork chop in a flour mixture, then brown each side before placing in the crock pot.The first were fine, but as I progressed, I went from “browning” the chops to almost “blackening” the chops, at least in spots.But they worked out fine. I layered them and then poured a flour-broth mixture over them that would create a sauce or gravy as they cooked the rest of the way through in the crock pot.They cooked a long time, longer than expected, but turned out really lovely, forming a sauce that we ladled over brown rice.A lettuce salad served with the meal included a hearty helping of homegrown tomatoes from the garden topped with a homemade dressing.A simple, tasty, affordable meal.Here’s the recipe, which I doubled:Slow Cooker Pork Chops(source: Taste of Home)Ingredients

• 3/4 cup all-purpose flour, divided
• 1/2 teaspoon ground mustard
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic pepper blend
• 1/4 teaspoon seasoned salt
• 4 boneless pork loin chops (1/2 inch thick and 4 ounces each)
• 2 tablespoons canola oil
• 1 can (14-1/2 ounces) chicken broth

Directions

• In a large resealable plastic bag, combine 1/2 cup flour, mustard, pepper blend and seasoned salt. Add chops, one at a time, and shake to coat. In a large skillet, brown meat in oil on each side.
• Transfer to a 5-qt. slow cooker. Place remaining flour in a small bowl; whisk in broth until smooth. Pour over chops. Cover and cook on low for 3 to 3-1/2 hours or until meat is tender.
• Remove pork to a serving plate and keep warm. Whisk pan juices until smooth; serve with pork. Yield: 4 servings.

:::

Photos by Ann Kroeker.

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The post Food on Fridays: Slow Cooker Pork Chops appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

(smaller button below)

For the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—though we love to try new dishes, your post doesn’t have to be a recipe. We’re pretty relaxed over here, and stories and photos are as welcome as menus and recipes.When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the broccoli button (My daughter doesn’t quite have the new one ready, and now a second daughter wants to battle it out by offering her own version! Until they’re ready, grab the big one above or smaller option at the bottom) to paste at the top of your post. It ties us together visually.Then fill in the boxes of this linky tool to join the fun!

Food on Fridays with Ann

When we vacation, we usually camp. And we like almost everything about camping except the cooking and clean-up.I would sigh to my friends after a trip and say, “My dream is to find a beautiful place we can camp, where I don’t have to cook. That would be perfect.”One day about eight years ago, I said this to a friend, and she said, “Seems like you need a family camp.””I’ve thought about that,” I said, “but I don’t want to pay a huge amount of money, and I don’t want a lot of activities and programming. It seems like most of them are highly programmed and costly.””Do you know Katie Henderson?*” she asked. We all attended the same large church, but I’d never overlapped with Katie. “Well,” my friend continued, “she and her family go to some family camp up north every year, and it sounds like it might be just what you’re looking for.”I phoned Katie and explained about the beautiful setting and the food hassle and the preference for little to no programming. “If someone else was making, serving and cleaning up after meals,” I said, “I’d feel like I was really on a vacation.”“This is your place,” Katie assured me. She said the food was good, the setting was gorgeous, and there was very little programming. “There’s no speaker or music or chapel. Just a service on Sunday morning, and an optional Bible study two days of the week. Actually, there’s so little programming, we call it ‘Heathen Week,'” she said, laughing.”Perfect!” I said.So our family took the risk. We signed up, paid what seemed to be a reasonable amount of money for the week, and drove north. But it was a long drive and we didn’t have Google maps back then, so we underestimated how long it would take to get there. We rolled in late, just as the opening activity—Saturday evening dinner—was ending, but we’d phoned to say we were running late and they saved food for us. I was stressed out, and when they brought us a high chair for our youngest and set out the food that they’d reheated, it had to be the most delicious, nourishing chicken dinner I’d ever eaten in my life. If we’d rolled into a campground and had to fix our own meal, I would have done it with cranky, needy kids tugging on me. And I would have done it all in the dark. Thinking back to being served with such compassion and attention, I’m sure I cried: from relief.We slid the pop-up between slender cedar trees and went to sleep that night hearing the water of Lake Huron lap against the shore. Next morning, we woke up to dim dawn light revealing colorful kayaks lined up along the sand; shore birds laughing; a green boat anchored and bobbing in the water; the gray-green lodge and dining hall; Adirondack chairs lined up on a porch overlooking the bay.So this is vacation.I didn’t have to think about breakfast. I just had to listen for the bell to ring, mosey to the lodge, and there it would be: a delicious, warm meal that I didn’t have to plan, shop for, prepare or clean up after.Relax, play, rest, read, swim, boat, chat…listen for the meal bell…show up and be fed.Perfect.I thought I would use this post as an excuse to show you a few photos from the trip that have something to do with food…food I didn’t fix.This isn’t at family camp, but Biggby Coffee is a chain we’d never heard of that is big in Michigan. We stopped en route to try some. Two of the girls got lattes and loved them.Quiche for breakfast one morning at family camp—one of many options. The cook accommodates dietary needs, providing options on the buffet for vegetarian campers or those who deal with allergies and food intolerance.A favorite hot breakfast of mine: Red River Cereal, made with three grains: cracked wheat, cracked rye, and whole flax. So simple. Some tease that it’s birdseed, but I love it.Two afternoons they set out food for us in the morning so that we pack lunches for later that day. Some people drive to local tourist spots, but we just stayed on property, hiked out to this beautiful spot, climbed a big rock, and ate lunch together overlooking Lake Huron.S’mores fixin’s provided on the last night during campfire.Cocoa, teas, coffee, and cold drinks like fruit punch and lemonade are available 24 hours a day. Kids and adults alike grab mugs, serve themselves something refreshing, and sit on the porch to read.I didn’t really think to take a lot of photos of food—I was too busy eating it, I guess.

