Tuesday afternoon

Finished Your Spacious Self and have begun reading a bit of Emily Freeman's A Million Little Things in its place.  I find that if I make serious time for my devotions after tea, and add a book to think about after that reading, there's something to study on in my head during the day.

And about that de-cluttering---I'm prone to get distracted, put things down before I'm finished and then I leave a trail.  I'm (at my age, imagine) now learning to pick up something once, use it and then put it away.  Life changing, let me tell you.  I have to make a concerted effort to not forget.  Oh my.  This lesson should have been learned years ago.

And I can't stress enough the importance of doing even one tiny thing, picking up one morsel of something and putting it away or tossing it.  One bit of paper, a bobby pin, a feather or floating bit of dog hair.  Pick it up and deal with it right then.  I think my depression has allowed me to be more piggish than I'd ordinarily be.  I'd see something and think, "Oh, who cares?" and then walk away.  

Today I swept underneath the treadmill and don't tell me that's a pleasant chore.  Speaking of dog hair, and shoes.  The combination of the two is very unpleasant!

Sweeping, my new favorite thing.  And with our vacuum on the fritz, very necessary.  Sweeping has a tendency to clear a muddled mind, and you get such fast results.  Very partial to that chore.

Have a good day.  Rest, and take care of yourself.

Sunday night

Clean house, cook dinner, sweep floor, read restful books, have breakfast tea in bed, sit outside, meditate on quiet things, drink more tea, sit with chickens, vacuum rugs, replant some chocolate mint, take a nap, remember Who's in control, love my family, pray, focus on good things, write in journal.

Take a break from reading/listening to the news.  Taking it way too personally.  Hard not to.

Remember life is settled in two columns:  Those things you can control, those you can't control.

But I can pray.

Exhale and don't take on more than I can personally handle.  I'm not handling the news well at all.  Must find a quiet place in my heart.  

Saturday's thoughts

Dizzy and a bit breathless today.  Thinking I caught a bit of the cold the kids have shared between themselves.  Not a worry.  I was able to write to the church email list saying the least one couldn't acolyte tomorrow.  We'll just lay low.  Frankly feel a bit worn after the Supremes let us down yesterday.  Have to trust God on that one.

Got a couple of Dee Hardie's books that'd been on hold for me at the library.  If you ever read House Beautiful magazine years ago you might have read her regular pieces called View from Thornhill Farm.  Very, very comforting.  Worth a look-see if your library has them.  The ones I got are called Views from Thornhill and Hollyhocks, Lambs and other Passions.  I'm thinking the eighties, when these were written, was like no other decade. :)  That's when I got married and had three of our eight children.  Sweet times.  I miss that.

Cooler air blowing through today and tonight.  We'll be able to sleep in Sunday morning, which will be a nice treat.  Just coddle ourselves.  Really, the news is so emotionally exhausting to me just now, to huddle in our house, garden a bit and be quiet sounds very healing.  And necessary.

If you look for the moon tonight, you can see (and have been able to see in the western sky) Venus and Jupiter side-by-side, and Saturn will be tucked near the Moon.  Haven't been out to see, but will in a minute.  Time to quit.

Take care.  

Books and stuff

Love William Faulkner.  Love his writing.  Funny thing too---when I want to read something that sets well, I pick up one of his books.  Happily I've been able to buy several of the wonderfully worn Vintage International copies at the library bookstore ($2 or less), some with writing in them.  Some not.  All with broken spines which make reading them a joy.  I feel like I'm repeating myself.

***

In Michele Cushatt's email list 7-Day Challenge I've been subscribed to the past week (I'm done now, but you go ahead), she suggests writing a list consisting of two columns.  One list of things you can control, one of things you can't.  I didn't realize how much I waste time worrying about things I have no control of whatsoever.  That's where the majority of my energy goes.  When I focus on what I have jurisdiction over, the calm feelings appear.  Takes work, but it's do-able.

What I can do is finish deep-cleaning the kitchen, cook dinner, feed dogs and chickens, take out the garbage, love my family, etc.  I can't make money, bring customers into my husband's shop or make an impact (at least one I'm aware of) that will bring my sons back to the Lord.  

Once you get over the notion that you're that necessary, the lines are clear.  Hard to NOT wander over into the column of what I can't control, though.  As we've told our kids in terms of their jobs---'they are expendable.'  Same in my life, I reckon.

