Happy Tuesday

I miss iced coffee. I miss NE. I miss my cousins. I miss my aunty and uncle. I miss summer. All that to say, summer don't delay your arrival! (and I just needed an excuse to post...fixing issues on the blog)

M is for Making the Most...

I'm going to try to write every Monday. I thought I could do Monday moments, but it just sounded to just not like me. I thought I could do Monday Musings, but that was already used. Then there was Monday Memories, but that sounded too sentimental and put me in a box.

Thus "M is for..." was born. I can choose any M word I please and write whatever jolly well comes to mind. Oh and I dare you to give me a "M Word" to write about. Without further ado, my words from my mind that I will not bring forth. Yes, I do believe I'm a bit in a strange writing mood this morning. Bare with me.

Life should be made the most of every moment. Even the times when you think something better should have come along, but your stuck with hot dogs on your plate instead of steak.

You make the most of life when you and your other friend stir up pancakes for just the two of you. Because both of you are obviously so popular that no one has the courage to hang out with you. Ahem. You make supper for two and bacon fries in the skillet until the smell has permeated everything about you. Its hard to decided if smelling like you washed your hair with bacon grease is the smell that will drive people away or if its the latest and greatest attention grabber that could make Emily Post drool. We will just say the later.

Make the most of your Saturday Morning. Even when your alarm manages to go off 3 hours before you need to get up. Its a tragedy to mourn or its a happy thing to realize you can roll over back into the beautiful world of dreams.

Make the most of breakfast conversation. Because when the silence has lasted for a straight 10 minutes, why not just lay your thoughts on the table with the confidence of a queen. Life is not about boring breakfast conversation.

Make the most of your Sunday. Let the words from the songs, sermon and scripture roll around in your head all day long. Its wonderful. 


My advice. Make the most of life. Even when its embarrassing, awkwardly funny , and sometimes down right dis heartening.

Bare

The trees are bare. Leaves have fallen off long ago and what its left is stark branches waving in the wind. The ground is bare of color and covered in shrived brown grass. Trees and earth are waiting for the hope of spring. For lush greenness and gentle warm rains. Waiting for beauty.

But the beauty is already here. There is something simple and lovely about trees with nothing on them. Grass that blows in the wind and looks smashing against the sky.

The brown of winter is beautiful. Bare is beautiful.

We are beautiful when we are bare. I hide behind the mask. My life is fine I am fine. Do you not know that everything is just fine?

And I'm not being bare. Sometimes there is ugliness in hiding and in letting others think something that is not true. 
You cannot wear your heart on your sleeve, but sometimes its okay to be not okay. When I bare my thoughts I'm letting someone else carry the burden. And somehow in awfully strange way being bare is being beautiful.

Dependence

When is it I'm going to stop I wonder. The endless cycle of trying and trying. I see things in my life that should be wash down the drain permanently.

I try very hard to stop. Very Hard. I get frustrated. Very Frustrated. Give in to what I know is wrong and give up something that is far more precious

Rinse. Repeat.

Rinse. Repeat.

The struggle that haunts you. It's like a creepy stalker whispering in your ear that your never going to be perfect. Never going to get it right. Never ever will you to be all you strive to be. You can't be that person. Do that thing. Live that life.

We need to realize that. We can't do it. Perfection will never obtained. Ever.

The cycle stops. I give up. And its wonderful.

Grace. Beautiful grace. Saying I can't do it anymore is the most freeing words that can ever be uttered.

I need His strength. I need His Mercy. I need His Grace. Utter dependence on God is where I need to be. 

Dependence. Beautiful Dependence. Independence enslaves me. Dependence frees me. Ironic? God made it that way. Ask Him why it is. I want to choose dependence. My heart wants to choose Independence. My heart and I battle until I'm so weak that that I run to dependence like a thirsty runner on a hot day.

And I rest in His strength and the world is beautiful again. 

"He giveth more Grace"

And God Made...

