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Journal Entry: 30 September 2021

/ Rebekah Brackett / Leave a comment

It is the last morning of September. The whirring of mountain crickets and trilling of birds mixes with cool air as I rock in my chair on our deep-set front porch. The glow of mid-morning feels alive, resilient, popping the cheerful goldenrod as it dots our field with Autumnal whimsy. My heart aches to enter in, to feel alive throughout every part of me — body, mind, soul and spirit.

Our barn kitties, Clive and Tasha, are exploring a few yards from where I sit with our Bernedoodle, Sophie, sprawled at my feet. The light breeze tickles the melodic wind chimes and flaps the Stars and Stripes hanging from the porch. It never ceases to bring my heart to wonder, the sounds and sensations of nature enveloping me when I pause to pay attention and tune in.

Clive dashes with lightning speed up a locust tree, balancing on a high thin bow, before turning and scuttling back down. A moment later, Tasha is showing off, climbing even higher, as if to say, “Let your momma show you how it’s done!” I laugh to myself as I watch them play, their athleticism filling me with awe. I imagine what it might be like to have that same prowess, that calm confidence and determination in the face of great heights. The next breath, my heart feels a sense of apprehension, for I am a person who fears heights of most any variety.

I flash back to childhood, to the apple tree in our front yard which had a three-pronged branch at the tippy top that held itself like an outstretched hand. My younger sister, Rachel, would finagle her way up the swaying branches and sit proudly in the little natural “seat”, peering down over her kingdom — a large green field spotted with glowing yellow dandelions between our house and the neighbors’ and her big sister’s small, nervous face. I’d stare up at her through the rustling leaves, heart racing with fear intermixed with longing, desire clutching my chest to experience that adventure and freedom. If I could only make it to the top, I’d break free from the terror I carried on my back that weighed me down into my own personal nightmare. She melded with that wide open azure sky and the frill of late Spring’s pink and white blossoms, her long chestnut hair blowing about her innocent face as she giggled and squinted down at me. “C’mon!!!” she’d chirp. I’d stretch for the lowest hanging limb, still high above my head, making conflicted attempts to jump and grab hold of that first rung toward freedom. My hands scraped raw, my legs weak and jittery with anxiety, I’d eventually give up and stand at the base of my dream, worriedly telling her to be careful. She’d laugh and stare out at the wild world, one with nature, submerged in the present moment. I felt so alone, so ashamed, wishing I could figure out how to overcome the subliminal effect of fear on my body and mind. To this day, I carry a deep regret for the fear that held me back, and long to climb the crest of that tree and sit among her branches, free.

Coming back to the present moment, I say in earnest, “God — free me from my fear,” and I recognize as I whisper this that He is faithful to do it, for “Perfect Love casts out fear.” However, the ways in which Love works to bring this about are not always as easy as climbing a small apple tree. He aligns my path with someone difficult, with a situation that requires vulnerability and humility, with a scenario where the Unknown is markedly in my face like the smack of harsh Winter wind on bare, reddened cheeks. Will I still press forward with courage and grace, despite the inward flinching to turn back? We pray these earnest prayers for an integral shift in the softness of a moment, ungilded, enveloped in a sense of moderate safety. The inner ache of the hidden heart surfaces, like a gentle doe entering a serene meadow from the edge of dark woods at twilight. She is watchful, careful; yet the beauty of that open space tugs at her breast. She takes a risk in order to experience delight. In these moments of awakening, we are exposed, and lean in to the invitation to own our weaknesses, to hold them up to eternal hands much more capable than our own. We will be set free and move into a greater sense of wholeness one way or another, and it often involves hardship as much as lessons learned through ease. I think Spirit partners with us in these tender moments of awareness so our hearts are soft and open to Love, to learning and growing, to the evolution that is sure to come through subsequent pain and heights of joy and the quiet tasks of mundane living. We don’t get to fully choose how the fruit of our spirit is developed, but we can choose our attitude, outlook and the principles which will be our guiding compass in the ways we handle uncomfortable and trying times, as well as the summits of success and joy. Despite the stretching and pruning that is sure to come, despite the tentacles of fear throughout the layers of me, somewhere within, I know I can rest in the Gardener’s tender care of my soul.

Early Morning: An Invitation

/ Rebekah Brackett / Leave a comment
"Early Morning Beckons: Be Still A While" | Brackett Studios + Homestead
“Early Morning Beckons: Be Still A While” | Brackett Studios + Homestead

The quietness of early morning has a different feel from any other time of day. It feels fresh, new — like grace upon grace is available and no mistakes have yet been made. There is a calm and comfort in that morning light; a hope and a peace that today has every opportunity to be a truly great day. 