We left family camp and stopped by a couple of other places in Canada, including Niagara Falls, before winding around into New York and Pennsylvania, sliding along the edge of Lake Erie.

The Belgian Wonder exited the freeway and drove on a scenic road that offered tantalizing glimpses of the water. We longed to drive close and dip our feet into the water, but he’d turn onto a road that looked promising only to discover it was a private drive.Finally, we found a little public park where we could stop, get out, stretch our legs, and eat our peanut butter sandwiches and carrot sticks packed from our own meager provisions. The tiny concession area sold only pop and chips, but I was so grateful that they were maintaining this pretty little place where we could pause, I broke down and bought a Coke and a Sprite as a small thank you.We lingered for a while.Then realized we had to get on the road.We munched on snack food on the long drive home.We’d been gone for nine days, camping in a beautiful setting, and the only thing I had to fix was a stack of peanut butter sandwiches for lunch, and instant oatmeal that we ate with plastic spoons from paper bowls on the morning we drove home.I can handle that.

:::

* Name changedAll photos by Ann Kroeker except Lunch on the Rock, by P. Kroeker.

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My Slow-Down Fast didn’t wrap up quite how I expected.

I imagined creating quiet moments of contemplation leading up to Easter, and in a way I did enjoy more moments of interaction with the Lord, but not necessarily in long stretches of quiet solitude. I haven’t had a lot of down time, but I have been able to focus when I am silently interacting with the Lord, communing privately in brief snatches throughout the days. It’s everyday conversation. This dialogue is possible, I think, because, as I am more settled than I was back in March—more rested and less agitated—leaving me more open to listening to the voice of God.

But from a scheduling perspective, my slow-down fast was slow but more full than I anticipated it would be when I launched this concept at the beginning of Lent. This weekend we are enjoying out-of-town guests, and Holy Saturday fell on the birthday of one of my daughters.

Instead of a quiet, reflective, contemplative day leading up to Easter, we went bowling and played indoor Putt-Putt.

Instead of an austere day of fasting, I baked cupcakes and dished out ice cream.

At lunch, however, we paused and pulled out our collection of Resurrection Eggs that highlight moments in the last days of our Lord Jesus Christ’s time on earth, and after a review of each item, we opened the egg that contained the stone that sealed shut the tomb.

We took a minute to remember that at that time, everyone—the disciples, the women who traveled with Him, the soldiers who watched Him die, the chief priests and Pharisees—all surely assumed that “it is finished” just meant “the end.” He was dead, after all. It surely looked like it was over and all was lost.

But all was not lost.

All was won.

Easter morning is the day we open an empty Easter egg—empty because our Lord is not dead.He has risen, just as He said. This is cause for celebration.

Joy to the world, He is risen, Alleluia!

The post Cause for Celebration appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

These final days leading up to Easter, we’ve continued to open the Easter Story Eggs and read the related passages from the Gospels.

This week in our reading, we came across another critical moment in the story that’s not represented in the egg collection. So, to enrich the journey, we added a symbol in another egg and inserted it directly after the praying hands.

This time, we added a rooster.

(Playing the part of the rooster this Easter season is a Playmobil hen. We have a Playmobil rooster somewhere, but this will do for now.)

