"Sooner or later, every person feels this desire to plant something. It is the return to Eden, the return to ourselves after the long estrangement of our artificial lives."  ~ Liberty Hyde Bailey

There was once a time that I would, out of habit mostly, wake up and eventually reach for my phone before my feet had even touched the ground. 

I don’t know how it started or even why it would continue. There was nothing out there that I needed to know or had to engage with that would impact the course of my day and yet, checking email or scrolling through IG feeds became a quick (sometimes not so quick 😳) habit that was a fixed anchor in my morning. 

I lament those days, but I certainly learned a lot about my myself and what was necessary (or even good). Not all of lamentation is sorrow, there is repentance in there too. To repent is to turn about, a turning of your back on the former and to walk in a new way. One day I made the decision to not engage in that consumptive habit and instead do something to add to myself or my family—to repent in a way.

In the beginning, I didn’t know what to do with that extra moment of time. 

I folded a pile of laundry. 

I prepared schoolwork for the day. 

I started a sourdough levain.

I planted new seedlings. 

Over time, I was beginning to see the margin, 

the space and abundance that the simple act of turning away from the phone began to give back to me. 

I was freed in a way. 

I had disconnected myself and it felt good. 

Over time, that freedom led to remembering. I used to love to sketch and watercolor, write, and read. While reading and writing have been my inhale and my exhale for as long as I can remember, the things I loved never had space to grow and be cultivated—I found other things (like email and IG feeds) to fill those needs. 

But they never really filled anything that mattered. 

Please hear me: there is nothing intrinsically wrong with technology or email or IG feeds. That’s not at all what I’m saying. I’m asking the question that I’ve asked myself and continue to ask myself: how can I create before I consume?

What can you do to create something, to exist in something natural, that is disconnected from the forced rhythms of mechanization and industrialization, even for just a moment? What can you do, intentionally, to produce, before you consume?

Create before you consume. It’s been a mantra (one of many) that I’ve carried with me over the years. How can I exist in this space to add and serve, to be in a natural, God-imaged state, to cultivate good things by the work of my hands (and heart, mind, and soul), before I consume? 

I’m on a journey with you. Not every day is perfect, nor do I try to hold myself or others to an unrealistic standard. 

I’m currently in a season where, by choice, technology is allowing me a lovely blessing that I may not have had in the same way apart from it. While it has allowed me a connection, it requires my nearness to my phone or screen, something that ordinarily repels me. But I make a choice, a moment, that now has to be balanced with the freedom that I crave more. I’m on the journey with you. 

But moments are important. Together, they can all be added to create the tapestry of a lifetime. Hmmm…a lifetime of creating. 💕

Small moments. Weaving small patches together…that’s where I’m headed today. I hope that you’ll join me—wherever you are, with your children, your families, your home, in creating a small moment (and then one more, and then one more), that cause you to slow down, pay attention, and remember who you were before the Fall. A moment that you create before you consume, a moment that allows you to reflect with curiosity and wonder at the work of your hands—hands that were created to create. 💛