Host your very own Creative Retreat

 

It began innocently enough.  I asked three writer friends of mine if they wanted to come away to our lakehouse in Northern California for a long weekend of resting, writing, eating, and exploring. Of course they said yes.  Wouldn't you?  We're all mothers and wives, and thankful for those blessings, but time to pull away and remember some of the special, uniquely woven parts of ourselves is like health to a creative woman's bones.

Artistry tends to get lost in the day-in-day-out reality of serving and loving all our people.

By the time the ladies' planes landed at the Sacramento airport my children were settled in with their grandparents, the lakehouse was stocked with good food, and the menu for our long weekend together was posted on the refrigerator door.  From the airport we drove 2 hours north, up into Lake County, passing vineyards and orchards, deer and elk.  The sun was sinking low by the time we arrived at our retreat. Walking the porch that wrapped from front to back, overlooking the lake from all sides, we laughed together, giddy from the inspiring views and the four days of freedom that stretched before us.

Over the next two days we worked quietly, breaking the silence for meals on the balcony and walks around the shore.  Each evening we sat late into the night, sharing our stories and giving feedback when asked for it.  Prayers bookended our times of fellowship and sleep came easily each night.

On the final full day of our retreat we planned an adventure.  That first year we drove to a Lavender Festival on the far side of the lake.  The strains of a jazz quartet, the scent of lavender, and the flavors of grilled meats, soft cheeses, sweet wines, and roasted vegetables worked together to make our hearts sing and our heads light.  The breeze tied it all together like a celestial bow.

The bond of Sisterhood is one of the sweetest gifts given to Creatives...

Over the next couple of years we returned to the same location, adding photographers to our circle of creative fellowship.  I set up special meetings with local artists and sent them packing with their camera gear early each day, leaving the house quiet for the writers.  By dinnertime they returned "home" exhausted and revived - you Creatives know how those two can co-exist.

The third year, photographer-friend Tammy Labuda, challenged herself to develop a creative portrait session for each of the writers.  Months of pinning pictures and collecting props and costumes culminated in photographic adventures around Northern California.

Changing venues for the Fourth Annual Creative Retreat, I invited my sweet friends down to our home in San Diego to enjoy some Southern California vistas.  This time we gathered poolside rather than lakeside for our meals, but still we spent our days writing and our nights reading and laughing and eating.

This coming June we've decided to change the location yet again, allowing author, Kelli Stuart, to host us all in Florida.  I'll still fly in early to help prep the meals and leave a welcome note on each soft pillow, but I'm relinquishing the reigns just a bit...

Maybe you're inspired to take the reigns into your own two hands; gathering friends for a couple of rich, refreshing days.  Truly, if you understand the simplicity of a woman's core needs, the idea of hosting your own Creative Retreat shouldn't overwhelm you.  Can you offer up a place to rest, a place to write, a hot shower, good food, and friends to share the journey?  Can you provide those simple things?  And have you a heart to encourage?  Then you have what it takes!

Here's how to plan your own Creative Retreat.

1) Pray!  God loves His girls.  He had a wonderful reason for making you creative, and so this time celebrating that part of your design has the power to be a Holy time of fellowship.  Ask God to lead you to just the right group of artists.

2) Talk with your Husband.  Be clear about what you're asking. For example, do you want to get away to a hotel for a few days with a couple girlfriends, or have them there in your home? Tell him why this would be good for you, who you plan to invite, how it might be a blessing to them, and the days you are considering. Suggest where he could go for those days, if you're wanting to host it at your home.

3) Reach out to your Creatives.  Start with one or two of your closest artist-friends, and see if they're interested - They will be! Decide if you want to keep it just the 2-3 of you, or if you'd like to invite a few more ladies.

4) Settle on your dates and location.  I suggest Wednesday - Sunday, especially if people are flying in, that way you will have a solid three days to create and relax!

5) Send out a formal invitation to your guests. I'm using the term "formal invitation" very loosely.  If you are a Calligrapher, please do create a piece of art to send out to your little crew.  However, if you are more like me, then a group email will suffice!  If guests are flying in from our of town, include which airport they need to fly into and give them a conceivable 2 hour window to try to arrive within.  That way there won't be too many trips to the airport.

6) Plan your menu. I always try to keep breakfast and lunch simple and easy to prep ahead, so that I am not overwhelmed with cooking instead of writing. However, dinner is another story!  Plan a menu that inspires creativity!  That said, if you are not a chef, plan on driving to some fun local restaurants with great food and atmosphere.  If you do want to cook, be clear with everyone what your expectations are.  If you plan on doing all the kitchen work yourself, that's your choice, but if you'd like help then let them know how they can help. If someone offers to cook a meal, say YES!  If someone says they want to do dishes after each meal, say YES. Also, know if you are paying for all the groceries, or if you would like to spilt the food bill.