Just after Jesus was betrayed by Judas with a kiss, the Lord was led away to the house of the chief priest. The disciples split up and abandoned Jesus, though Peter hung around in the courtyard, keeping a low profile. But people started to recognize him. Peter denied it when the first person pointed out that Peter was with Jesus. He denied it a second time, as well.”Certainly this fellow was with him,” a third person said, “for he is a Galilean.”Peter replied, “Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”Just as he was speaking, the rooster crowed.The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.This moment…I know it’s coming not only because I read it year after year, but because the Lord Himself warned Peter that it was coming. Still, it slices through me.

I don’t know him! I don’t know what you’re talking about!The cock crows.And the Lord turns and looks straight at Peter.

And I sit in my kitchen with a set of plastic eggs and a small brown hen sitting on the table.I stare at it, thinking…praying…wondering.

At the moment of denial: eye contact.Bitter tears.And Jesus left to walk the final steps to Calvary alone.

This is just one of many moments leading to the Cross.And these are the days to think on these moments. This is the week to ponder these reminders of the Lord’s suffering.And I am lingering as long as I can.Simply.Slowly.Quietly.

The post Slow-Down Fast: The Rooster appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

After attending a bridal shower on Saturday, I drove home and changed into running clothes fully intending to get out and pound the pavement.Instead, I climbed into bed and fell asleep.Four hours later, I woke up.I needed exercise, but I guess I needed to slow down and rest even more.This weekend marks the end of our first week back following spring break. We’ve had to adjust, because our vacation was like a week-long nap—we weren’t literally sleeping all week, but mentally and emotionally we rested.The simplicity of camping offered agenda-free days: We enjoyed naps and chats while lounging on the sand; long, leisurely walks along the beach; rainy afternoons that sent us to the campground’s activity center where we played Scrabble and Monopoly. Our internal winter melted away as we warmed and softened in the Florida sun. Even the rainy days offered a kind of Slow Zone.“Look at your mama finally smile,” my husband remarked to the kids as we walked to the beach one morning.”What do you mean ‘finally’?” one of them asked.”I mean a real smile,” he said. “A relaxed smile.”I nodded. “A Florida smile?””You’re happier when you’re warm,” he observed.“And by the beach,” I added.The sun was especially brilliant the day we had to leave. We lingered, strolling down the beach one last time to a spot we called “the cove” where the kids discovered hermit crabs.But we had to leave the hermit crabs, gulls, dolphins and starfish. We said goodbye to the shells and the sea oats and the waves curling and crashing and skimming toward us gently, soft and foam-edged.We packed up to return to our regularly scheduled program—you know, life—with its classes, deadlines, assignments and appointments. And chillier temperatures.Fourteen hours later, we were home. The pace picked up, and agenda-free moments were replaced by schedules and expectations. All week I marveled how suburban living in a land-locked state hundreds of miles from the ocean or Gulf can suck the life out of me. Since launching this slow-down fast, the most effective week of our slow-down Lent was that vacation week.I’m still smiling, though.Even here, 800+ miles north of that Florida campground, temperatures are rising. Flowers are blooming. We’re back home facing all those classes, deadlines, assignments and appointments, but in the midst of all that can I still take walks, play Scrabble, and read books? Can I still smile?I think so. I miss the beach, but I can slow down enough to smile.

Credits: Path and magnolia bloom photos by Ann Kroeker; ocean waves, splashing girl, hermit crab photos by S. Kroeker; slow-down smile photo by P. Kroeker.

The post Slow-Down Fast: A Slow-Down Smile appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Years ago we bought a set of “Resurrection Eggs,” twelve plastic eggs filled with small symbols representing moments in the Easter story, including a donkey for Palm Sunday, a tiny metal wine goblet and plastic bread for the Last Supper, and a rock for the stone rolled in front of the tomb. The kids would take turns opening an egg each night at dinner and we would read the correlating story from one of the Gospels. The last egg (empty) is opened on Easter Sunday.But twelve eggs didn’t seem like enough.

So we added to the collection, filling additional eggs in order to drag the story out. We agreed the unnamed lady from Mark 14:3-9 who anointed Jesus with perfume needed to be in the story after reading “wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.” So we found a tiny Playmobil pitcher to represent the alabaster jar.

We also added a small brown sandal to remind us of the time Jesus washed the disciples’ feet. A little wooden bench and fake money (also Playmobil) is for the moment when He turned over the money changers’ tables and drove them out of the temple. A small coin is for the widow’s mite or the time Jesus was challenged about paying taxes to Caesar (two stories in one!).

This set of eggs serves as a simple story-prompting tool during Lent. We are reading, thinking and praying together as we walk closer and closer to Good Friday and Easter Sunday; we’re slowing down by gathering around the table to read through those moments recorded in Scripture…moments that changed everything.