So God made a Farmer. No music, no fancy moves, no skimpy clothing, no hot models, just simple stunning photographs of farm life. It caught attention and is being talked about all over the web.

God made the farmer (and the baker, mechanic, lawyer, pastor, construction worker, etc etc etc) and when the farmer found his bride then there were farm boys and farm girls.

Farmer's daughter. That would be me, because before I lived in the city and spent most of my days inside toiling away over the stove I lived on the farm.

God made the farmer's daughter. Maybe He did that because if we hadn't lived on the farm we probably would have turned into prissy little girls.

Well I don't know about the other farm girls, but that probably would have been true of me.


The farm girl whose job is too bottle feed calves who have no mother and this involves letting the calf suck violently on your finger. Calves can produce quite the amount of saliva and you will know this after your clothes get drenched in it.

The farm girl who helps sort hogs until she is covered in hog poop and everything about her reeks of hog manure. And the farm girl will find this rather smelly disgusting task great fun.

 "wow you are so cute after you finish sorting hogs" said no one ever.

The farm girl spends all morning chopping up various parts of the deceased cow and then goes in and has cooked cow for dinner. Thus she lacks the social grace sometimes of not talking about the particulars of butchering at the table.

The farm girl will know how to make big meals for big strong men (brothers and father and the occasional hired hand).

The farm girl will pray reverently for the right weather and know the devastation of one storm.

The farm girl will know the wonderfulness of having her father safely home. She will go to the funerals of other farmers who ran into the deadly side of farming. In the back of her mind will be the fact that when she sees her farmer dad come in for a cool drink it could be the last glimpse of him on this earth.

The farm girl will walk alone in the field and love where she lives. She will love the rush of the wind on her face when she drives the tractor down the road. The farm girl will pick up dirt covered clothes and love making them clean.

The farm girl, no mater where life takes her will always be a farm girl in her heart because she had a daddy that God made into a farmer.

Afraid

I’m afraid to walk up to them. Afraid of not knowing what to say. Afraid of awkward gaps in conversation. Afraid they will think I’m intruding in their world. Afraid I’ll look ridiculous. Afraid of saying the wrong thing.

I’m afraid of going up to a person and saying those first few words. It’s the unknown. I don’t know them and they don’t know me. I’m shy and introverted. I would rather stand in the corner and simply let others talk miles around me.

I don’t like being the one to go up and initiate something. Scared of the uncertainty and afraid of myself. 

Conversation is scary and fearsome, but I’ve done it. I’ve walked up to someone and talked and smiled and listened. The door opens up into a new world. Sometimes we find common ground and sometimes we don’t. Sometimes there is the awkward pause, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve stopped being afraid and have conquered the mountain. Maybe they wished I would go away, but I at least want to give them a friendly word or two.

I have friends that I made because I stopped being afraid and started talking. Friends that have blessed me beyond measure, because I stopped being afraid of the unknown. 

What She Did

When you are a child you have great plans on how to be a good mother. They are of course differ then how your mother is currently raising you. Sugar coated frosted flakes will be served for breakfast every single morning. Ice cream will accompany the end of each meal and veggies will be for the dog. School will be optional as well as work of course and play time will be utilized all day long.

When you get to be a teenager you feel that you are learning a lot on how to be a good mother. For in unlike your own mother who has perpetually been adult all of her life you will understand the trials of teenage doldrums. When you are mother you will always behave perfectly when your teenage daughter is changing personality 9 times a day and ignores any words of wisdom completely. Ahem.

One day you grow up and are an adult and you look in the mirror and realize something. You are your mother's daughter. Speech, actions, emotions, looks all portray the underlining evidence you came from the womb of your mother. Suddenly as you try very violently and unsuccessfully to deal with yourself and your never ending problems you realize just how full your mother's hands were and still are.

And you understand just how hard being a mother must be.

