This is more a continuation from Day Twenty Two than anything. This passage, from a story a mom wrote about the struggle her family went through when her son started having seizures, is all about leaning on God and listening to Him. And believing that what God put in the Bible is Truth, every bit of it. Even the seemingly boring, ritualistic stuff.
The Lord has shown us personally that even though the storm has seemed to pass, we still need to keep standing on our firm foundation and increase our prayer and devotion time even more than before. Now is not the time to just sit back and relax even though the “tough times” have passed. We are stronger now, and must keep up the strength training! We should not wait for the desperate times to come and then decide to start listening and obeying. We also can’t just expect it all to be handed to us- it just won’t work best that way. There is a reason the Lord gave us a book of instructions!
From Adventures in Babywearing
You can read the story here: http://www.adventuresinbabywearing.com/2006/05/full-story.html
Monday, June 28, 2010
Day Twenty Two
Today I am celebrating:
'Small' but meaningful things
Something needed to break today. And I'm glad it wasn't me.
Back to the sink I went to fill more up.
Back to my knees I go to fill me up.
So I can do it all again to-morrow.
From Adventures in Babywearing
Funny how such little things speak to us. Old traditions die hard with me, very hard. And criticism never seems to get anywhere with my stubborn mind. But I prayed two nights ago Lord change me. Starting tonight, starting right now. I know it won't happen overnight, but at the end of it all I want to see a change. So I'm changing, a little at a time. Finding what I love to do, figuring out a purpose for all these things in my life, and how to honour God in the little things. I wonder if maybe that's part of the purpose of this blog. Like how when I write something in feeling, it sounds okay to me, and I hope the reciever will enjoy it. But when they read it back, I think hey, that's me. I wrote that. And it sounds pretty good. I take strength in others recognizing an accomplishment. I think we all do. But I find strength in realizing my own self-worth. By myself. I'm saving photos for my 'House of Dreams.' I think I need to make one of my life of dreams- ie the one I've already lived. Something small or insignificant that meant something to me. Because all together, all those little things add up to something bigger, something that is ME. Something that just is, that exists, that lives breathes, creates, loves, learns and desires something bigger and better and greater. Something that tries to make each day mean something, and sometimes fails. But nevertheless gets back up and try again.
I made a shirt the other day. As in, measured, cut out, stitched together pieces of fabric to create something I could wear. Something completely selfish and practical. Something I didn't have to give away or put away in a box, something that was mine. Something I could take pride in, because I made it. Because I just saved us between 6 and 15 dollars, and made something I actually like, and actually fits. It's in my blood, this crafting gene. I didn't just pick it up from somewhere. But blame Anne's House of Dreams for the intense desire to start creating again. Booties for babies (my nieces and nephews), in the hope of creating something for myself one day down the road. One day came sooner than I thought, I guess. I can't wait to see what else I'll make, give away, or dress my kids in. I think about it before I fall asleep, and when I wake up. But I feel so long as I spend time with God, and make things not in pride but in the wonder of creation and the joy of passing something on to someone, He's okay with it, and smiles at my new occupation. Who knows why I don't have a paying Summer job, maybe God's waiting to see how I'll grow. Or maybe He's just giving me the time to grow...
On a side note, our tomato plants have three tiny green tomatoes. I am unbelievably excited to see them. To me, they are my babies, and I take pleasure and joy in watching them grow.
'Small' but meaningful things
Something needed to break today. And I'm glad it wasn't me.
Back to the sink I went to fill more up.
Back to my knees I go to fill me up.
So I can do it all again to-morrow.
