Drowning alternately in sweat and okra,
Counting down mousy-still afternoons,
Trying to be a little more like the zinnias,
Resilient on a sandy side of the shed.
so long, july
Home
the wings
“Beware those who reside beneath the shadow of the Wings.”
~Leif Enger
The poor in Spirit are given Heaven, the meek inheriting the earth. The hungry satisfied and the mourners, that ever present body within the Body, comforted and victorious.
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you,
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.”
-Isaiah 43:2
The Lord’s ways so often run cross grain to our expectations of life. And so much the better!
For hardwon peace in the midst of uncertainty. For unspoken courage in the face of fear. For faith like a mustard seed. For knowing that His ways will turn every assumption on its head and produce fruit upon fruit.
Thankful.
spring progress
For the easy price of some Facebook marketplace furniture, we’ve been soaking up this Spring weather every day. It’s always the simplest things – second year plantings showing progress, the bossiest chicken, herbal bouquets, all the weeding and tidying that has me tired at bedtime. Knowing the peace that comes with doing your part and leaving it all for God to bless.
a week in pictures pt. 2
These simple, spring-time days, just one step at a time.
a moment with the moon
The other night, over-caffeinated and under-stimulated, I went to the shop with Wesley. While he bolted new cutting blades onto a machine, I went and laid flat on a trailer bed, staring at the darkening sky.
The quick moving and dark clouds threatened rain, obscuring any physical clue as to the time of day. The sky felt close, oppressive like the fidgeting, fretful feelings in my own heart.
I listened to a man talk about the bittersweet providence of God, the “meaning-ness” of God’s using what man means for evil. We will never live in His Plan B.
Then without warning a perfect crescent moon slipped out from the clouds, so bright it hurt my eyes, so suddenly it made my heart jump. A few seconds and then it was gone again into the cloud cover, and then soon the sky was completely dark.
And then the mosquitoes came out and I went home to eat soup; calm, happier, and ready for bed.
on the shelf: what i read in april
For all the free time I had in April, I don’t know how I didn’t read more. Never the less, here we are.
- In Cold Comfort Farm, the sensible and practical Flora goes to live with her cousins on their derelict farm. She works her problem-solving magic to change attitudes, curtains and a superstitious aunt locked in her bedroom. This book is so extremely silly I couldn’t help but enjoy!
- Before writing a summary of This Must be the Place, I had to go read the synopsis on goodreads.com, which is maybe all you need to know about this novel. The multi-decade story of a man, his many children and current marriage to a ultra-private actress in Ireland. Not offensive or bad, but pretty forgettable.
- Another novel about marriage, this one begins during World War II. As the years go by, Harry and Evelyn weather storms and raise their children while at the mercy of Evelyn’s exacting attitude. The most honest part of this book is in the last few chapters; the descriptions of Harry and his failing body as he struggles to find a new normal in the nursing home.
- Under our Skin, is a memoir/social commentary on race in America written by NFL player Benjamin Watson. It is based on a viral Facebook post he made following the 2014 death of Michael Brown Jr. and consequent riots in Ferguson, Missouri. Written from a place of Christian humility, I think Watson does a good job of balancing hard truths with gospel hope.
new pages
Here we are suddenly, April showering outside even as I write. And it’s the strangest experience to turn over a new page in the planner and see only blank spaces.
My whole life I’ve thrived on filling my time. With people, events, things to look forward to as seasons change and turn. It’s been my privilege, which until now I never had cause to second guess.
It would seem the Lord is teaching something different however. A different way to measure the weight of our days.
Less production and more consideration. To know that a month spent watching the neighbour’s seed fed birds is no less of a life than all the bustle of the past.
More time to stop and think. More time to pray. What am I stumbling and summarizing words for? More than ever I have the space to learn what lifting up a friend to the Lord’s help means. What lifting a stranger’s sad story might begin. What listening to conviction, instead of rushing past it looks like.
There is nothing settling about this April 2020, but I am certainly learning.
To fill only this day I’m dwelling in, moment by moment. To leave His redemptive purpose unquestioned reign over the rest.
thoughts from home
Grading papers, conserving eggs, rearranging furniture. Planting some seeds, rereading books, baking, praying, worrying, calling home, lather rinse repeat.
Yet in good times and bad there are so many reasons to give thanks. Full cupboards, Sunday afternoon drives, summer weather that’s come to stay.
It isn’t naive to hope, or expect contentment in all things. Paul’s secret itself is not reliant on circumstances, but in doing all things through “Him who gives me strength.”
Peace of heart and mind rooted in who He is, not the rise or fall of a bell curve. Looking carefully to His promises of care, provision and mercy above any other human promise.
We ask for daily bread because we know who our Father is, and because we know He alone can certainly give it.
headed for the hills
There is something about driving towards the mountains that is full of promise and excitement. Worth the trip, worth driving through a busy, scary city.
Our little stay in Helen, Georgia was the perfect blend of exploration and comfort. We stayed in a cabin and took full advantage of the big stone fireplace at night. The weekend was also full of Christmas lights and cups of flavoured coffee as we poked around the sweet little town and surrounding scenes.
I’m ever conscious of making memories these days. Taking pictures to remember the moments that made me happy, treasuring up every day I get to share with people I care about.
A weekend wasn’t enough, but the thing about adventure, is that it’s always sparking a thirst for more. As we closed out one visit, we were already planning for the next. Mountains this year, but next year, who knows?
In the meantime, there are the pictures, the left over chocolate and the smoky sweater I have yet to wash.
three years
Three years of loving, bickering, joking, and hoping the biggest joys for each other.
The first year was one of surprises. Surprised at how hot my temper ran. Surprised by how loyal I had become. Surprised by your endless patience. Perhaps a little mortified with how often I was back again, asking forgiveness.
In the second year, I learned to be thankful. Despite long hours at work, we made so many memories and pushed through more than one difficult discussion. You encouraged me to keep growing, to see the positive in things and I loved you for it.
This year I’ve learned to embrace the two of us as a complete family. I’ve found myself discovering traditions we’ve formed and accepting certain rhythms. Even as we hope to grow in every area, I think I can finally understand what our strengths and weaknesses bring to the table and it makes my heart happy for the future.
I was once told that marriage is the “best hard thing you can do” and thankfully there has been far more best than hard so far. God has indeed blessed us in the most specific and abundant ways.
I love you, Wesley. Every day knits us closer and these days, I can barely remember a time before you were there holding my hand. Here’s to three times thirty-three.
Scribbles 