And I'm reminded of how we're supposed to do today and only today.  I absolutely adore knowing the bills will be paid on time.  It's not in my life to always experience that, but it's true that He's more interested in my spirit than my comfort.  Personally speaking, I'm partial to a sure thing.  Debt isn't very encouraging, but the lifestyle we have of depending on the Lord for every cent is faith-building to say the least.  I just wish I'd learn the lesson so we'd not have to keep repeating the same exercise.

I could probably admit to making money an idol and our children as well.  Too much emotional energy expended on both topics.  Too often I've put them both ahead of the importance of God in my life.  But I'm working on it.

Take heart.

'Anything' by Jennie Allen

In reading Jennie Allen's re-release of Anything, I'm thinking I would have benefited from reading it about twenty years ago.  Her focus is the equipping of the generation coming up now in making them enthusiastic for Christ.  To be willing to do anything for the cause of Christ.  Anything.  That reminds me of my mom sharing the plan of salvation with me when I was about 11 or 12 years old.  My fear was that He'd send me to Africa, and isn't that a common misconception?  Well, at 13 I was saved at a Billy Graham film called Time to Run, and Africa has never been on my radar.

Jennie shares stories of friends who are dissatisfied with the 2-car garage, beautiful home, perfect marriage sort of lives. She has conversations with women and men who want more.  I can honestly say I never had that sort of talk with anyone of my generation.  We seemed content to play house, have what bells and whistles we could afford, but there never seemed to be time to fit in anything else, including offering God anything.

While I can't really identify with her goal, I respect her beautiful way of sharing the Gospel.  Her joy is contagious, and she's written a Bible Study (included in the book) and has online resources as well.

For a young couple or single individual who are looking for a richer Christian life, this book might be a wonderful resource to get them started.

(i received this book free to review from booklookbloggers)

'The Little Paris Bookshop' by Nina George

I have to admit choosing The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George because of the beautiful cover.  So far, so good.  And I like the idea of the book---Parisian bookstore on a barge on the Seine, specializing in selling books based on the impression the customers give, and refusing to sell when the books don't match them.  Sounds engaging.  But the truth is that the owner, Monsieur Perdu, is the one who needs help.  He experiences a crisis regarding his former lover, who's been gone for 21 years.  He packs up the bookshop and goes to hunt her down (can't give details---would ruin it), or at least settle a mystery in his heart.  The story is full of characters he either carries with him, or who he meets on his journey.

I got frustrated when after believing the book would be filled with more book suggestions.  Thinking that story would be more centered on his helping other readers.  Okay, I'm always wanting to know what others are reading, and felt a bit misled.  Gratefully the book has a list of book titles at the end of the book, including as well recipes mentioned.

Honestly, I'm two ways about the book.  I enjoyed parts of it, was a bit confused at others.  All in all, a good summer read.  Light, not wearing on a tired mind.  One catch is the author used a crude term to describe a male body part numerous times, which turned me off a bit.  It does matter.

(i received this book free to review from crown publishing through bloggingforbooks)

Rebel

Okay, so I'm about to get a tad controversial for a minute.  I'm hacked that there's all this furor about the Confederate Flag.  For many of us, born and bred Southerners, this is offensive to say the least.  I realize everyone won't agree with me, but down here, the issue of whether the Confederate Flag should be flown is old as the hills. I live in Tennessee. Give me a break.  Everyone's got an opinion.  And for corporations, such as W*lmart and eB*y, to have a knee-jerk reaction and remove all Confederate merchandise is, to me, asinine.  I know.  We won't all agree.

If the murderer in Charleston had been holding up a BigMac, would McDonalds take that food off of their menu?  Yeah, I know.  BigMacs aren't too contoversial, except in calories.  But you get my point.

The problem isn't the flag, but how folks perceive it.  To me it's my history.  And oddly enough, one of my great-great grandfathers, who lived in Tennessee, fought for the Union along with some of his brothers.  Think on how he was welcomed back home.  The neighbors might have not been too happy to see him, yes?  Still, I'm proud of the history of the South.  And me, married to a Yankee.  We do have some conversations regarding such.

And while I can admit to having several ancestors who owned slaves---surprisingly found through census records, it is part of who I am.  Erase the flag if you will, but it doesn't change anything. Take it down from Southern courthouses, remove it from state flags, but the pride (or arrogance and ignorance) will stay the same.  It'll never be enough.  Southerners won't ever be able to remove the stain of slavery, but let's rise above, can we?

I have a childhood friend who's a huge fan and protector of the Confederate Flag.  He's in groups that defend the rights of folks to fly it.  And he was even fired from a job, which went to court, because he had a Rebel flag sticker on the back of his car.  Seriously?

