This is the newsletter version of Sara by the Season, where I explore a little bit of everything that’s on my mind as I try to lean into nature’s wisdom and rhythms. You can listen to me read you the newsletter by hitting play above - or you can click the little link above and to the right to play in your favorite podcast player. If you know someone who would like this sort of thing, I’d be so grateful if you would share it!
The kids and I are listening to the Emily of New Moon series, and we keep talking about this one scene at the end of the first book. Mr. Carpenter is Emily’s curmudgeonly school teacher. Emily wants to be a writer, and she finally lets Mr. Carpenter see some of her poems and short stories, and he harshly critiques most of her work line by line. She is heartbroken, thinking that she isn’t any good because she actually respects Mr. Carpenter so she can’t brush him off. Here’s the end of the scene from the book:
Her eyes brimmed with tears—her lips quivered. She could not help it. Pride was hopelessly submerged in the bitterness of her disappointment. She felt exactly like a candle that somebody had blown out.
"What are you crying for? demanded Mr. Carpenter.
Emily blinked away tears and tried to laugh.
"I—I'm sorry—you think it's no good—" she said.
Mr. Carpenter gave the desk a mighty thump.
"No good! Didn't I tell you there were ten good lines? Jade, for ten righteous men Sodom had been spared."
"Do you mean—that—after all—" The candle was being relighted again.
"Of course, I mean. If at thirteen you can write ten good lines, at twenty you'll write ten times ten—if the gods are kind. Stop messing over months, though—and don't imagine you're a genius, either, if you have written ten decent lines. I think there's something trying to speak through you—but you'll have to make yourself a fit instrument for it.
We keep talking about this scene because the kids realized that Mr. Carpenter is Emily’s biggest fan but also her fiercest critic because he knows what she is capable of. We’ve been talking about what a gift Mr. Carpenter gave Emily of really acknowledging her calling honestly and authentically, and, because we’re farther along in the second book now, we can see how that scene described above becomes a lamppost for Emily for the rest of her life.
Probably because I’ve already been thinking about this phenomenon, I’ve been noticing the Mr. Carpenters of the world all around lately. Grant and I are watching Friday Night Lights, and Coach Taylor pulls Smash, his star wide receiver, aside to tell him that he believes in his ability to play football at the highest levels. You can see how Smash lights up at Coach Taylor’s faith in him because Coach T doesn’t hand out many compliments. In this recent podcast episode, Martin Shaw talks about how Robert Bly (RIP) took him under his wing and changed the trajectory of his whole life by seeing something in Shaw that he hadn’t yet seen in himself. At the end of that same episode, Shaw offers his guest David Keenan a “Mr. Carpenter moment” that brought me to tears. In my writing group, one of the women believes so strongly and specifically in the calling of another woman’s poetry and art that it is a beautiful thing to witness and play a small part in.
As a mother, I’ve been thinking about this phenomenon a lot when it comes to our kids. Our job as parents, I think, is to be relentlessly on their side when it comes to what they want to do in the world (within reason, obviously). Parents are really too close to be Mr. Carpenters. We care too much, and we can’t be ruthlessly honest without risking breaking their spirits because we’re their parents. We need coaches, teachers, and other adults in their lives to speak into their calling in a way that is authentic, clearsighted, and genuine.
I get squirmy about calling because it’s become all packaged up as something else to be sold or available only to certain people, but I still think the idea of calling is true for each of us in some capacity. We need Mr. Carpenters to see it in us and give us confidence to pursue it.
One of my favorite things about the holidays is the opportunity for good questions and the storytelling that ensues. I like to go into each gathering with a big question for everyone and challenge myself beforehand to come up with a question that will really get people talking and sharing. This year, I think I’m going to ask about my loved ones about their Mr. Carpenters, but first: I’d love to hear about your Mr. Carpenters in the comments!
And while you’re reflecting on it, I bet it would make your Mr. Carpenter’s whole year if you reached out to them and told them what their encouragement meant to you. You have more power than you know to make someone’s whole day.
Rants and raves
👍 As a fellow lifelong procrastinator, I appreciated this list. I also love all of the end-of-the-year reflection posts, so please send me your favorites!
👍 I am taking the rest of the year off from my day job. I desperately need a break and also realize what a privilege it is to have ability and stability to take time off. I read this from Hanif Abdurraqib: “Rest as an actual requirement for my ability to embrace the world at the volume that my emotional makeup often requires.” I can’t stop thinking about that line. As an HSP, I probably need a little extra margin, a little more buffer than the average person in order to show up in the world in the way that I want to, and I want to show up as someone who embraces the world, to steal Abdurraqib’s words.
👎 I've been under-the-weather for the last week or so, and I’m reminded how frustrating it is that my body seems to say “screw you” at the beginning of any extended period of time off. I know it’s actually telling me that I’m doing too much, pushing too hard, not resting enough and, because I don’t listen, she forces me to. I’m annoyed that I have to keep learning this lesson by force instead of doing a better job of practicing what I preach about rest and renewal.
Stuff worth sharing this week
Virginia’s jean science part one is totally my catnip: the history of pants, actually testing over 50 pairs of jeans, and then sharing her insights along the way. But what I wasn’t prepared for was the the (now) obvious realization that the problem isn’t with our bodies; the problem is with the whole beauty industrial complex behind fashion. I’m so pumped for the rest of the series.
If you don’t already get Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files, fix that by signing up. This response was so beautiful that I printed it out and hung it by my desk.
I have new life goals after reading this amazing obituary.
Cheers to acknowledging your own Mr. Carpenters in the weeks ahead!
Sara
P.S. Share your Mr. Carpenter stories in the comments - it would make my Christmas to read through them!
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