All the Goings On, Hither Thither and Yon

I have been flitting all over the world wide web, like a spider busily tending distant corners of her domain. But right here, the center of my own web home, I have not spent much time. My poor little web house needs some puttering-about in! Sure getting dusty here!

I'm not really sure why, but a while back I stopped linking out from here to the other places I was writing. I have a passion to write about many many things right here at home, yet I find myself ever so busy elsewhere. So I thought today I'd come settle here and rest a spell, and share the adventures we've been having around the web.

I am still contributing monthly or more at Do Not Depart. Hard to believe it has been almost two years that I have been blessed to share there. When Katie first asked me to pray about joining her at DND in May 2011, I must confess that my prayers were mostly "Why me Lord? What on earth could I contribute? I am not good enough." Well, that certainly is true, but He is good enough. I said yes, and I continue to enjoy being a part of that ministry. I have felt overwhelmed and inadequate pretty much constantly, which confirms that it is what I am supposed to be doing, since God is such a fan of keeping me uncomfortable and relying on Him.

About a year ago I volunteered to come up with topics for Do Not Depart every three months. That gave me a little title: Encouragement Director. Isn't that a neat title? I want it for all the areas of my life! We've explored topics like "Thanksgiving in the Word," "Created for Community" and "His Word When You Struggle." I love showing how we women can wind God's Word into our daily lives.

In October, I started contributing to the Build A Menu blog. With my trusty assistant Joshua, I write every other week for their Cooking with Kids series. We have made all sorts of fun recipes.

I have guest posted about homeschooling, mothering and marriage, stretching my wings a little on some blogging friends' sites.

I continue to be involved with the Hello Mornings ministry. I no longer lead my own group but have the privilege of coming alongside group leaders to encourage them and pray for them as they serve. I have a title for this too. And I love it! I am an Accountability Captain Encourager, or ACE. Is that fun or what? Maybe I should change my title from Mama to Kid Encourager and from Wife to Husband Encourager! :-) I am so happy, because this is all God... He long ago showed me that one of His purposes for my life was to encourage and bless other people, and look at all the creative avenues He has given me!

And then, the biggest and best for last: our whole family started a brand new blog which we launched in December! We call it Blossoms and Posies, and our tag line is (okay now I am laughing, because somehow it is only now that I see all this encouraging coming together): "encouraging girls in the home arts." The vision behind this is really so big, I will save it for another post. But in a nutshell, we wanted to 1) meet a need we saw to promote the traditional home arts (cooking, sewing, knitting, gardening, etc) that are being lost or neglected in children's lives and 2) teach our children how to develop and run a website as part of their education. Abbie and I are the face of Blossoms and Posies, but the guys do tons of back-end work.


On the family side, of course, there is much going on... we still have our homestead with its critters (gratuitous photo of chickie cuteness below); the kids are still homeschooled; they still have multiple out-of-the-house activities like PE, theater and track; and the dishes and laundry? They are relentless. RE-LENT-LESS.

Also, I have a 16 year old now. Oy vey. Pray for him. And me. I don't care how cautious and trustworthy a kid is, when he is your flesh and blood and gets behind the wheel of a weapon of mass destruction (also known as the family vehicle) your innards quiver.

To sum up what I have been doing? Apparently, encouraging! It's nice to see it laid out that way, because from this side it looks like I'm just running around like a crazy lady with flour on her skirt and a camera around her neck, answering math questions and brainstorming project ideas for websites while driving to theater rehearsal. Okay, I don't wear a camera when I drive. But I am pretty crazy.

What crazy things are going on in your life?

 

Sometimes You Need a Little Olympic Fire

I am not really a sports fan. Sure, I'll watch a big game if there's a party, but I don't follow teams, or get emotionally involved.

My dad is a massive football fan, so I learned the rules of football in my childhood. But my husband doesn't care for organized sports. Except maybe ice hockey, which is not the most wildly popular sport in Texas.

Televised sports are just not part of our family culture.

However.

The Olympics are a different story. I love to watch the Olympics. Summer or Winter, it doesn't matter. I love it all.

