Still rising over here

a little personal update

Dear Restful subscribers,

I wanted to let you know that I didn’t intend for the Lent & Easter Daybook to end so abruptly last Sunday. I had intended to offer a gentle transition from the daily meditations to the once-or-twice-a-week publishing cadence I’d intended for the Great 50 Days of Eastertide. Unfortunately, I am experiencing a severe flare-up of a chronic illness that has kept me from many of my normal work rhythms. I am getting help from doctors and other care providers, and once I have a better sense of a “new normal,” I will share what I’m thinking for my work here at Restful.

I understand that some of you pay for weekly updates here, and while I hope to return to that soon (including a line-up of livestream conversations I currently have scheduled with excellent guests), I would understand if you need to pause your subscription. If you can hold off on that decision, I will try to provide a clearer update soon. No matter what you decide, please know that Brian and I are deeply grateful for your investment in this work.

Writing for a publication I’ve titled “Restful” offers me the opportunity for honest self-assessment each time I open a new draft here. In the restful way of Jesus, there is suffering, and there is even fatigue and illness. The question in following Jesus isn’t “Am I feeling at the top of my game?” but “Am I following the loving invitations of Jesus or being driven by something unlike his goodness care? Am I trying to do work that he isn’t already working on ahead of me?” These are the questions I hope to discern, and I am in the one-day-at-a-time stage of listening for the direction of the Spirit as well as for my body, my care providers, and my community. If you can wait with me before unsubscribing, that would be a great gift. I promise to hold your trust with reverence.

In the meantime, I have been finding many resurrection reminders in the everyday graces of the unfolding spring here in southwest Connecticut. In a tiny walk this week, I passed the cheerful yellow face of a daffodil making its way through my neighbor’s picket fence, and, friends, I stopped in my tracks and wept. The persistence of that beauty brought me back to life in that moment. In my experience, there is nothing like illness to slow my attention to this earth, filled with the grandeur of God. I pray the same for you wherever and however you are today.

Alleluia, Christ is risen!

Tamara

p.s. I shared this with paid subscribers a few weeks ago, but want everyone to have it now. Celebrating is a spiritual discipline, and this year I find it harder than even lamenting. May we know in our bones, Jesus is alive.