I have life snippets for you today!
I’m a total cliche. I absolutely love Fall even though we enjoy it as a season for about two weeks here and today it is probably going to hit 90 and I’ve only one year of my life ever lived in a place that had a sort of true Fall. Still, I love it. Last year I searched and searched for a cute and tasteful pumpkin type decoration that had small twinkle lights in it. In the end, I was too cheap to buy one so this year all we have to show just yet is this grocery store green pumpkin.
Sometimes I spray paint my mailbox instead of fixing dinner. Also. New nail polish required, I think.
Rainbow fairy wings are really the best. And they really help with homework. Homework can be hard, no two ways around it. I’ve been focusing on being present and checking my expectations so that even if my children are totally flustered by what they have to do I can at least be less flustered.
I have been working on my 31 days series. I’m equal parts excited and nervous. There’s no really detailed plan but I feel pretty sure that I’ll be able to fill up a whole month with all that I’m learning about home! I’ve been looking up Hebrew and Greek and Aramaic root words for home and it’s kind of awesome seeing how God is the one who originated the whole idea that a home is more than a house. In fact, there’s so much life wisdom in the idea of home and I just can’t wait to share it with y’all. Nervousness comes when I think about how this might be too touchy-feely. But. I’m guessing y’all wouldn’t be here if touchy-feely, wordy, processing posts were bothersome to you. So. 31 Days: a road home starts Monday.
Last month we were able to stay at the family home of my sweet friend. It was beautiful, wonderful, lovely, refreshing, cool and all the things we needed.
The view was almost too much. I cried when we walked out into the yard the first time. Just cut right out of the mountain.
All day long butterflies and bees hummed around as we soaked up the beauty before us.
We hiked off to waterfalls but we always hightailed it back to this little piece of home.
As a small girl, I dreamt of my piece of story place. Where picket fences and suits and blouses with big bows met home cooked meals and that one specific smell that meant you could kick your dirt filled shoes in the corner and curl up tight.
I dreamt of my own home.
I’ve been thinking a good bit about home.
About 31 Days, too. Last year I wrote about determined joy. And I haven’t completely decided whether or not I’ll do it this year mostly because I’m thinking of doing something a bit different, of writing about home for 31 straight days. Not designing, although I love to read about and be inspired by design. Not arranging, although I do my fair share of that and my husband is about ready to stage an intervention of epic proportions.
I’m thinking of writing about home home. That piece you carry around inside you that makes you who you are. That deep down feeling you dreamt of even if it was in peachy and mauve dated tones. I’m thinking I’d approach it like I do (or did) a lesson. With digging into roots and meanings and research, really exploring how to build a sense of belonging and the why of it all, too. It’s very dear to me. And maybe? Just maybe? Some sprinkled in pictures of my own home and the story pieces in it?
It’s awful different than what I’ve been writing about. And mostly I’d be learning as I write. How about it? What do you say we study this thing called home together?
For fresh eyes and new starts, I’ll give thanks this weekend. For first days of school filled with hope, I’ll give thanks.
For small people who think literally, I’ll give thanks. For soap and water to the rescue, I’ll give thanks.
For quietish afternoons will with quasi-napping, I’ll offer thanks. For a creaky bed that has seen generations and smells just like old wood should, I’ll give thanks. For plain old generations and their story, I’ll give thanks.
For a husband who loves the next generation and shows up for them, I’ll give thanks. For friday night football reborn into my life, I’ll give thanks. For sixteen year olds who are not my own ripping at my taped up heart seams, I’ll give thanks. And for how God always, always, always whispers to me in a pink lit sky, I’ll offer Him thanks this weekend.
God most certainly is in the details of everyday living. It’s the deep down dirty roots of hope and trust to see Him there and I hope you’ll take a minute to mine those moments in your own life today.
When insecurities and doubts and failure feelings press in, there is a prayer that bolsters and slowly-slowly-unfurls the swirling smoke and lets our eyes see more crystal like.
It is the right-then prayer. Right there, in that moment? We can mutter, whisper, cry-choke out our prayers to a good and working God. No more ignoring. No more minimizing. No under-rug-sweeping. Real change takes real honesty with our heart selves. And so we promise and we ask that when the robbers close in, we will turn our hearts and minds to our One Rescuer.
It looks like this: when our footing becomes shuffly because we feel not good enough or we worry if we will be liked or we wonder how someone so Good could allow something so rough or we feel the sharp pangs of why try, we stop. We confess that all these vision and belief and gumption stealing whispers are crouching.
We stop and then we ask. We ask for belief. Belief that we are loved beyond our understanding. Belief that grace is enough to cover even the most ravaging failures. Belief that good can be borne out in the painful. Belief that our worth is not really, not truly, measured in worldly do gooding.
And then we wait. We wait for Him. We wait for His truth to start the good change work. We wait for His miracle working to run quick and soft over our scars.
And when we have to ask again and another again and another again? We’ll do it. And we’ll ask for more belief than failure feeling.
It’s the right-then prayer. Helplessness and hopefulness hand in hand.