It seems like a disconnect doesn't it? It's not like I am scanning the TV schedule for the National Championships in gymnastics, or the Olympic Trials in diving. But once THE Games begin, I have to tear myself away from the television.

I think it's my fascination with human beings. I search for people who truly inspire me, for people who have boldly persevered.

Don't we all want to be someone who does amazing things despite obstacles?

This year I have been thinking a lot about what it took for each of the Olympic athletes to get where they are. I know genetic blessing plays a role in it, but nobody gets to the Olympics without work. A lot of work.

And sacrifice. Every one of them had to give something up to be the athletes they are today. Parties with friends. Going out for ice cream. Sleeping in. In some cases even the towns they lived in. They each made a choice, then followed through.

The relentless, daily demands of training require such self-discipline.

I am not idealizing these people. I am sure that each one of them has failed at their own standards, has had days of dejection and wanting to give up. But they didn't. That's what inspires me.

I think about this in my own life. I want to do a lot. A LOT.

I want to be the best wife, mother, daughter, teacher, writer, homesteader, housekeeper, cook, mentor, friend (and more) in the whole world. And my definition of best is often a little lofty. I do push myself... sometimes... but more often I let that definition discourage me instead of inspire me.

The athletes? They have picked their one thing. I don't think you have to give up relationships to be the best you can be at your one thing (though your relationships will be affected), but you do have to give up other pursuits.

That's what I don't do. I don't pick one thing. Let's face it, if my priority is people over things (which it is), I am not going to be an amazing chef and author and farmer.

Seems I have a choice. I can pick one of those things and focus with intensity and achieve great things with it, or I can continue the way I have been going and have a well-rounded average life.

Truthfully, I'm on the fence! I suppose I have given up on some of those lofty goals already... by simplifying our meals, shifting to a more family-driven model of homesteading and so on. But still, I think I spread myself pretty thin.

If I don't focus more now, when I look back on my life will I be disappointed with my performance in the kitchen? Probably not. Maybe homesteading. Quite likely writing is the place where I will feel most disappointment if I don't put a little Olympic enthusiasm behind it.

But I am not willing to sacrifice serving others for that to happen. So I keep this in mind:

People first.

Yet I think I do still need to apply what I learn from these amazing Olympic athletes.

There are sacrifices I can make. I don't really need to check my email six times a day.

I can do the work. As Jane Yolen says, BIC! I can sit my self down every day and just write.

And self-discipline, oh that elusive fruit of the Spirit! I do lack self-discipline in more than one area. Like filing papers. Ugh. My desk would be a much more inviting place to sit and write if I didn't have these stacks of paper around me.

Olympic athletes lift weights and run to tone their bodies, even if their sport is not weight-lifting or running. My toning? Comes from time on my knees.

I really can't achieve the great things God has in mind for me, without Him. I can't be the person He wants me to be, and grow in self-discipline, without stretching my mind and spirit in His Word.

Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win. Everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. They then do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. Therefore I run in such a way, as not without aim; I box in such a way, as not beating the air; but I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified. - 1 Corinthians 9:24-27

So if God has called me to it, who am I to turn away?  If I am really meant to write, as part of the fabric of who He made me to be, then I must press on.  I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:14) Because when we do what we were created to do, we glorify Him.

What about you? Do you have a hidden avocation that you need a little Olympic fire lit under? How can I pray for you?

Reaching for His gold,

When Words are Your Paintbrush

There was a time in my life when I was angry at words.

Resentful of the way they limit, label, box one up.

I was nineteen and frustrated by a raging and critical world. I was obsessed with the complexity of communication.

So many steps... first to subdue a thought enough that it could be contained by words. Then to bravely speak those words knowing that the third step, the receiving, would be met by the hearer's own filter. And her response? Equally as multi-stepped and complex.

How to contain big ideas in words? How to ensure mutual understanding of meaning?

So many places to trip and twist.

This impossibility... of truly communicating... devastated me.

Sometimes I was sure silence was the only option.

~~~~~~~~~

I still have a healthy fear of the unintentional harm done by careless words.

Words weigh much.

But silence is like a cork in a dam... the pressure builds to bursting. In desperate times I have burst all over, an endless stream, a river of words washing around an idea, tumbling it about, trying desperately to make it understood.

Both silence and bursting have their time. And both ways can do harm.

Neither way is perfect.

