Bucket Lists: on ambition, rare things, and faith

     

    Carried along by ambitious tidal waves of the new year, I made a bucket list. Next to neat little squares to check off, I wrote down twenty items for 2024 in my bullet journal. Real life confession: It is May and I’ve completed one. Yes, you can laugh. I did when I just took a peek at the list. In my defense, many are seasonal and have yet to become options, one I attempted, but was canceled and therefore, is not my fault, and one is in the process of being completed.

    They really are not outrageous things like “go to France!” or “run a marathon!” No, they are quite do-able things like go to the local art museum, run a 5K, finally make a recipe from Pieometry, or sew a skirt. What really ignited me as I stood at the precipice of a new year, was not only the excitement of a new year, but of the anticipation of the day after the new year. On January 2nd, my baby turned one which meant I was about to wean which meant I WOULD BE FREE DO ANYTHING because I wasn’t tethered to a human being all the time. Well, let me tell you, I am still very connected to the survival of three little children. This should surprise no one, myself included. The truth is, I still cannot do everything I wish. But nonetheless, I made an ambitiously hopeful list. 

Now here I am, exactly a third of the way through the year, and I’ve begun to look at my bucket list feeling equal parts laughter and despair. And yet, I have done somethings, even if I can’t technically check the box off at the end of the year. I’m slowly learning that the life lessons along the way can be more important than checking off all the boxes. 

_______________

Number twelve on my list was this: 30 day poetry challenge. Last year, I heard about the idea of a 30 day poetry challenge in which you follow a list of poetry prompts to write a poem a day. The idea being that practice and consistency lead to real growth. Of course, not all poems would be top notch, but that’s also the point. In order to write good poems, you have to be willing to write the bad ones. Willing to show up, to scrap it, to start over, to learn from mistakes, to keep going, to reword, to edit. I anticipated completing this in April because it is National Poetry Month when there are a plethora of prompts out there. And so I eagerly awaited April.

Well, April 7th rolled around and I’d written zilch poems, nor found any prompts to follow. But then, that evening, I hopped onto Instagram and one of my favorite writers shared a poem and tagged the woman whose prompts she was following. Done! Count me in!

In a burst of anticipation and inspiration, I woke up the next morning to read the prompt for the day. April 8: Rare. An apt prompt considering the eclipse was taking place that day. I knew immediately what to write about: the Oconee Bell flower. 

Our family had just visited Devil’s Fork State Park to see this rare flower which can only be found in this region of the world. This state park has a nature trail featuring these delicate, white, bell shaped flowers nestled along the creek banks. In mid March, they even have special events when the flowers begin to bloom. 

Upon our arrival at the very end of March, we were gently warned by the lady at the camp store that it was the end of the season and we might not see any. We were disappointed at first, merely finding large patches of waxy, deep green leaves with the shriveled brown remains of the flowers until we came upon a dark, damp creek bank. Tucked up in little crevices on the rock faces were the beautiful little flowers.

The kids were delighted and kept repeating, “We’re so lucky to find them!” Suddenly, instead of wallowing in disappointment that we missed the peak in which hundreds of tiny white flowers dotted the trails, it became a joy to hunt for the last ones, pointing out the lone one or two still blooming in each patch. It was a beautiful reminder that sometimes the joy is in the journey, not in the thing you’re seeking. 

And with that picture in my mind, I set out to write a lovely poem. Multiple times I tried and multiple times I was thwarted until I became a little (okay, very) irritable and dismayed. How did I even consider writing one a day for thirty days? 

Finally that afternoon, I had a few minutes while the kids were playing outside to type some lines up on my phone. By the time they went to bed, I had a poem that humorously summed up my day. It was certainly not the kind of poem I had in my mind when I began. I had planned on some sort of Mary Oliver-esque poem with rich language and deep meaning, but what I got was me and my life and my story spilled out onto the page. And while far from perfect, I found it to be just what I needed.

I tried to write a poem 

about the rare Oconee bell 

Three times I tried and tried and tried

But then I bid farewell

To any notion of finding 

Wise or witty words

For stillness simply flew away

Just like the winter birds

For children cried and yelled and whined

And laughed and hugged and kissed

Growing the tension of the question

Can mothering and art coexist?

I must confess, I’d really love

To sit and write alone

No interruption or delays 

Where time is all my own 

Instead, I write on iPhone apps 

And scattered scraps and pages

All through the day- revise, replay

And make a few more changes

What is more rare you ask me

Than this dainty little flower?

