Cheezit Fun!

After leaving school yesterday afternoon, I ducked into Walmart to pick up a few grocery items.  There in the center aisle, for all unsuspecting Scrabble lovers and typography nuts to trip over, was a pallet display of Scrabble Junior Cheezits!  Oh My!!  I just had to buy a box!Naturally, my first inclination was to begin to pick out letters and spell something!  In any other situation, this might equate to playing with ones food, but somehow, it seemed only right and reasonable with this box of edible letters!

As I dug my hand down into the box for the sixth time, looking for an “f” to spell “fun,” I realized that I had fallen into the Cheezit marketing scheme’s trap!  With half the box of crackers spread across the table, my mind raced with fun things to spell as I tossed the less than perfect crackers into my mouth and continued to dig in the food poured across my clean tablecloth. And I thought, “Oh! I’ve gotta buy another box of these!”  James walked out of his bedroom to find me knuckle deep in orange squares and was excited, as well.  We spelled, snacked and snapped shots throughout dinner.

Glory was at work.  I’m sure she enjoyed some when she arrived home. Sweet Joy was away, so she missed our meal of tomato soup fellowship and Cheezits phrases.  She missed out on the spelling fun and playing with our food.  Guess I’ll be buying another box before long!

Let’s see… what is the tag line on the back of their box?

“Get your own box.”
Yes, please.

He Calls Again

Do you find there are times when God goes
on and on and on about something?
And you know in your heart of hearts
it’s not a topic He’s going to drop.
Yep. Me, too.
Recently, I found myself writing about one of my favorite verses of scripture.
I wrote of how God keeps drawing me back to it, time and again.
I wrote,  ” ….. it calls to me from the middle of
my tattered burgundy Bible where it is circled and highlighted
….and waiting.”
Did you see that?
“…..and waiting.”
<stab to the heart with loud thud and moans “UGH”>
Oh, my, how He keeps reminding me.
He calls me. I hear Him. But, I don’t heed His voice.

He waits.
He calls me.
He whispers my name.
He woos me.
He uses sweet sounds, gentle melodies, dear lullabys.
He dances, swings His muscular arms from side to side and
throws a vibrating tambourine over His stately head.
He shouts from the mountain tops
with resounding bass.
He knocks things out of my hands …
yes, throws them down on the ground
where they lay shattered in pieces ….
just to get my attention.
He turns out the light
leaving me in total, complete, utter darkness
and then throws on the high beam lamps
to intensely
fully
illuminate a topic
so
I can’t.miss.the.subject.

Not unlike a toddler,
too busy to hear the Father’s voice
because I’m playing with some meaningless toy,
I continue to tinker
with little trinkets and baubles,
knick-knacks and what-nots
that offer no lasting value
and will be burned like hay …
charred, crisp, sooty stubble.

I am oblivious. I am blind. I am deaf. I paralyzed.
By choice.

He has been quiet of late.
I have not heard His voice of late.
I have been too busy to hear Him of late.

How does this happen?
That which I desire more than anything…
evidently, I do not truly desire at all.
Or I would pursue …
chase ….
follow …
hunt ….
trail …
advance …
or even beg,
implore,
entreat,
grovel.

I went on a photoshoot on Friday morning with some friends from class.  We met downtown before the sun came up.  We explored the waterfront, the misty sidewalks and an abandoned building. We watched the sun rise over grass, water and bridge.

We explored an old warehouse that experienced a fire some years ago.  The brick facade was crumbling.  New life of reedy, weedy green is sprouted amongst decaying timbers, rusty diamond plate, and charred remains of another era.

As I stood there on the upper level
rafters for roofing
light streaming through
I knew that God was showing me
a picture of
my spiritual life
in the physical world. In the last three months, I’ve found it hard to hear His voice. The days of living my life at home, nurturing my offspring, guiding character, directing colored pencil and composing in the kitchen are over…. at least, for now. There is hardly time to cook, much less guide, fondle and nurture. I have five hours MAX to spend with my youngest sprout. More often than not, those hours are whittled away to four, three or less. If no time for flesh of my loin, underfoot, needy and wanting …  then how is there some for Him?

But, I know in my heart
and yes, even in my head,
that when I put Him first
He will multiply and bless the rest.

Why is it so difficult?
Why is it the hardest movement that I make
towards His word
and quiet time alone with Him?
When I know that my gift
is the sweetest present that I could give to myself
if only I would ….
could
offer it.

Help me, Lord. Give me strength
to do that which should be so simple.

Makes Me Happy Monday : More Mushrooms

A simple little gift from a sweet friend,
I was given the spotted, sienna mushroom for my birthday.
I loved it so much,
I found out the store in which it was bought
and headed there to buy a few friends for this little fungi. They’re petite and colorful.
They sit right beside the walkway
to my front door
so they greet me
and my visitors.

These little china dolls make me happy.
What makes YOU smile this Monday morning?

Living in Macro

In my adventures with class
taking field trips out and about
to take photos
I’ve realized that I have a preference for
macro shots.

