Revisiting Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Written by Nicki Johnston
Each Memorial Day weekend, my family travels to Oklahoma. I look forward to this trip for many reasons, including the time I’m given to read while my husband and father-in-law take our boys fishing. This year, I brought Works of Mercy, Sally Thomas’s beautiful novel WRM suggested as a summer read in 2023. Last year, though, I read our final selection for “Year of the Giver,” Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. I have thought about this book several times throughout the past year, especially when I needed retreat and refreshment.
The chapter I most appreciated was “Moon Shell” and its idea of “deliberately practicing the art of solitude” (36). As a homeschooling mom of four, solitude is hard to come by. Unlike Anne Morrow Lindbergh, a solo trip to the beach is neither possible nor desirable for me. Still, I am grateful to have the Well-Read Mom conference on my calendar. I am looking forward to a November weekend in Milwaukee as my own getaway, which is much different from but reminiscent of the getaway Lindbergh chronicled in her book.
While the anticipation of this upcoming trip—including time on the plane to read and an opportunity to sleep alone in a hotel room—will do much to buoy my spirits as we begin our new homeschool year next month, I know that I need to find creative ways of making time for myself amid the busy rhythms of family life. One of my favorites, and the simplest, is walking.
I used to think of these walks as a way to get a bit of exercise and have an excuse to be alone and listen to a podcast or audiobook, but a few years ago, I read a book that changed the way I approached many of my habits, including my walks. In Digital Minimalism, Cal Newport quotes a definition of solitude that, while obvious, was an epiphany for me. Solitude is “a subjective state in which your mind is free from input from other minds.”
I realized that, by this definition, I spent no time in solitude. While my audiobook selections may have been more worthy than the soap opera heroes Anne Morrow Lindbergh chides housewives for choosing to keep them company, the result was still the same. I was depriving myself of much-needed solitude by reaching for my headphones whenever I was alone.
Nearly all of my waking hours are spent bearing the tremendous cognitive load that comes with being a mother: offering love and attention to each of my children, guiding them through their school lessons, answering their infinite questions, planning meals, and keeping track of my never-ending to-do list. Throughout the day, I have time set aside for prayer and reading, but these, too, require focused attention, and my goal during them is to keep my mind from wandering. It became clear that I had no time in my day to be alone with my own meandering thoughts. Being convinced of the necessity of this for my mental and emotional health, I resolved to change how I approached my walks.
It wasn’t easy. In Lindbergh’s words, I needed to “re-learn to be alone” (36). The silence was uncomfortable. My treasured walks didn’t seem as much fun without the motivation of a great book to get me out the door and keep me walking farther. I understood what Lindbergh meant when she wrote, “When the noise stops there is no inner music to take its place” (36). I had to bear the uncomfortable tension created by my solitude for my own inner music to play. Eventually, it did.
I had always loved going on hikes with my family, but now I started noticing nature within my neighborhood. I also realized how much easier it was to greet others when I didn’t have buds in my ears. However, the most significant difference was how refreshed I felt after letting my mind wander. As Anne Morrow Lindbergh remarked, daydreaming has a creative element. “It demanded something of oneself, and it fed the inner life” (36). I found this true as I devised innovative solutions to problems, recalled long-forgotten memories, and pondered the books I had already read more deeply instead of always trying to consume more.
On my walk one morning, I noticed a recently bloomed tree and made a mental note to add it to my nature journal later that day. I stopped to chat with my neighbor and to thank her for stopping by my boys’ lemonade stand. I thought back to our most recent Well-Read Mom meeting and pondered the many insights shared by the women in my local group during our recent discussion. I offered a prayer for one of these women and texted another to let her know I was thinking about her. I started to daydream about the Year of the Father and what books WRM might have selected for us. And then I returned home to my noisy, busy, messy, beautiful Oyster Bed, “full to the brim with my [time] alone” (38) and ready to take on the rest of my day.
My walks in my suburban neighborhood may be a far cry from Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s walks along an island beach. Still, they are a meaningful gift nonetheless, and I am grateful for them.
Nicki Johnston
Nicki Johnston is a home educator, a CGS catechist, an avid reader and an amateur naturalist. She lives in Kansas with her husband, Graham, and their four sons.
About Well-Read Mom
In Well-Read Mom, women read more and read well. Our hope is to deepen the awareness of meaning hidden in each woman’s daily life, elevate the cultural conversation, and revitalize reading literature from books. If you would like to have us help you select worthy reading material, we invite you to join and read along with us. We are better together! For information on how to start or join a Well-Read Mom group visit our website wellreadmom.com