Well I will tell you, I learned today

It is a quiet hour 

But maybe what I had begrudged

Is sometimes advantageous

For a low and behold, it’s the end of the day

And a poem I have created

_______________

April ended and I'd only written two poems. The other one wasn’t even in response to a prompt. In truth, I quit following the woman’s prompts because I didn’t find all her poems to be- shall I say?- wholesome. I could have hunted for other prompts to follow, but simply didn’t. 

Sometimes, I am tempted to be frustrated by how hard it can be to cross something off a list. Particularly when that something is a creative endeavor for me. They usually get pushed to the back burner. But I am also learning to be okay with small attempts in this season. After all, two poems is better than no poem.

We have to carry on in life even if we’re behind, didn’t hit deadlines, didn’t meet the numbers, didn’t have things pan out the way we wanted. We may have to adjust our expectations, laugh at ourselves, and try anyways. Try late. Try something different. Try again. Pressing on seems to be an act of faith, which coincidently is the word that’s been staring at me from the chalkboard on our kitchen wall this month.

Number four on my bucket list is this: 12 months- We Will Giggle. In her book called, In This House: We Will Giggle, Courtney DeFeo lays out a plan to learn a virtue a month for a year with ideas to help your family memorize a Bible verse, do creative activities, and make character and faith building fun. Each month, I’ve written the word, Bible verse, and definition on our chalkboard.

As with most endeavors spread out across a very long period of time, it began with great enthusiasm and commitment. I was on it. Bible verse to memorize! Coloring sheets! Songs! Hand motions! Bible story and craft! Nightly dinner time questions! But it became a little challenging to keep up the momentum.

Four months in I admit, I’m waning. Not because of the material, but because of human nature to slack off and loose the wonder. Recently, I’ve been disappointed that I didn’t conjure up more excitement and plans this past month. Isn’t this the most important month: faith!?

But I’ve discovered a sweet truth as I’ve worked through these four months even in the lulls. I did this with my kids in mind, but there’s been another person impacted greatly: me. God has spoken to me, convicted my conscience, and brought me peace in a few situations through meditating on the particular word and Bible verse for the month.

Last week, a different, striking thought crossed my mind every time I passed the chalkboard. Faith is not having an awesome month where my children can parrot back the Bible verse and have all these awesome activities. True faith is continuing next month when this month didn’t go as planned. Faith carries on. While much could (and should) be said about the object of our faith, the outworking of our faith seems maybe more simple than we realize. It’s carrying on. It’s trusting God. It’s doing the next small thing in front of you even if it feels imperfect, intangible, or lackluster. 

It’s starting a 30 day poetry challenge late. It’s writing only two poems instead of thirty. It’s moving a few items on my bucket list to next year without feeling disparaged. It’s recognizing that is it not my efforts that will produce change in my kids, but God’s Spirit working in their hearts. 

Our memory verse from Ephesians 2:8-10 says, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith- and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God- not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”  

Incidentally, I introduced this verse to the kids two Sundays ago. If you’re doing mental math, yes, we did not even start the virtue in April until halfway through the month. Better late than never. Brooke had asked to sit through the first service with us and then go to the kids class for the second service since I was teaching for that one. It isn’t common for her to sit in church with us, so this was a unique occurrence. You know what passage was preached on? Yep, Ephesians 2:5-10. A little nudge from the Lord to keep going. 

We receive faith with open hands knowing that we can plan, make lists, and dream, but we cannot save ourselves or control our future. This saving faith is a gift to open, not a list to complete. True hope comes from knowing Jesus and allowing him to mold our desires. In his love, he wants to help us complete “the good works” on his bucket list that he's already etched into eternity. And I’m fairly confident his bucket list is much better than mine. 

So I’ll carry on with my bucket list, all the while knowing, it’s not about achieving, but about waking up to the good works God has for me, even if that means I don’t cross another thing off my list this year. 

_______________

Two days after I finished typing this rough draft, we went to church and can I tell you the title of the sermon? “Continue” from Colossians 1, specifically from the phrase, “continue in the faith." (v. 23)

We joke about wanting emails from God or ridiculously obvious signs written in the sky, but I must admit, this came pretty close. It was literally what I’ve been mulling over. I could hear God speaking: Carry on. Continue in your faith. I’m here and present. You’re seen, known, and cared for, down to the very last details.

And so are you. Carry on.