~~~~~~~~~

I am no longer angry with words. Words carefully chosen bring life. Indeed, I have chosen to follow the Word.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. ~ John 1:1-4

Our words, so often carelessly spoken, are flocks of birds fluttering out of our longing mouths... doves of peace, eagles of war, tiny little sparrows of hope.

When you live in a world that was spoken into being, words bringing all that is into existence, you ought to hold words in esteem. How rarely we do.

~~~~~~~~~

I think in pictures. Pictures and words. The sculpting of words together... the forming, the pressing here, removing there... it is the closest I can come to sharing mind pictures.

The spoken word is so quick. The pressing pace of conversation does not allow for a slow forming and  nurturing of thought. An infant idea met with resistance in conversation dies a quick death for me.

I have always felt more genuine in my writing than in speaking, because writing allows me the pace I need to be clear. The more I speak the more shy I feel. When I write, my thoughts have become solid for the working and reworking. The clay has been made pliable, the form tweaked.

~~~~~~~~~

For years writing was my secret. Journals filled with my barely legible scrawl. Hours spent crafting an email. Handwritten letters to a childhood friend.

Even more hidden was the writing in my head. I felt pressure, like that corked dam. That there were stories to tell. Stories of beauty in a gray world. Stories of hope in suffering. I wrote the words in the journal of my mind, filed away forever.

But something happened two years ago. I began to recognize that the pressure was not just coming from inside of me. That it was part of how I was made, and that I had an obligation to step fully into myself and take writing more seriously.

To not do so would have been to dishonor the One who created me to write.

I am not a bold person. This was not easy to accept.

If God made me to think like a writer, if God intended me to write, wouldn't refusing to do so out of fear be an insult? Yet to expose my words to the world... why the possibilities for ridicule and humiliation would be limitless! I had to choose - was I going to live fearfully, or live out the way I had been fearfully and wonderfully made?

~~~~~~~~~

When I submitted my first article to a magazine I did it as a challenge to myself. I took a deep breath, said a prayer, and hit "send" just before the deadline. As soon as I did it, I realized that my biggest fear was that it would be accepted.

I reassured myself that it would not be accepted and that I would not have to worry. Writers expect rejection, especially at the beginning.

Five months later I received an acceptance letter. I cried for half an hour. All mixed up, happy and scared.

When my name finally stared back at me from the glossy pages in my hands, I whispered, "I guess it's true. I really am a writer."

~~~~~~~~~

Of course, I'd been one all along. Having an article published does not a writer make.

A writer is word warrior, word painter, word singer.  She weaves words like ribbons around an idea and makes it real. A writer starts writing long before pen hits paper or fingers hit keys. She paints a world with words.

Her mind is ever hungering for words to try to fleetingly capture truth and beauty... hope. She is pressing thoughts into forever as she wields pen like sword or brush, reaching out into the wide world to sometimes bleed, sometimes sing.

A piece of herself is wrapped in everything she writes.

I am a writer.

joining the WriteItGirl community this week

Out of My Comfort Zone

Photo by Chris Getty

So there I was, privileged once again to be sitting with a group of lovely women, most of whom I know fairly well, ready to launch a new year of monthly bible studies. Since it was our first evening back, and some of the women were new to our group, I decided to start with a little background on myself, my faith journey, that sort of thing.

I had not gotten three words out of my mouth when I felt the heat start to creep up my cheeks. If you can call a flash fire "creeping." I can't tell you why this happens, but when a group of people all have their eyes on me, even people I know, even a small number of people I know, I blush. Like crazy. It is most disconcerting.

It's not like I've never led bible studies before. I've been doing it off and on for sixteen years. But truth be told, I am just not really super comfortable when I am sitting in that chair with people listening to me.

And not really super comfortable is exactly where I am supposed to be.

Have you ever noticed that God likes to get His kids out of their comfort zones?