From Adventures in Babywearing
Funny how such little things speak to us. Old traditions die hard with me, very hard. And criticism never seems to get anywhere with my stubborn mind. But I prayed two nights ago Lord change me. Starting tonight, starting right now. I know it won't happen overnight, but at the end of it all I want to see a change. So I'm changing, a little at a time. Finding what I love to do, figuring out a purpose for all these things in my life, and how to honour God in the little things. I wonder if maybe that's part of the purpose of this blog. Like how when I write something in feeling, it sounds okay to me, and I hope the reciever will enjoy it. But when they read it back, I think hey, that's me. I wrote that. And it sounds pretty good. I take strength in others recognizing an accomplishment. I think we all do. But I find strength in realizing my own self-worth. By myself. I'm saving photos for my 'House of Dreams.' I think I need to make one of my life of dreams- ie the one I've already lived. Something small or insignificant that meant something to me. Because all together, all those little things add up to something bigger, something that is ME. Something that just is, that exists, that lives breathes, creates, loves, learns and desires something bigger and better and greater. Something that tries to make each day mean something, and sometimes fails. But nevertheless gets back up and try again.
I made a shirt the other day. As in, measured, cut out, stitched together pieces of fabric to create something I could wear. Something completely selfish and practical. Something I didn't have to give away or put away in a box, something that was mine. Something I could take pride in, because I made it. Because I just saved us between 6 and 15 dollars, and made something I actually like, and actually fits. It's in my blood, this crafting gene. I didn't just pick it up from somewhere. But blame Anne's House of Dreams for the intense desire to start creating again. Booties for babies (my nieces and nephews), in the hope of creating something for myself one day down the road. One day came sooner than I thought, I guess. I can't wait to see what else I'll make, give away, or dress my kids in. I think about it before I fall asleep, and when I wake up. But I feel so long as I spend time with God, and make things not in pride but in the wonder of creation and the joy of passing something on to someone, He's okay with it, and smiles at my new occupation. Who knows why I don't have a paying Summer job, maybe God's waiting to see how I'll grow. Or maybe He's just giving me the time to grow...
On a side note, our tomato plants have three tiny green tomatoes. I am unbelievably excited to see them. To me, they are my babies, and I take pleasure and joy in watching them grow.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Day Twenty One
Today I am celebrating:
Summer Treats
I love watermelon. I mean, I LOVE watermelon. I've eaten nearly the entire thing in a week. ALL BY MYSELF. It's like I just can't get enough of the juicy wonderfulness that is a watermelon, and it makes me feel good when I eat it.
For Dave, it's popsicles. I have never met a man who loves popsicles as much as a child- until I married one. So after finding popsicle molds, we now (providing I make them and remember to buy juice) have a constant supply for after dinner or hot afternoon treats. And they're just like my mom made for my siblings and I.
Oh, for the day when we have our own garden (that is larger than the boxes on our balcony), and I can grow my own watermelons. At least for now our favourite summer treats are of the inexpensive kind- should I be worried for when we have our own children about their intake of summer treats?
Summer Treats
I love watermelon. I mean, I LOVE watermelon. I've eaten nearly the entire thing in a week. ALL BY MYSELF. It's like I just can't get enough of the juicy wonderfulness that is a watermelon, and it makes me feel good when I eat it.
For Dave, it's popsicles. I have never met a man who loves popsicles as much as a child- until I married one. So after finding popsicle molds, we now (providing I make them and remember to buy juice) have a constant supply for after dinner or hot afternoon treats. And they're just like my mom made for my siblings and I.
Oh, for the day when we have our own garden (that is larger than the boxes on our balcony), and I can grow my own watermelons. At least for now our favourite summer treats are of the inexpensive kind- should I be worried for when we have our own children about their intake of summer treats?
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Day Twenty
Today I am celebrating:
Parenthood
Sunday was rough. With literally every married person either expecting or already having a child and Dave and I being the only ones without children, Father's day wasn't the most inclusive day. On top of that all the fathers (ie. every man but Dave)s were pulled together for a photo. It's not as if we don't want kids. Most women desire to be a mom long before they're ever old enough to even bare children. It just isn't our time. Both our hearts (but since they are one, perhaps it is only our heart) long for children like nothing else. Children. Not child. However, since school takes up just as much time as a child, our lives are going to be ruled by another child for awhile.
