hard things

Washing Out

Posted on by Lindsey Gallant / 0 Comment
Tonight I’m feeling the sadness of grieving friends and loved ones. This song formed in my head as I was driving home in the rain. 


Washing Out


I didn’t know what it would feel like
To say your name after we said goodbye
And for the first time the sun forgot to rise
I look up to heaven trying to catch your eye

And the rain falls steady on the trampled ground
And my heart is heavy cause you’re not around
And the river’s rising but the water’s brown
Cause the road we travelled on
Is washing out

I couldn’t know what it would feel like
To walk down to the riverside
I wanna reach you but these wings can’t fly
I’m on my knees and the tide is high

And the rain falls steady on the trampled ground
And my heart is heavy cause you’re not around
And the river’s rising but the water’s brown
Cause the road we travelled on
Is washing out

I wanna know what it will feel like 
When the earth smells sweet after the storm blows by 
When the rain that’s falling doesn’t make me cry
And the grass grows green by the riverside


~lg
family/grace/love/summer

These summer days

Posted on by Lindsey Gallant / 1 Comment
How can so much living be stuffed into the days of summer? I am a suitcase bursting at the seams, a well overflowing, a garden escaping the chicken wire bounds. 

I have sat on the front porch with nineteen family members (so far), and walked the red beaches and rocked in the blue harbour. I have said my ethereal farewells to the cat that never made it home, and deloused 1.4 pounds of a fresh barn kitten. I have seen the glorious sunset spilling from the heavens over the north shore cliffs and lighting my daughter’s eyes with its secrets. We’ve danced to fiddles in the rain, and filled the house with music, and feasted on the fruits of our little land. We’ve dedicated a baby to God, and sung loudly of His faithfulness, and delighted in her perfect smiles. I have seen the fishing boats go out to meet the sun at its earliest rising and rowed under the village bridge with homemade oars. I have listened to the tales that only grandparents can tell, and embraced four generations of familial love, and received the prayer of my father’s father over my children and household. I have slept in a tent and under the thunder-drummed roof and next to a baby’s snores, and some days have woken to tired bones and headaches, but the eastern light makes shadows of the leaves on the bedroom wall and I remember to be grateful. 

This morning I hear the wind chimes singing the song of the rain to come. It’s a morning for cuddles and another cup of coffee and feeling a bit sad at the emptiness of the house. But here is still fullness of grace. Blessing upon blessing, that’s what these summer days are. 


~lg
a life of prayer/grace/habits/June prayer journal/prayer/summer

Summer and the Givenness of Grace

Posted on by Lindsey Gallant / 1 Comment

It’s been internet ages (aka almost three weeks) since I’ve posted anything! What ever happened to the end of June? What happened to my month of prayer? 

Well, summer happened, that’s what! We’ve been camping, beaching, gardening, and partying. We’ve had a couple rounds of family visiting from away. We’re going to Fiddle Fest! Summer has its own rhythm. Some days it feels like swinging between crazy-busy and hazy-lazy. It’s not a bad thing at all, just different. 

The prayer journey is ongoing. I’ve been reading several books that have been expanding my ideas of prayer in indirect ways. I’ve been mulling. Meditating. Morning prayer really is the one practice that gets the day going on the right track. Some of my other prayer time “anchors” have become unmoored with our different routine. But I’m trying not to “get my shorts in a knot” (as my mother used to say!) about it. I know that when summer is over, we’ll all settle back into more predictable days. 

In the meantime, God is still there. And we’re still talking. It’s not about becoming a slave to particular prayer practices. Those practices are tools. Those practices are tracks to my desired destination, but they are no substitute for the welcome upon arrival. 

This thought by Sarah Mackenzie has been keeping my company the last week or so. It’s from her great little book Teaching From Rest. In it, she talks about the seeming impossibility of our task as mothers. To a certain extent, our inadequacy is a given. Our own resources are never enough. She writes,


“I don’t really have any idea how I’m supposed to tackle everything ahead of me in this day, this year, this decade when that’s all I’ve got. It’s just a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish.

Apparently, that’s all He needs.

We are weary because we forget about grace. We act as though God’s showing up is the miracle. But guess what? God’s showing up is the given. Grace is a fact.” (pg. 15, emphasis mine)


Ah. I’ve been letting that sink in a bit. It might be easy to think that all my good habits and discipline are getting me closer to God. And it may be true, in part. Those are all ways that I respond to His call to “draw near.” They are for my benefit. But beneath and above and around it all is the reality – He is there. I don’t have to conjure Him up. His presence is the given. “Grace is a fact.” 

I could beat myself up over the fact that I didn’t have a regular devotional time at all this past week. Or I could be thankful about that book I read on the way to the beach that caused me to wonder about God in a different way. I could recognize the love of God in the faces of family members we don’t get to see very often. I could marvel at how one passage of Philippians that I read two weeks ago is still giving me something to chew over. 

There’s so much grace all around me. So much God. He is never far, even on the days I forget to pray. I can relax a little, knowing that my inadequacy is a given. But so is grace, and because of that, I can rejoice a whole lot. 


~lg



a life of prayer/June prayer journal/pause/peace/prayer

When You Need to Push Pause on Life

Posted on by Lindsey Gallant / 0 Comment
There are days I seem to be living life in fast forward. It can wear me out and chew me up. Voices garble, movement is jerky, and in the frenzied passing of scene after scene, I may have lost the plot.
I need a pause button.
I need a way to stop the madness, be still. I need a way to refocus. I need some quiet. I need to breathe. 
I need to pray.
Prayer is the pause button for all the crazy.
Prayer changes the channel. 
Prayer connects me to a source that gives, rather than drains. 
This pause puts the day in perspective. God gives me His eyes to see the details that matter. His voice is made clear over the constant chatter, and it is music to my ears. He reminds me of my place in the story. He gives me peace. 
And when I push play again, the pace somehow evens out. Life is not flashing before my eyes, and I am no longer the helpless spectator. 
Prayer is the pause that invites God to enter the scene. It is the space for Him to jump back in, so we can walk together, work together, play together. 
~lg

beauty/children/parenting/thanksgiving

The beauty of the earth

Posted on by Lindsey Gallant / 1 Comment
Ivy

Ivy Joy. 

You are the thrush that sings in the morning, sweet with joy from the crown of the tree.

You are the laurel about my head, victory green and new.
You are the sun, faithful to smile the day into being.
You are the brook as it laughs around the corner, kissing the rocks till they sparkle.
You are the wild rose, pink and smooth against my cheek, delicate fragrance in my breath.

You are the beauty of the earth,
the dew of youth from the womb of the morning,
the hymn I raise to kiss in praise.

*photo credit: Denise Bowman

~lg

S.D.G.