King Solomon's Mines is on the bathroom floor along with half of the Sword of the Lord.
I glance at their sales cleaning up and smile at some book boasting of "The Christian Woman's" something or other.
Always room for improvement.
I sigh. It has been a good long day.
I was so excited to finally finish a book of fiction that was so highly recommended, only to be disappointed, only to realize that the made up saga wasn't half as gripping as the story on the lips of tonight's company, opening raw wounds and still wondering why.
Who needs fiction when real life, when real hearts are so broken and hurting, and spilling over in my living room anyway??
And my heart is remembering hurts and how I could relate, could retell a story so similar to their own that it made my husband's jaw drop open.
He would look, point, and finally told them, our guests, that I really did know.
And it was a sort of weaver's moment for me.
Where I get a teasing glimpse of the upper side of what the Lord has been weaving in and out of my life.
Just enough of the pattern to keep me satisfied seeing a lot of loose edging hanging out on the underside.
And I am shocked and relieved and almost dumbstruck at the realization that there is a lot of hurt that God's children are carrying around.
A lot of guilt and pain and misunderstandings that cause us to get better or bitter, or even blinded to what real love and truth and loyalty really is.
And we sip cider and yes we are having that a lot lately, and I am wondering if this whole meeting is being watched by angels. If God has orchestrated this just so that I am reminded that it is worth it to forgive and keep moving on, and hug more and grimace less.
And the husband keeps catching my eye as if he is wondering if this night is for him as well. For him to be reminded that there are others like me. That forgiving and growing and learning to trust don't come naturally to everyone.
And stomachs are full, and hearts are renewed and prayers are said by the doorway before we all part ways, and I love that prayer can knit together what came in unraveled good as new. It is wonderful like that. That bowed heads and humbled spirits can remember who is mightier than the sting of remembrance.
Do you ever have a moment when you see your life, what has happened, what you have learned start to piece together?
Tonight was that sort of night for me. And what's more wonderful is that tomorrow morning I can choose to see God's weaving hand at the shuttle and give thanks for a messy past.
Good night of soul rest to you,
Monday, January 28, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
Oh, that those who bore us would be born again.
Because it is a good night to write things down.
Because it was a day filled with so many random blessings that if I do not write them down, I will forget, and God will not get enough glory for sending them my way.
The day began with two cardinals, husband and wife, (ok I know that is a stretch, but allow me the pleasure of thinking of them that way, would you?) eating at the feeder while we cleaned up from breakfast.
And God said once again to my heart, "I will take care of you. Are you not more precious than they to me?"
And He met our needs today, needs for fellowship with a sweet couple.
With the husbands working outside, we women folk sat by the roaring fire and I finally realized that it was indeed "Crochet" that she wanted to be taught, and NOT to knit. My husband thought he heard that right on the phone, but I assured him that it was to "knit" that she wanted and she probably gave the wrong English word.
She is Japanese. And I was wrong.
And she takes me to her room and slips out a storage container with oodles of crafting supplies and a slender red case. She tells me that her Mother gave it to her for her birthday when she was in the fourth grade.
I finger it gently and open it.
A knitter's dream. Every needle of every size, double points, counters, so delicately arranged and for sure made out of bamboo. So sweet. And in the middle pocket, my savior for the day, a hook. A crochet hook for catching dropped stitches, and for catching my error of not planning better.
She chains like a pro and I am wishing that April was here to really show her how and not me and my single and double crochets.
I convince her to start again for practice and as I unravel, she begins to unravel about her Mom. How she found out she had cancer, how her father refused to believe that she had anything wrong. How she was a champion through the pain, the chemo, and how she was able to make it to their wedding.
She talks in a little bit of broken English and my heart is breaking, knowing where this is heading.
She remembers the moment she knew that she needed to accept the Lord. She had only been in the U.S. a short while, her husband crazy busy with work and a new culture to make her feel completely alone.
She had left everything and now was confronted with leaving all she had known to trust this Son of God. And to trust Him for her future would acknowledge that her Mother's was settled forever.
And she would never see her again.
Twelve years later she still dreams that she sees her Mother and that they are heading one to heaven and one to hell and she tries futilely to convert her and wakes again knowing that there is no hope.
No hope.
By this time I am holding her newest in my arms still sleeping peacefully and my tears are spilling onto her blanket. THIS Mother/Daughter duo will see the face of Christ. Together.
I look her straight in the eye and tell her that I have such a burden for Asia. That I want to go back and tell her Mother. I want to tell all of Asia. I tell her I am sorry. I am sorry that twelve years ago I was not there to speak truth. I was too busy playing church here to be bothered with a dying Mother of someone I was not connected with.
She is now going back, progressing well on her scarf, thanking me for my time.
And I wish I had time to go back. She tells me that she knows that her Mother's passing gave her a hunger for God, and that we may understand the 99 percent of God's plan, but we will always have the 1 percent we do not know. Here on earth, she says, we will only be Christ-like, not all knowing like Him.
And I wonder if I am teaching her or if she is teaching me.
The men come in to warm cider and they are pleased that I attempted to make them an authentic rice cake, and our van is filled to the brim with wood that we so desperately needed for warmth this Winter. But I didn't need the wood so much as the reminder that we are only here for a little while. I am glad that my Mother will join me in heaven, but shame on me if that makes me the least bit more comfortable here.
Because someone else is dreaming of the chance to see theirs in glory.
Because it was a day filled with so many random blessings that if I do not write them down, I will forget, and God will not get enough glory for sending them my way.
The day began with two cardinals, husband and wife, (ok I know that is a stretch, but allow me the pleasure of thinking of them that way, would you?) eating at the feeder while we cleaned up from breakfast.
And God said once again to my heart, "I will take care of you. Are you not more precious than they to me?"
And He met our needs today, needs for fellowship with a sweet couple.
With the husbands working outside, we women folk sat by the roaring fire and I finally realized that it was indeed "Crochet" that she wanted to be taught, and NOT to knit. My husband thought he heard that right on the phone, but I assured him that it was to "knit" that she wanted and she probably gave the wrong English word.
She is Japanese. And I was wrong.
And she takes me to her room and slips out a storage container with oodles of crafting supplies and a slender red case. She tells me that her Mother gave it to her for her birthday when she was in the fourth grade.
I finger it gently and open it.
