Rethinking Rest in an Empty Nest

Are you nourishing your soul and experiencing peace or do your diversions drive you to discouragement and negativity? This is a hard question to ask and might be even harder to answer 

Many of you know about my addiction to buying notebooks. The one I am using as my prayer journal these days must have been purchased as insurance against the future day when I was feeling a little discouraged.  

Road Map For an Empty Nest

Easing into June after a month filled with activities and celebrations can leave you feeling like a balloon after all of the hot air has escaped. Deflated. While you welcome the rest and the quiet, you may be a bit at loose ends when it comes to wrapping your brain around what just happened. 

You may even be a smidge apprehensive about what to expect in the coming months if you are facing change. Especially if the change is not one that you orchestrated or invited. 

Stalled. Unable to Soar.

Many of us are in a period of transition, that in between stage which feels like a waste of time. We are unable to move. Unable to soar in the direction our soul is longing to lead us. There is a tension we are not quite able to name.

Some are stalled out after an unexpected diagnosis, so much time spent waiting for more information or attending appointments to get going on a cure that may or may not ever arrive. 

Others of us are stationary, unable to face the unlimited number of decisions about what to keep and what to give away in an effort to downsize, relocate, or finally just get organized. 

3 Ways Shame Holds You Hostage

Growing up, I went to Mass with my classmates once a week during the school year. A bonus all school Mass was thrown in for good measure if there was a feast day. Our teachers were forever encouraging us to participate in the Mass, not just take a nap. Being the dutiful student, I did just what was asked, I participated. There was one week, in particular, that I vividly remember. 

It is hard to bloom when we are sitting with shame.

We practiced the songs for the Mass in music class and we were all encouraged to sing loudly so that God could hear our voices. As the priest processed in, we started to sing. My little earnest self chimed in, possibly a little too forcefully and a little off key. After a few lines, the boy next to me nudged me and told me to be quiet. He probably used more colorful language than that because I still remember how it felt to be shushed.