Linda Hoye's Blog, page 54

Something Fresh

Often, I take photographs looking out over the ridge where we live to the hills and clay cliffs across the valley. You’ve seen some of them here. Less frequently, I lift my lens toward the south because it’s just not as spectacular. And yet the view from there captivates me in a different way. Early

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Bubbling

I can’t order proof copies of new unpublished books from Amazon KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) because of COVID and the fact that I’m in Canada which, of course, in the grand scheme is insignificant but in my little world is an annoyance. It also makes absolutely no sense. I need to get creative to do

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This is the way of the kingdom . . .

I hear a whisper in a variety of voices over the course of many days—all with a similar message. And while there is a season for “big picture” thinking, so too is there a time to dial it in and focus on what’s right there in front of me. I think of times when I’ve

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Fresh Start

It’s Monday. The last one before we enter the season of Advent and I wake with a fresh intention to walk through this week different than I have in recent weeks. Some words spoken yesterday, by our pastor in the online church service and by our daughter in good conversation later, nudge me toward a

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Longing for the Season of Longing

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I sit down to free write one afternoon.

I am tired of thinking about the pandemic. I’m tired of writing about it. I’m weary of its

curled tentacles reaching into every aspect of life and leaving a sticky residue. I’ve had enough

of the polarization—over the pandemic, but also politics and the best breakfast cereal with which

to start the day. I’m done.

I am beyond done. Most of us are.

We are nearing Advent and I hunger for the season of waiting as never before. This year I will listen to Handel’s Messiah with fresh ears and a heart attuned to what it means to wait. I will light candles and ponder light. I will linger long and lament.

And perhaps this is a gift.

In the midst of confusion and in light of new restrictions, I ache. My body manifests telltale signs of stress. Empty is what I feel more than anything else. And I wait.

For the end of the pandemic, for the news to report the news, for new life to spring forth from these crumbling vestiges of what we once believed was important. For the desire to write about something other than what I write about here again this morning,

For my doneness to transform to hope.

Enter Advent.

A time of expectation. By definition, a season of waiting. Preparation, not in the form of shopping or decorating or attending too many gatherings (ha!), but in growing intentionally still and resting my tired head on the shoulder of the One for whom we wait who has already come and who will come again.

A time to just be still.

As if we haven’t been stiller than we have in a long time this year.

But it’s stillness of another kind we feel in the call of Advent that invites us to enter into mystery and be held within it. And to be held is what we need more than anything else right now.

And like my squirming puppy who wants to go, go, go, we need to quiet ourselves and become still in order to be held.

And so, Advent.

Five Minute Friday – Grief

I’m joining in with a group of writers for Five Minute Friday where we’re given a prompt (this week it’s GRIEF and write for five minutes about it. The entire world is grieving and, as anyone who has experienced grief knows, there’s no straight line through it. We long for the deep pain we feel to

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Hope

A lifetime has passed since Gerry, Makiya, and I sat in our car in the park eating burgers and fries and looking at this sculpture. It was the first of April and we three had been hunkered down at home for weeks, finding lots to keep us occupied, but needing to get out of the

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Changes

My favourite coffee shop is closed. It’s a small shop attached to a bookstore—both, part of large chains. I’ve spent hours over the years there visiting with friends or buying coffee and browsing in the adjoining bookstore. A lifetime ago, I used to stop and get coffee early in the morning on my way to

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A Little Seasoning

I spend a good chunk of time wading through 2000+ blog posts, updating tags and categories. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time but I kept putting it off. Twelve years of memories wash over me as I work. It’s time well spent, remembering what it was like once upon a time

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The View From Here

One morning I am captivated by the view outside our bedroom window, and grab my phone to take a photo. The next day I’m struck by the contrast, because snow has fallen and the sky says more is coming. I do it again. On the third day, clouds are low and snow falls soft and

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