One of my gang's favorite Creative Retreat meals is gorgonzola and bacon pancakes served beside a mixed green salad topped with a fried egg.  The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end just thinking about those flavors.  Oh the bliss!  And sparkling blood orange juice is our traditional drink of choice.

7) Plan your Saturday Excursion.  Throw out suggestions to the group ahead of time or save it as a surprise... but whatever you do, plan something special.  A botanical garden, a tea house along the coast, a mountain hike, a day in some quaint nearby town...

8) Prepare for their arrival.  I like to have a card and a little gift awaiting each woman in her room.  Fresh flowers is another must in my book!

9) Create.  Once your guests have a arrived, remember that this retreat is for you too.  No one wants anything from you other than to breath the same fresh air and create in the same comfortable space with you.

10) Pray.  Did I already mention this?  Gathering together in community is a Holy sort of thing. Cover it in prayer and ask The Lord to bless each one of your guests!

Sweet, Creative Friends, consider the possibilities!

*** My sweet friend Kelli Stuart is partnering with me today to inspire y'all to do your own Creative Retreat. I shared HOW to Host a Creative Retreat, Kelli is sharing WHY You Should Host a Creative Retreat.

Sole Hope and Rosemary Infused Peach Lemonade

I joke with her on facebook and instagram, this woman just exactly like me only different.  She's in Dallas, Texas and I'm in San Diego, California; she's raising girls while I'm raising boys; she's the color or milk chocolate and I'm just the color of milk (no matter how much chocolate I eat.) Wynter and I met in South Carolina last fall at the Allume conference for Christian bloggers and ended up walking with mutual friends to a restaurant just down the road.  We sat across the table from one another, at the far end, up against a glass pane window, and both of us put up our menus.  But God, in His Grace, put the allegoric menus down in our lives, and said, "I'm placing this order for you."

And He did.  He ordered up an unlikely friendship when she ordered cheesy grits and shrimp, and I marveled, "Yes, Ma'am I'll have the same."  Then I ordered a glass of Rosemary Infused Peach Lemonade, and this petite little person that was suddenly starting to look and sound just like my own self hollered over the din, "Me too.  I'll take one of those."  And we locked eyes and knew something had just been forged - something that state lines, color, and the vast differences between raising boys and raising girls can't keep separate.

We slurped down those drinks, nodding emphatically because it was good.

good.

Good, like how God looked down on all He created and said, "That's good."  Well He created this new friendship too, He ordered it up when He ordered us to lower our menus and raise our glasses to sisterhood.

And we've joked, like I said, on various social media threads ever since.  Now I'm following her all the way to Uganda with Sole Hope, a ministry to children in impoverished communities, offering care for children's soles as a means to get in and minister to hurting souls with the love of God.

There on the other side of this world she's bringing shoes and smiles to children who've run too long with jiggers in their feet.  I'm reading about her travels and seeing the pictures she's posting of flesh torn up by poverty, nakedness, and the disease of this sin-stained world that reaches from here to there and all the way around the other side.

This woman, who's holding another mother tight, is bringing me along to see just how far God takes this radical love and knits people together.  Two women without menus or walls or different languages coming between them - because God can cross all lines when hearts are involved. This world isn't so big when boundaries, barriers and borders are all under His sovereign hand.  And heels and healing and health aren't so impossible with Him either.

And I got to thinking about feet; hers and mine and theirs, and how they are all beautiful to the One who imagined skin and toes and walking... out of clay.  And I thought of Wynter Pitts going, and this woman above smiling, and me here on the other side of the globe taking care to teach her own children about the Good News of a boundary abolishing God amidst first world problems; worn out shoes, and a trip to the mall to buy another size up.

"How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" (Romans 10:15)

Again and again I've thought of this verse as pictures of her trip fill my Instagram feed.  When I saw the picture of the feet, the one there above, the Scripture-truth of Romans 10 morphed into this:

Blessed are the feet that show the Good News by bringing shoes to these sweet feet.

More boundaries fell hard as I thought of the Good News, how it's not always sharing four spiritual laws or walking someone down that old "Roman Road".  The Good News is every road, every road from here to Uganda, where men and women walk into villages and towns, neighborhoods and cul de sacs with hearts open to love.

Put that on your feet, walk that out from Dallas, to San Diego, on to Greenville, and all the way to Uganda and back again. Walk it out with feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the Gospel of Peace.