"Morning Stillness" | Brackett Studios + Homestead
“Morning Stillness” | Brackett Studios + Homestead

I love the joy of morning rituals in each season. In Winter, there is the waking under heavy blankets and fluffy down comforters; finally crawling out of bed to throw on a beloved, worn cardigan that has just the right cozy factor, like a favorite blanket held captive by a particular two-year-old; slipping on my ancient LL Bean moccasins or comfy Uggs and padding downstairs to stoke the remainder of last night’s embers and load up the wood stove with a fresh supply of locust logs; turning on the kettle for my first cup of Earl Grey tea and smelling its lovely bergamot notes in the crisp kitchen air as I place the leaves in the happy handmade pottery; singing a little ditty to Jesus while the water bubbles and boils, as I wait with anticipation for the warmth that will come to my body through a steaming mug in my hands and quick sips of hot liquid goodness on my tongue, sliding its heat down into my empty belly and warming me from within; writing my morning pages on those days I am intentional or curling up with a current read under a dove grey cashmere blanket on the couch that needs to be replaced but is oh, so comfortable… The mornings my husband is home, our routine can be different; he checks and loads the stoves; he makes my tea and brings it up to our bedroom, and I look at him through sleepy eyes, sitting up and reaching out for that perfectly hot mug while still snuggled under the covers. We laugh at my wild bed head and chat about the weather and plans for the day. Either way, the mornings are good. Quiet. Calm. But, far too often, I reach for my phone and get distracted by emails, social media, the news… And I’m recognizing this isn’t how I want to begin my day.

"Morning Lights the Kitchen" | Brackett Studios + Homestead
“Morning Lights the Kitchen” | Brackett Studios + Homestead

This week, I have jealously blocked out time for a personal spiritual retreat — a time set aside to reconnect with my heart and with the God Who knows it even more intimately than I do. A time to dream and write, read and pray, paint and take walks; to sit down by the creek bundled up in blankets and listen for that still, small voice — of my own heart and of my Abba; to purify my mind and attend to our home from a place of peace, continuing to cultivate a space in both which induces rest; to sleep or nourish myself or soak in a steaming bath in candlelight — to seek God’s face throughout the day and night in dedicated worship — which may look like those things I mentioned previously or dancing alone or singing or painting or cooking or washing laundry or scrubbing my floors or sitting still in patient expectation — whichever way He leads, without judgment or religiosity; to be fully in the flow with His wild, untamable Spirit… To practice Sabbath in the truest sense of the word, setting aside time that is separate, holy, dedicated to intimacy and rest; to seek and claim shalom for the weary parts of me; to rouse up the sleepy self who prefers distraction instead of discipline… To allow myself to be quieted by His love and attention, and to give Him the parts of me I have withheld.

"Morning Fire Duties" | Brackett Studios + Homestead
“Morning Fire Duties” | Brackett Studios + Homestead

I feel a tug to turn off my phone; to step away from the noise of my busy social circle as well as the social media that so easily distracts and sucks away hours of my life through scrolling and “liking” posts in an effort to connect with others and combat moments of loneliness. This stepping away will take discipline; reaching for my phone has become a nasty habit, like biting one’s nails or complaining — it’s done subconsciously and perhaps innocently enough — but it’s still unhealthy. And I want health — in my spirit, in my mind, in my body. So, hopefully you won’t hear from me over the next few days! 🙏🏻  (If you reach out through text or comment on my posts, I’m not ignoring you — I promise!😘)

"Morning Meditations" | Brackett Studios + Homestead
“Morning Meditations” | Brackett Studios + Homestead

Here’s to carving out time for the important things. Because life is a gift, and each morning brings with it an invitation to waking — true waking — and to practice awareness and intentionality in setting up our hearts and minds for the miracles awaiting us in the day ahead. Life is full and overflowing; we get to chose what will be our focus or distraction. Mindfulness is wisdom. Let’s pay attention to where our time is invested — is it going where you want it to go? If yes, celebrate! If not, seek to create a solution. Some ideas might be to turn off social media notifications or remove the apps altogether for a bit; hire a helper to support your parenting time or a cleaner for bigger weekly housework projects or a trustworthy office assistant to whom you can leave things so you can intentionally step aside and connect with your heart and mind in a way that’s meaningful to you. Hold yourself to what’s important to you; it’s so easy to be swept away by all the stuff that doesn’t really matter. Push the “reset” button — and do it unapologetically. Life goes on just fine, even when we pull back for an hour, a day or a week. We really do create the life we live. This week, I hope to get clear on what that full, abundant life might look like moving forward and how to proceed in pursuing my deepest longings and dreams — and, to delight in the God Who so passionately and unequivocally loves me and feel His delight in me. Now let’s get this retreat started! Catch y’all on the flip side…

Love and many blessings,

Rebekah

Catching Up: The Year in Review – Part I

/ Rebekah Brackett / Leave a comment

 

brackettstudios_appleblossoms-1.jpg

“Apple Blossoms” | Brackett Studios

So much has happened since my last post… Much to my surprise, an entire year has flown by without a single peep from me on this blog. I have, in fact, been writing my heart out – just not posting much of anything publicly. This has been a year of intense transition and finding our “new normal”; a year of profound growth, curious exploration, joyful celebration and devastating loss. I’ve missed sharing my heart in this format, and thank you, dear reader, for hanging in there with me when I retreat and go silent instead of simply putting my heart out here in trust, courage and vulnerability. So here we go, my friends… Grab a cup of coffee or glass of wine; we have some catching up to do!