I want to move in close.
I want to see wrinkles, hair and freckles.
I want to see veins, creases and texture.
I want to see details …. I want to know more.

As much as I absolutely love my little Sony Cybershot,
I’m looking forward to getting another camera with a stronger lens system. I get really excited!!!
It makes me wonder what I’ll see when I can move in R E A L L Y close.

Mosaic

the days are pieced together
like a fascinating mosaic
individual tiles stand alone
varying shapes
distinct hues
differing values
brokenintentionally snapped
into distinct shapes
by the artist….
when placed side by side

contiguouscreate an engaging mosaic
alluring,
arresting,
beguiling.

graceful fluid movement flows from one fragment to the next.
only the artist knows the direction of movement…
the overall design…
the underlying theme.
the canvas cannot direct placement of the days
only accept what is given 

did you notice
jade  strands woven
amongst umber and cocoa?
unlikely in nature,
but fitting in a this beautiful masterpiece.

I am reminded of the verse in Romans that tells us
all things work together
for good
for those who love God
and are called according to His purpose.

No matter the shape, size, texture, or color of the tile –
placement is key.
There is an artist at work
laying the tiles
with intentional design.
He has the whole picture.
He sees everything inside the frame.
He can be trusted
with the pliers, grout and ceramic.

I am not alarmed

How are you awakened in the morning?
I so look forward to going to bed at night

because I look forward to getting up in the morning.

.
Within the last year, I purchased an iPod and an iHome alarm clock.
I can’t think of any single purchase I have made
ever
that has had as great an influence on my morning routine
as this combined team.

My favorite quiet time music is  Dan Gibson’s litany of
beautiful melodies and tunes.

He created dozens of collections in his lifetime,
my favorite being those that involve  woodland songbirds and waterfowl.

Click play and listen as you read (there are no distracting words).
This is my current favorite song. It makes my heart sing.

As this gentle music begins to play each morning,

I dance….No, really.
I dance.

I spin
and leap …
I stand with arms outstretched
face to the sky
and lilt.

I sway
and bow my head
to listen
to the rain
the frogs
the tinkle of the keys
hammer upon strings
within  winsome timber chest….

serenade…..

worship …..

I feel the dampness of morning dew upon my brow … 

I smell the mist …..

I feel the vibration of the chirp of crickets
moving the air around me….

as day breaks
and it is quiet in my home.
I rejoice for another day
slowly
softly
quietly
begins ….and I rejoice
before I even get out of bed….
I dance.

How could I ever go back to the
shocking howl of an alarm clock
to begin my day?

I continue to list things for which I am grateful …..

29. my iPod
30. crickets gentle chirp
31. jute, rough and organic
32. glass bead bracelet strands that hug my wrists
33. words of old in antique books
34. olive brocade drapery
35. my sewing machine, a sweet gift from a sister-in-law, years and years ago
36. brass drawer pulls on a chifforobe of my great grandmother
37. white organza ribbon wrapped gifts
38. old brickwork paths, leading to new adventures
39. smoothly worn, round river rock
40. blazen red, rust and amber leaves that wave so-long to summer …  gesturing in the cool of fall on a brisk breeze
41. the smell of eucalyptus
42. fresh pumpkin bread, warm from the oven and spread with chilly cream cheese
43. a clean bathtub
44. baked sweet potato with butter, brown sugar and cinnamon
45. cable knit sweaters in gray and caramel
46. the sound of an acoustic guitar, mellow and rich within it’s body
47. a proud smile gracing the face of a ten year old who has mastered beautiful penmanship
48. the use of adjectives and strong verbs to freeze lovely thoughts in print

Makes Me Happy Monday : My Mama

We traveled home this weekend, Joy and Glory and I.
Home to the place of my parents.
I wasn’t raised in this little nook of people,
Recovery, Georgia,
but it is where my Mom and Dad now live,
thus it is home.

Isn’t it funny how we call “home” where our parents live,
no matter how unfamiliar we are with the surroundings?

My Mama just celebrated her seventieth birthday in September,
only two days before mine.
She and Daddy will laud their fiftieth wedding anniversary in December.
The years roll by.

I have so much to be thankful for in my mama.
When other mama’s worked, mine stayed home.
My brother and I came first in my mama’s eyes.
When other mama’s bought Charmin, the softer toilet paper,
my mama bought Scott, because it was a better value.
My mama was wise with our money.
Other kids had soft, white bread on their tables.
My mama bought Roman Meal.
I didn’t like it, but she knew best.
My mama was health conscious when others didn’t know the importance of whole wheat.

I’ve always asked lots of questions.
I remember when I was younger, when I would ask a question,
my mama would answer, “Look it up.”
To this day, I am an investigator
and I know that I have her to thank.

I remember that things were tight when I was young,
but education was important to my parents.
My mama taught me the importance of books
by buying an encyclopedia set
at the grocery store
one volume at a time
the way that you can today buy dishes.

