A Wellspring

We aren’t farmers. It’s good to say that from the start. This past summer our family moved again and this time we chose a home that sits on a little less than 4 acres of land. A good portion is woods, but we are definitely “in the country” side of town. Our neighbors have horses that we can see every morning from our front yard. Down the lane another neighbor has a large garden and the best tomatoes at their farm stand during the summer.

When we bought our home we knew it was on a well. Naively, we thought we knew enough about wells due to a few previous experiences that, in hindsight, did not at all provide us with enough information to believe we knew what it meant to live with a well.

You don’t know what you don’t know

After a few formative experiences, such as learning that standing water around the well did not in fact mean we had a such a surplus of water it was literally bubbling out of the ground – this meant we had a serious leak that should have been addressed at least a month prior – we are quickly realizing that there is a lot to learn about wells. There is also a lot that is simply beyond our control.

When we first moved in, we let the well alone. We didn’t know how to measure its depth, and according to our neighbor the well had always been sufficient for the previous owners. It should be noted, again, hindsight being so clear, that the previous owners were an elderly couple. The water usage in laundry alone when comparing the needs of an elderly couple and our family of eight is rather extreme. So, while the well might have produced more than enough for them, our family has a very different level of need.

After the aforementioned leak experience, we figured out how to measure the well’s depth. We have a spreadsheet where we are tracking the depth of the well twice a week. We also have a rain gauge so we can keep a good account of the amount of rain we get. We have learned things like just because it’s raining today doesn’t mean we will see those gains in the well tomorrow. It takes a few months for the rain of today to filter down deep enough to be seen in the well. And, if there is a dry period, we can expect to see that reflected in the well’s measurements a few months later.

To whom does water belong?

We have learned so much in a few months. And yet, there is little of it we can control besides measuring and watching. Laundry still has to be done. Toilets have to be flushed. Dishes have to be washed and showers taken. We use water all the time. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of the well. We have even started including the well in our nightly prayers as a family.

This whole experience has given me a deeper appreciation for those who rely on the weather for their livelihood and way of life. We are fortunate that we can call a company to bring water to refill the well (we’ve had to once already) when, in our ignorance, we ran it dry. Now, as we learn more, we are striving to maintain a better understanding of the well, where it is sitting, and how we can modify our habits to be good users of the water we have available. Not everyone has such a luxury.

I am also praying my morning prayer with more awareness. So many psalms talk about the importance of water and all its many facets. (The following are quotes from the Liturgy of the Hours translation of the Psalms).

  • O God, you are my God, for you I long; for you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you, like a dry, weary land without water. Psalm 63:2
  • The Lord’s voice resounding on the waters, the Lord on the immensity of waters; the voice of the Lord, full of power, the voice of the Lord, full of splendor. Psalm 29:3-4
  • The Lord’s is the earth and its fullness, the world and all its peoples. It is he who set it on the seas; on the waters he made it firm. Psalm 24:1-2
  • Indeed you love truth in the heart; then in the secret of my heart teach me wisdom. O purify me, then I shall be clean; O wash me, I shall be whiter than snow. Psalm 51:8-9
  • You care for the earth, give it water; you fill it with riches. Your river in heaven brims over to provide its grain. And thus you provide for the earth; you drench its furrows, you live it soften it with showers, you bless its growth. Psalm 65:10-11

The list goes on. Water doesn’t belong to us. This well doesn’t belong to us. I am discovering our relationship with water in this house is a lot like the Serenity Prayer. We can absolutely take ownership of how we use the water, but we cannot control its availability. We have to rely on God’s providence in the weather.

So much of the big things in life are like this. We have the gift of life, of waking up each morning. We can choose how to spend our day, but we rely on God’s love and mercy to wake us up tomorrow. We can take ownership of our actions, but we cannot demand others act or perceive our actions in a certain manner. We can make great plans for the future and have them all change in a single day.

Through this well, our family is learning to rely even more on God. We are learning to be more patient and to be more aware of the gifts He provides the earth in the form of rain. Water is precious. Life is precious. While it would be so much easier to be on city water, I wouldn’t trade these lessons and conversations we have had because of our well.

Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com

Choosing our Feelings & A New Method of Fasting

Lent is on the way. I know this because my fingers have been frantically typing to finish up the Lenten Lectio Divina journal for this year. It ought to be ready and posted by this weekend, so for anyone who is looking for it, it’s on the way! 

I had a revelation a few days ago that I wanted to share. A little update first. As I sit here typing, I am almost 35 weeks pregnant with #6. My sister-in-law and I have been walking the pregnancy journey together, which has been so much fun. She, however, is a bit further along than I am and that day I spent thinking she was at the hospital getting ready to meet her first child. I was so happy for my brother and his wife. This is their first baby and has been a long journey. Pregnancy and pandemic are not the easiest combination.

And yet, while I was genuinely happy and excited for them, I felt off all day. I blamed it on ligament pain, general pregnancy stuff, etc. But as I woke up the following morning (it turned out I had it wrong and this was the day of the inducement) I was struck by this rather ugly thought:

“Yesterday I was jealous that she was going to have her baby and I’m not there yet.”

It hit me hard too. All day, I was harboring this jealously so tightly within me that it’s tendrils reached out to effect my entire day. I wasn’t patient, I struggled with motivation, I didn’t even want to cook dinner or plan out the meals for the week because it involved too much work. I felt exhausted even though I hadn’t done much. I was frustrated with myself for my failings and that surely didn’t do anyone in the house any good. 