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In my previous post, I shared the joys of and lessons in preparing a house to put on the market (and the value of having a rain jacket with a hood – but most sane people already know this). I learned numerous lessons in staging our home and beginning the packing process: mainly, I now prefer a more minimalist way of living (because I never, EVER, want to sort through that much stuff again!); we all need helpers and the humility to receive those gifts of help; less absolutely can be more; and God really does listen to our prayers – and answers, sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

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WAVL Home

Our last holiday in our first home together | Thanksgiving 2017 | West Asheville, NC

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Our charming craftsman home sold in seven days. SEVEN. (Talk about a huge answer to our prayers!) We were thrilled with the family who purchased our bungalow – they are kind, smart, interesting people and their wee babe also has bright red hair and beautiful blue eyes, just like my husband! (I admit, I had intense baby jealousy!)

We commenced the arduous, emotionally-charged process of leaving one home for another. It was especially emotional, as this was our first home as a married couple, and Jarred had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to purchase and design the house a few years before we met with the hope of finding his bride one day.

I’ll never forget the night after our mini honeymoon when we arrived home – we climbed the steps to the porch hand-in-hand, and Jarred stopped, swooping me up in his arms, and carried me over the threshold of our front door. He whispered in the inky darkness, “All I have, all I am, is yours.” (I’m still swooning!) The next day, I saw I had received a message from the neighbor across the street the night before: “We totally just watched you get carried over the threshold. Yes, your neighbors are spying…but not too closely! Welcome to your new home!” I remember blushing and telling Jarred he was now the talk of the romanticists on our street. And, we might also have stalkers. (Just kidding!) That memory always makes me smile… It felt so nice to have our newly vowed love celebrated by our too-cute neighbor “spies”. We really loved that West Asheville community and the friendships we made. Our first home together was a blessing, and it was hard to leave – even if we believed the place we were headed toward was more in tune with who we were growing to be. Thankfully, the folks we purchased our new place from were just as equally lovely, kind and open-hearted as the family who made our first home their own.

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One Chapter Closes, and Another Begins…

"Home at Dusk" | Brackett Studios

“Home at Dusk”| Brackett Studios

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So my sweet, sweet husband and I moved out of the city and became “countrified” folk. We are surrounded by stunning mountains and beautiful lush valleys dotted with the cutest cattle, goats and sheep, and our own paradise is being hard-won. We fell in love with this place – its saturated peace, simple quiet elegance, magical rhododendron forest with private babbling brook running through and a deep, wide porch that beckons us and our family and friends to “sit a spell” while sipping homemade sweet tea and “shooting the breeze”.

We had many joyful expectations for this season in our lives. Dreaming is a gift, and grace even better when dreams fly up, up, up and then dip, curve and crash. Oh, it’s not all lost; it’s more of a paper airplane crash in the whole scheme of things – completely recoverable – but man alive, have you ever had a paper cut that keeps getting salt in the wound? It’s by no means a mortal wound; it just stings, and you really, really can’t wait for the thing to heal – am I right?!

Ten days after moving in to our new home, a piece of plumbing in our master bathroom shower (on the second floor) decided to split right down the middle in a freak occurrence. Chaos ensued, and that’s just not the kind of house warming gift you’d choose to receive if you had your own way about things. But, in the midst of tears and ruined plumbing and buckling hardwood floors, we thanked God for homeowners insurance, and started the process of finding a contractor who could repair the damage. And since we had to move everything down to our basement so the first and second floors could be redone throughout the house, we decided to bite the bullet and remove a couple of walls and have the entire interior of our home repainted while we were at it, including kitchen cabinets, built-ins and shelves. Literally, everything. A total overhaul. After all, it’s now or never, right?!

After six weeks of living in limbo at the house, we packed everything back up and moved out of our newly purchased property for a month, rescued by our generous friends who opened up their family retreat with a gorgeous view on the side of a steep mountain in Maggie Valley, so we could have a nearby place to rest while our home was under construction. What a gift!

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“Closing Day” | The joy we felt closing on our first home together was so wonderful!
“Commence Construction”
“Commence Construction | Front Hallway”
“Water Damaged”
“Tear Down the Walls”
Oh, LORD — the yellow must go!!!!
A new open floor plan!
A new open floor plan! Looking into the living room space.

