Slow Living is a Battle

Having been living a "slow living" life intentionally for years, there's something about living this unique life (a slow one) amidst this culture (a fast one) that forces me to course-correct fairly regularly.

The basics of slow living, like wearing second-hand clothing, or cooking and baking at home, reading, and taking walks as hobbies, are still there. My basic needs are fulfilled in a way that supports the slow life mentality. And I love it.

But I'm talking about my other everyday activities. If I'm not cognizant of the time I'm devoting to them, my intent will change. Slowly, without knowing it, I will revert to my old way of living, which consisted of cramming as much as I could into a day and doing far more than I needed to.

What causes this? 

I suppose it's because I'm living a slow life in a very busy world. I'm not "off the grid," so to speak. I live in a suburb in a cookie-cutter house. I'm not on ten acres. I can walk to the grocery store, a half mile from my house, rather than grow my food or milk the cow, and gather my chickens' eggs. I'm thoroughly trying to live a slow life in a fast community.

So that will always be challenging for me.

The slow lifestyle I've tried to carve out for myself and my family has the potential to be invaded, overrun, and occupied any time I give it a foothold. All I have to do is step outside and see the latest home improvement project on my neighbor's home to get me to think, "Do we need to do something to our house?"

Take empty-nesting, for instance. My first thought, when my last boy left the coop, was "Hey, now I can devote even more time to doing what I love." Yes, absolutely. I can write more, read more, garden more, heck, I can even devote more time to watching the leaves on my trees change color.

But this thought process has also made me want to do more things I don't need to do.

I've been doing yoga regularly for years, over eleven years, taking classes right down the street from me. As we age, our flexibility decreases as much as our strength, so it's important to strength train as much as we stretch. They work together.

But too much can also cause problems. I got a little gung-ho recently and began stetching way more than I needed to - stretching every day at home, adding more yoga classes - and now, I have a pulled hamstring. This means I have to stop yoga just to repair my pulled muscle. 

What I thought would be a good thing (doing more of what I love is always good, right?) ended up forcing me to not only slow down, but stop. I also picked up running again after taking a little hiatus from it. Which is fantastic! Except that I can't run now because I'm in too much pain.

What I thought would enhance my life, by adding more of it, only ended up hurting me. So there is a form of moderation that I had to bring back into my life. This doesn't mean I can't stretch, run, or keep those extra classes I added, but maybe if I had added less activity to my open schedule, it wouldn't have meant giving up what I loved. 

My takeaway: Just because my schedule is more open doesn't mean I need to overfill it. 

I don't need another job; my two jobs are fulfilling me perfectly. I don't need to add to my online vintage store because I have more time to source vintage clothing; I need to stick with my plan for a smaller shop with better items. 

I don't need another social media app because I have more time, and I don't need a new sport (although, much to my husband's happiness, I'm working on my few golf skills). I only need to keep doing what I'm doing without adding more to my schedule, all because I feel like I need to fill the time. This is a minimalist approach, but it's fair to say, even if I don't like it, this works best for me.

I can be happy with what I currently have and not feel like I'm missing out.

There is a Facebook profile I follow, and her art is a great reminder of what I want to keep my focus on throughout the day, in visual form. Look at this:

These are the things I should be focusing on. More time working the soil, laboring in the kitchen, and writing that story. Yoga class will always be there, but I need to remember that I can still be great at yoga without having to hurt myself.

That book will get written, that torn muscle will be repaired, and I will accomplish what I'm supposed to accomplish, but it's okay to do less, at a slower pace.

The next two weeks are about to be very un-slow. My oldest son is getting married, so needless to say, there will be a lot happening.

But, I can still center myself amidst the chaos with a good cup of coffee, a ten-minute break with a fun book, or a half-hour walk to burn off the stress I know is coming.

Slow living is a battle in our fast-paced world, but with some thought and proactive measures (don't be like me and force proximal hamstring tendinopathy from overdoing a good thing), it can take root and thrive no matter your surroundings.

Trading Running Shoes for Food

The biggest life change, now that I'm an empty nester, is the diminution of food purchasing.