How do you slow? How do you fast? Write it up and link, or tell us in the comments.

Credit: Photo of expanded Easter Story Eggs by Ann Kroeker

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My nine-year-old son spent most of Wednesday curled up on the couch recovering from a stomach virus while I worked on the computer at my desk a few feet away. At some point, he got up to get a book, and when he returned he stuck a Mozart symphony in the CD player and pressed play.Music filled the room.I sighed.Why do I forget to invite music into my everyday life? How can I sit in silence with only the furnace fan blowing in the background?I think I know: I sit in silence because that is how my soul stills.The psalmist wrote, “For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him” (Psalm 62:5, emphasis mine). I often wait in silence for God. It’s what I default to, a calming choice in a noisy world.But then I consider the fact that the psalmist would have sung these words; I ponder the irony that I hear the message “wait in silence,” through a song.Music encouraging silence.Mozart poured into the room that day, and I let it roll. Later, the song ended and I sat in silence, realizing both are good.I can still my soul to wait for God through both music and silence.How do you still your soul and wait for the Lord this Lenten season? What are your practices this week and how did you struggle and what was revealed?

The post Slow-Down Fast: Music and Silence appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

We home educate, which allows considerable flexibility in our schedules throughout the week. But we supplement with once-a-week classes in a cooperative effort involving multiple families. The parents share the teaching, and I offered to teach high school writing.This means, of course, that I assign, read and evaluate a lot of papers. Last week I finished grading the last of the ten-page research papers my writing students completed. This was the first time they undertook an official research paper assignment, so they needed to learn the process from beginning to end: how to brainstorm for ideas, narrow down the topic, develop a working thesis, do initial research, modify that thesis based on the initial research, find reputable sources, begin in-depth and focused research by digging into online databases, organize note cards (yes, I had them use note cards), fuse outlines, write a rough draft, revise that draft, and turn in a final copy on time with all the requested elements.They did it all; they turned in their papers.And then I got to grade them.Lucky me.But I paced myself throughout the week. This is unusual for me. My tendency is to put off the tasks that I dread and then spend one panicked day cramming in the work I should have spread out over time.What a pleasant surprise to finish up the grading and pack my bags for co-op classes by 10:00 p.m.! I know this whole idea of spreading out the work falls into Time Management 101, but I guess I realized that this is a way I can slow down and simplify.I can look at the week and schedule my to-do list tasks over several days so that my pace is measured and sane. While doing that, I can make time for the really important things. I want to find a pace that allows me to pray and play and ponder things like this:

Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did. (1 John 2:6)

Please link up your Lenten reflections below:

Photo credit: Ann Kroeker

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The morning began very slowly, causing me to write and publish this later than I intended. Perhaps that is somewhat appropriate for a “slow-down fast”?Sunlight streamed through the windows as I sat at the kitchen table this morning. This is noteworthy, after countless days of sorrowful gray skies. As the heat hit my cheeks, I felt myself warming and thought of Psalm 36:9, “in your light, we see light.”I thought about Lent, about giving things up. This week I experienced my first Ash Wednesday service, receiving the ashen cross on my forehead. This act of humility, realizing I am but dust and desperately in need of a Savior, launched the season of Lent.Now I willingly slow down, hoping to give more of myself to the Lord, to hear from Him, to learn and grow in relationship with Him. After reading through the accounts of Jesus fasting in the wilderness for 40 days, facing Satan’s temptations, I wonder what these next few weeks will hold?I sit listening to music, open to what the Lord may point out to me, and I wonder if I should have kept quiet about my plans for fasting? It’s too late to change anything; it’s too late to remember that Jesus instructed us to fast in a way that it is not obvious to men, but only to our Father, who is unseen (Matthew 6:16-18). It’s too late, because I’ve already publicized my ideas.I think, though, as with so many things, Jesus was questioning what is at the heart of the fast; or, what is the heart of the one fasting? Oh, how I feel that the heart of my fast is to slow down and walk with Jesus in a focused manner instead of rushing around hurried and scattered, distracted from Him. That’s all. I just want to offer Jesus my undivided attention. I’m also willing to do what He calls me to do, and I don’t want to miss that in an overscheduled, overcommitted life. I want to live singularly focused, and for me, that requires simplifying some areas of life.This weekend is not full. I am glad. Today I will sort through some books stacked up in my room, boxing some up until we can add shelves in the basement. Today I will propose to the kids that we go for a walk or jog. Today I will repeat John 15, the chapter I have yet to memorize perfectly. Today I will enjoy the slower pace and listen closely, in case I might hear something I’ve missed in the last few weeks.I hope that we can all talk about our experiences, our hesitations, heart-struggles, concerns, revelations, temptations, and hunger. And I hope that we can share from the abundance He provides.Please link up your Lenten reflections below:Thank you for joining me.

