What if people are attracted not just by light but by lightness?
Do I think I make Jesus attractive by my gravitas, seriousness, burden-bearing, sighing?
So be content with who you are, and don’t put on airs. God’s strong hand is on you; he’ll promote you at the right time. Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you. 1 Peter 5:6-7 MSG
What if I really believed he cares for me, is careful with me, that he will not let me be blown away if I live lightly? This downy feather responds to the breath of the wind. It floats. It rests. It doesn't cast stones; but even without much substance, it does casts a big shadow.
Would you rather imagine children chasing feathers, dandelion seeds, bubbles, and butterflies or strapping on heavy backpacks? What if we tantalize them with our lightness instead of breaking them with heavy burdens?
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matt 5:16 MSG
What would it feel like to live “freely and lightly" and not labor so hard in my Christian life?
Then Jesus said, “When I sent you out and told you to travel light, to take only the bare necessities, did you get along all right?” “Certainly,” they said, “we got along just fine.” Luke 22:35 MSG
Travel light. Let God carry the heavy stuff.
(I've begun a 100-day project of choosing one of my photos and thinking of one word and Scriptures that resonate with it. And all the questions stirring inside. Because as I grow older, I'm living in the questions much more than the answers. I'll feature a few of my photo-words in upcoming newsletters.)
Beauty Refreshers: Author and Spiritual Director Charlotte Donlon
Beauty Refreshers features those who inspire me and give me and others hope. Charlotte, who is based in Birmingham, is a writer, spiritual director, and gatherer who cultivates sanctuaries of exploration, acceptance, and connection.
I asked her, "What do you want to give the world?"
Charlotte answers, "Because so many people feel alone and on the periphery, one thing I desire to give the world is a greater understanding of belonging.
All of my writing and spiritual direction work are ultimately concerned with the ways art and other good things help us belong to ourselves, others, God, and the world.
When I meet with my spiritual direction clients, some common topics of conversation include how to honor the impulse to write and make art, how to discern if there’s an overall movement towards freedom and away from oppression, and how to establish practices for spiritual growth and healing."
Her first book, The Great Belonging: How Loneliness Leads Us to Each Other, was published by Broadleaf Books in 2020. She is currently writing a book about Spiritual Direction for Writers® which will be published by Eerdmans in 2025. Charlotte's essays have appeared in The Washington Post, The Curator, The Christian Century, Christianity Today, Catapult, The Millions, Mockingbird, and elsewhere. She holds a Master of Fine Arts in creative writing and a certificate in spiritual direction.
To learn more about Charlotte and her writing and work, visit charlottedonlon.com.
Beauty Refreshers: Photographer and Noticer Mary Jo Hoffman
Mary Jo Hoffman inspires me. Her book STILL: The Art of Noticing is now out. Look at some of the images here.
It's been more than 12 years since Mary Jo committed to a daily art project where she finds something in nature that inspires her. She photographs it (often in a collage) and posts it on her blog and Instagram. That is more than 4,500 days. She says "the art of dailiness" has changed her so she is often in a state of creative noticing or deep play. She made it simple enough to fit around family life. She found through this practice that the process is sacred, not the results.
Image by Monicelli / Phaidon
She graciously answered my question, What do you want to give the world?
"I would say the most important things I want to give the world are the following:
1) I believe that art is an energy transference from the artist to the viewer. When I share my art, I hope to pass on my wonder and awe at our natural world;
2) I created STILL with an implicit promise that it would be a quiet corner of the internet that my viewers could visit when they felt a need for simplicity and beauty.
3) Finally, I hope to inspire my viewers to see their own environments with new eyes. Nothing makes me happier than finding a new way to present the most ordinary of subjects, so that it catches people by surprise and reminds them how much beauty they are surrounded by every day, wherever they happen to be."
Image by Monicelli / Phaidon
She shares her idea of radical incrementalism and how we can tap into our creativity by doing a little bit every day in a podcast with Julie Berman of Woman with Cool Jobs. Watch a short video from six years ago (when she was only at 3,000 photos) to catch a vision of her vision (and how she shared it with her family).
Image by Monicelli / Phaidon
Put Yourself in the Path
Bill reserved a hotel room for April 7 in Fort Smith, Arkansas almost a year ago. Eight hours away. Because it was on the edge of The Path of Totality.