Moses was afraid of going back to Egypt. Jeremiah didn't want to talk to people. Paul ended up becoming the kind of guy he was persecuting. Little David fought a giant, Esther risked death by talking to the king, Abraham had to be willing to give up his long awaited son.

Truth be told, the kind of things asked of me are puny compared to those.

I really don't like talking in front of groups. One-on-one suits me just fine. And I have always been kind of private about my written musings. I've filled many a journal. Many a private, personal journal.

And guess what. That was just a little too comfortable.

So I pray and I feel led to start bible studies and I just have to walk into it knowing He is going to carry me. I pray and feel led to write online and, well, here I am.

Do you see my red cheeks?

The fact is, I'm rather a bumbling sinful mess. A messy girl looking at a perfect Father and longing to be like Him.

And I tell Him, tell Him over and over, "I'm not really up for this, Lord. Not really equipped. And have you noticed all the things on my to-do list and how I'm struggling to keep up? Don't you have another daughter who is more wise and organized and perfect who could serve you better?"

He does of course, but He still asks me to be willing, and while I am almost always timid, I am also almost always willing.

When all is said and done, there is so little risk, so little lost.  Maybe some pride.  Maybe someone's good opinion.

But the gain?  To actually experience the reality that I can do all things through Him who strengthens me is a faith builder like no other.

Because isn't God's goal HIS glory? And boy can He be glorified when a trembly bumbling shy mess can actually pull off a bible study or write something coherent.

So I am trying to remember: just do it. I am trying to replace the anxious whispers with assurances like: don't worry... trust the God who leads you... it's not about perfection, it's about living.

And I hear Him whisper....

Enjoy the journey. You know the destination.

Sprinkles of Blessing ~ Telling Our Family Story

Photo Credit

I have been thinking a lot about stories lately. About how I learn best through stories, and tell best through stories.

Because for me, all of life is context. My patient husband will tell of waiting on tenterhooks for the meat of my message to be revealed as I construct a where-I-was-and-how-I-felt-and-who-was-there backdrop. It's not that I don't want to be direct. It just all seems connected to me.

And I think it is all connected because underneath my story, and your story, and all the stories of the world, is the one big story. The story of God and His amazing work in His children.

In my evolving self-awareness as a writer, I have realized that I feel most in my element when I am writing about people, not facts. People are how God tells His story.

As I thought about this and how it impacts me as a writer, I began to also think about it as a mother. It occurred to me that a story is a giving. An old family story told to my children helps them understand more the backdrop that was already constructed for their lives before each began. We find our place in the world in context, not in isolation.

So I've purposed to add depth to their context. This week I am drawing on the memory banks... sharing stories from my life, stories from their early lives that they don't remember, telling of my own grandparents as we vacation in their grandparents' home.

And I am living the story that is my life, with its tears and joys, and wondering how some of my plot twists will turn out.  Yet all the while knowing that, because of Jesus, I will really and truly live happily ever after.

How about you? Do you share family stories? Stories about your life and your walk with God? How are you purposing to bless others this week?

No paint for Him

I tend to be a perfectionist, and writing often takes me a very long time. I agonize over each word, reading and rereading to make it all just right. And then am still not happy with it.  

Last week Gypsy Mama challenged fellow bloggers to spend just five minutes writing and see what happened. SCARY. I didn't bite.

But yesterday, as I worked on the farm with plenty of time to ponder the frustrating consequences of my perfectionism, I decided I was going to make myself do it. Like it or not. Because it was good for me.

START

We are standing in the field, paintbrushes in hand, dripping white on the brown grass.  The brooder stands whitish grey, black in spots from the fire last winter.

Money and time prevent a brand new build, so we do what we can.  I have drilled and nailed and screwed the burnt away parts closed, and now 75 balls of yellow fluff await their new home.

We swish the wet brushes across the gray surface, shining white streaks cleaning wood.

It looks so pretty, I think.  How easy this, to make it look fresh and new, with just a little paint outside.

Yet inside is still black, still burned.

My heart drops.  How like this our world is.  How we try to wipe away the pain and the hurts and the bad by making the outs look pretty.  We whiten up the darkness within.

Yet waiting, there is eaten away wood, black, crumbling inside.