Are you ready to shod your feet in that?  To drink that Rosemary Infused Peach Lemonade with a woman different than you in most every way but what's most important?  Two hearts beating love in two different breasts...  Two feet walking love on two different roads.

Dear Lord, Help us to walk the Gospel out right where we are today.  Loving and breaking down barriers by the power of your Holy Spirit, that we might walk together throughout this earth with feet wrapped up right and tight in your Gospel.  - Amen

Looking for practical ways to bind up the broken hearted by binding up broken soles?  Partner with Sole Hope as they set up a permanent home in Jinja, Uganda.

All these amazing photos by www.garyschapman.com

St. Patrick's Day with children

I have a boy who breaks out in eczema at the mere mention of food dyes, and yet sometimes there is a craft, a snack, a celebration so marvelous that he looks at me cross-eyed and nods, smiling,  I'm willing to itch like crazy for the next 48 hours to indulge in these toxic rainbows! 

All that said, St. Patrick's Day is so much more than rainbows and leprechauns, artificial food coloring, four leaf clovers, my mother's candied corned beef and cabbage, hot soda bread, gold foil covered chocolate coins, and the stone there on our table that we call "Blarney." Indeed, March 17th is a day to celebrate missions as we remember Christendom's first cross-cultural missionary.

One of our family's favorite traditions is to read aloud together the story of young Patrick's life, chronicled in the AMAZING children's book, The Story of Saint Patrick. "Buried beneath the St. Patrick’s Day symbols of shamrocks and leprechauns lies the story of a man determined to share the message of salvation with the people who made him a slave."  But the story doesn't end there, the last few pages tell of a martyr's death, then brings the reality of persecution to modern times. Yes, it's a bit heavy, but it's told with such simplicity that my children have been moved to understand rather than left confused.

Smack-dab in the middle of Lent, St. Patrick's Day reminds every member of our family what it means to be ambassadors of Christ — bold and loving, brave and faithful.

For the last few years we've just brushed the surface with our young, green-clad sons, keeping the focus on the going and the sharing that missionaries do, rather than the danger and the cost.  In recent years, however, words like persecution give way to martyrdom and ISIS.  This year, in light of what is happening throughout the world, we will go a bit deeper over our bowls of mint chip ice cream, talking together of the ways God has used persecution to spread His Gospel throughout time. And we will pray for the men and women we know who are actively going out into regions of the world that are hostile against the message of Christ today.

For a wonderful online education in all things St. Patrick, visit Celebrating Holidays to delve into the rich Christian history, the captivating legend, the traditions, the hymns, and the recipes that bring St. Patrick's Day to life.

Leprechaun traps and shamrock shaped pancakes are fun, no doubt, but don't miss this wonderful opportunity to talk about the heart of Christian Missions with your children... making sure that they know that missionaries are not just the men and women who go overseas, missionaries are the men, women, boys, and girls who tell others about Jesus's great big love whoever they are.

Yes... As you build your rainbows with colorful Twizzlers, remind the children of God's Promise to keep pursuing mankind with the wonderful news of His Love. He does that, the pursuing and the loving, through you and me and our little ones, right where we're living today. And those golden Rolos, underneath it all, remind us where our treasure lies.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

postscript - Walmart carries these rainbow colored twizlers, bags of rolos, and plastic tie baggies.

What to do when you recognize you've stopped smiling - depression is so sad

There have been recent days where I just start shaking from joy on the inside and can't stop smiling.  I mean, I make a bonafide fool of myself talking to every lady picking over mangos and shallots at the grocery store, and the boy bagging my groceries looks at me side-ways when I go on and on about those hazel eyes. I ask the older man in the electric shopping chair, who can't quite stand up tall enough to reach the bag of salted movie popcorn, if I can help.  He says yes, so we continue together up and down the aisles, both of us smiling.  And it feels good, for the man who is shorter than he once was, and for this woman who is taller than she was a year ago.  

Last year I was just coming out of Depression's grip. The hold had been firm because her fingers were many - Imbalanced hormones, adrenal fatigue, prolonged postpartum, parenting and marriage challenges I wasn't prepared to handle... all of it wrapped around my weary wrists like a vine with too many tendrils.  I'd rip at one, but another was always growing up  to take its place.

Today there are smiles. Smiles spilling out and collecting like puddles at my feet, where tears used to pool.

I don't believe in formulas or cure-alls, but I do believe in the power of healthy conversation, in testimonies, and in a kind, redeeming God who reaches down into the muddiest, muckiest messes, smack-dab in our soul sadness, and pulls us up and out.  Yeah, I believe in that stuff.  And Kleenex, plenty of Kleenex.  And gooey brownies too.