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During this time, the beloved and internationally renowned Rev. Billy Graham crossed from this reality over into the Eternal Kingdom he so ardently pursued and whose hope and love he shared with the world. Jarred had served with Billy’s ministry for over twenty years in a few capacities, most consistently at The Cove, which is local to Asheville. He was called away to Charlotte in the early morning hours before the news broke of Billy’s passing to assist in the end of life ceremonies. Around the same time, my body decided to seize up and put me through some of the worst, continuously tortuous physical pain I’ve ever experienced in my life – for over thirty days straight, without reprieve. (Thank you, damaged L4 and L5 vertebrae and pinched nerves. You made me wish for oblivion in the particularly tormenting way only you can do.) And what do you do when doctors, chiropractors and physical therapists can’t help you and medications are useless, and you feel like death would be better than what you’re going through? You go see a faith healer. (Yes, I literally did that.) Perhaps the faith healer was bogus since I left that meeting still in the kind of pain that doubles you over…or, perhaps he helped facilitate a miracle, since I got riled up enough to go see another osteopathic doctor two days later who did, indeed, correct my incredibly out of whack alignment and relief was felt almost immediately. (Thank you, God, for my Spirit-filled brother, Dr. Ben!)

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Repairs and renovations were finally complete after waiting on pins and needles for an additional two weeks passed the projected end date, and I could stand mostly upright without hunching over and crying out in pain, only for us to walk in and find things weren’t as anticipated with the house. It can be pretty disappointing when expectations aren’t fully met and you’re tired of living out of a suitcase and – Geez-Louise – you just want to finally settle. We learned a lot of lessons from that experience. Mainly, both Jarred and I will continue to strive to be business owners who care well for our clients – doing the job we were paid to do, and hopefully going above and beyond to honor those who have entrusted us with their heart and resources. People don’t forget how they were treated, how they felt while interacting with a service provider – even while mistakes are a part of life, a part of projects. Communication gets messed up or one party sees things differently than the other. There’s grace and patience for all that. But for the love of all things good – endeavor to find common ground, agree on the solution to the problem at hand, finish the work well and operate your business with integrity! Just do it, people (and I’m preaching to myself here, too).

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TinyFlowers | Brackett Studios

“Tiny Flowers” | Brackett Studios

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Fast forward to Easter, on the very auspicious day of April 1st, otherwise known as “April Fool’s Day”. It was late afternoon and we were working on taxes. (Yes; I know exactly what you’re thinking: Taxes on Easter! What a fabulous way to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection!) Jarred went to find a necessary document pertaining to our new home and stumbled across the survey for our land. I heard him go outside and figured he was doing something in the garage. When he walked back in, his face was drawn into quite a frightening expression.  My stomach immediately turned into a knot, and I thought maybe someone died or maybe I did something stupid without knowing it. (Hello, my seven-year-old-self. Always thinking I’m in (or have caused) some sort of trouble and I’m about to get it real good across my backside…) All he said was, “I need you to come outside with me,” like, “Ma’am, I need you to come see the body I’ve exhumed from beneath the old maple tree. And yes, you are the killer. You’re just crazy and didn’t even know it. But we know it. And we all know you did it.” You know?! I was pretty apprehensive following this beloved man of mine outside with that horrible expression on his face. His was the expression of shock and grave seriousness. And this man of mine is not emotive. He’d make a killing player poker if I could ever get him to try the game! I’ve never seen that expression before and I sure as heck hope I never see it again.

We began walking up our land, and he handed me a paper with lots of lines and curves and you know, gibberish to my brain that doesn’t understand diagrams and surveys and such. Oh, I’ll nod my head and smile, but I rarely, if ever, can literally see what the heck the map is saying. (I’d make a terrible pirate, I tell you!) I predominantly feel my way through things… But that’s its own talent, right? Empath.

So, this paper wasn’t really jiving with me, until he pointed out some landmarks, and then my eyes widened, and I said, “I don’t understand.” Because what’s the second weapon in my arsenal after immediate guilt for potentially doing something wrong? Feigning ignorance. Playing dumb. “Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah… I can’t hear you; I can’t see you…” (Fingers in ears, eyes shut tight, shouting nonsense at the top of my lungs just to pretend what’s happening isn’t really happening – the whole shebang. Because then whatever’s being said or done isn’t really happening, right? (Sigh) Only I’m not seven or eight years old now; I’m thirty-eight. And those tactics don’t work so well any longer…)

He’s telling me our land isn’t all our land. My brain can’t process his words. I can’t even fathom he would say all of this just to trick me for April Fool’s. This isn’t a joke, and I can tell. His body is rigid, his face tense. And out of my mouth spills, “Our boundary lines fall in pleasant places.” A weighty pause falls between us. He just stops and stares at me, incredulous, dismayed. I say it more firmly, “Our boundary lines fall in pleasant places!!!” (Thank God for Joyce Meyer and Joel Osteen and Holy Spirit. In the midst of crushing news, I’m naming and claiming in faith the exact opposite of what that survey is showing.) Jarred was losing it (in the way only Jarred can “lose it” – from the outside, people would think he’s just pondering the lay of the land and tearing up because it’s so darn beautiful – not because he can’t believe we were sold something that isn’t actually fully legit ours (yet!)).