A knitter's dream. Every needle of every size, double points, counters, so delicately arranged and for sure made out of bamboo. So sweet. And in the middle pocket, my savior for the day, a hook. A crochet hook for catching dropped stitches, and for catching my error of not planning better.
She chains like a pro and I am wishing that April was here to really show her how and not me and my single and double crochets.
I convince her to start again for practice and as I unravel, she begins to unravel about her Mom. How she found out she had cancer, how her father refused to believe that she had anything wrong. How she was a champion through the pain, the chemo, and how she was able to make it to their wedding.
She talks in a little bit of broken English and my heart is breaking, knowing where this is heading.
She remembers the moment she knew that she needed to accept the Lord. She had only been in the U.S. a short while, her husband crazy busy with work and a new culture to make her feel completely alone.
She had left everything and now was confronted with leaving all she had known to trust this Son of God. And to trust Him for her future would acknowledge that her Mother's was settled forever.
And she would never see her again.
Twelve years later she still dreams that she sees her Mother and that they are heading one to heaven and one to hell and she tries futilely to convert her and wakes again knowing that there is no hope.
No hope.
By this time I am holding her newest in my arms still sleeping peacefully and my tears are spilling onto her blanket. THIS Mother/Daughter duo will see the face of Christ. Together.
I look her straight in the eye and tell her that I have such a burden for Asia. That I want to go back and tell her Mother. I want to tell all of Asia. I tell her I am sorry. I am sorry that twelve years ago I was not there to speak truth. I was too busy playing church here to be bothered with a dying Mother of someone I was not connected with.
She is now going back, progressing well on her scarf, thanking me for my time.
And I wish I had time to go back. She tells me that she knows that her Mother's passing gave her a hunger for God, and that we may understand the 99 percent of God's plan, but we will always have the 1 percent we do not know. Here on earth, she says, we will only be Christ-like, not all knowing like Him.
And I wonder if I am teaching her or if she is teaching me.
The men come in to warm cider and they are pleased that I attempted to make them an authentic rice cake, and our van is filled to the brim with wood that we so desperately needed for warmth this Winter. But I didn't need the wood so much as the reminder that we are only here for a little while. I am glad that my Mother will join me in heaven, but shame on me if that makes me the least bit more comfortable here.
Because someone else is dreaming of the chance to see theirs in glory.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Like pulling teeth......
It's a complete struggle.
He knows it needs to come out.
We all know it needs to come out.
The garbage man would tell him it needs to come out....
And still he waits.
And chews, and hits it and cries and my temper flares and my mind shouts, "JUST PULL THE SILLY TOOTH OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
And I give the husband the "hurry up and just grab it" look and he smiles. Wait. He wants me to wait a bit longer.
I want to grab it and be done and tell him that we will NOT give him a quarter for the grief he has caused us, and he cries at the dinner table, hitting it again with his fork.
Is it possible to be this angry over a tooth??
I ask for the salad and try to forget.
And I am so frustrated with the pile of laundry shoved under the girls beds. I sigh, shoulders slump, eyes widen, and roll the sleeves up. I know that sometime around tea and with slippers some night we will talk and we will laugh over it, but I just want a pitch fork and a large garbage bag...
We settle for devotions and I beg for the living room because I can get away from the dishes and worrying about if one of the littles swept good enough and can just breathe for a minute.
Breathe and listen to God remind me that we all have growing pains.
Like a tooth, a new tooth pushing out the old and bringing in the new. The better. But always met with resistance.
I smile during the reading. There really is no difference between 6 and approaching 36.
He kneels by Joel, listening to the temple being rebuilt and his eyes brighten. He spills so much from today's school lesson about Ezra.
He remembered. So dirty fingernails don't hinder listening, learning, retaining??? I grin.
And we eat popcorn and put a puzzle together and again I just get frustrated with not being able to find the right pieces. Controlling again. And worries of what if's, like what if we lose a piece and it never comes together right?
And we come up with a neat way to keep the pieces in and I remember that life is messy, but God holds all the pieces together.
It isn't ours to put together anyway.
And I settle littles in beds and wonder if they will be warm enough and one wants to talk about the moon, and I laugh. So important to her, so irrelevant to me.
One greets me with a birthday card for dad in the hallway and I tell him he can hand it to him first thing.
First thing. Promise.
I finally sit to completely relax and take in the day and I hear it.
A squeal. I am almost pretending not to hear so my brain doesn't think I have to move.
"I pulled it out!"
What? YOU did? He did?????
Joel smiles at the stairs.
I'll send him down to show you.
And it's a big deal and there are cheers all around and pictures and relief can be felt by everyone.
And I am reminded that life goes on.
It is scary and you can be a great big chicken and it's ok.
It's really ok.
You can mess up, give up, give in, run away, get angry and just like tape, God hold the pieces together.
He smiles at the end of a very long day like the Father that He is,
at his child who finally decided that a new tooth is best.
And He even smiles when we have fussed and fretted, made everyone miserable, finally relent and still ask if it's too late to get a quarter for complying with the process of growth.
Of course it's not.
He knows it needs to come out.
We all know it needs to come out.
The garbage man would tell him it needs to come out....
And still he waits.
And chews, and hits it and cries and my temper flares and my mind shouts, "JUST PULL THE SILLY TOOTH OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
And I give the husband the "hurry up and just grab it" look and he smiles. Wait. He wants me to wait a bit longer.
I want to grab it and be done and tell him that we will NOT give him a quarter for the grief he has caused us, and he cries at the dinner table, hitting it again with his fork.
Is it possible to be this angry over a tooth??
I ask for the salad and try to forget.
And I am so frustrated with the pile of laundry shoved under the girls beds. I sigh, shoulders slump, eyes widen, and roll the sleeves up. I know that sometime around tea and with slippers some night we will talk and we will laugh over it, but I just want a pitch fork and a large garbage bag...
We settle for devotions and I beg for the living room because I can get away from the dishes and worrying about if one of the littles swept good enough and can just breathe for a minute.
Breathe and listen to God remind me that we all have growing pains.
Like a tooth, a new tooth pushing out the old and bringing in the new. The better. But always met with resistance.
I smile during the reading. There really is no difference between 6 and approaching 36.
He kneels by Joel, listening to the temple being rebuilt and his eyes brighten. He spills so much from today's school lesson about Ezra.