My daddy traveled a great deal when I was young
so my mama was at home holding down the fort alone.
I know it was difficult on her.
I remember that she struggled.
But she did her best.
And she did well.

I used to get frustrated with mama because
she was fully capable of running our household in daddy’s absence,
but when he came home, she wouldn’t make a decision without first
consulting him.
I didn’t understand this
until I married and realized that she was simply honoring him
by asking his opinion.
And, she was relying on him as relief
because she was weary from being the sole decision maker.

Today, my parents enjoy great fellowship within a community of friends
where they live, go to church and serve.
I’m thankful that their days are filled with happiness and togetherness.
It makes me happy to see them so content.
It is a well-deserved “retirement.”

My mama taught me many things of importance.
She taught me perseverance, frugality,
and the importance of searching for answers.
She taught me dedication, how to honor my husband and
to put health above trends or preference of the palate.

My mama taught me a lot.
I am greatly blessed.

My mama makes me happy.
What makes you happy this marvelous Monday morn?

Continuing with my 1,000 Gifts list:

21. a gentle mama, who led by example
22. a daughter old enough to drive, so this mama can sleep while we travel
23. a foggy sunrise over still waters at my parents home
24. teaching by leading
25. the sound of a croaking bullfrog
26. a ten year old who is now independent enough to know she needs a bath without being asked to take one
27. canoes
28. amber, ivory, cream, beige, and caramel

Autumn and Ivory

more colors of fall

goldenrod yellow …. rusty amber  …. albaster ivory

root vegetables and squash of autumn

rugged, round orbs of harvest and thanksgiving

Celebrate the Feast of Harvest with the firstfruits of the crops
you sow in your field.
Celebrate the Feast of Ingathering at the end of the year,
when you gather in your crops from the field.    Exodus 23 : 16

Yes……

C E L E B R A T E

Nitty Gritty

life is full of routine and chaos
it pendulum-swings from ordinary to remarkable.
the problem is
we are often so lulled by the gentle pendulum swing
that we don’t recognize it as noteworthy

whether your day is directed by a toddler
a job outside your home
days among the halls of learning in an institution of education
a parent you may be caring for who is homebound
a volunteer schedule
a house full of children you are schooling
or an empty nest
it is probably, for the most part, routine or even monotonous
at least, for you

Jody Ferlaak wrote on her blog, Nitty Gritty, about routine on October 24, 2007.
I read her post (here) and gave thanks.
I gave thanks for ordinary, routine and run of the mill.
I gave thanks for school books scattered across the breakfast table,
a dirty bathroom and shoes by the door.
I gave thanks that I was at home with my children…
living beside them, watching them grow,  seeing them stretch…
and even getting angry or frustrated with them.
I gave thanks because these emotions meant that I was living with them
and they were alive and healthy.

Read Jody’s story.  She and her family were enjoying breakfast one weekend morning  when a distraught young woman ran her car through the wall and into the booth in which Jody and her family were sitting.  With her family scattered around the room, she found one child pinned to the wall in her car seat.  Each family member was wounded.  And she lost a daughter that day.

But, she chooses joy.  She chooses to focus on the blessings.
And she cherishes the ordinary –
because she realizes that there is no such thing.
Every day is a gift.
Every day is special.
Every moment is a present.

As I read, I was most moved by one sentence.
I copied her quote and slipped it in the front of my calendar.
I glance at that type daily as I gently open my ring binder each night before bed
when I scan the 2″ square that is a snippet of my day ahead.
But, sometimes I stop and read those words in amber once again.

The quote from that blog post says:

“I cooked dinner last night with a knot in my throat,
not because this amazing moment was somehow ‘tainted’ by our tragedy…
but rather because it would have been practically meaningless
without it.”

Jody rejoiced on October 5, 2007 when sweet Wyndham said “Momma.”
Wyndham spoke. And Jody rejoiced.

To think that there are days when I wish my home were quiet.
Oh, that I would live a life of gratitude for every simple gift….
every glass left on the counter,
the remote control left on the coffee table
rather than put into the cabinet where it belongs,
the puppy-dog tumbleweeds that are vacuumed up
more slowly than they are formed,
the frisbee on the table,
the dirty towel on the bathroom floor …
loud music, slamming doors and, yes,
to hear the word “momma” roll from the lips of my children.

And so, Jody reminds me to be grateful.
I’m thankful for the years that I had at home.
I’m thankful for children who are healthy and strong
and will recover from our current common tragedy of divorce
by being stronger, more compassionate, loving people…
and I have faith in this because I am praying fervently for it.
I’m thankful for HOPE that pays for college,
for pets who keep me entertained …
for pet hair tumbleweeds, sunshine and supple, beautiful mushrooms.
I choose to be grateful. I choose to rejoice.

When it comes down to the nitty gritty,
let us choose to be thankful
even for the gifts that are painful to accept
and that we would recognize
the ordinary, everyday and common
as a stunning and beautiful.