However, just because we don't physically have any children, we are still parents- in a way. I see Dave with his nephews, and he is exactly as a dad should be. And today, for the first time we saw the fruits of our labour this spring. Two tiny green tomatoes hung from a vine beside blossoms today. I guess we are parents- in a way.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Day Nineteen
Today I am celebrating:
Sewing clothing
"In one of his essay-like chapters of Love is a Mix Tape (Crown), Rob Sheffield reflects on how Renee, his curvy wife, began to make her own clothes, leading her to a real empowerment. “The more she sewed, the easier it got for her to move and breathe, since she now had clothes she could move and breathe in, and feel totally hot while she did so. It was really intense to see how much control over her body she could have by taking control over her clothes. It took a lot of time to make them all, but she could sew for hours. While she worked she would lose all her nervous energy and glow like a conquering goddess… Renee’s sewing was a way for her to follow the changes in her body. She felt her hips growing more and more Appalachian, marking her as one of her people… There was a lot of history in the hips, and Renee was learning her history. With that sewing machine, she was making history of her own (pg. 114-115).”
http://www.google.ca/imgres?imgurl=http://hijasamericanas.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/jcrew-dress.jpg&imgrefurl=http://hijasamericanas.wordpress.com/2007/05/20/why-learning-to-sew-can-help-you-love-your-body/&h=305&w=305&sz=19&tbnid=mtApfFMye32a4M:&tbnh=116&tbnw=116&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dhow%2Bto%2Bsew%2Ba%2Bdress&hl=en&usg=__Yc_bT4JjMvgcpyy5RHB5u-Dxezc=&sa=X&ei=TEIdTPaVHpGyNqG2tOoM&ved=0CC4Q9QEwBQ
MY body has curves. That means very few things fit properly. Add to that two pregnant sister-in-laws, and an assumption that our last names means pregnant, and I'm pretty willing to cover up and hide whatever curves and belly I may have. I am a woman. My body was designed to carry children (and although I've gotten lots of practise babysitting and with my two nephews, it still retains a pre-child shape), and my hips are definately made for baby hips.
Although my husband tells me he loves my body just the way it is, I can't helping thinking just a few inches off here, a couple pounds there. So I've started to sew, in the hopes of creating something flattering, something pretty that makes me feel beautiful, something that fits, something that hugs my curves without showing them off too much. I just want to be comfortable in my own skin again.
Sewing clothing
"In one of his essay-like chapters of Love is a Mix Tape (Crown), Rob Sheffield reflects on how Renee, his curvy wife, began to make her own clothes, leading her to a real empowerment. “The more she sewed, the easier it got for her to move and breathe, since she now had clothes she could move and breathe in, and feel totally hot while she did so. It was really intense to see how much control over her body she could have by taking control over her clothes. It took a lot of time to make them all, but she could sew for hours. While she worked she would lose all her nervous energy and glow like a conquering goddess… Renee’s sewing was a way for her to follow the changes in her body. She felt her hips growing more and more Appalachian, marking her as one of her people… There was a lot of history in the hips, and Renee was learning her history. With that sewing machine, she was making history of her own (pg. 114-115).”
http://www.google.ca/imgres?imgurl=http://hijasamericanas.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/jcrew-dress.jpg&imgrefurl=http://hijasamericanas.wordpress.com/2007/05/20/why-learning-to-sew-can-help-you-love-your-body/&h=305&w=305&sz=19&tbnid=mtApfFMye32a4M:&tbnh=116&tbnw=116&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dhow%2Bto%2Bsew%2Ba%2Bdress&hl=en&usg=__Yc_bT4JjMvgcpyy5RHB5u-Dxezc=&sa=X&ei=TEIdTPaVHpGyNqG2tOoM&ved=0CC4Q9QEwBQ
MY body has curves. That means very few things fit properly. Add to that two pregnant sister-in-laws, and an assumption that our last names means pregnant, and I'm pretty willing to cover up and hide whatever curves and belly I may have. I am a woman. My body was designed to carry children (and although I've gotten lots of practise babysitting and with my two nephews, it still retains a pre-child shape), and my hips are definately made for baby hips.