The post Slow-Down Fast: Undivided Attention appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Today, I swept my hair back. My forehead was bare.

At breakfast I told the kids I would be attending an Ash Wednesday service at a church near ours. The service was at noon, I said, so I would leave around 11:40 to get there. I assured them that it was not a biblical mandate to get the ashes and since our church doesn’t follow the custom, I saw no reason why they should feel obligated to attend; however, I would be delighted to have them join me. Did anyone want to go with me?

They turned me down. Well, one of the girls considered it, but ended up getting a babysitting gig. So I went to my first-ever Ash Wednesday service alone, worshiping with Lutherans at the church building directly across the street from ours.

In spite of my slow-down fast, I got a late start and parked far from the door. I ran through the light rain without bothering to open my umbrella. Apparently Lutherans start right on time, because by the time I was slipping into the sanctuary a mere three minutes late, they had already finished the opening remarks and pastor’s welcome, and were on the last lines of a hymn. I slid into a pew, set my purse down, and wiped beads of moisture from my forehead.

We followed a program with responsive readings, Scripture readings, hymns, and a children’s message about “I” being right in the middle of “prIde” and “sIn.” We heard a short sermon for adults, recited the Nicene Creed, prayed, confessed—kneeling—and said the Lord’s Prayer.

The ancient custom of applying ashes, they said, reminds us of the wages of sin; that we are dust and to dust we will return. The ashes remind us that our sins need to be removed by the grace of God in Christ Jesus.

We took communion first. Filing up, row by row, we were given the wafer, took a small cup of wine, and then presented our forehead or hand to the pastor for the “imposition of ashes.”

I presented my forehead; that is, I stood there in front of the pastor, my forehead wiped dry from the rain and swept clear of hair, a blank canvas for him to do his work of “imposition.”

As he smeared the ashes in the form of a cross, he said, “though you are dust, Jesus died for you.”

I walked back to my pew, glancing at others in the room bearing their crosses. This was a first for me, to see a room full of people living with the ashen cross on their person in this way, remembering their frailty, their sin, dust on dust.

The fidgety little boy in the row in front of me quieted when he noticed the mark on his mother’s forehead. He pointed, then leaned forward and poked it, smearing the mark. Who can blame him? It’s impossible to ignore.

When the service was over, I walked out the door and popped up the umbrella. I didn’t want the ashes to wash off yet. I wanted to live with them a while longer.

As it happens, I have worn my ashes all day and watched the kids glance up at the mark and smile. Though they missed the service, they can’t miss the symbol, the reminder, the cross.

Though I am dust, Jesus died for me.

Because I am dust, Jesus died for me.

Amen.

:::

My TheHighCalling.org friend and colleague Glynn Young wrote about Ash Wednesday, as well, at his blog Faith, Fiction, Friends. He wrote a poem, which begins:

I always envied my friends

who came to schoolthe day after Mardi Gras

with a smudged forehead,

a spot of ash or soot

index-fingered

upon skin to signify

what – exactly?

Read the rest at “Ash Wednesday.“

“On Ash Wednesday, we stare death in the face,” says Mark D. Roberts, Senior Director of Laity Lodge and Theologian in Residence. Mark explains the Ash Wednesday tradition in depth at his post, “Ash Wednesday: Practice and Meaning” and offers a shorter reflection in his daily devotional today: “Remembering the Compassion of God on Ash Wednesday.”

Also, I’m embarking on a slow-down fast (see button above) that includes a multitask fast, something I originally heard about from Charity Singleton last year. Others are embarking on a similar “fast” this year, including Michelle DeRusha of Graceful. I will be posting specifically about my slow-down fast experiences on Saturdays (and provide a linky for those who wish to link Lent-related posts).

Visit Cassandra Frear of Moonboat Cafe for a roundup of Lenten Fast posts.

All of these people—Glynn, Mark, Michelle, Cassandra and Charity—are part of TheHighCalling.org (THC), and so I offer these links as part of Charity’s THC community-building project, “There & Back Again.”

Each Thursday, consider going “There and Back Again” yourself. It’s simple.

Here are Charity’s steps:

1. Choose another High Calling Blogger to visit. It can be someone you have “met” before, or do what I do, and work your way through the “Member Posts” section of thehighcalling.com to meet someone new.
2. Visit his blog, digesting the message until it becomes something that you can write about.
3. Go back to your blog and write about it, being sure to link to the post that gave you the idea so that your readers can visit, too.
4. Add the button to your blog so your readers know you are participating in “There and Back Again.”
5. Go back to the Network blog and leave a comment so your new friend can feel the link love!
6. Complete the journey by returning here, to Wide Open Spaces, and enter your link so that we all can benefit from the new High Calling connection you have made.