That sounds dramatic. I know. What about them not living under your roof, you ask? Yes, that's hard. What about not hearing their voices, the witty banter betwixt the two brothers, or the malodorous smells coming from their rooms?

Yes, yes, and yes. Those are all huge changes. My husband and I notice how clean our house smells after we've been out and returned home. It's alarming. That's how foreign a clean-house smell is to us.

But back to the food.

Not being near my two boys makes me feel like a part of me is missing now. But a part that's missing - that I really don't miss - is the feeding of them.

If you haven't raised boys, then it's hard to put into words how much food they consume. Boys are like the rapacious locust to the wheat fields, the ants to a picnic, the vultures of the air, and the squirrels to my parent's bird feeders. Boys are living, walking, and talking human food processors. They consume everywhere, and they consume all the time, without any need for a "closed" sign unless they're sleeping.

And even then, I'm not sure if they aren't eating.

I remember a year ago, I bought some shoes at Costco hoping I could use them to start running again. Turns out, that was a mistake. They hurt my feet so badly that I couldn't even keep them as walking shoes. So, I returned them only to use that refund to purchase more food... for them.

The shoes I bought for myself had turned into food for the foraging bears under my roof. 

Such is the life of a mom, I must say. Everything of mine is theirs, and none of their things are remotely mine. And since the boys left, our Costco bill has been cut in half, our regular grocery bill has been cut more than in half, and the time I spend preparing food and cleaning up food is pretty much nil.

My husband is a great cook, so those decades I've spent in the kitchen have come to a screeching halt while he and I take turns cooking for each other, but more him than me these days.

Of course, I like cooking. And I like eating. I like making food for my family and I miss our sit-down dinners we had at least four nights a week.  But, I also like having leftovers in the fridge. I like the coffee pot still half full by mid-morning. I also like the silence in my loft when I'm writing.

Yet, it's all very jarring and mish-mashed, these small things. What's nice one day, I miss the next day. What I've gained one day, means it's missing somewhere else. To have and to have not. To give and to take. To own and to let go. Life is one giant balancing act of ebbing and flowing.

When I go to the grocery store to buy food for myself and my husband, it's like I've had to pick up a foreign language just to function. Do you mean I only need one reusable bag for my groceries, not six? I only have to buy enough coffee for the two of us every month, rather than the four of us? The grocery list is five items long rather than twenty-five?

Everything has changed and everything is a trade-off, I suppose. I gain more of the "stuff" of life, but I've lost a limb or two - which is what it feels like when your kids move away. 

While I may not be trading running shoes for food anymore, which is rather pleasant, nothing has been more rewarding than taking care of those bequeathed to me. 

And I hope my two boys, my boys who have eaten us out of our house and home many times over, know this. ♥

-Heather

Reading and Slow Living

If there's anything a "slow living" lifestyle incorporates into its daily living more than any other lifestyle, it would be reading. I mean, that's my theory anyway. 

Most young people today aren't reading, they're scrolling through social media and buying the newest "it" item in all areas of their lives. If any reading for the youth is involved, it's over texts, Tik-Toks, and trends. 

Actually, adults are doing the same thing.

Yet, I believe everyone would love reading if they found their books. There is a comfy, engaging, captivating genre that speaks to everyone. For me, it's mysteries and middle-grade fiction.

When I meet someone who doesn't read (I meet many), I first question my ability to be friends with them (okay, not really) and then wonder what type of book would be their favorite, which leads me to find something they will read.

I'm not sure when I started reading. It was probably in kindergarten, which means I was about five and a half years old. Average. My third-grade teacher, Mrs. Brooks, will forever be the one who pushed me into reading not just for academics but for fun. She had a chart system with stickers and subject matter - all separated yet connected - and we had to read from all the sections.

But by doing this she made me understand that reading could be both educational and world-travel-inducing. We don't have to actually travel if we don't want to (though, I'd highly recommend this too), all we have to do is open a book and let it take us where we want to go. Instantly.