We didn't have time to make things right the way right should be... build from scratch start over make it new.

But my God, my Jesus, He is the carpenter.  That's his business.  No paint for Him.  No.

Tears down, builds up, starts fresh.  Good from the inside out.

He makes all things new.

STOP

Bible Journal

Two years ago I decided to try something new in our little homeschool. 

As part of each school day, we would sit down around the table and feast on God's word, using dedicated journals.  I had a journal too, and this year, at his request, I gave Little Warrior (age 4) his own journal.


The first passage we studied was the Ten Commandments.   Our journaling had four parts:

1) dictation - I dictated each verse to the children and they copied it in their journals.  If they wanted spelling help, they asked and I helped, but this was not a test.

2) memorization - we would memorize the verse together

3) journaling - as we sat quietly around the table we would each write our thoughts on the scripture

4) discussion - we shared our thoughts and writing, and discussed it

Sometimes we would do all four on the same day.  Other times we have spread it over several days.  And occasionally one verse spanned a whole week.  A friend who started bible journaling this semester uses one verse a week and has her boys write on it each day, allowing new insights and depth of understanding to grow over the week.

Over the years we have focused on different topics.  At first we memorized the Ten Commandments, then the Beatitudes.  Then there was a period of time when I was randomly choosing verses that I felt were important, or verses that applied to a particular character issue with which one of us struggled.

This year we are trying to memorize the entire book of Philippians.  This has some interesting new twists for us as we progress further into the year and have to remember so many verses all at once.  Our Bible Journal time is also lengthening!

After a few months of using a familiar modern version, I switched things up on the kids and started using the King James.   Since I expect them to read challenging literature as they get older, I figured this would be a simple way to get their ears used to a more antiquated way of writing.  It also expanded their vocabulary.  Imagine my surprise when my six year old told me she liked the King James better!

For Philippians we are back to a new, but different, modern version.  I think it is valuable for the children to hear different translations.

This has become my favorite time in our homeschool day.  I love hearing my children's thoughts on God's word.  I love that He reveals Himself differently to each of us and uses each of His children to bless the others.

I am also amazed by the memorization capacity of my 8 year old daughter and a little shocked by the deterioration of my own 40-something rememberer!  Staving off Alzheimers with the Word of God.  Oh yeah!

photo by xandert

Just me

Approximately every two days, my husband and I have a conversation that ends with him saying, "Just write!"

It's just that I get a little caught up.  Being, in nature, a perfectionist, I want to do it RIGHT!  This is pretty much impossible when it comes to writing, and totally impossible when it comes to life.

I've said to him several times, "But someone smarter and better than me has already written about this somewhere!"  Today he said, "If you ever had a single thought that no one else has ever had in the history of the world, it would be a miracle."

Of course, he's right. 

He wasn't insulting me or my intelligence, he was rightly bringing my attention to the truth... we all muddle through, most of us face the same general trials and joys (in varying forms and degrees)... it's what some might call "the human condition".

The only thing unique I have to offer is my story.  How I muddled through.  And am still muddling.

I worry wonder if I come across as holier-than-thou (trust me, I'm not).  I fret over ponder whether what I write actually makes sense to anyone but me (anyone? anyone?).  I'm nervous concerned that all this joy stuff makes me seem like a cardboard cut-out saccharine Pollyanna (check with my kids on that one.  On second thought, never mind, eek!)

So I'll let you in on a secret.

I am so muddling through it isn't funny.  I am writing about joy because it has blown me away.  Surprised by joy?  Yep, that's me!

I am far from the constantly-joyful-peaceful-nothing-bothers-me-send-it-my-way woman I desire to be.  But I am soooo much closer to that than I was 3 years ago, or 5, or 10, or (good grief, it hurts my brain to remember those wretched days) 20 years ago.

The 20 year old me would not have recognized the 40 year old me.  Frankly, she would have been shocked.  I think maybe that's what amazes me the most... what I least thought would make me whole when I was young was the very thing that has freed me.

So, that's what this blog is about.  Me.  Muddling through.  Seeking joy in the journey like that person wrote in the sidebar of my blog.  Oh, that was me.