My mother laid in bed for long weeks so I could be laid in the cradle and not the coffin. Mother the woman who is the champion of being a grandmother and mother all at once. Mom the one who listens to me for hours on end. Mom who senses the despair within in me and wants desperately for it to go away.

Mention the word mom and it can bring so many mixed emotions. Some where deep inside there is maybe a resolve to do things a tad bit differently with your own children. Just as your own mother probably also vowed to do with you.

Nobody has had a perfect childhood, because all of us came from sinners. Stop though and think. There is probably a lot of things your mother did right.

Strawberry short cake for supper and ice cream after Lima bean soup. Long walks on the road and reading out loud chapters and chapters of books. Listening and listening and just more listening. I think my mom tries to do more listening then talking and its wonderful.

Remember all the things your mother did right, there probably is quite a few.

And Happy Birthday to the woman who has done a lot of things right. She is a pretty swell mum I must say and I'm a very blessed girl

M is for...

Messes.

Saturday I googled "how to get nail polish out of carpet" I think that would explain what kind of day I had.

I'm not really sure why I decided to paint my nails. No one sees my toes in the winter since they are perpetually little blocks of ice and require at least one pair of socks, but I do see my toes when I wash them and its just nice to look at painted toes. Sorry men, you don't have to try and understand why women just feel more complete with painted nails. For me though that would be only toes. Painted fingernails distract me and I get far too distracted all ready, so I leave my fingers boring.

I wasn't going to paint my nails, but I just couldn't help myself and so I dug out the bottle of dark pink nail polish and started painting away.

I waited a few short seconds. My feet were fast becoming cold and turning blue, so I decided to apply the second coat. I shook the bottle of nail polish and...

catastrophe happened.

Somebody hadn't put the lid securely back on and thus there was nail polish on the carpet. Nail polish on my skin which was the least of my worries by the way. Nail polish on my favorite pair of jeans.

For some unexplained reason I swabbed my arm first with alcohol (rubbing of course), but that just reminded me of that terrible time when there unsuccessful attempt to draw some blood in my arm and I was poked for a very excruciating long time. I moved to cleaning the carpet, since with enough showering my arm would eventually stop looking like a four year old's.

I ran to my computer with speed not even close to the speed of light, but I did feel like I could have broke an Olympic record. I googled "how to get nail polish out of carpet. And then I applied a host of products to the vandalized area.

All the while I was very put out with myself. Why on earth did I decided my nails need a bit of color? I mean really pale pink nails, really don't look that bad.  They just look sickly.

Then I wondered why I had to be created a woman, for if I wasn't a female I wouldn't have wanted to look feminine and beautiful in the first place. I wasn't exactly feeling very thankful for God's creation at that point.

I wondered why I had to be so vain and paint my nails. Was I expecting to need a IV in my foot and thus would need to look good for the doctors?

I cleaned and scrubbed some more and wondered the above things all over again  and again.

Then I ate some chocolate and a little bit more chocolate.

I managed to cleanse the carpet of all the evidence and went to work on my jeans. My very most favorite pair of jeans that have just now started to fit me again. Never mind I bought them at a garage sale for a $1 four years age. A favorite a pain of jeans cannot be just replaced. One lady on the internet ruined her $400 pair of jeans that maybe feel a small bit better.

All is well that ends well. The carpet got clean. My jeans only have a very faints pink mark which I will say is the new hip and cool jeans.

On the bright side the fact that I peeled off a good portion of my fingernail while peeling carrots now seems to be a very small pimple on the face of my life.

Maybe when summer comes I will have the courage to paint my nails....while wearing old shorts and sitting on a old slab of cement.

Again

We are sipping tea at her table again for the 2nd time in the same week. I'm over at her house again and she is listening to me again. She is talking to me again.

She is encouraging me again, because she has the love of Christ that reaches out beyond her own life to the lives of others.

Again. Pursuing an a relationship doesn't mean one time. It means again and again. Reaching out over and over. Taking the step out of your comfort zone again and again.