Other than the ubiquitous Baby-Sitters Club books by Ann M. Martin and Sweet Valley Twins books by Francine Pascal that I read while growing into my pre-teen years (yes, I'm thoroughly aging myself here), and Nancy Drew, Little House on the Prairie, and Anne of Green Gables, I recall one book my parents gave me for Christmas that changed me. It was called Tom's Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce.

It was - and still is - one of the best books I've ever read. It's a middle-grade book, but of course, it's for everyone. It's about a boy who wakes up to the clock striking 13 at midnight and realizes he's in the same house, but not in the same decade (or century) anymore. 

This book blends the magical with the everyday, and paranormal amidst a classic British pastoral setting, and it was probably one of the first books that pushed me to want to be a writer. I re-read this book a few months ago - thirty-five years since my last reading. It stands the test of time. It's ageless, classic, and the perfect book with mystery, intrigue, and relatability. 

This book made me want to write My ten-year-old self thought, Why not try to write for the rest of my life? Why not do that for a living? 

Well, if only I knew the truth. For starters, writers don't actually make money. It's ironic to even write the words writing and money within the same sentence because they're so incongruous. I joke, but it's true. Writing is for those who love that world and want to be a part of it. But very few writers are making good money from it.

In fact, a friend and I laugh a lot about the relationship between money and writing. She'll say "I just got a royalty check from my latest book sales." And I'll say "That's fantastic." To which she'll reply, "If you think $228 is fantastic, for the quarter, then sure." To which I laugh and then reply, "Well, I just got $125 for my latest work. I might be able to go out to dinner with that," and then we laugh some more.

Writers write for the love of writing. Period. Money is never the motivating factor because there is no money. Unless you're in the top 1% of writers, i.e. the New York Times bestsellers. 

So perhaps I'm not making much money, but I sure love what I'm writing. And that's all that matters. I'm living the dream. The dream I dreamt of as a little girl.

If you're not a reader but want to be, you just haven't found your genre. Find what fits you. Start reading through different kinds of books from historical to autobiography, self-help, romance, and Westerns to mysteries. People have forgotten about books as entertainment. It was good enough for the thousands of years prior, so I don't think this desire for reading is gone... it just isn't prioritized anymore.

A few weeks ago my sister reminded me of a series I'd started but hadn't continued with: A Thursday Murder Club Mystery. I've gone through three books now, have one more to read, and am anxiously awaiting the fifth book that comes out this fall. It's about a group of octogenarians living in a fabulous British retirement facility who solve murders. What's not to love here? The writing is brilliant and hilarious. Highly recommend this series too.

Want to slow down and "travel" more? Want to learn more about a subject you've longed to know about? Maybe you need an espionage thriller to read during your lunch break or a gentle classic to read before bed, all you have to do is add a little more reading into your world and watch that world grow. And once you do, you'll never go back.

Reading forces us to stop scrolling and focus on the words before us. Reading challenges us, disciplines us, and luckily for us, entertains us. It's a slow-living choice that reinforces what it means to live a life grounded in things that matter. Because words do matter. Reading slows us down, and makes us choosy about what we're doing with our hands, our mind, and our time. 

I'm sure glad reading and books are in my life, forcing me to think, and slow down.

Thank you, Mrs. Brooks, for changing my world.

Devoted to Devotions

For the better part of 15 years, maybe closer to 20, I've been writing devotions for various organizations.

In fact, I'm writing more devotions today than I ever did. And that's partly because I'm a freelancer for one of the oldest devotional publications out there (Guideposts) and also because I write devotions without a place for them to go. 

All the time. Because I love them. 

Devotions are essentially short stories that pack a (spiritual) punch.

With my myriad of writings from articles, blog posts, books, and short stories, I've found that writing devotions is one of the best ways to keep my writing skills up. Why? Because, as a writer, being clear and concise - and being able to tell a story - are the key tenets to being a good writer.

Devotions do that for me. If I can't say it in 400 words or less, then the excess needs to go.

