Why Hello Again, Dear Reader... 👋
...the work continues
Dusting off the keyboard, pulling the cord on the dangling light bulb in my brain, reminding myself how to log on to Substack…
Hello! I’m back from my summer screen sabbath. And what a summer it’s been! I’ll share details, both professional and personal, in a few days when I write to everyone, but I first wanted to greet you fine folks, you paying subscribers of The Commonplace who make my work possible. I’m so grateful for you. 💛
As always, the summer has absolutely whooshed by. Every year I begin these seasonal sabbaths with an assumption I will get So Very Much Done, and every year I return from my break with a humble awareness that I needed a break far more than I realized, I didn’t get as much done as I assumed I would, and yet there is very little to do but shrug my shoulders, say “life goes on,” and re-enter the delightful fray with the renewed perspective that is my valuable prize.
Did I get book-writing done? Yes, absolutely. As much as I needed or wanted? Not by a long shot. Did I enjoy some precious family time? Yes, for which I’m beyond grateful. Did I have all the deep conversations I hoped I’d have with each of my kids, one-on-one? Of course not. Did I finish some house projects? One or two. Did I cross off that list entirely? Hah!
Such is life.
It’s the dog days of summer around here, hot and humid, wherein we praise the high heavens for swimming and the modern marvel of air conditioning. Heat or no heat, though, summer remains a beloved season of mine in spite of the weather, not because of it. I love summer because of its rhythms. As a teacher and co-op leader, I so appreciate the break from my brain being constantly on in school mode. As a mom of olders, I relish in letting my kids’ giant bodies get the sleep they need and the brief respite from me harping on their schoolwork.
And the trope remains true: we have 18 (ish1) summers with them. It goes by so fast, and I know crossing off my to-do list pales in comparison to quality time with them. My youngest has only three years until he graduates high school, and I know from experience with my olders that when it’s over it’ll have felt like nothing. I genuinely don’t feel old enough to be a near-empty nester, yet here we are. 👵
The sheer volume on my plate this week is laughable, and I need to make some headway on it, so this brief hello is short. You’ll get a longer update from me in a few days, so keep your eye out for it in your inbox — yet I wanted to leave you with two things…
1. My next book is official! 📚
This summer I formally signed a contract with my publisher — it’s the book I’ve been working on for months now, so this is less Brand New Information and more Now the World Knows. I’m stoked to work with Image Books, an imprint of Penguin Random House! Here’s a screenshot of their formal industry announcement:
I’ll share more details soon, but I wanted y’all to be the first to officially be in the loop!
2. A prayer 🙏
We can pray in all sorts of ways: in our minds, petitioning the Lord for our needs; using pre-written prayers given to us from saints throughout the centuries; as we read the Bible a la lectio divina, imaginatively, contemplatively, and beyond. Yet in the spirit of my summer and in the details I’ve shared here, there’s also a common form of prayer we often forget can be a legitimate form of prayer with the right posture: work.
Yep, our work can be a form of prayer. Brother Lawrence reminds us of this in his short classic, The Practice of the Presence of God2:
“We ought not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.”3
With that in mind, I’ve written a prayer to dedicate my work each morning to the Lord, who gives me the very ability and gift of work itself. Perhaps it encourages you, too:
A Petition for Rolled-Up Sleeves
Lord God, you created me for Your own pleasure, and beyond my human comprehension, that pleasure miraculously includes my ability to work. You gave us work in the Garden, before our rebellion. Work itself is inherently good. Unlike all else in your creation, we humans are Your co-creators, invited to join You in the manifestation of Your glory, and like a child’s drawing, our feeble offerings are Your fatherly delight.
I am astonished.
Maker of all things: baptize today’s work so that a sliver of Your glory shines through the cracks and imperfections. Marry the muck of my drudgery with Your will. Redeem my motives. Sanctify my struggles. Honor my handiwork, feeble as it may be.
And tonight, as I turn off my light and rest once again, pour forth Your paternal kindness so that I may awake again the next morning, willing to say once more: Lord, baptize my work today.
Accept the gift of my rolled-up sleeves.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.
In the midst of all the rigamarole, I’m really glad to be back here. I hope you’ve had a just-right sort of summer you’ve needed, even if it perhaps wasn’t what you expected… I look forward to returning soon to our monthly grat chats, book chats, and more. Grateful, again, for each of you.
St. Frances de Sales, pray for us.
Peace,
Tsh
From personal experience, however, the brief summers after high school still have their preciousness. And there’s nothing set in stone that says they won’t return from brief forays here and there in their young adulthood.
Highly recommend this as a regular read. It’s quick but a gut-punch (in all the right ways).
Fun fact: I had this quote on a notecard taped above my oldest’s changing table when she was a baby.
The prayer petition is powerful… pure 🔥🔥🔥! Thank you so much!
Oh, Tsh, you wrote the book I've been waiting for! Congratulations! Glad to have you back ❤️.