He remembered. So dirty fingernails don't hinder listening, learning, retaining??? I grin.
And we eat popcorn and put a puzzle together and again I just get frustrated with not being able to find the right pieces. Controlling again. And worries of what if's, like what if we lose a piece and it never comes together right?
And we come up with a neat way to keep the pieces in and I remember that life is messy, but God holds all the pieces together.
It isn't ours to put together anyway.
And I settle littles in beds and wonder if they will be warm enough and one wants to talk about the moon, and I laugh. So important to her, so irrelevant to me.
One greets me with a birthday card for dad in the hallway and I tell him he can hand it to him first thing.
First thing. Promise.
I finally sit to completely relax and take in the day and I hear it.
A squeal. I am almost pretending not to hear so my brain doesn't think I have to move.
"I pulled it out!"
What? YOU did? He did?????
Joel smiles at the stairs.
I'll send him down to show you.
And it's a big deal and there are cheers all around and pictures and relief can be felt by everyone.
And I am reminded that life goes on.
It is scary and you can be a great big chicken and it's ok.
It's really ok.
You can mess up, give up, give in, run away, get angry and just like tape, God hold the pieces together.
He smiles at the end of a very long day like the Father that He is,
at his child who finally decided that a new tooth is best.
And He even smiles when we have fussed and fretted, made everyone miserable, finally relent and still ask if it's too late to get a quarter for complying with the process of growth.
Monday, November 5, 2012
What a Doll!
The sun has set.
The littles are running around Joel underfoot in his shop as he finds his creative "out" for the afternoon.
And I mine.
Been a while.
Sometimes I wonder if I am creative anymore, and worth reading, my corner worth writing about. I don't force things. Especially this. I force enough of my life sad to say, and I want this space to be where I can reach a hand out to a weary Mom and say, I hear you.
totally.
And I want to do that when the Lord prompts only.
Not when I have an amazing new soup recipe that you must try or feel like complaining. I am not faulting those who do. I am just saying that that is not what I have designated this space for.
And the lady she tells me, "You should write!" and the husband, sweet lovely husband prods, "You should write!"
But until today I hadn't heard from my Father saying, "You should write!"
And I did and here I am.
Today I am ordering something that I have so desired for my oldest girl.
She has desired it too, but I pretend not to notice and make a big deal when in reality I would eat Ramen Noodles for dinner for a month to make it happen for her.
But THAT'S between you and me.
Not today though. Today I have scrimped and hemmed pants and have even asked for some family donations from gracious Grandparents to bring it to pass at loooong last.
Tonight I order my daughter her first American Girl doll.
And probably her only one too. And that is not a bad thing.
But it is a wonderful thing that this time and place are finally here.
And I sit at the computer and look and plan and almost get teary-eyed at the thought of her seeing it, holding it, opening it on her 12th birthday.
Twelve blessed blessed years to know her.
And I tear as I type now thinking of she who made us all so happy coming into our lives, making us less selfish, able to enjoy pink things, keeping us thinking, praying, praising God for one who is well beyond her years.
An old soul someone has called her.
I think they are right. A sweet soul. One who serves and cleans and gives and gives and has become such a friend to laugh and cry with.
She is my right arm, my encourager to keep going and my reminder of how God loves us so.
Her name was chosen before we were even married. "Abigail."
I carried a card with her name on it in my Bible through my last months of college before becoming a Mrs. No one but us two knew. Knew we longed for a baby girl of our very own. With her father's crooked teeth and my eyes and his heart and my crazy hair.
And just filled to the brim with goodness.
That came from HIM.
And she grew and grew and trusted the Lord and how we rejoiced to know that we can enjoy her at home and now in heaven too. And I just know she will be there too telling me that the soup wasn't THAT bad at all....
And her 11th birthday is arriving and I want to bless her so.
Who doesn't want to bless their children with goodness just dripping with more goodness upon goodness?
And the catalogue with the torn edges that has been carried from room to room will finally be able to rest on the shelf. Tonight I will rejoice to press a button to order and just wait and giggle and feel lovely knowing that she will feel so loved and special.
And as I was making dinner and sighing and smiling and thinking about how wonderful it is to bless my girl the Lord came and met me.
Right in the kitchen.
"Don't you know that I desire to bless you too?"
My hand stopped stirring and my heart pounded.
All of my excitement turned to wondering if the God of the Universe could feel just as I feel towards my daughter,
towards His.
And my heart soared. It literally soared to think of how He loves me. I am counting the ways and giving him thanks and he is sitting in heaven only desiring to give me good gifts. He is smiling and rejoicing over me as if it was my gift on my 12th birthday that He was secretly planning.
And He sings at the thought of us being together in heaven forever, and loves that I have some of his attributes. His eye for beautiful things, his heart for those who need to know him, his hands reaching out to those who need help.
And again I am brought to tears to think of how he loves me. His daughter.
And I have to think hard about it. I know me, my faults and failures and things that would make any person crazy aggravated.
And he reminds me of my daughter's flaws. He sweetly reminds me that I love her anyway forever and always and always.
Why is it hard for me to transfer how I love her to how he loves me?
So hard.
She will receive her doll, and know of our love and I will keep the journal open, counting the ways he showers me with gifts each day that remind me of His love for me.......
The littles are running around Joel underfoot in his shop as he finds his creative "out" for the afternoon.
And I mine.
Been a while.
Sometimes I wonder if I am creative anymore, and worth reading, my corner worth writing about. I don't force things. Especially this. I force enough of my life sad to say, and I want this space to be where I can reach a hand out to a weary Mom and say, I hear you.
totally.
And I want to do that when the Lord prompts only.
Not when I have an amazing new soup recipe that you must try or feel like complaining. I am not faulting those who do. I am just saying that that is not what I have designated this space for.
And the lady she tells me, "You should write!" and the husband, sweet lovely husband prods, "You should write!"
But until today I hadn't heard from my Father saying, "You should write!"
And I did and here I am.
Today I am ordering something that I have so desired for my oldest girl.
She has desired it too, but I pretend not to notice and make a big deal when in reality I would eat Ramen Noodles for dinner for a month to make it happen for her.
But THAT'S between you and me.
Not today though. Today I have scrimped and hemmed pants and have even asked for some family donations from gracious Grandparents to bring it to pass at loooong last.