Credit: Image of Ann Kroeker’s Ash Wednesday forehead taken by Sophie Kroeker and edited by Ann Kroeker. Used with permission.

The post There & Back Again: My First Ash Wednesday appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

As I said on Thursday, I’m trying to stay open as I prepare for this Lenten Slow-Down Fast. I’m willing to slow down in all areas, from my schedule to my spending; from my technology use to my thought patterns.As I simplify and slow down, my desire is to find the right pace for preparation—I want to slow down for the 40 days of Lent in order to walk through Maundy Thursday and Good Friday attentively, reflectively…and then to celebrate Easter Sunday with my whole self focused on Jesus Christ, the risen Savior.The “fast” will begin this week on Ash Wednesday, March 9, and end on Easter Sunday.I’ll be publishing Slow-Down Fast posts on Saturdays in conjunction with Cheryl’s Simplify theme. If you would like to link up, use the Simply Linked tool above.

Ann’s Slow-Down Fast Thoughts & Plans:

This is the last Saturday before the Slow-Down Fast officially begins. Ash Wednesday marks the start of the fast, so next Saturday I’ll be writing as someone who has lived it a few days. Lord willing, I should be writing from the “slow zone.”It won’t be a season of naps and knitting, however. While I will be slowing down and simplifying, I’ll also be continuing much of my daily routine, including my writing and editorial work as well as various home-management and educational tasks.As I’ve thought through my activities, I remembered some research about multitasking and how unproductive it really is. An article published on the American Psychological Association website explains:

Doing more than one task at a time, especially more than one complex task, takes a toll on productivity…Psychologists who study what happens to cognition (mental processes) when people try to perform more than one task at a time have found that the mind and brain were not designed for heavy-duty multitasking. Psychologists tend to liken the job to choreography or air-traffic control, noting that in these operations, as in others, mental overload can result in catastrophe.

Our minds, they say, aren’t actually doing two or more things at once; rather, they toggle between tasks. A. J. Jacobs, the guy who wrote A Year of Living Biblically, wrote an article for Real Simple magazine about multitasking. He explains what he learned in his research:

Multitasking makes us feel efficient. But it’s an insane delusion; it actually just slows our thinking down. Our brains can’t handle more than one higher cognitive function at a time. We may think we’re multitasking, but we’re really switch-tasking. Toggling between one task and another. First the phone, then the e-mail, then the phone, back to the e-mail. And each time you switch, there are a few milliseconds of start-up cost. The neurons need time to rev up.

His solution? A project, of course. He’s a project kind of guy, so he launched Operation Focus:

I pledge to go cold turkey from multitasking for a month in a quest to regain my brain and sanity. I’ll unitask―that is, perform one activity at a time. And just as important, I’ll stick with each thing for more than my average 30 seconds. I’ll be the most focused man in the world.

You can imagine how well that experiment went.Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that I figured out long ago that I don’t multitask well, yet I have been attempting it lately with my crazy schedule. During the slow-down fast, as I simplify where possible, I will seek to “singletask” or “unitask.” What I mean is that I will try to focus on one thing at a time for as long as possible before switching; in fact, I’ll try to see one thing through to completion before shifting to the next.Instead of a pinball life in which I shoot off every which way, flying off without pausing a beat, I prefer a focused and productive life. This is a challenge in our multitasking world, but I’m going to try. I feel like it will be a chance to practice being more attentive, helping me be less distracted throughout the day…and more open hearing to God’s voice.Only one thing is needed.One thing.Will you be joining me on the slow-down fast?

The post Slow-Down Fast: Singletasking appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Thursday isn’t my official “Slow-Down Fast” posting day, but I was inspired to think and write about Lent today, as well as Saturday. So, at risk of causing confusion, I stuck the button on this post. For more thoughts, check in again this Saturday.As I prepare for the Slow-Down Fast this Lent, I am open. I am willing to slow down in all areas, from my schedule to my spending; from my technology use to my thought patterns.My desire is to find the right pace for preparation—I want slow down for the 40 days of Lent in order to be prepared to walk through Maundy Thursday and Good Friday attentively, reflectively…and then to celebrate Easter Sunday with my whole self focused on Jesus Christ, the risen Savior.I didn’t grow up knowing much about Lent, nor have the churches that I’ve attended as an adult done much to observe Lent. Most of what I’ve learned has been through reading on my own.Last year, I learned that some congregations will bury the “Alleluia” on the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday, refraining from uttering it throughout Lent. By saving it all that time, “Alleluia” becomes a more precious and powerful word to sing out with jubilation on Easter Sunday.This Sunday would be the day to bury the “Alleluia.” My church probably won’t do so, and I don’t go around saying “Alleluia” at home (maybe I should?), so it got me thinking about other things I might “bury” and leave buried! Things like:

• Unhealthy thought patterns
• Worry
• Negativity

Jenny of “A Minute Captured” has me adding “complaining” to the list, as well, as she and her husband consider “A Complaint-Free Lent.”