I’m not joking when I say that sometimes I am shocked at the reality of how beautiful Jesus can be in us as broken humans and in me, this woman who feels like she can barely hold things together. In that moment, standing there in the rosy glow of Easter’s fading daylight, gaping in confusion at the words coming out of my husband’s mouth, I didn’t cuss, cry or panic. (No, that all came the following day along with a fun case of full-body hives – just being honest! And I may not be able to read a map like a pirate, but by George! I sure as heck can cuss with the best of them!) Thankfully, when the unsanctified me surfaced, Jarred was already across the country for a gig, a full 3,000 miles away, so I processed the nonsensical nightmare with some of my favorite gal-pals over more sushi than a full-grown seal can eat and probably the amount of sake a pirate could drink. Yet in the eventide of Easter, incredible supernatural peace enveloped me, and I wrapped my arms around my sweet, sweet husband as we sat on our bench made from three large rocks overlooking our property and prayed for God to work this all out for us. And we really do believe He will. Because a good Father doesn’t lead you to a disappointing place, you know? He doesn’t excite you with fresh-smelling bread and hand you a stone and say, “Gnaw on this for a while until you get more sanctified.” The reality is, even the Chosen had giants to fight in the Promised Land. YHWH G-d could have easily disposed of all those terrifyingly tall warriors and ushered His people into immediate peace and utopia, but like I said before, He’s a good Father – and good fathers know just what their kiddos need in order to grow in strength, resiliency, wisdom and power.

That kind of sounds like a set up – but it’s not. And when it starts to feel that way – that God set us up – we pause. Because as much as I’m well aware of my deep and wide connection with emotion, emotions aren’t always telling the truth. God doesn’t set us up. He has done everything to heal our hearts, not break them. But life is messy this side of Heaven and things are missed, and people make errors, including us. How this situation happened, we don’t know. We really can’t wrap our minds around it, not even a little. But what we do know is, God is faithful and He’s already working this thing out for us.

The very ironic thing? We wouldn’t have purchased this place with the boundary as how it currently is on paper. There’s no way. It doesn’t make sense. In fact, it makes me mad just thinking about it. Who draws up these land lines, anyhow? They need to go back to the drawing board. “Try again, my friend. Try again. Because this current setup is stupid.”

Alas, that’s not how things work.

We don’t know how all this will pan out, and we are admittedly tired. It’s been a long, bumpy, tiresome season. Moving twice in two months isn’t fun. Pain isn’t fun. Poor workmanship isn’t fun. Being sold something that’s not true isn’t fun. But it’s life sometimes. And gosh darn it – I’m determined to lay hold of the joy set before me. Because that’s all I’ve got in the end. And all this other stuff? It will fade.

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Land of Hope

“A Longer View of Hope” | Brackett Studios

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When we were kids, we’d get into dramas and fights, and Mom would intervene and often say (sometimes in exasperation), “Does all this matter in light of eternity?!” I still hear her voice in my head asking this when crappy stuff happens.

It’s difficult to know what things to release and what falls into the category of being taken advantage of. We should have healthy boundaries and stand up for ourselves, right? …I guess?! But then again, Jesus did the total opposite of what Wolverine and Wonder Woman and my own little internal assassinator would do (only bad guys – promise!): He opened wide His arms, allowing metal stakes to be driven through His wrists into a jagged, wooden cross, and, lifted up, released all claims to (righteous, totally deserved) revenge, instead saying, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And we’ve not faced anything close to the pain and horror Jesus faced. So, no; all the issues we’ve been fighting really, really don’t matter in light of eternity.

So, there’s that!

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Time moved forward. We seemed to be stuck in the stalker grip of a very grouchy Winter who was just not willing to accept the fact we’d officially broken up and needed to move on. But we had some pretty days scattered throughout the FIVE MONTHS of Winter, and during those warmer (non-rainy, non-snowy) days, we began to dig up the garden and work the land and settle in to our little homestead. As Spring began to reveal herself, the joy we felt at the beginning of this adventure whispered to us and offered us real hope. And when tiny sprouts popped up in the garden and the flowers began to blossom and bloom as we moved toward Summer, wonder filled our hearts, and joy and peace were felt in deeper, more tangible ways.

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Wildflower Meadow | Brackett Studios

Our wildflower meadow | Spring 2018 | Haywood County, NC

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I think it’s important to pay attention to when it feels like joy is being stripped from our lives. It’s key to notice when we’re so tired, even basic life necessities have become too much of an effort. That’s not good, dear ones. Something has to shift – because Jesus very clearly says He prepares a BANQUET FEAST in the midst of our enemies. I don’t know about you, but that’s not some Elvish bread hurriedly stuffed into our mouths on the face of a cliff overlooking Mordor. The banquet Jesus is talking about is a flipping PARTY!!! Ten courses and then even more than that, I bet! Wine! Dancing! Laughter until you can’t breathe! JOY UNSPEAKABLE! I’m pretty sure a banquet feast is one that puts you in the mood to be “close” with your spouse (wink, wink!), not the other way around.