Tonight I order my daughter her first American Girl doll.
And probably her only one too. And that is not a bad thing.
But it is a wonderful thing that this time and place are finally here.
And I sit at the computer and look and plan and almost get teary-eyed at the thought of her seeing it, holding it, opening it on her 12th birthday.
Twelve blessed blessed years to know her.
And I tear as I type now thinking of she who made us all so happy coming into our lives, making us less selfish, able to enjoy pink things, keeping us thinking, praying, praising God for one who is well beyond her years.
An old soul someone has called her.
I think they are right. A sweet soul. One who serves and cleans and gives and gives and has become such a friend to laugh and cry with.
She is my right arm, my encourager to keep going and my reminder of how God loves us so.
Her name was chosen before we were even married. "Abigail."
I carried a card with her name on it in my Bible through my last months of college before becoming a Mrs. No one but us two knew. Knew we longed for a baby girl of our very own. With her father's crooked teeth and my eyes and his heart and my crazy hair.
And just filled to the brim with goodness.
That came from HIM.
And she grew and grew and trusted the Lord and how we rejoiced to know that we can enjoy her at home and now in heaven too. And I just know she will be there too telling me that the soup wasn't THAT bad at all....
And her 11th birthday is arriving and I want to bless her so.
Who doesn't want to bless their children with goodness just dripping with more goodness upon goodness?
And the catalogue with the torn edges that has been carried from room to room will finally be able to rest on the shelf. Tonight I will rejoice to press a button to order and just wait and giggle and feel lovely knowing that she will feel so loved and special.
And as I was making dinner and sighing and smiling and thinking about how wonderful it is to bless my girl the Lord came and met me.
Right in the kitchen.
"Don't you know that I desire to bless you too?"
My hand stopped stirring and my heart pounded.
All of my excitement turned to wondering if the God of the Universe could feel just as I feel towards my daughter,
towards His.
And my heart soared. It literally soared to think of how He loves me. I am counting the ways and giving him thanks and he is sitting in heaven only desiring to give me good gifts. He is smiling and rejoicing over me as if it was my gift on my 12th birthday that He was secretly planning.
And He sings at the thought of us being together in heaven forever, and loves that I have some of his attributes. His eye for beautiful things, his heart for those who need to know him, his hands reaching out to those who need help.
And again I am brought to tears to think of how he loves me. His daughter.
And I have to think hard about it. I know me, my faults and failures and things that would make any person crazy aggravated.
And he reminds me of my daughter's flaws. He sweetly reminds me that I love her anyway forever and always and always.
Why is it hard for me to transfer how I love her to how he loves me?
So hard.
She will receive her doll, and know of our love and I will keep the journal open, counting the ways he showers me with gifts each day that remind me of His love for me.......
Monday, September 17, 2012
Haven sweet Haven
Hello friends, you faithful friends you!
The Summer is eeking by and the Kids are finally in school and in a new curriculum that makes me want to don an apron, knit and be the homemaker the Lord would have me be.
Yes. It is that good.
We have a new schedule, taking care of Kindergarten in the morning and then schooling the older four after lunch. And I say "we" as in my hubby and I.
Together.
Yes it is that wonderful.
We are getting our groove back here in Ohio. For a while there I thought I had left it in New York.
Kids are relaxing, folding clothes, practicing piano, and hiding in the downstairs leggo world while I type.
The house feels more like home.
A month or two ago I did something drastic.
Something totally NOT me, and that has made all the difference here on the home front.
I gave our bed a makeover.
Well, drastic for ME anyhow.
I so missed our old bedroom when we moved here. I missed it's hugeness. I missed how it was a little cave of togetherness for us with adorable wrap around the ceiling book cases to display our love of a good read. I missed that I could shut the door and sew in there, could chat with friends on my bed and feel like we had our own little suite.
The main bedroom here is quite cramped. Or I was plum spoiled. Probably the latter.
Either way it was the one thing holding me back from going "all in" here.
Yeah, I know. But it was.
No wall hangings, no drapes, no nothing in there. My motivation to settle was just lost somewhere. And then he said it. My he. He told me to do whatever it takes to make it our room again.
And in some melancholy funk I wondered if I ever could.
Could I make it a place again where we could get on our knees for friends and family and cry out to the Lord? Could I make it a sanctuary where we could hide after a long weary day of training littles? Could I make it a place where coffee and tea cups stacked from long nights of laughing about things that were only funny to us?
Well, I guess I could try.
I decided to begin with the bed. We hadn't had a new comforter and sheet set since our lovely blue flowered and checked ones that my Mom bought us as a wedding present. It gave up the ghost after the sixth little made her appearance. I so hated to part with it!!! I have fond memories attached to it. I LOVED coming in the room there on Haywood and realizing that I had a bed set. Straight from the department store. Big deal to me, and more money then I want to acknowledge my sweet Mother spending.....
After Alayna was born, someone gave us a gracious gift card to Walmart and we decided to get a quilt to replace the hole ridden comforter. It was great, but when a man in our congregation in Humphrey decided to drop a new mattress in our lap the quilt could only make an "appearance" on the side of the bed that visitors would see when they entered the room! This also made us try to snatch covers for ourselves in the middle of the night, only to awake with a 50/50 chance of being covered.
I usually lost that war.
So about a week ago I saw this bedding. Delightful actually. I was aghast at it's cost, but I knew that was it. I ran my hand down the sheets and squeezed the pillows and took the plunge.
It had a bed skirt. Something I have wanted for such a long long time. It was another floral, red, and checked on the other side. It was perfect.
Now I am not saying that if you are in a funk go and max out a credit card. I was there with official sanction to make our nest, OUR nest again. Permission was granted without me asking for it. I was not putting my hope of a good life in this bed set, but I did hope for a good night's sleep where all God's children could have equal coverage.
And so I swallowed hard and bumbled to the counter. I buried my "Deer in the headlights" look in a couple of shams and handed them my money..... and left. I attributed the "sucking" sound I heard as I got in the car to the children's college fund begging for mercy.
I got home and hid the whole shebang in the closet until after church, when I could hurry home and make the whole bed, light some candles and surprise Joel with the hope of a new haven for us.
He loved it.
I loved it.
I kept waiting for Better Homes and Gardens to call and ask to photograph us in our bed, but they never did........must be because we still have nothing on the windows.........