I wondered if that was a famous rock band.
No. It’s the last full solar eclipse in the United States until 2045. Hotels closer to us in “The Path” had already sold out. As a photographer, Bill started buying special filters, borrowing cameras and tripods, and researching f-stops and time lapses.
I wondered what there was to do and eat in Fort Smith.
We don’t usually plan anything that far in advance. But when you reach our age, if you’re going to do something, you can’t wait until the “next time,” especially if it’s 21 years away. I was glad Bill researched so I could just go along for the ride wearing an awkward shoulder wedge sling after shattering my shoulder.
Would 16 hours on the road, wounded and weary, be worth it?
People tried to describe the difference between being in a partial and total eclipse. Annie Dillard wrote, “Seeing a partial eclipse bears about the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him, or as flying in an airplane does to falling out of an airplane.”
I tried to stay open-minded.
On our way, we found a room in Little Rock. It cut off two hours of our drive. Other people on the hotel elevator whispered to us, “Are you here for the eclipse, too?”
So, maybe it really was a thing.
Bill figured out the best places in the area to see the eclipse. Two key factors: a wide view of the sky and access to bathrooms. The next morning, in a quiet park on the Arkansas River, Bill set up three cameras on tripods. At 9:30 a.m. there was one other car. The eclipse would begin about 12:30 p.m. and hit totality at 1:52 p.m.
By 1:30 p.m. it looked like a low-key SEC tailgate party.
Almost every parking space was filled. People set out camp chairs, cranked up music, and passed around snacks. Kids played tag. Parents scrolled on their phones.
Bill handed me mylar eclipse sunglasses (much better than the flimsy paper ones below). I put them on. The world went dark. I could see nothing except the sun. At 12:30 p.m. I noticed the slightest dent on the lower right side of the full circle of the sun. By 1 p.m. it looked like a pitted olive. At 1:30 p.m., a crescent moon. By 1:40, the sun looked like a thin toenail clipping.
But as I took off my glasses and looked around the park, everything appeared the same. The sun was that strong. If I didn’t know what was happening, I’d wonder why people were looking up at the sky in those weird glasses.
But then, at about 1:50, with more than 97 percent of the sun blocked, the light changed. It was like looking into a fish tank with an eerie green-gray thick algae glow. The street lamps popped on. The air cooled. The birds settled. The crickets chirped. The sky turned deep indigo blue. Cheers, gasps, and claps erupted in ripples up and down the riverbank. I took off my glasses, looked up, and nearly dropped to my knees.
My eyes welled with tears.
The moon won, sliding over the sun, and locking a lid on it. Then in a few seconds, I saw the perfect circle halo glow. Almost as quickly, the sun glinted out the other side, like a glittering diamond ring.
I looked around. Sunset glowed along the edges of every horizon. Burnt orange flames along the edges of the world with the rest of the sky a deepening cobalt blue bowl with a pulsating white ring at the top. (Here's a Facebook link to an image from Brandon Bodendorfer who recorded the 360-degree sunset.)
The drama only lasted 2.5 minutes.
Then the lights flipped back on. Street lamps turned off. Birds flew. Some people stood in a daze. Most started packing up. A woman next to us looked at her watch.
“We’d better go. The restaurants will be packed.”
All eclipse photos by Bill Carroll
We kept watching through our eclipse glasses as the moon slid off the sun for the next 45 minutes with the same half-moon shapes in the opposite direction. Then we packed the gear and drove home through hours of eclipse traffic all converging on the bridge over the Mississippi River in Memphis.
Had it been real?
We had the photos to prove it. If not, even though I had been there, I may have doubted it. My too-distracted life with its all-important to-do’s may have tried to check it off or box it in. I’m glad we made it an “event,” and we let ourselves pause and experience it.
It was worth it.
But it made me think. What other holy moments have I missed or dismissed? How can I let myself be awed by our supernatural universe? There’s not much time left to put myself in the path of wonder. Maybe I need to create an "awe-some" app to schedule and record those moments, especially the simple ones close by. Take wonder walks with my macro-lens camera. Clap at sunsets. Breathe in fresh basil. Relish every bite of warm chocolate chip cookies. Listen to baby giggles. Play with golden retrievers.
Don't wait until the next time.
When have you experienced a moment of awe or wonder that took your breath away or changed you? How will you put yourself in the path?