One time is not enough to say words. One time is not enough to write a note. One time is not enough to do sometime extra.

Do something for someone one time and they will feel loved. Do something again and again and they will feel the love of Christ washing over them over and over again.

Do something once for the first time and then go do it again and then be blessed again and again.

When I am Weak...

This week has been one of "those weeks". Nothing seems right. The sun maybe shinning outside, but inside in my heart the clouds have covered the sun and I struggle to see through the tunnel.

I think about the things I'm not doing and should be doing. There are the things I am doing, but I shouldn't be doing.

I get up. I don't reach for the Bible first. I reach for other things that I want to do. They take too long and soon there is no time for the Bible. Then the day is over and I'm trying to figure out what I did, besides simply breathing, eating, talking, and eating some more.

Honestly I'm not really living a picture perfect Christan life. Instead I'm in Pilgrim's Progress and wallowing away in the pit of despair. I can't be used of God this way. I'm acting too dreadful to be considered to be of any good use.

Suddenly without warning I'm asked to do a task...to help someone along. Why did they think of me I wonder? Why is God giving me this opportunity? I don't think there is anyone more imperfect that could be used.

"He uses the weak things"

When I am weak He is strong. Reaching into the dirt of my life God washes it with grace and uses me for His glory alone. Thinking upon this is like opening a gift on Christmas morning, its too wonderful and glorious to be forgotten.

I go to memorize the verse from Sunday school that we as a church are memorizing together.

  

 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
        and why are you in turmoil within me?
    Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
        my salvation and my God.
    (Psalm 42:5)

The words are a balm to my soul and I know that God gave them to me at that very moment as a gift. 

Someone leaves me a note of encouragement. I want to shun the words, they were surely not meant for a person such as I. Again they are a testimony of God's grace.

I read these words on a blog and I think this lady has just described my own heart. It's in the moments where we are stripped down to nothing of our own being that we realize how much we need a great God.

So undeserved, such a wanderer, such a great sinner, but God is such a great God. I'm so thankful for all of the low moments of this week, because in those moments God blessed me and taught more then I ever deserved.

The Monday History was Made

Today is an historical day for the country I live in. Another political term has started and though we don't have a change of leadership nevertheless there is a great big party over in D.C. today.

Two time zones away, over 2,000 miles away there isn't much of party of going on here. I actually even didn't fully realize till checking the morning the paper what was going on today.

Pretty much it has been an ordinary morning. Silent breakfasts, because conversation is for the alert and awake people. Coffee and a little bit more coffee. Get ready, make phone calls, make a web order, nothing terribly exciting to celebrate this day.

The inauguration was not on my mind. Life was on my mind and though this day will probably impact my life in ways I have yet to know I didn't feel the need to just stop and absorb the day.

Until prayer time. Mondays is always the day of sharing of requests and then interceding before the throne on one anothers' behalf. Its a beautiful day of shared burdens and the freedom of going before the throne of grace.

There I was in a small circle of chairs and staring down at a list of requests and tribulations written in black ink and then I saw the time. Miles away at that very moment a man had placed his hand on a Bible to swear an oath to lead our country. Millions watched, but the three of us closed our eyes tight and talked to a God who is, sovereign, good, all knowing, and faithful. A God who called us too respect our leaders. A God who wants us to recognize the fact he is control of our country.

Maybe its a slightly different memory of today, but its one I'm not likely soon to forget. Today was just a Monday, but no Monday is ordinary in the least with this Monday being no exception. I'm not going to the elegant ball tonight, but I'm going to the Marriage supper of the Lamb some day. And that's why this day was one that could be smiled upon.

snow and coffee

One year ago we didn't go to class because we were having to much fun drinking coffee and playing jokes on each other. 

And playing in the snow...lots of playing in the snow. 

And drinking more coffee and playing apples to apples till one in the morning.

And taking advantage of the zip line (which I really didn't appreciate, but was forced too anyway)

And then drinking more and more and more coffee cause it was pretty much "like we died and woke up in a gas station". Best quote of the weekend referring to the endless hot chocolate and coffee machine.