We can express ourselves using the flag if we want to.  It's not illegal, and it's just one in a tremendous pile of things that folks won't let alone.  The world can't be so disinfected as to protect everyone from offence.  If things tick a person off instantly, maybe it's time to look at the reason.  I'm thinking 'get over yourself' might be a place to start.

Not much grace in this post, but a necessary rant for me.

Tuesday afternoon

Cleaning more in the house, this time the shelves that hold the cookbooks and overflow of small appliances.  Tossing mismatched saucers and plastic cups with missing parts.  Also a small coffee maker missing the pot.  And a Pyrex dish that won't come clean even by using the ever-faithful ammonia trick.  Out it goes.  I have trouble with this, but hold the things in my hands asking the question as to whether they're necessary to my joy.  Well, no.

Purging is good for the soul, either physical or spiritual.

Lots on my mind---friends are sharing problems.  Cancer, abuse, marital discord.  I've heard the evil one is stepping up his techniques realizing his days are numbered.  I like that.  The numbered days bit.  Seems praying for things requires much more spiritual footwork.  Things I used to pray about and expect and see quick answers are now having to be buried in prayer.  Buried.

While I don't believe the numbers of angels and demons changes, their work is more intense.  And I even suggested to Gary that he pray a continual hedge around his shop.  The dark powers won't like us getting involved in a church family's new situation.  One of their sons (a five year old) has been abused by a friend's son.  I won't go into detail, but the father of the abuser is a cop.  The ramifications could be interesting, to say the least.  Oldest daughter will be helping the mom (who is a good friend of hers) to care for the kids this week.

Staying prayed up.  Do NOT let your guard down.

Can't see ahead of me.  Need work in the shop.  Bills overdue.  God be praised in all things.

Listening to David Dunn's new CD on Spotify called Crystal Clear.  Sweet Christian young man, who oldest daughter has a crush on. :)  I get that.

Saturday evening

Today I went to a ladies' luncheon and it was the epitome of Southern charm.  My husband has repaired furniture for the woman who held it for about twenty years, and even last weekend we went there to help her de-thorn the roses she was providing for the altar vases.  Anyway, Gary makes jokes about reminding me how to get to her home, saying that after taking the main turn, she's the first plantation on the left.  Well, not that big, but really, her grounds spread to many acres and are just lovely. And her home---don't get me started.  Magazine gorgeous.  Victoria magazine doesn't have anything on her.

We first sat on her screened in porch and had cheese and crackers, then after about an hour went in to lunch, which was all on beautiful china with linen napkins---starting with a cold soup, next a crab salad on Boston lettuce (a personal favorite of mine), marinated asparagus, and little tomatoes (probably from her garden), and finished with lemon icebox pie.  Her daughter, who's probably about my age or so, made everything.  A savoring type of meal.

Before we ate, our hostess asked to read a poem before the blessing, and honestly, I wanted to cry. It was all so beautiful.  Just perfect.  With all the stuff we've lived through these past few months, to be treated so elegantly was overwhelming.  I told them both I felt so fussed over, which made them laugh (not knowing my personal life), but it's true.  Soothing.

Never underestimate the little touches.  I realize many of these women do this all the time, the entertaining, the fancy meals and such, but I don't.  Talk about feeling blessed.

And to top it all off, our hostess told me a story last weekend, which I asked her to retell today about meeting William Faulkner when she was in school at Ole Miss in Oxford, Mississippi.  (This had to have been back in the forties.)  He walked up the table where she and her girlfriends were having lunch in the town square, and asked to sit down with them.  They chatted just a minute, but she said this wasn't out of the ordinary.  He was well-known in the town, always dressed comfortably in a worn black long coat and slouch hat and was very willing to meet folks.  Love this sort of tale.  I do adore Faulkner's books.  Really do.

* * *

~my morning's view

And my day had already begun in a sweet way with tea and breakfast on the front porch.  I was up before need be, and with the neighbors quiet and traffic light, I was able to sit outside in my nightclothes---very freeing!  Besides, our porch is so cut off from the sidewalk with all the bushes and things Gary's planted over the years---it's sort of a hideaway.  

It's like the Lord laid His Hand over my day before I even got up.  I feel all full up.

Thursday evening

~my china garden mixed in with some sedum

In healing mode here.  Focusing on my own life, not my wayward sons.  Hard to do, but necessary to my health and well-being.  Small changes on a daily basis are making a big difference, more than you'd realize.  

