what a week

The week at writer’s camp was exquisite. I didn’t do a ton of writing, but I did some bits and pieces, and I did a whole lot of thinking and praying, some walking and hiking, ceaseless talking and wondering. I am so glad I went, so thankful that my parents took the kids so I didn’t have to be responsible at all, so happy my cousin came too.

Marilyn Chandler McEntyre is my hero. I want to be her when I grow up. She is smart and kind and funny and thoughtful and challenging and lots of other adjectives. If you haven’t read Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies, do so.

The other participants were delightful. They were pastors who have stories to tell and other folks like me who delight in the spiritual aspects of writing. The stories they told were poignant and witty and snarky and charming. Wonderful!

The place is amazing. The lake, the hills, the trees, the sunsets. Wow.

What a week. And now two days on my own before I meet the folks and get the kids (whom I am missing very much today).

Here’s the last thing I wrote. It was sparked by a reflection on John 15 and, well, where I was.

The tree
Does not strive.
The tree
Stands tall
And lets the sun
Do its work,
Roots deep
And lets the rain
Do its work,
And the fruit comes.
Cease striving;

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3 Responses to what a week

  1. Lovely! That you had this week and that it was so wonderful, that you have had time without the caretaking of mothering – enough to miss your little ones (sweet), and also, this poem…

  2. I love your poem, and the writing retreat sounds wonderful.

  3. deanna Long says:

    I love the thought of the tree not striving. Yet it is there and cared for, doing what it is meant to do. Loved taking care of the kids. Such clever little ones.

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