Tag Archives: mental-health

PRACTICE WRITING 4-6-25

Posted on by under PRACTICE WRITING, The Stories
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I haven’t been practice writing much lately. Honestly, I have been struggling with the discipline of my lifestyle for the last several weeks.

I have been chalking it up to transition. So much has changed in the rhythm of the Vicarage these last several weeks it has been a bit overwhelming for all of us. It’s been good, but admittedly a little daunting.

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Add to that, the fact that I am about to go through oral surgery to remove three teeth tomorrow….

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and I think I have a perfect recipe for a procrastination depression. I don’t feel sad, but I know I am hiding in YouTube, Facebook and episodes of “CALL THE MIDWIFE”.

I think I am also struggling with the permaculture mindset that flows between ministry and forest gardening. The two things seem to be a perfect complement for each other. Yet they also call for a mindset of self discipline that is, frankly, a new level for me.

I keep watching episodes of the “The lazy Gardener” and “Huw Richard” on YouTube. While they talk about how permaculture is cooperating with nature and actually less labor intensive than conventional gardening, I am left wondering if this is the “lazy” way then……GOOD GRIEF!

I am also powerfully aware that my perspective is being powerfully effected by all the changes going on inside my home and in the community. The return of my sister is wonderful…and it is the fulfillment of prophetic forth telling that comes at the convergence of many prophetic forth tellings. Add to that the currents of global instability and…. GOOD GRIEF!

So I guess I will wrap this up by saying I am struggling a bit and praying a lot for the new level of self-discipline this new season is calling me into both as it regards the Vicarage forest garden and the ministry here in the town of Winchendon. If there was ever a time for prayer it is now!

PRACTICE WRITING 3-5-25

Posted on by under PRACTICE WRITING, The Stories

My father died so young (at age 49), I hardly got to know the man.

When I was young, he worked all the time. When I was young I knew only his authority. It made me feel secure and it scared me. I suppose that is because I understood his authority as a weapon.

My father struggled with an explosive personality, something I am told he inherited from his grandmother. On more than one occasion I saw him use his temper to reinforce his will as the boss or the head of the family. Don’t get me wrong I was never abused. He never hit my mother or me or my sister. I was just always aware of an anger in him boiling somewhere just below the surface. I wanted to stay away from it.

I suppose that is why I fell down the tunnel of imagination. I learned to hide in stories. Some I read, some I made up, but most of my young life I was more inside my head than I was in the outside world. I kept those psychic walls up throughout my childhood. I didn’t have my father’s forceful personality, but I learned how to do weird as well as he did angry and that became my defense, and a wall of separation between me and….well almost everyone.

My father and I were just coming to an easy peace, when he suddenly passed away. I think I was just beginning to learn about the sources of his anger and he was just beginning to understand the gates that would get him through my weirdness when we ran out of time.

Still and all, I am glad that I was a part of his life when he went. I realize while I did not have as much time as I would have liked, we did have time. I had come home. I had begun to learn how to stop isolating from him and we were working together when his time came. We had begun to share our adult selves. I think given more time we would probably have become good friends.