Although my husband tells me he loves my body just the way it is, I can't helping thinking just a few inches off here, a couple pounds there. So I've started to sew, in the hopes of creating something flattering, something pretty that makes me feel beautiful, something that fits, something that hugs my curves without showing them off too much. I just want to be comfortable in my own skin again.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Day Eighteen
Today I am celebrating...
Well, I'm not actually celebrating. It's more like getting something off my chest. So I guess that's what I'm celebrating, a
Release
Here's my scenario. Pick an artist that you're just okay with. They're not your favourite, but you don't hate them either, they're just okay. Then, everytime you get together with your friends have them play it. EVERY time. Then at church, the same thing. ou never hear the songs you listened to and learned to worship God with because everyone plays the same thing. Add to that the songs that get played from the okay band are always the same 10 or 12, even though they have more cds than you could carry. And one more thing. That band is God to people. Too often you see people worship 'the band' or 'the music' rather then using the music as a way to worship God. Noone seems to remember Matt Redman or Travis Cotrell or any of the other 'older people' you're used to listening to. And one more thing. Hymns? Those songs our parents and grandparents worshipped with and the ones you were brought up on? They don't exist any more.
Well, I'm not actually celebrating. It's more like getting something off my chest. So I guess that's what I'm celebrating, a
Release
Here's my scenario. Pick an artist that you're just okay with. They're not your favourite, but you don't hate them either, they're just okay. Then, everytime you get together with your friends have them play it. EVERY time. Then at church, the same thing. ou never hear the songs you listened to and learned to worship God with because everyone plays the same thing. Add to that the songs that get played from the okay band are always the same 10 or 12, even though they have more cds than you could carry. And one more thing. That band is God to people. Too often you see people worship 'the band' or 'the music' rather then using the music as a way to worship God. Noone seems to remember Matt Redman or Travis Cotrell or any of the other 'older people' you're used to listening to. And one more thing. Hymns? Those songs our parents and grandparents worshipped with and the ones you were brought up on? They don't exist any more.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Day Seventeen
Today I am celebrating:
A Blue Sky
Today, finally the sky is blue. Yesterday was cold, rainy and very grey. Not that I'm complaining about the rain, with such a short winter we certainly need it. But cold and grey always seems to put me in a less-than-adventurous mood. Yesterday was spent watching tv, sewing bags for the pregnancy center, and cleaning the house. Oh, and fighting. Dave hates being stuck in side. It's like if he can't point his face towards the sun, he can't feel God.
I don't blame him.
There are these big, fluffy grey clouds that look remarkable like grey cotton candy pulled across the sky. I think if they were white I wouldn't mind quite as much, at least then I probably could pretend they were cotton candy. But the blue that's peeking through is so blue, so perfect, so beautiful, it makes it a perfect day. At least when you look at the sky.
A Blue Sky
Today, finally the sky is blue. Yesterday was cold, rainy and very grey. Not that I'm complaining about the rain, with such a short winter we certainly need it. But cold and grey always seems to put me in a less-than-adventurous mood. Yesterday was spent watching tv, sewing bags for the pregnancy center, and cleaning the house. Oh, and fighting. Dave hates being stuck in side. It's like if he can't point his face towards the sun, he can't feel God.
I don't blame him.
There are these big, fluffy grey clouds that look remarkable like grey cotton candy pulled across the sky. I think if they were white I wouldn't mind quite as much, at least then I probably could pretend they were cotton candy. But the blue that's peeking through is so blue, so perfect, so beautiful, it makes it a perfect day. At least when you look at the sky.
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