Having said all that, here's the reason I'm blabbing on about devotions: I decided (as of yesterday) to let my devotions out to the world. I started a Substack account (which is like a blog) and am posting my devotions there.

It's just me posting some organized paragraphs about the little snippets of God I uncover in my day-to-day life. Instead of hiding them in my computer, I now have a place to showcase them. 

If you're a God-follower, then hey, maybe this is something you want. Or need. A quick two-minute read before you start the day, or one to relax with at the end of the day.

If you're not a God-follower, this may still be a place for you to land at the end of the day. It's a glimpse into my life as a middle-aged woman, a mom, a wife, and a glimpse into the God I've put in the center of my universe.

If you're in the market for a little spiritual uplifting - one that is free - then head on over to my Substack account, called Olive Finch Devotions. I plan on posting one to two days a week.

I also plan on offering a daily devotion with a paid subscription (about $5 a month) but that's a little way down the road. I'd just like to give others something that I could've used years ago.

Short, simple, relevant, Christ-centered devotions. 

I can hear you asking, "Why the name Olive Finch?" Well, head on over to my Substack and find out for yourself.

If this isn't for you, no problem. I wanted to tell you about my latest endeavor. If you are interested, I would love to have you as a subscriber.  And if you like it, tell your friends about it. Share the devotions. Tell others about the Goodness out there.

If there is anything I've written that is worth anything in this world, it would be these devotions. And I'm glad I've finally decided to do something about it.

-Heather

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Feeling a Little Squirrely

I took a nice little walk around my neighborhood last week.

Here in California, a winter afternoon gets up to the “frigid” lower 60s, even in the middle of January. So, with the sun out, my work done for the day, and the fact that I was feeling a little squirrely having been holed up in my house for most of the day, I went out for a little jaunt.

I headed down the usual route, taking the simple circuitous route around my entire neighborhood, and noted the deep blue hue of our winter sky. Birds chattered, neighbors waved hello, and our ubiquitous squirrels ran the neighborhood like the little hoodlums that they are.

As I walked the loop, I watched a squirrel cross from one side of the sidewalk, stop in the middle of my neighborhood road, and stand on his hind legs—just like in a funny insurance commercial, I had seen years ago. 

I would venture to say most people think squirrels are on the annoying side of things. While they’re cute and small and scurry around the trees like ants on a picnic, there’s an element to them that can be frustrating.

Take this incident on the road in my neighborhood, for example. While it’s true that there were no oncoming cars, my street was quiet, and it had been the most opportune time to cross the road, it was still a tad exciting to watch a squirrel cross the road knowing full well they like to fidget and play chicken with every passing car.

This could have been the squirrel's last day. Or, it could have been like most days of its life, and one of fun frivolity, giving gest at every passing car, knowing we humans care about their lives just enough to swerve away from them as we drive by, lest we flatten them.

It’s also no secret, at least in my neighborhood, that we have hundreds of these squirrels. To the point that if one went missing, we probably wouldn’t notice. We’re so used to having them everywhere, over every tree, and on every roof, that we almost don’t see them anymore.

And yet surely, if I thought about it, I would classify these little animals as built-in pets. They run free in my backyard, traipsing across the back fence at record speed, playing with each other at a game of chase - a hundred times a day - with their friends, and even drinking water from my pool.

And don’t get me started on their food binges. With lime, orange, mandarin, peach, pear, and apple trees all within my yard and my neighbors’ yards, they gorge themselves on our fruit year-round, leaving the rinds behind as the only evidence of their feasting. 

These built-in pets (or is it pests) are just assumed to be a part of every household, and we share these pets with our neighbors, even if we don’t think of them as pets because they’re so common and are never missing from our daily view.

Our squirrels rarely go missing. In fact, our prodigious squirrels are hardy. So much so that even our natural wildlife – such as mountain lions and coyotes – take no pleasure in hunting these little ones down. Essentially, our squirrels have no predators and because of that have populated our neighborhood with seemingly a thousand of their fine western gray squirrel relatives.