The first morning we woke up the first words from Joel were, "HEY! LOOK! We BOTH have covers!" And all God's women said, "Amen."
Again, a new bed set is not the key to happiness or wedded bliss. Though equal coverage does give you a shot in the arm.
For us it was more of a "Ok. We can do this. We can move twice in two years, bury our heart here and find a new spot to hide from the world."
We are anxious to get the kids in there corner of the world so we can soak into ours at night and remember just what a wonderful life we do share together.
Who knows what craziness is right around the corner for us here in Ohio, but we are getting our groove back. Even if it is one bed at a time.
Sweet dreams friends!
P.S. Wanna see some pics??? :)
The Summer is eeking by and the Kids are finally in school and in a new curriculum that makes me want to don an apron, knit and be the homemaker the Lord would have me be.
Yes. It is that good.
We have a new schedule, taking care of Kindergarten in the morning and then schooling the older four after lunch. And I say "we" as in my hubby and I.
Together.
Yes it is that wonderful.
We are getting our groove back here in Ohio. For a while there I thought I had left it in New York.
Kids are relaxing, folding clothes, practicing piano, and hiding in the downstairs leggo world while I type.
The house feels more like home.
A month or two ago I did something drastic.
Something totally NOT me, and that has made all the difference here on the home front.
I gave our bed a makeover.
Well, drastic for ME anyhow.
I so missed our old bedroom when we moved here. I missed it's hugeness. I missed how it was a little cave of togetherness for us with adorable wrap around the ceiling book cases to display our love of a good read. I missed that I could shut the door and sew in there, could chat with friends on my bed and feel like we had our own little suite.
The main bedroom here is quite cramped. Or I was plum spoiled. Probably the latter.
Either way it was the one thing holding me back from going "all in" here.
Yeah, I know. But it was.
No wall hangings, no drapes, no nothing in there. My motivation to settle was just lost somewhere. And then he said it. My he. He told me to do whatever it takes to make it our room again.
And in some melancholy funk I wondered if I ever could.
Could I make it a place again where we could get on our knees for friends and family and cry out to the Lord? Could I make it a sanctuary where we could hide after a long weary day of training littles? Could I make it a place where coffee and tea cups stacked from long nights of laughing about things that were only funny to us?
Well, I guess I could try.
I decided to begin with the bed. We hadn't had a new comforter and sheet set since our lovely blue flowered and checked ones that my Mom bought us as a wedding present. It gave up the ghost after the sixth little made her appearance. I so hated to part with it!!! I have fond memories attached to it. I LOVED coming in the room there on Haywood and realizing that I had a bed set. Straight from the department store. Big deal to me, and more money then I want to acknowledge my sweet Mother spending.....
After Alayna was born, someone gave us a gracious gift card to Walmart and we decided to get a quilt to replace the hole ridden comforter. It was great, but when a man in our congregation in Humphrey decided to drop a new mattress in our lap the quilt could only make an "appearance" on the side of the bed that visitors would see when they entered the room! This also made us try to snatch covers for ourselves in the middle of the night, only to awake with a 50/50 chance of being covered.
I usually lost that war.
So about a week ago I saw this bedding. Delightful actually. I was aghast at it's cost, but I knew that was it. I ran my hand down the sheets and squeezed the pillows and took the plunge.
It had a bed skirt. Something I have wanted for such a long long time. It was another floral, red, and checked on the other side. It was perfect.
Now I am not saying that if you are in a funk go and max out a credit card. I was there with official sanction to make our nest, OUR nest again. Permission was granted without me asking for it. I was not putting my hope of a good life in this bed set, but I did hope for a good night's sleep where all God's children could have equal coverage.
And so I swallowed hard and bumbled to the counter. I buried my "Deer in the headlights" look in a couple of shams and handed them my money..... and left. I attributed the "sucking" sound I heard as I got in the car to the children's college fund begging for mercy.
I got home and hid the whole shebang in the closet until after church, when I could hurry home and make the whole bed, light some candles and surprise Joel with the hope of a new haven for us.
He loved it.
I loved it.
I kept waiting for Better Homes and Gardens to call and ask to photograph us in our bed, but they never did........must be because we still have nothing on the windows.........
The first morning we woke up the first words from Joel were, "HEY! LOOK! We BOTH have covers!" And all God's women said, "Amen."
Again, a new bed set is not the key to happiness or wedded bliss. Though equal coverage does give you a shot in the arm.
For us it was more of a "Ok. We can do this. We can move twice in two years, bury our heart here and find a new spot to hide from the world."
We are anxious to get the kids in there corner of the world so we can soak into ours at night and remember just what a wonderful life we do share together.
Who knows what craziness is right around the corner for us here in Ohio, but we are getting our groove back. Even if it is one bed at a time.
Sweet dreams friends!
P.S. Wanna see some pics??? :)
Friday, July 20, 2012
HEAD and shoulders, KNEES and TOES
Are you tired of hearing about our move and readjustment yet???
I am also.
Why this move has been so difficult for me particularly I just cannot put my finger on, frankly.
It just happened to be a pivotal time for me as a Mother and Friend and especially as a Wife.
Marriage.
That all-encompassing word that changes your life and even your view of yourself.
But especially your selfishness.
(sigh)
Joel has flown back to Ohio and taken flight in his new position and responsibilities.
And in the shuffle of finding my spot, even my row of chairs in the auditorium where I feel comfortable, I have felt aloof to the one I am joined at the hip to.
Yes, I am willing to admit that publicly.
It was terrible.
I can handle the rush, the new, the hard and the unexpected as long as his hand is in mine and I am not one step behind him.
One helpless feeling night at church I had given away my very last smile for the evening. I cannot even tell you what the sermon was on, I just knew that I needed to run head--long to the altar. It was a cry for God to see me and meet with me, and it just happened to be as close as I could get to Joel. :)
My heart unloaded all of my worries, my insecurities, my disappointments and the like to my heavenly Father and he met me with one request.
It has been my experience that whenever I have the "List" He swipes it for something singular and tangible. LOVE that.
And this was no exception.
It was a book actually. A book that I had purchased (ahem) years ago and refused to use. It is called "The Husband Project." Three action--packed weeks of non-stop kindness towards you-know-who. When it arrived, I devoured it on a mile walk on the treadmill. Then it happened.