And then we returned to the mundane normal life of classes and dinning hall coffee, but the memories are stuck in our heads forever. Here is to the class of 2012 who knew how to play hard.

Coming Clean

There is something very strange about me that probably to some sounds very, very, odd.

I love green smoothies. I love Brussels Sprouts. On frequent occasion I drink apple cider vinegar (well just a small gulp). I prefer whole wheat bread over white any day and turn up my nose at margarine.

I am very much a health nut.

I was the girl who took spinach quiche to work for lunch and thus received many descriptive comments. Best one "is that something not digested properly by a cow"?

Recently I even made yogurt in little dorm room in a crock pot. Just go ahead and call me Miss Domestic.

Before you think that I am person who eats perfectly healthy every single day, including Thanksgiving, let me just wipe that notion from your brain.

I love freshly fried mozzarella sticks. I love curly fries. I love pizza (I recently ate it almost 5 nights in a row and didn't feel the least bit guilty). I love chips and dip, the cheesy kind of course. I love to put whipped cream on cereal and Pb and banana sandwiches because it just makes me smile and the added fat keeps your fuller. Ahem.

And of course I love ice cream. Its in my gens and I can't help it and yes I will blame my infatuation with ice cream on my family. Whenever a certain aunt and I are together we manage to make it a point to sample ice cream at as many places as possible. My grandma ate a good amount of ice cream and lived a very long and of course a very happy life since she did not deny herself the pleasure of creamy goodness.

However when I've been eating lots of foods that just taste good because they have all sorts of bad things in them I begin to stop liking them. Suddenly all I want is platters full of lush green lettuce. I want to drink smoothies full of homemade yogurt and thus full of good nutrients.

I crave healthiness. Its just something in me that won't go away, no matter how hard I try to stay away from health food. Well true I don't try very hard...

There I have divulged a piece of information about myself and please don't feel that you have to be a health nut to read this blog, because obviously I'm not a health nut.

I'm not sure why I just wrote a long post about food, but maybe its a sign that I should go have some Brussels sprouts and ice cream. Not together of course. 

Monday Musings

Trying to spark some breakfast table conversation this morning I asked what everyone was looking forward to about the day.

"Going to Bed" was the reply.

Yep it was a Monday Morning. Sometimes I wonder why Mondays have to be considered so dreadful. It is the day after worship and the second day of a fresh week, yet they are loathed like none other.

I suppose the culprit behind the distaste of Mondays for me at least is discontentment. I do not wish to get up so early. I wish it weren't so cold when I got up. I fancy that I might be happy if I were getting up early to catch a plane to some glorious warm spot by the ocean.

When I get up on Monday life hits me. I still have the same problems as I did before. I still have the same decisions to make. And no matter how hard I try I cannot make myself perfect.

I wonder what would happen if Monday became something other then the day of the after weekend crash.

Monday just like each and every day is a brand new day. A brand new day to see God's grace. To find His grace in the simple things. To experience the joy of being around others.

To do instead of simply being. 

Next Monday is coming soon and its going to be a beautiful day to see God's grace.

Because Life is Sometimes Ugly

I read a blog post this afternoon. Words that left my stomach in knots. Words that made me squirm in my seat and words that brought tears to my eyes.

When I was done reading the world no longer seemed right, but a place awfulness and sin. Lives created by God that are meant to be beautiful are misused. People are made to feel worthless, changed so they do not feel and have no hope.

I'm sitting in a warm comfortable room. I'm safe. I will go to bed tonight and I will be safe. I will get up tomorrow and work a good respectable job. Life is blissful.

Tonight in cities across the USA and across the world, thousands will not be safe. They do not have the comfort of normal life for slavery has bound them tight.

This is a subject that is not for the faint of heart. Not for the young and the innocent, but it is a subject that that must be talked about with maturity and detest for what it is.