Right now kids are gathered around the sink like wild animals gathered around the watering hole and every once in a while I hear the harsh words and angry tones that make me think the crocodile has just ambushed from the water and strangled the oblivious gazelle.

She’s been reading a book called A Complaint Free World, and it has her thinking.

A complaint free world?  How about a complaint free house?  Chris is resting on the couch and I start reading him bits and pieces of the book.  “Can you imagine the gift we would be giving our children?  The powerful life they would live, I mean really. live. if they bypass the habit of complaining?”

"No complaints" by Terry Hart

“Oh man, it’s raining…Why does someone always spill something sticky the exact same day I decide to mop?…Did you see?…Can you believe?…I cannot believe!..I don’t like…it’s too hot, it’s too cold, it’s too wet, it’s too dry…”

I keep thinking about all the things that have broken, and my complaints. Things will break. When I feel frustrated, disappointed or discouraged, what’s an honest but appropriate response?And if complaining is more of a habit than I realize, subtle and hard to catch, is it even possible to bury the attitude at Lent, never to dig up again?I’d like to try. Because I agree with Jenny: I like the sound of a complaint-free house.This post is part of Charity Singleton’s TheHighCalling.org (THC) community project, “There & Back Again.”

Go there: Visit fellow TheHighCalling.org member “A Minute Captured,” to read “A Complaint Free Lent.” Then come back here again!Each Thursday, consider going “There and Back Again” yourself. It’s simple.Here are Charity’s steps:

1. Choose another High Calling Blogger to visit. It can be someone you have “met” before, or do what I do, and work your way through the “Member Posts” section of thehighcalling.com to meet someone new.
2. Visit his blog, digesting the message until it becomes something that you can write about.
3. Go back to your blog and write about it, being sure to link to the post that gave you the idea so that your readers can visit, too.
4. Add the button to your blog so your readers know you are participating in “There and Back Again.”
5. Go back to the Network blog and leave a comment so your new friend can feel the link love!
6. Complete the journey by returning here, to Wide Open Spaces, and enter your link so that we all can benefit from the new High Calling connection you have made.

Credits:

“HRC – A still creek” image by hconfer. Used with permission under RGBStock.com license.

“No complaints” image by Terry Hart “hartboy.” Used with permission via Flickr under a Creative Commons license.

Slow-Down Fast button created from a photo by kacos2000/Costas, used under a Creative Commons license permitting the image to be shared and adapted for non-commercial purposes.

The post There & Back Again: What to Bury? appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Join me as I embark on a “Slow-Down Fast”: a season dedicated to humbly and boldly simplifying and slowing (schedule, habits, activities, thought-patterns) in order to experience a more focused and intimate relationship with God in my everyday life.The “fast” will begin Ash Wednesday, March 9, and end on Easter Sunday.I’ll be preparing and planning for the next two weeks, publishing Slow-Down Fast posts on Saturdays in conjunction with Cheryl’s Simplify theme. To participate in Cheryl’s Simplify “carnival,” pop over to Culture Smith after writing and publishing something about simplifying your life. She’s got a linky up already for today.You can also link up ideas for your own “Slow-Down Fast” here:

Ann’s Slow-Down Fast Thoughts & Plans:

In my book Not So Fast, I talk about capacity. Like it or not, each of us has a limited capacity of tasks we can accomplish and activities we can attend—when we exceed capacity, especially on an ongoing basis, we enter a kind of survival mode as we deal with consequences like emotional drain, stress symptoms, relational strain, fatigue, and discouragement.To think of it in the positive, however, each of us has an ideal capacity and speed, and if we can discover that, we can enjoy healthy, productive lives that allow for rest and worship as well as work—not to mention time with family and friends. When we’re operating at ideal capacity, minor mishaps can be dealt with more creatively because we aren’t rushing off to the next thing and can adjust our schedule to clean up the mess or wait longer for an appointment.Discovering my ideal capacity is an evolving thing. Just when I find what works, my kids enter a new stage of life and my capacity shifts—it may open up with more possibilities than ever before, or it may shrink when the kids need much more from me than I expected.Lately, my kids have seemed to require less moment-by-moment attention and input. Because they need less hovering attention, I’ve had more free time and emotional space (or so I thought); thus, I’ve experimented with my schedule, agreeing to take on tasks and projects I couldn’t have pulled off two years before. I thought I had adequate capacity, so I experimented.In the past, these experiments have often worked well. Lately, however, they haven’t.In the past three weeks, I’ve realized that I’ve taken on too much; I’m operating at maximum capacity—probably a smidgen over capacity. I’m less patient, discerning and attentive. I feel drained. I even missed an appointment on Monday, and though it turned out okay in the end, I spent most of the day scolding myself and feeling like a failure. I knew it was because I had too much going on.I’m living over capacity and exceeding my limits.And I can’t continue like that.What can change? Here’s the start of my Slow-Down Fast “To-Do/Not-To-Do” list:

• During my slow-down fast, Lord willing (which can be assumed with each of these points), I won’t launch any new projects or take on new tasks. If people ask for my help, I’ll ask if it can wait until after Easter.
• Unless we’re faced with imminent issues in that time frame, I will avoid making major decisions.
• When I reach closure on a project or commitment, I won’t fill that open time slot with something new.
• I’ll try to do something fun every day.
• I’ll try to do something relaxing every day.
• I’ll listen to music. I’m not as auditory as some folks, maybe, but for some reason I have neglected this. Of course, I do have young musicians pounding away on the piano two feet away from my desk, so maybe they’ve become my default soundtrack…along with the quiet that follows when they’re finished?
• While I may not post all of my list publicly, I will continue counting “One Thousand Gifts” with Ann Voskamp, picking up where I left off long ago.
• I intend to maintain good habits I have in place (reading, journaling, praying).

How do you hope to slow down and simplify during Lent (or any time)?

Credits: Photo of reading in hammock by Ann Kroeker, taken on a late summer day in 2009. Slow-Down Fast button created from a photo by kacos2000/Costas, used under a Creative Commons license permitting the image to be shared and adapted for non-commercial purposes.

The post Slow-Down Fast & Simplify: To-Do/Not-To-Do List appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

I’m inviting you to join me as I embark on a “Slow-Down Fast”: a season dedicated to humbly and boldly simplifying and slowing (schedule, habits, activities, thought-patterns) in order to experience a more focused and intimate relationship with God in my everyday life.The “fast” will begin Ash Wednesday, March 9, and end on Easter Sunday.I’ll be preparing and planning for the next two weeks, publishing Slow-Down Fast posts on Saturdays in conjunction with Cheryl’s Simplify theme. To participate in Cheryl’s Simplify “carnival,” pop over to Culture Smith after writing and publishing something about simplifying your life. She’s got a linky up already for today.You can also link up ideas for your own “Slow-Down Fast” here:

Ann’s Personal Slow Notes:

I fill the tea kettle. Dishwasher sloshes, dryer whirrs, both machines working in the background as I sit to think, to write, to pray.It hits me: How rare to be alone.As a part-time freelance writer and editor, I work from home. I’m also, however, a home educator; thus, many hours are devoted to planning and guiding my children’s academic requirements; holding them accountable to assignments; helping them manage their time; listening to them practice piano, flute or saxophone; preparing breakfast, lunch and dinner; holding them to their chores and inspecting their work.Though this lifestyle may sound complicated, most of the time it is relatively simple.But it is a peopled life. As I said, I’m rarely alone in the house.On most days, I manage to carve out a few minutes for myself, slipping away to a quiet spot in the context of a full house. Some mornings I exercise in the basement on a stair-climbing machine; I try to read, pray and journal at the table before the kids come down for breakfast.But sometimes I just want the whole house to myself.Sometimes I want to sit at my desk—which is situated in the middle of a high-traffic area because we have no extra rooms for an office—and know that I’m not going to be interrupted. I’d like to finish composing a blog post or retreat message without the pounding of piano keys working out a tough solo a mere two-and-a-half feet from where I sit.I flourish in the simplicity of silence and solitude.Though this is no sacrifice on my part, I’m going to ask my husband if he can help me find a way to have regular time alone in the house during my slow-down fast.And I’m going to bask in it now.How will you slow down or simplify?

The post Slow-Down Fast & Simplify: Silence & Solitude appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

I’m sending you to Cheryl and inviting you back here again thanks to inspiration from Charity at Wide Open Spaces, home of There & Back Again.

The post There & Back Again: Slow-Down Fast & Simplify appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.