Something. Anything. A hurt, a blight, a disconnect.
And the book made it's way into the bottom dresser drawer and then to a packed box and then to a closet where it sat very peaceably I might add....
Until that Sunday night.
He told me to go and get it.
THE He.
He could have asked me to start a well in Uganda and I would have smiled and returned to my seat ready to conquer the world. But THIS?
I sighed a loooooong "Really? It has to get worse before it gets better?" sigh.
But I heard. I would obey. Half-heartedly, but I would.
I grabbed an accountability partner at church because I am funny like that, and away we went.
Week one, this and that, bonus projects and me trying to hide this book from Joel. I would smile a "Do you know how lucky you are to have the Holy Spirit commanding me to do this project on you?" smile across the table at dinner while I passed the peas.
Lovely, I know. You can stop right here and hate on me, but you know you have been there......or may be there right now. Read on, you have a safe spot with me friend.
Week two I find myself forgetting where I "HID" the book and that alone makes me want to spit. My sweet friend is learning like myself that self is big, bad and ugly and this is harder than we thought. I did so poorly on week two that I was prompted to do the whole week's projects over again. Prompted could be more likely to be described as " drug through the mud," by my Patient Heavenly Father. In a spiritual sense of course..... I really want to be right, and I want to please Him, and so I grab a chocolate malt from the corner ice cream joint, my hubs favorite, to take home to him...... and one for myself because, Hey, a little self kindness never hurt anybody......
Week three my self is just refusing to die and I am struggling. I will not comment on how many times the book landed in the trash and I felt that same prompting to rescue it before a little took out the bedroom trash.
All this and Joel has no idea of my Jekyll and Hyde spiritual struggle going on.
And so I swallow my pride and serve myself another slice of humble pie while preparing his favorite meal. I cannot say for sure but I am of the opinion that in this whole three week process I had the same look on my face as "Cathy" in the Sunday Comics. You know the face....... the hair, the grimace.....
Some projects were fun. Some where really fun. Some were hard, a LOT were hard. Because it took me laying aside what I thought or felt or wanted even in the midst of a million insecurities and focus on him.
MY him. Because THE He knew that it isn't about me.
This is NOT where I end with "And we lived happily ever after..." because I am not perfect. And though sometimes I think he is......he really isn't either.
Two imperfect people living side by side causes conversations between high school friends like, "Why didn't anyone ever tell us that Marriage was SO HARD???!" and even some more "Cathy" faces occasionally.
I need God to work through me, helping me see others as He sees them.
He sees my husband as his precious son. And He just wants to make sure he is loved here on Earth. He met with me at that altar and looked me in the heart and said, "I just want Joel to be loved. Can I trust you with that??? Even if you don't feel like he deserves it?"
And the rotten truth is that I don't deserve it either.
Come and skip ahead a week or two with me to a husband laid-up with crutches, kids covered in mud and mulch, three visitors unexpected, dinner dishes, a new stain on a brand new shirt and the like.....
(Think Cathy, think Cathy.....)
And I am running from getting things for my husband downstairs to the girls in the tub and way too many floating pieces of wood sticking to newly soaped legs and bottoms. I am visitored-out, tired, short, and ready to spank everyone just for good measure.
In the distance I see the cooking magazine and the chair and even a cookie or two or three.... and I am at rest.
Joel has been laid-up for days, weeks really and I am feeling mad that I am doing everything tonight.
Then I am just struck dumb.
He is hobbling over to me.
MY he.
He is carrying a basin of water and a bar of my favorite soap.
I am a cookie covered hot mess.
He takes my foot in his hand and begins to wash it, taking the utmost care to try to replicate a spa treatment. A little sits by him and watches him, and it is almost more than I can take. I am mad at him, and the act of my will humbling is almost making me more mad.
The little asks Joel of all things, why Jesus washed his disciples feet.
Now I am an object lesson!??
He smiles up at me knowing how uncomfortable I am feeling and begins the story, "Jesus wanted to show the disciples that the greatest among them, the ones he desired to follow him were to be the servants." And the little asks him, "Why did Peter not want his feet washed, Dad?" And Dad tells them that Peter didn't understand what Jesus was trying to illustrate. And Jesus had to explain to him that if he didn't have his feet cleaned he didn't have a part with following Him. The little then remembers that Peter then wanted ALL of him clean, and Joel notes that once we are cleansed from sin, we have no need to be washed again, save our feet.
Our feet symbolize us walking in this world. We will sin, and we will disappoint, and we will need our feet cleansed again and again. We will need daily repentance.
And the little heads to bed and I am humbled and grateful and thankful and amazed that I could struggle for three straight weeks and he can pick up some soap and a towel as if it was nothing.
And we smile and talk about how life is hard right now, but still good.
I am also.
Why this move has been so difficult for me particularly I just cannot put my finger on, frankly.
It just happened to be a pivotal time for me as a Mother and Friend and especially as a Wife.
Marriage.
That all-encompassing word that changes your life and even your view of yourself.
But especially your selfishness.
(sigh)
Joel has flown back to Ohio and taken flight in his new position and responsibilities.
And in the shuffle of finding my spot, even my row of chairs in the auditorium where I feel comfortable, I have felt aloof to the one I am joined at the hip to.
Yes, I am willing to admit that publicly.
It was terrible.
I can handle the rush, the new, the hard and the unexpected as long as his hand is in mine and I am not one step behind him.
One helpless feeling night at church I had given away my very last smile for the evening. I cannot even tell you what the sermon was on, I just knew that I needed to run head--long to the altar. It was a cry for God to see me and meet with me, and it just happened to be as close as I could get to Joel. :)
My heart unloaded all of my worries, my insecurities, my disappointments and the like to my heavenly Father and he met me with one request.
It has been my experience that whenever I have the "List" He swipes it for something singular and tangible. LOVE that.
And this was no exception.
It was a book actually. A book that I had purchased (ahem) years ago and refused to use. It is called "The Husband Project." Three action--packed weeks of non-stop kindness towards you-know-who. When it arrived, I devoured it on a mile walk on the treadmill. Then it happened.
Something. Anything. A hurt, a blight, a disconnect.
And the book made it's way into the bottom dresser drawer and then to a packed box and then to a closet where it sat very peaceably I might add....