So, I’m curious if there are places in me (okay, I’m not curious; I know there are places in me) that don’t yet trust Jesus. Yeah…there are. I want to be in control! HA! I mean, the eternal part of me doesn’t want to be in control and totally trusts the Godhead, but there are other places, hidden, still wounded, still hurting, still timid and angry and confused. I think Jesus loves ALL of us – all of what comprises us as individuals – dark and light, hidden and seen – and  He is yearning for us to learn from Him – receive Him – His healing, His freedom, His power, His Spirit – His REST…

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Rest has always been a complicated matter in my world. What is rest?! I’m striving even when it comes to rest. Silly, I know. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t breastfed. Maybe it’s from early childhood trauma. Maybe it’s a seed of fear embedded so deep, its roots have choked out all space for perfect love. But God doesn’t get to be God if He can’t heal me through and through and lead me to His perfect rest (or so I am often reminded by my beloved, trusted counselor). So, I keep giving it to God!

It was an early Spring day and I had a yearning to worship through playing piano, which happened to be in our detached garage. As of the initial writing of this post, we hadn’t yet moved the piano back into the house since all the work had commenced, and I rather enjoyed it out there in some ways. I’d open wide the garage doors, and the piano faced toward the land that someday will be ours (one way or another), and I would play that piano in faith, in trust, in hope, in peace. I played it as a weapon of worship. I played it and asked Holy Spirit to inspire me and move through me. I played and sang, and hoped and prayed my neighbors didn’t mind the sounds coming from our garage…

While I was processing and worshipping one Sunday afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird made an appearance in their weathered, wooden house under the pergola, right outside of the garage door, and my heart just stopped in awe. They are so, so beautiful – and I am a bird FREAK, so of course, I was just giddy about the whole scenario. I snuck out and ran into the house to grab my camera, begging God like a little kid to allow me to capture their “portrait”.

Of course, He did. And of course, it was awesome!

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“Poser” | Brackett Studios
“Nothing but Tail-Feathers” | Brackett Studios
“Peeking Out” | Brackett Studios

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As I traipsed around the yard playing National Geographic photog with Papa God, I was at complete rest. It was wonderful… It was thrilling… It was free… I think that’s how true rest is meant to be: so natural, you don’t even know you’re doing it. It’s just happening, effortlessly.

While I was waiting for the blue birds to circle back, I photographed our apple trees and all their little blossoms that so bravely hung on through our harsh Winter in these breathtaking Blue Ridge Mountains. I was so inspired by their delicate form mixed with tenacity and courage. As I captured this particular branch reaching toward the sky, I felt like I was witnessing a poem in action. While I edited the photos from my restful adventure time with God, this poem was birthed. I’ll leave this here for you, hoping it will encourage your heart in the fight for the feast God has for you right in the middle of your own battle! And in a few days, I will share the second part of this “catching up” series.

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Spring Poem_RLBBrackett2

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And this is true worship:

The ever upward reach;

Expanding and growing toward the Light,

When all the Earth is cloaked in darkness

And Winter’s long harsh cold

Threatens to undo Spring’s bright hope.

Yes;

This is true worship –

The fierce determination to offer up

All of who we are

Despite the allure of curling inward.

No –

We choose to blossom our pale white faith

In the frigid air of disappointment;

We choose to reveal divinely bestowed beauty,

Undeterred by culture’s encroaching apathy;

We hold tight to our roots through the bitter swirling winds,

Believing in the promise of Harvest’s fruit made manifest

If we don’t give up or give in

(Though its sweetness feels so far away)

We cling to Future’s brilliant expectation,

Knowing the Past has brought us to where we are planted today.

And groaning inwardly, we strain upward – ever upward – toward our call.

This is our true worship:

We worship here in Spirit and in Truth,

And through Faith’s assurance, bloom…

~~~~~

Part II of catching up will hopefully come soon. Thanks for sharing the journey with me! Until then, I remain,

Your friend and fellow seeker   xx

 

Thoughts on Open House Preparation, Receiving Help, What Constitutes A Proper Rain Jacket, and Falling in Love With Coffee All Over Again

/ Rebekah Brackett / 2 Comments

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It may be actually raining sideways here in Asheville this morning. The day is so very grey, it felt a bit surreal driving to my chiropractic appointment through the rivers running down the usual roadways. Of course, I left my rain jacket (with hood) in the back seat of my well-loved teen-aged Honda Accord over the weekend, and it is positively buried beneath all the stuff we’re donating to Salvation Army and the bin of odds + ends we had no where else to hide from potential home-buyers as they tour our immaculate house. So my only option other than donning a plastic garbage bag was my black “dressy” London Fog trench coat (without hood). I’ve decided you really can’t call a trench coat without a hood a proper rain jacket. It’s just a coat that repels water off your torso. That’s it. Essentially, it looks like I showered with my clothes on like an idiot. But that’s kind of an endearing look, right?!

Because it’s a dreary, wet, grey day on the back end of an incredibly intense week, I was craving some coffee shop time with my journal. The first place I went to is apparently closed on Mondays. Oh, joy. I wish I had known that prior to stepping out into the swirling waterfall pouring down from the sky. Back into the car I went, sopping wet, more determined than ever to hunt down the perfect cup of coffee in a cozy setting.

The ironic thing is, I stopped drinking coffee three years ago after going through Arbonne’s 28-day health + wellness detox. I don’t crave coffee anymore. I start my day with an Arbonne energy drink that gives me clarity without the caffeine shakiness. But my sweet angel-of-a-sister-in-law brought me coffee the other night as a pick-me-up while I was frantically preparing our home for an open house scheduled for the following day, and now I am craving caffeine in the form of delicious dark-roasted brewed beans.

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My husband, Jarred, is out of town for business, yet we both felt we should go ahead with our first open house. After all, time is of the essence when it comes to real estate endeavors! So I commenced with the task of preparing our home to look like normal people don’t actually live here (…errrrr, I mean, a home that anyone who doesn’t understand the concept of a “junk drawer” can move into). Don’t get me wrong: we are people who enjoy cleaning and organizing (yep, I just openly admitted that — but hey, it’s a great stress-reliever when unrelated to people walking through your home as potential buyers!), and we have already gone through implementing “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up” about three different times now (so perhaps I’m not really fully executing the KonMari Method?!), but still — life tends to pile up! So there was a lot to be done before our big first open house.

A couple of friends dropped in Saturday morning, bringing danish and two big black garbage bags of extra newspaper they picked up while hunting down their own packing supplies. They were a sweet help with the beginning steps of moving and staging, for which I was grateful. But after they left, it still looked like the closets and cabinets had exploded their contents into the house’s open spaces, and my heart was overwhelmed with all that had yet to be done. I was working hard, but not getting ahead. I couldn’t clearly decipher what we needed to keep or donate or sell or pack. It can be confusing to make those choices without your life partner by your side. All the “stuff” was running together. I started to panic pray — you know, when you are just saying over and over with increasing fervency, “God, help me. Oh, Lord, help me… Jesus, please freaking help me!!!!”

And then out of the blue, when I was at my breaking point, I received a lifeline from my sister-in-law, Meredith. The only problem? How to actually say “yes” to an offer of help.

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Meredith reached out in the midst of her own very full and busy life and asked if I needed help, and I realized in that moment, much to my dismay, that while I LOVE helping others (and apparently love to pray for help), I absolutely hate receiving help. (Hello, Pride… How very smugly you show up in various areas of my life…) She upped the ante by making it clear on the phone: I’m not coming to hang out. If I come, you need to put me to work…which was exactly what I needed. But how is an overwhelmed lady supposed to ask for or receive that kind of offer? It feels so weird and awkward to put people to work on all the stuff you feel you should have done on your own. All I can say is, desperate times call for…humility. So, I swallowed hard and accepted her incredibly kind, unbelievably gracious gift of assistance.  Let’s be real, people. I was drowning, and the woman threw me a ginormous life raft and offered to captain the ship safe to shore!

An hour later there she was, standing in the middle of the chaos and confusion of me trying to declutter and “depersonalize” our home, with coffee and donuts in hand and an understanding smile on her lovely face. She surveyed the situation, rolled up her sleeves and got to work, guiding me in a gentle, respectful way. She was like a blend of Mary Poppins, Joanna Gaines and Jesus — and waves of relief washed over me in the midst of the mounting stress. Meredith lead me through the Red Sea of Open House Trepidation + Pressure To Get It All Done Just Right — to the other side — a thoughtfully staged home that I would love to purchase! (Do we even want to buy another house now?!) (Just kidding, Jarred…)

Meredith invested her time, talent, strength, leadership and love into this journey Jarred and I are walking, and she did it like a BOSS. Sometimes in life, we need an outside force of nature to get us to the other side of an overwhelming situation. It’s not that we are necessarily failing at a task; it’s that we need a partner who is strongly gifted in the areas where we are weak to get us out of our own head and moving forward on a clear path. I was lost before Meredith came; and I was totally rescued by her kindness and the grace of God to hear my panic prayers. And, unbelievably, the house was ready on time for the showing! Hallelujah, praise Jesus!!! I don’t think I’ve worked so hard in all my life to declutter, pack, stage and deep clean like Spring and Fall cleaning are hitting at the same time…and a white glove inspection might happen just for good measure. Holy Moses, Batman! WHEW! This darling gem of a home better sell quick, because I don’t have the emotional fortitude to go through this showing process a dozen times…