Regardless of their lack of predators, this day I watched one frolic into the street, look at me, think about crossing to the other side, and then go for it. I saw him lean back and think about the meaning of life in the middle of the road. But, I looked away as soon as he headed toward the house in front of him. If you’ve seen one squirrel, you’ve seen them all.

Or so I thought. 

Most likely, he was headed to the grapefruit tree I just walked past. Or perhaps a cousin was calling him for a rousing game of hide and seek. Whatever his reason for crossing, I forgot about the little imp, glad I didn’t have to witness his fatal demise from a passing car, and went on my way until I noticed him headed for a sunny driveway. 

He scampered up the drive, headed straight for a corner where the garage door butted up against a support beam. He began to sniff the corner. For a moment, he had a distinct dog-like appearance. What was he sniffing? Squirrels have decent noses. Or so it’s implied. It’s why my garden has constant digging and re-digging of holes as my backyard squirrels try to find the nuts they buried in the fall.

This garage faced the southwest and the sun was setting in that direction in a few hours. Most of the warmth of the day radiated at that spot. The squirrel continued to sniff out the corner as if he was ensuring its safety. And then, in dismay, I watched him burrow up against the corner and garage door, tuck his legs in, and pull his tail over his eyes.

The squirrel was taking a nap. In the sun. In front of a garage.

I’d never seen this activity before and it made me rethink squirrels' appeal. Suddenly, my previous view of the raucous annoying creatures had shifted. These little things were adorable! Especially when there was a fluffy tail over their eyes. 

I snapped a photo of him on my phone (it was too far away and blurry, otherwise I would show it here) and shook my head. Though still annoying, I could let go of my resentment over them eating the fruit off my trees. How could I be upset at these cute built-in pets that cavorted all over the neighborhood?

After that walk, I sat outside in the sun in my backyard-- the same sun that the squirrel was resting in, too, at the same time. I’d learned two things on that walk: One, I’d been ignorant about squirrels my whole life, and two: when life is busy, slow down.

Take a lesson from the squirrels (a nut of wisdom, if you will): settle down in the sun and take a nap.

-Heather

Empty Nesting 101

Change is a tough thing. 

Most of the time, I tend to view change as a problem. It's as if something, someone, or some force went in, and changed my life without my permission, and now I have to deal with the fallout because - as we all have come to believe - change isn't a good thing.

But what if I viewed change as a good challenge? What if I viewed relationships and big shifting events as God telling me my life needs to go in a new direction? And if I'm looking at it with the right vision, Maybe this is exactly what I need?

My youngest son just flew the coop. I am in full "empty nest" mode. His room is empty, completely devoid of all the things that made this room his, and I'm not cool with it, to be honest. 

There should be a required class that all parents of older teens have to take (before the kid leaves) called Empty Nesting 101 to prepare the parents for the hollowness that follows them around the house. It's brutal. For years, we've known this day would come and yet somehow I still feel like I was abandoned.

There would be lessons in the syllabus that explained how to navigate Costco (now that you don't have extra mouths to feed). How not to hyperventilate that the washing machine is mostly empty every day, since you don't do their laundry. How to remain calm knowing that the bathroom you cleaned one day will stay clean for the rest of the week (or maybe longer if you have boys). 

Everything is different and it will look foreign for a long time. There might even be equations to memorize like, "For every seven years of parenting, it will take six months to undo your normal way of doing everything around the house. How do you solve for 18 years and two months?"

Right now, these days just after he moved, is not the most pleasant of experiences. My kids no longer need me like they used to and that's a shock for any parent. Of course, this is life; we raise our kids to become free, strong, and crazy good people, yet it still hurts to let them go. 

There is nothing good about this change; it feels like I'm getting fired from being a mom, something I've done for almost 24 years.

But, I'm going to be fine.

If I didn't experience change I would never change anything, right? I would settle in my ways and never learn anything new, do anything new, extract the things that don't belong, and keep further settling myself into the comfortable armchair of life.

I know this is true for me. It's why when several good friends moved away, it forced me to make new friends. I probably wouldn't have done this if my friends hadn't left. Why would I? I wouldn't have thought I needed to.