Until that Sunday night.
He told me to go and get it.
THE He.
He could have asked me to start a well in Uganda and I would have smiled and returned to my seat ready to conquer the world. But THIS?
I sighed a loooooong "Really? It has to get worse before it gets better?" sigh.
But I heard. I would obey. Half-heartedly, but I would.
I grabbed an accountability partner at church because I am funny like that, and away we went.
Week one, this and that, bonus projects and me trying to hide this book from Joel. I would smile a "Do you know how lucky you are to have the Holy Spirit commanding me to do this project on you?" smile across the table at dinner while I passed the peas.
Lovely, I know. You can stop right here and hate on me, but you know you have been there......or may be there right now. Read on, you have a safe spot with me friend.
Week two I find myself forgetting where I "HID" the book and that alone makes me want to spit. My sweet friend is learning like myself that self is big, bad and ugly and this is harder than we thought. I did so poorly on week two that I was prompted to do the whole week's projects over again. Prompted could be more likely to be described as " drug through the mud," by my Patient Heavenly Father. In a spiritual sense of course..... I really want to be right, and I want to please Him, and so I grab a chocolate malt from the corner ice cream joint, my hubs favorite, to take home to him...... and one for myself because, Hey, a little self kindness never hurt anybody......
Week three my self is just refusing to die and I am struggling. I will not comment on how many times the book landed in the trash and I felt that same prompting to rescue it before a little took out the bedroom trash.
All this and Joel has no idea of my Jekyll and Hyde spiritual struggle going on.
And so I swallow my pride and serve myself another slice of humble pie while preparing his favorite meal. I cannot say for sure but I am of the opinion that in this whole three week process I had the same look on my face as "Cathy" in the Sunday Comics. You know the face....... the hair, the grimace.....
Some projects were fun. Some where really fun. Some were hard, a LOT were hard. Because it took me laying aside what I thought or felt or wanted even in the midst of a million insecurities and focus on him.
MY him. Because THE He knew that it isn't about me.
This is NOT where I end with "And we lived happily ever after..." because I am not perfect. And though sometimes I think he is......he really isn't either.
Two imperfect people living side by side causes conversations between high school friends like, "Why didn't anyone ever tell us that Marriage was SO HARD???!" and even some more "Cathy" faces occasionally.
I need God to work through me, helping me see others as He sees them.
He sees my husband as his precious son. And He just wants to make sure he is loved here on Earth. He met with me at that altar and looked me in the heart and said, "I just want Joel to be loved. Can I trust you with that??? Even if you don't feel like he deserves it?"
And the rotten truth is that I don't deserve it either.
Come and skip ahead a week or two with me to a husband laid-up with crutches, kids covered in mud and mulch, three visitors unexpected, dinner dishes, a new stain on a brand new shirt and the like.....
(Think Cathy, think Cathy.....)
And I am running from getting things for my husband downstairs to the girls in the tub and way too many floating pieces of wood sticking to newly soaped legs and bottoms. I am visitored-out, tired, short, and ready to spank everyone just for good measure.
In the distance I see the cooking magazine and the chair and even a cookie or two or three.... and I am at rest.
Joel has been laid-up for days, weeks really and I am feeling mad that I am doing everything tonight.
Then I am just struck dumb.
He is hobbling over to me.
MY he.
He is carrying a basin of water and a bar of my favorite soap.
I am a cookie covered hot mess.
He takes my foot in his hand and begins to wash it, taking the utmost care to try to replicate a spa treatment. A little sits by him and watches him, and it is almost more than I can take. I am mad at him, and the act of my will humbling is almost making me more mad.
Now I am an object lesson!??
He smiles up at me knowing how uncomfortable I am feeling and begins the story, "Jesus wanted to show the disciples that the greatest among them, the ones he desired to follow him were to be the servants." And the little asks him, "Why did Peter not want his feet washed, Dad?" And Dad tells them that Peter didn't understand what Jesus was trying to illustrate. And Jesus had to explain to him that if he didn't have his feet cleaned he didn't have a part with following Him. The little then remembers that Peter then wanted ALL of him clean, and Joel notes that once we are cleansed from sin, we have no need to be washed again, save our feet.
Our feet symbolize us walking in this world. We will sin, and we will disappoint, and we will need our feet cleansed again and again. We will need daily repentance.
And the little heads to bed and I am humbled and grateful and thankful and amazed that I could struggle for three straight weeks and he can pick up some soap and a towel as if it was nothing.
And we smile and talk about how life is hard right now, but still good.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
I left my heart in.......... New York
Hello everyone!
I hope that your Spummer (Spring almost Summer :-) is off to a great start. I have had trips that have taken me to Amish Country,Michigan, and twice to New York and think that I left my heart there that last trip.
Actually I split my heart in two and left it there.
New York that is.
I had the wonderful privilege of attending a Ladies Meeting with two of the greatest besties anyone could hope for.
I drove three hours to meet them and literally picked one off the ground when I hugged them at first sight. Yeah, I love them that much.
Then we hopped in the van where we were given bags that had our initials on them and goodies in them. We sat on the front bench seat because one (which will remain anonymous) has motion sickness issues.
She even brought her own *ahem* barf bag.
Yeah, she's cute like that.
And yeah, I made sure she was on my FAR left.
We were just about sitting on top of all of my craft items that I just had to bring and set up at the free craft bazaar at the Ladies Meeting, and we were almost too squished to enjoy a three hour drive, but we loved every minute of it.
We giggled how our bags made us all feel like we were holding our new school supplies and excited for the first day of school.
The first day of a new school year with your two dear friends.
I had driven as fast as I could to get to them and now that they were right beside me, I felt like I could just die and head directly to heaven. Do not pass "Go" do not collect "200 dollars."
We smiled and hugged and laughed and shared and just LOVED being together.
And in the middle of someone talking I secretly wondered how on earth I had found them, why they loved me and accepted me like they do, and hoped beyond all hope that they would never realize how unlucky they are to have me tag along with them.
And I cried.
I cried because in one years time they have loved me closer to the feet of the Lord than I have ever been.
I cried because the love I have for them just humbles me and reminds me of how if it were not for Christ and his gift to me, this love would not even be known.
I cried because I have moved and these times are too short and too few and far between.