How nice it would be to sit criss-cross applesauce with you, pillows all around, a box of kleenex to wipe away the tears when ugly-cries shake us something fierce, and brownies.  Always brownies. But we can't do that, can we?  Not really. So we gather here together, because a blog titled drew you in, and your heart said, "Yeah, I get sad, really sad sometimes."

And so, at the risk of sounding like I have any answers at all, let's simply try to make sense of it, and reach out of our individual dark struggles and into the light together.  Or better yet, let us CALL OUT of the darkness; out of the darkness and into the Light.

For Crying Out Loud!

If I were into formulas, equations that stated methodically that a+b=c, always, every time, than I'd start here. Depression is confusing. It's so stinkin' confusing that we whimper soft and alone, rather than CRYING OUT LOUD. But, For Crying Out Loud, Soul-Sisters, crying out is just what He wants to hear from us. Loud and bold and believing, "God, save me from this mess, I'm drowning in these tears."

I waited patiently for the LORD; And He inclined to me and heard my cry. He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay, And He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; Many will see and fear And will trust in the LORD.… (Psalm 40:1-3)

This is the story of our Salvation.  We were separated and desperate for saving, then in a moment we cried out, "God, I cannot do this alone."  And that confession of faith in God's power was the key to unleashing His rescue plan for our lives.  But here's the glorious truth we need in the darkest days this side of Heaven's hold... We still need saving.  Here in this sin-drenched world we remain actively in need of His powerful, rescuing arm.

Jesus said, "I have come that they might have life, and have it abundantly!"  Those are two lives He came for; the life eternal and the life we're living-breathing now, full of abundant potential.  So here's the confession:  God, if you were strong enough to save me from sin's separation and give me eternal life... You are most definitely able to save me from the pit of despair and redeem the abundance I can't seem to find.

God's lifting hand often looks like the hands of real people all around us.  

The sign above my therapist's door stated, "This is going to hurt before it gets better."  And it did.  It hurt to delve into the dark places and learn coping skills that had eluded me so long.  It hurt something awful, but not as awful, I told myself, as continuing on in despair.  So I reached over the plaid couch, and over the silk flowers, and grabbed hands with the counselor; and I reached over phone lines and grasped hold of friends who never gave up on me when all I did was cry out loud, and I reached for my husband in the dark and clung to him.

If you are deep in the mire, and in desperate need of lifting, then tilt your head toward heaven and raise your hands for help.  He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay... He is strong enough to save, able to lift, and often does it through the flesh and blood people in our midst.

When a mess becomes our message.

He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; Many will see and fear And will trust in the LORD.…

I spent the first three sessions with the counselor just crying.  I was embarrassed most of all that I couldn't stop myself.  But she waited and nodded and kept extending her hand across the great divide.  And when I was finally able to gulp down enough air to fill my broken lungs and exhale in a way that formed words, this is what I asked her: "I know where I'm going to end up on the other side of this, I just don't know how to get there.  Won't you tell me what the next step is?"

She smiled hope and squeezed my hand, "No, I can't.  All I know is that right now you're having a good cry. But you're right,you will get to the other side."

What she didn't say is that there on the other side is something more amazing than I ever imagined... Not only is it the complete, restored me standing there, it's my story, my testimony, my smile.  It's the new song in my mouth.  It's the hymn of praise to my God.  And many are seeing me here, and have put their trust in the Lord.

Amazing!

I've heard it, how God takes our mess and makes it our message - how God takes our test and turns it on its ear, making it our testimony.  But it's true.  It's absolutely true! Press on, it's true!

I don't know what step you're on; Calling Out Loud, Grabbing Hold of Hands, Knee Deep in Tears, in the Process of Being Lifted, or Here on the Other Side, Testifying to the One who Saves... But the only part of the equation that is true for everyone of us who believes is what's at the end of the journey =  A New Song.

Depression isn't always a Spiritual Condition - But the Answer is Pure Spirit.

For those of you still in the mud, the muck and the mire of depression, I want to tell you the hardest part of all for me. There was this tendency to feel like I was failing spiritually. "If only I was pressing into God, abiding, leaning in and praying more... then I wouldn't be so downcast. Then I would bear the fruit of JOY!" But sometimes there are medical, hormonal, neurological reasons so complex that our abiding selves still don't bear the fruit of God's Spirit this side of glory.

Why?

I could say, "I don't know," and that'd be the truth, but I think I might.  I think the reason God let's His Holy people experience great soul depression, is so that they learn the passionate saving love that raises us to life again, the redeeming love that sets us on a firm foundation, that puts a new song in our mouths that becomes the anthem inspiring faith from those who have not yet heard.