But I really did. All of the changes in my life were needed now that I look back on them.

Just as health issues forced me to change my eating habits, my children leaving the nest shows me new areas I can focus on. Whether that's writing a book I promised myself twenty years ago, working more on my health, or doing the creative things I've been longing to do. 

New areas to work on means refocusing my life's direction and continuing on in the slow living I desire for my life. This is change. But gosh, when I look at it that way, maybe I'll be able to hand it after all?

So, while I may not wish this "empty nesting" change, there's nothing I can do to put it back the way it was. Instead, I will meet this challenge with happiness (even if that is not quite there yet), and find new ways to live my life. (Besides, I can text and FaceTime them. No son can get away from his mother that easily, ha!)

Empty nesting is not for the faint of heart, and right about now, I feel like those "benefits" of change I just talked about are dismal. Even if Empty Nesting 101 had been available, I probably would've failed. I would have cried through the entire class, and never completed the given exercises like, "If you have 100 dollars and zero kids ask for zero dollars, how much do you have left?"

But millions of us parents go through this. They survived, and I will survive, and it will become a new normal.

Having said that, I sure can't wait to see my kids again.

Oh (dear!), Christmas Tree

I don't know what it is, but this is the first year I don't feel pressured to do anything quickly for Christmas. Perhaps it was my own self-imposed wishes over the last Christmases to do things just right, to get the Christmas cards out early, and to get the tree up before Thanksgiving.

Perhaps it's because both my boys will be flying the coop within about three months of each other and I don't feel the urge to make things perfect or the same. Because, in a few short months, that "norm" will come to a screeching halt.

You might want to check in on me when that happens. I realize all parents go through this. But, after losing my beloved dog last year, and then both my boys this coming new year, well, let's just say I'll feel alone in the family department unlike anything I've ever felt.

A friend of mine just wrote about this same thing. It's like we've transitioned to a different phase of life, and, to be honest, I hope I never go back to the old way. I'm done striving.

This year, as far as Christmas goals, has been the opposite of every one of those previous tenets of my life. And I'm so glad it's different. Because my time isn't as pressed as it has been (working several jobs and keeping track of the kids and our lives), my need to get things done has altered. It can't help but change.

Christmas cards? Well, you'll be lucky to get them by Christmas, to be honest. I've sent out a few to family, but that's it. Sorry about that (but not really.)

Christmas gifts? Normally, I've purchased and wrapped all of them by December 1st. I realize this is over-the-top and excessively perfectionistic, but when work and family collide with the holiday, there are too many things to do to sit by and let it pile up. Such is the life of a working mom. So, I always felt like I had to stay on top of things just to survive.

This year, I just finished buying the gifts and again, I'll be lucky if I get them all wrapped by the 23rd. I'm not feeling the calling to do that anymore.

Christmas tree? For the last decade or so, the tree comes out right after my youngest boy's birthday, the 16th of November. Because one month of the Christmas tree is too short. This year? We just got it. Perhaps this is a new normal for me now.

Speaking of Christmas trees, we purchased a permit to chop down our trees on land that needs a little deforestation. But because we here in Northern California have had so many wildfires, the land available to do the chopping has reduced significantly.

If you squint, she doesn't look too bad.

We were relegated to a small portion of land to choose from and when it comes to those sorts of confinements, you get what you get. Because of that, our tree is the most Charlie Brownest of all Christmas trees we've ever had. And you know what? I love it. She's still a beauty. She's a tad waifish, but all the same, she's beautiful. For $10, I have nothing to complain about.

This year is a different Christmas but different is also good. It's not always welcomed, but it is good because it forces us to grow, change, and evolve for the better. Next Christmas is going to be even more foreign than this one without my boys at home.

I've slowed down my Christmas living this year and am enjoying every second I have with family. I'm doing it all with a slightly anorexic tree, late Christmas cards, and no presents under the tree (yet), but man, does it sure feel good.

It's going to be the best Christmas yet. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas... one as gentle and slow as it needs to be. ♥