And we spent the night laughing together. That is until when we all went to pray before sleep and I decided to sleep first. :)
We laughed about that too, but you know, I of all people NEVER just FALL asleep. I have never fallen asleep in the middle of something no matter how tired. I am usually up most of the night especially in a strange place. When I returned home and told Joel what I had happen, he was even in disbelief.
And since that time, I have had time to think about that very moment. I firmly believe that I was so at peace, so contented, so loved and relaxed in sweet friendship that I believe that the Lord allowed me that. It sounds funny I know, but to me it was precious. To be so at ease with these two to feel beyond at home. To feel completely at peace.
And that was just another glimpse of the Lord himself to me. Through them.
And the hours passed and we found ourselves singing together, side by side.
It.was.precious to me.
So precious that I took out my ipod and held it on my lap and recorded us singing.
I just wanted to capture that moment, our voices blending, praising God together.
We ate together and shared hard things, and cried some more, because life is good, but hard and looked into each other's eyes spiritually leaning on the other and reminding ourselves that everything we are going through WILL be redeemed by God.
We cannot fix it, but He will, and is, and will continue to.
The conference ended and I packed my pumpkin butter and headed home with my friends again by my side.
And a wonderful thing happened.
A sweet woman in the van decided to open her heart a bit and let us see how she was struggling.
And with a look at each other, the three of us rallied around her and loved her to the feet of the Lord himself.
It was tag-team exhortation and it was us and God was using us and it was wonderful.
And one quoted this, and another this Biblical principle, and another held her hand and kissed it.
And THIS is why I love them.
Why I cry just typing this, why I still miss them deeply, why I count the days until I see their face again, why they provoke me to godliness and honor and holiness and love.
And we ended the trip huddled together, me crying on a shoulder and each of us in a "you will have to pull us apart" group hug.
But we did part, and I was greeted with the largest coffee someone has ever treated me to, hugged and kissed the cheeks of my bosom friends and got in my car to head another 3 hours home.
But before I did, I left a bit of myself behind.
And think of Jonathan and David.
I think of how they met for the last time.
How they wept over one another.
I marvel at the fact that they didn't have email to secretly keep in touch, or cell phones or Hey wire or even face time to see the smile lines and hear that laugh that makes you laugh each time you hear it.
I.AM.BLESSED.
And I will love these ladies, pray for them, and enjoy them until the Lord takes us all home.
And I pray friends like them for each and every one of you.
I hope that your Spummer (Spring almost Summer :-) is off to a great start. I have had trips that have taken me to Amish Country,Michigan, and twice to New York and think that I left my heart there that last trip.
Actually I split my heart in two and left it there.
New York that is.
I had the wonderful privilege of attending a Ladies Meeting with two of the greatest besties anyone could hope for.
I drove three hours to meet them and literally picked one off the ground when I hugged them at first sight. Yeah, I love them that much.
Then we hopped in the van where we were given bags that had our initials on them and goodies in them. We sat on the front bench seat because one (which will remain anonymous) has motion sickness issues.
She even brought her own *ahem* barf bag.
Yeah, she's cute like that.
And yeah, I made sure she was on my FAR left.
We were just about sitting on top of all of my craft items that I just had to bring and set up at the free craft bazaar at the Ladies Meeting, and we were almost too squished to enjoy a three hour drive, but we loved every minute of it.
We giggled how our bags made us all feel like we were holding our new school supplies and excited for the first day of school.
The first day of a new school year with your two dear friends.
I had driven as fast as I could to get to them and now that they were right beside me, I felt like I could just die and head directly to heaven. Do not pass "Go" do not collect "200 dollars."
We smiled and hugged and laughed and shared and just LOVED being together.
And in the middle of someone talking I secretly wondered how on earth I had found them, why they loved me and accepted me like they do, and hoped beyond all hope that they would never realize how unlucky they are to have me tag along with them.
I cried because in one years time they have loved me closer to the feet of the Lord than I have ever been.
I cried because the love I have for them just humbles me and reminds me of how if it were not for Christ and his gift to me, this love would not even be known.
I cried because I have moved and these times are too short and too few and far between.
And we spent the night laughing together. That is until when we all went to pray before sleep and I decided to sleep first. :)
We laughed about that too, but you know, I of all people NEVER just FALL asleep. I have never fallen asleep in the middle of something no matter how tired. I am usually up most of the night especially in a strange place. When I returned home and told Joel what I had happen, he was even in disbelief.
And since that time, I have had time to think about that very moment. I firmly believe that I was so at peace, so contented, so loved and relaxed in sweet friendship that I believe that the Lord allowed me that. It sounds funny I know, but to me it was precious. To be so at ease with these two to feel beyond at home. To feel completely at peace.
And that was just another glimpse of the Lord himself to me. Through them.
And the hours passed and we found ourselves singing together, side by side.
It.was.precious to me.
So precious that I took out my ipod and held it on my lap and recorded us singing.
I just wanted to capture that moment, our voices blending, praising God together.
We ate together and shared hard things, and cried some more, because life is good, but hard and looked into each other's eyes spiritually leaning on the other and reminding ourselves that everything we are going through WILL be redeemed by God.
We cannot fix it, but He will, and is, and will continue to.
The conference ended and I packed my pumpkin butter and headed home with my friends again by my side.
And a wonderful thing happened.
A sweet woman in the van decided to open her heart a bit and let us see how she was struggling.
It was tag-team exhortation and it was us and God was using us and it was wonderful.
And one quoted this, and another this Biblical principle, and another held her hand and kissed it.
And THIS is why I love them.
Why I cry just typing this, why I still miss them deeply, why I count the days until I see their face again, why they provoke me to godliness and honor and holiness and love.
And we ended the trip huddled together, me crying on a shoulder and each of us in a "you will have to pull us apart" group hug.
But we did part, and I was greeted with the largest coffee someone has ever treated me to, hugged and kissed the cheeks of my bosom friends and got in my car to head another 3 hours home.
But before I did, I left a bit of myself behind.
And think of Jonathan and David.
I think of how they met for the last time.
How they wept over one another.
I marvel at the fact that they didn't have email to secretly keep in touch, or cell phones or Hey wire or even face time to see the smile lines and hear that laugh that makes you laugh each time you hear it.
I.AM.BLESSED.
And I will love these ladies, pray for them, and enjoy them until the Lord takes us all home.
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