Human Trafficking exists. Its ugly, cruel, disgusting, revolting, awful, and whatever gruesome adjective you can use to describe it.

It happens right here in the US as you can read here .

God did not mean for young lives to made ugly. Sin crept in and destroyed every hope of a beautiful life. Human Trafficking is supposed to be done in secret away from prying eyes, but God knows and hates it. There are thousands out there who wonder about this God who allowed their life to be turned into something so vile. We have a task to share with them the love God. Tell them of redemption. Tell them of Hope. Tell them of grace.

January is Human Trafficking awareness month and I'm not even sure what can be done to help. Its a daunting task.Thankfully there are those who aren't just sitting on the couch like me, but are actually working to rescue these people. Read about it here.

And also check out the fascinating work that the Exodus Road is doing. These of course are all just blogs and I don't know enough to say if I can support the ideas of these people a 100%, but I do know there is a problem and something must be done. Even if its just writing a short little blog post.

For now I pray. I pray for those working to rescue these children. I pray for the children themselves. I pray for a world who has made such a mess of things and I praise God for His grace that He so freely gives even to those who feel that their life is worthless.

Life is beautiful.

Life is beautiful. I know its an old saying perhaps somewhat cliche, but its 3 of my favorite words because life is truly beautiful.

You know you have a beautiful life when you miss the sweet smell of baby soap on a little baby's head.

Life is beautiful when your running like crazy making supper and then through the window you see the rich colors of the setting sun.

Its a beautiful life when a little one snuggles on your lap and asks you to read the same book for the 5th time.

When you eat yummy tacos with friends and just sit around not doing very much there is beauty in the simple fellowship of friends. 

When you get that text, e-mail, phone call, from a friend and know that your thought of life beautiful .

Life has ugly scars that cover it, but beauty was made not too exist without pain, but go right long with the pain too turn the hurt into something beautiful.

Christ's scars are the ugliest things ever made by man, yet they are the most beautiful picture of God's grace.

There is beauty in the day, sometimes we just have to stop and look for it. What made your life beautiful today? 

A Letter to...Me

Dear Me,

2012 was a grand year. I graduated from college. I made some amazing friends. I made decisions, which do not easily happen for me . I went outside of my own country, and left a piece of my heart there. I became a part of history and voted in our country’s election. I tried new things.

Those are the things I don’t think of first when I think of 2012. Instead I think of all the things I didn’t do or should have done. 

2012 is gone, in the history books, scribbled in the pages of my journal, wiped from my memory…well I wish. A new year is here, a fresh start, but the past is still with me. I may be in a new year, but I have brought every thing from 2012 with  me and I will carry it with me for the rest of my life.

 Mistakes, failures, things not accomplished, things said can haunt my memory or I can choose to see those things as not a pitiful wast of my life, but as lessons learned. I didn’t choose to fail at life, but I can to choose to see the failure as dare I say it…a good thing. 2012 holds regrets and moments of how could I be so insensitive and ridiculous. Those are the things I can either choose to see as a wreck or see as a work of God’s grace. God choosing to use me despite my inability to follow Him completely.  The past cannot be changed, but by the grace of God the past does not have to rule my life, but instead can shape me into what God wants me to be. 

2013 is upon us. I have made my list of goals (yes I am one of those people). One year from now if God wills 2014 will be here and to be honest it’s a very certain thing that 2013 will have its own regrets.

 No I am not planning to fail, but I have tasted the bitterness of life and know how easy it is for life to slap you in the face. The touch of God’s grace is gentle and it is by His grace that I can make the small choice of discipline that applies to so many areas of life. I look into the new year full of hope and joy. Not because of accomplishments I want to happen, but because  a faithful God who I know who is going to prune me. It’s a scary adventure, but with the peace of God surrounding me I’m ready for it.

Yours Truely,

Yourself.

P.S. 

I wrote this in a coffee shop. I must confess I've never done that before and it made me feel very uh bloggerish.