Because of this revelation, the actual day of the birth of my very first nephew, was noticeably different. I still had the same ligament pain, same pregnancy stuff. But I acknowledged this struggle I am having, prayed about it and it makes all the difference. While writing this, two of the girls asked me to play a game with them. I very much wanted to get it finished this afternoon during the few precious hours of quiet time while Gabriel, now 18 months, is asleep. The day before, I would have probably snapped at them for interrupting me and sent them to play on their own. This day, I closed my laptop and played Go Fish. 

Instead of letting my jealously rule me, I chose to rule it.

Any program for addiction will tell you that you have to own the feelings and thoughts you are having. You have to acknowledge you need help, that you can’t go it alone. By naming how we are feeling, we are acknowledging the feelings for what they are. From that place, we can choose to indulge them, dismiss them, or change them. I am so thankful that God revealed to me my jealous heart so that I could greet my new nephew with a heart full of joy and love.

With Lent coming up, this is a great time to consider what feelings we are ruling, and which ones we are allowing to rule us. What actions or activities do we feel we cannot live without, and what can we let go of without too much complaint?

Since the start of the year, I have been trying something new. Instead of one big New Year’s resolution (which I usually fail at by now) I have chosen a weekly fast that changes with each week. Sundays are “off” days and simultaneously discernment days. No fasting, but discerning the upcoming week to see what I will be fasting from. Some things I’ve fasted from already include:

  • Desserts
  • Instagram
  • Social media scrolling (I check in once a day because important announcements for Ben’s squadron are often posted on Facebook but I did not allow myself to sit and scroll the newsfeeds)
  • Games on my phone

I have repeated a few and have found some to be harder than others. Desserts were hard all week long and I found myself reluctant to bake anything because I couldn’t have it. This is something to work on for sure since my whole family wasn’t fasting from dessert, just me. Social media wasn’t as hard as I expected, though I did notice that I just played more solitaire or word searches so it wasn’t necessarily a reduction in screen time. I plan to fast at some point from using my phone after the kids are in bed, like a digital sunset if you’ve heard of that. This week happens to be phone games and I am noticing a reduction in screen time. There’s only so much Instagram scrolling I’m willing to do, which is new information for me about my phone tolerances and habits.

Usually for Lent we choose one thing to fast from. I’d like to offer an alternative, especially if you were planning on fasting from something you habitually do each year, like pop or chocolate. Take some time and look at your calendar for Lent. What might you fast from each week that would bring either meaningful change to that week, or could reveal meaningful information about you, your habits and feelings? Maybe you only pick two things and switch back and forth (there are 6 weeks including Holy Week so you would fast an even number of times). Each time you revisit the fast you could tweak it, adjust it, so that you continue to grow and stretch yourself. Here’s an example:

Week 1: Fast from saying “I want.”

Week 2: Fast from chocolate.

Week 3: Continue your fast from Week 1 and include delayed gratification practices. If there is something you want to do, buy, eat, etc., wait a specific amount of time before doing the activity (Personally, I would not count main meals in the “I want” category.) 

Week 4: Continue your fast from Week 2 and include no desserts of any kind.

Week 5: Continue your fast from Weeks 1 and 3. Challenge yourself to fast from whatever was the hardest thing to wait for in the previous weeks.

Week 6: Continue your fast from Weeks 2 and 4. Challenge yourself to eat no dessert or snack between meals.

Do you see how the fasts grow upon one another, building your stamina over the course of the whole Lenten journey? This is just one idea of course, there are so many good practices and methods of fasting. 

What are you planning on fasting from? What do you think of the idea of trying a gradually building fast over the course of Lent? 

Don’t forget, the free Lenten Lectio Divina journal for this Lent will be out by this weekend! This is a totally free resources to download, please feel free to share the blog post link when it is up.

Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com

As the Deer Longs

Before living in Texas I don’t think I truly understood what it meant to long for rain. I know there are climates much drier than Southwest Texas. However, growing up in the Midwest inclines one to take rain for granted. We may have had dry spells, but nothing like the oppressive and unrelenting heat of a Texas summer. A summer which, for those unfamiliar, can start as early as April and last well into October. The ground is so dry the wind can blow dust into a haze which is capable of blocking the sun. The grass crunches like potato chips underfoot.

Drooping basil in our front yard

Just a few days ago when a tropical storm hit Houston, a stray cloud still carrying water manages to open up over our house. My children were delighted. They threw on their rain boots and hurried to find puddles of any size before they evaporated back into the hot air. As I stood in the brief sun shower, a Psalm refrain came to mind

“As the deer longs for running streams, so my soul longs for you O Lord”

Psalm 42:1

Standing in the rain, after months without it, it felt as if my soul was pierced with understanding. I felt relief, joy, wonder and a desire to raise my hands and face to welcome the water. I laughed at myself, because how many movies have we seen where a character has done just this when a long awaited rain finally comes. But genuinely, this seems to be the most appropriate action. The thing I didn’t realize I was waiting for, longing for, had finally come.

As the deer longs – what am I longing for? For rain, obvious. But what else? What is my soul thirsting for, and what am I using to quench my thirst? As human beings made of mostly water, we can only survive 3-4 days without it. Water is a critical element to our existence and to the existence of all creatures. It’s not surprising then that the Psalmist chooses to use this image of water when describing how our souls yearn for God.

If you are feeling run down, tired, perhaps stressed out, take a few minutes to ponder this verse. Perhaps even repeat the first part a few times as you identify with your own thirsts. As the deer longs for running streams….so my soul longs for you O God. Then, let those thirsts go, recognizing that only God can truly satisfy all your wants and needs. You might also take this refrain to adoration, or perhaps use it to focus the few minutes before the start of Mass. No matter where you are in life, this simple verse can help calm your thoughts and focus the moment on He who matters most.

Even the smallest puddles nourish the soul