I believe that The Spirit of God is mighty at work in the midst of a Christian's Depression.

I used to think that the happy life was the life blessed by God. But here I am, after taking all the steps I didn't know how to take there in the therapists office, and I see that the blessed life is the life that had to CRY OUT, the blessed life is the life that had to GRAB HOLD HARD, the best life was cultivated in the persevering faith of a hurting heart, the blessed life experienced the LIFTING, and the blessed life now TESTIFIES TO THE SAVING.

Ask me why I smile.  I dare you to ask this broken woman, built back up and made whole again, why she smiles in the grocery store, in the pick-up line at her children's school, coming out of Sunday morning worship... Ask her why she smiles, ask her why she sings.

Teach us how to pray...

The Spit-Up Covered Glory of Each Day

Hormones swinging out, then chasing right back in; Each baby brings with him this offering. Emotions climb up high, then calm back down, Our newborn cries, we nurse, but dare not drown.

But sometimes we do, and then wipe our eyes Blow our nose, and go turn off the house lights Succumb to sleep, two hours at a time Waking to sing one. more. time. "baby mine."

A new day starts, then twelve more pass at once Did I shower or ever stop for lunch? How can I be so elated and sad? Those hormones, sleep, and food would make me glad.

But sometimes they don't, 'cause sometimes they can't. Today blends with tomorrow in a rant About the ugly and the true. But O! O, O, O! Let us breath and know, know, know,

The spit up covered glory of each day. Sweet pea scented, baby powder dusted, glorious reflection of swaddled grace Turned up to receive our love, face to face.

And sometimes we do stop, to smell the truth. The roses, posies, sweet pea scented truth Of love, tucked deep in the baby wrinkles Where tears of joy and exhaustion mingle.

How many times did I fall asleep nursing my newborn in the gliding chair there in the nursery?  Waking with a kink in my neck and a baby covered in milk.  It was all so messy and delicious.  And in the night, when I'd awake and nurse my child again, I often asked the Lord "How should I pray?"

"One day Jesus was praying in a certain place. When he finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us how to pray..." - Luke 11:1

The Lord's prayer spilled like water into wine from his lips, and found it's way into The Word.  We read it there, memorizing lines and praying them in rote.  But only when we slow down to savor each word, do we get the simple beauty of prayer. Mothers, wives, grandma's with a laundry list of requests for your laundry list of loved ones... “When you pray, say: “‘Father..."

Nursing in the middle of the night, packing lunches before the dawning of a new day, spending hours on the floor with puzzles and legos and crayons, "Father, Your Name is Holy."

The music plays loud from my third born's room, "Build your kingdom here" and I whisper the words heavenward, "Your kingdom come."

Beside the rocker, during those early days, was my bible, my daily bread, and beside that bread lay my  journal.  I recorded prayers and scriptures and the last time I fed my son and which side I nursed him on.  I chronicled it all, including confessions.  "Forgive me my sins."  I prayed through every line, in different ways, every day, without ceasing.

Even the first verses I committed to memory as a new mom were listed there:

“Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion?  If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

He taught us to pray, and we do, but sometimes we forget how much like a conversation it can flow throughout our days, throughout our sleep-deprived nights.  And sometimes we forget to ask, for our loved ones and for ourselves, and His Word reminds us how.  But life is busy chasing children and cleaning house, until we stop and read it further down the page:

“So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened."

There is so much to a woman's prayer life.  From the simple act of recognizing that He is God, to the bold entrance we can make through the front door of His Grace, making requests and clapping our hands in faith.  It's all too much for me to understand. Which is why I'm blown over with gratitude when other women record their scripture prayers for the rest of us to lift as our own.  Have you done that?  Read through a book, like Stormie O'Martian's "The Power of a Praying Parent", or the new, heart-reviving prayers in Erika Dawson's collection, "Pray Truth: Praying God's Word for My Husband's Heart"? At the end of the book I sometimes start immediately over, because they've led me to the footstool and shown me how to pray again.

It is easy to forget to pray, but O there are women who remind us how...

Let's pray.

"Dear Lord, You are Holy over our sleepless nights and poured-out, spit-up crusted days and taxed marriages and  full hearts.  Build Your kingdom here in our home and in our family relationships, as you've purposed them in Heaven.  Forgive us when we are selfish in our exhaustion, and in your forgiveness remind us to forgive others. Lead us into right choices, even when we feel the pull of temptation strong.  Hem us in, Lord.  Hem us in.  And then be sure, Father, to take all the glory for your own self.  For it is yours entirely.  And I am tired and ready now for bed.  Go before me into the next day, and teach me again, fresh in the morning, how to pray. Amen."