So now I am sitting in the coziest West Asheville coffee shop, catching my breath and enjoying Izzy’s special 3 Bean Dream latte along with a perfectly toasted everything bagel covered in a thick layer of cream cheese. Can I just say, DELISH?! (Jesus, thank You for Izzy’s…) I am at rest here, warm and calm and slowly drying off from my sky shower, while a great mix of music plays and my belly fills with goodness. And it just hits me all at once — I am so, so grateful for the support of family and friends through the wild changes of life. Numerous people we love have gifted their time, resources, care, prayers, counsel and strength to us as we pursue this next chapter in our lives. And it fills our hearts with so much gratitude and love and excitement for what’s ahead. (Seriously — y’all know who you are. Thank you so, so much!!!)

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All of this gets me to thinking…

We were made for community. We need each other! I think this is what God desires the Church to be — a body made up of various parts and gifts all working beautifully together to accomplish both great miraculous feats and things that just come up as necessities in life. We were created for purpose and for one another; no one has ALL the gifts and talents needed for ALL the things life throws in our direction. Anytime we feel like we have to do this life thing on our own, it’s a set up. It’s healthy to ask for and receive help. It’s good to extend our strengths in service to others. We need to know we’re not alone in the mess — and that kindness and grace can see us in the midst of our chaos and not judge or condemn us. Love and assistance are available — to give and to receive — and hearts are knit just a bit tighter as we work together, side-by-side. Personally, I’m starting to get a glimpse of how pride separates and the way humility brings closeness, healing and deeper relationship. It’s an uncomfortable lesson to learn, yet the benefits are really wonderful to experience as I open myself up to being seen and known, just as I am.

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Today’s Life Lessons

Extend the favor of assistance as you are able, and ask for the help you need, being willing to humbly + joyfully receive the gifts others offer. In the storms of life, find cozy, safe places for your heart. Also, it never hurts to look at the weather forecast before burying your rain jacket and umbrella under all the things in the backseat of your car. Being prepared in life comes with its own benefits; however, the reality is, we’re not always prepared for what we encounter…so don’t be afraid to look like an almost-drowned cat (physically or emotionally) if that’s how you are in the moment. Those who love you will find your “hot mess-ness” endearing and will like you anyway. Do what you can with the time and resources you have; progress can outweigh “perfection”. Finally, drink the blessed coffee when you need it and get yourself a back-up umbrella. There are some things in life you just shouldn’t live without!

From Izzy’s Coffee House in West Asheville, NC with love,

– The woman clearly not wearing a proper rain jacket  xx

The Artist’s Soul

/ Rebekah Brackett / 1 Comment

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“Crimson Joy” | Photo by Rebekah Brackett, Brackett Studios

An artist’s soul was hidden in my bones since I was a kid. Somewhere along the line, though, I believed the lie that my work was no good, that I wasn’t really a true artist because my skill didn’t look like or match others around me. For years I frustrated myself with painting and drawing. It never looked like what I saw in my head or felt in my heart. My art fell short of my hopes, dreams and expectations every single time. After a while, I put my artist’s desire in a back closet of my soul. It would pound on the door when light would bring out the beauty of simple objects or when I encountered other artists’ work. The longing to translate the emotion I felt when hearing the whisper of the Infinite could never be shut down or hidden away, no matter how hard I tried. And that is a very good thing. Because after I came to a sudden standstill in my life and the process commenced of being stripped of all I thought I was, in the ashes of me lay the soul of an artist. Joy began to bubble up from my seemingly empty belly as I went on long walks and captured nature around me through a simple lens. I could get lost for hours in the texture of leaves, the mystery of fog, and the romance between darkness and light. Then someone I barely knew gifted me a “fancy” camera, and it was like being given the stars and then forcing myself to learn Greek. Facing my fears of being technologically inadequate has been a journey. I still balk when someone asks me technical questions about my craft, but I’m learning that I am learning! It’s okay and perfectly acceptable to not know everything yet. (And really — I’ll never know everything, and that’s a lovely truth in life!) But I know so much more than I did six years ago, and most of that is due to the fact that the man who is pursuing my heart for life has taught me really well about this craft of photography. I entered his life, and he handed over his camera to me (which costs more than the value of my current car), and let me play. He was patient and open, teaching me not only about the camera itself but about post production technology. Lightroom (a photography editing program) was overwhelming at first, and now it has become my friend. Pretty soon I’ll embark on my Photoshop adventure, and I’m fairly certain my life and art will never be the same!

The point I’m trying to make with all of this is, our art doesn’t have to look or feel like someone else’s work. If you can’t draw to save your life (like me), try another medium. And heck — being entrusted with an artist’s soul isn’t limited to specific genres or mediums. It’s a way of viewing and interacting with the world around you. It’s seeing the beauty — really seeing it — in things other people completely miss. I’d like to think we’re all artists in our own unique way. So capture the glimpses of the Infinite around you. Release the emotions and stories burning in your chest through sculpture or paint or song or words or cooking dinner for your family — whatever medium brings you to life. There’s joy waiting to bubble up from within your belly — I promise! Even when life is dark and the idea of greeting one more day makes you want to lie down and die. Don’t give up; open the door to wherever you hid your longing for beauty and honest living. Your artist’s soul is in you. If I could find it again, you can, too!