I read today that one way to settle your physical self is to place your open hands on your heart, one on top of the other.  Breath regularly, not real deep, but with a rhythm.  Really, it's like a very sweet hug.  Try it and see if you don't feel more quiet during and afterward.  I've done it several times today, with much relief.

And, and, and....this is wonderful...small, tactile occupations---sewing on a button, placing things on a shelf while decorating, choosing which teacup to use out of a collection, wiping down a counter with a spray that carries a pretty scent, dusting tiny things----any task that requires you to hone in on specific items is very soothing.  I spent time this evening after sitting with the chickens, and folded one by one the items on the clothesline.  Set them in the clothes basket, stacked neatly. Small towels, bath towels, underthings, dishrags.  Each one slowly folded and I took time to look at the sky as the sun went down.  I'm not sure how this works, but it does.  Slows your actions down and forces you to be still in your spirit.  I knew this, but have for such a long time sped through my chores.  Now that I'm making a conscious effort in self-care, I'm moving slowly all through the house.  

* * *

And so it goes.

Letting go...

[Daddy] said, "All children must look after their own upbringing."  Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands.~Anne Frank

* * *

The quote above is in Michele Cushatt's book called Undone, which is probably the best book I've read all year.  She tells how she's survived a divorce, a remarrying, a blended family, cancer, adoption, and everything in-between.  But she tells it with such grace, and pain and lots of humility.  I reviewed it here.

This morning I woke up thinking, "Oh great.  The junk is still junk, and I've not been dreaming."  Then, I kid you not, the Lord said in a very quiet voice, almost a whisper, "Get on Facebook."  True story.  Well, I got my phone out, logged in and the first thing I saw on my news feed was a post by Michele about a free 7-day email challenge.  I read about it on the FB feed and signed up.  The first note came immediately to my email box and it was spot on what I needed to hear.  God knew. And to cap it off, she said she was sorry.  I know she's talking to hundreds of women (and probably a sizable number of men) about their particular pains.  The I'm sorry just cut me to the quick, though.  I so needed to hear that.  And on came the tears.

Now, the best part.  She said to write it down.  All the ugly stuff and all the pain.  I'd just been talking to the Lord last night on my swing about how I needed to get mad.  Doggone angry.  So I did.  On paper.  So relieving.  I'd not given myself permission to rail about this nonsense, have always held something back, thinking I was being unfaithful to my children.  And still, I've had trouble accepting the reality.  Surely not my kids.  Huh.  Nobody's holding them captive or for ransom.  They're willing participants.  

Gary's all eat up with this.  We just mailed a birthday card to oldest son with a giftcard in it, and I stuck in a photo of him and me when he was a month old.  Reminders of sweet times.  Gary thanked me for buying it and getting it ready for all of us to sign (even though it'll be late getting to him), and said he knew my heart wasn't in it.  Yeah, well.  You gotta do what you gotta do.  Some things are just right.

And now, life moves slowly.  But here's the thing.  Bills are getting late, money's tight, need work in the shop, but I feel so close to the Lord.  He's right beside me.  Inside of me.  All around.  Crying alongside of me.  A comfort.  He knows exactly where we are, has given authority for it to be this way....all the frustrations and hurts, but has provided rest as well.  And sometimes I get to the place where I'm alright with that.  If He says it's supposed to be this way, who am I to argue?

Yes, He's got this.

Just today

The Lord has a way of providing balance when I'm about at the end of my rope.  Knot in place, dangling in space.  

Last night third son (the nat'l guard one, who's officially getting married in september) called me to talk and we were on the phone about an hour and a half.  A huge blessing.  Our relationship has healed and grown so much, for which I'm immensely thankful.  Immensely.  And tonight second son called from California and we spoke for 45 minutes.  We just got off.  I needed to hear from my boys, and with the other two who live away being off the charts, well, God knows what heals my spirit.

After my last blog post with pouring out my pain, I find it so amazing that the Lord prompted my boys to call.  Not surprised, but so touched.  And they called me.  Just me.

Focus is so hard.  I got to thinking after we got home from church today.  Trying to figure out what I need to do to help me for longer stretches of time, and what exactly wrenches my heart.  I'm still having trouble with not breathing deeply enough.  And anything I hear about friends' children wandering hurts to the extent I do have trouble getting a deep breath. Just stress, but yoga tonight helped.  I know the triggers, but don't seem to be quick enough to identify the situations before they're on me.

Tomorrow.  Tea in bed first---very important.  Beginning to tear into the kitchen deep cleaning.  I'm so pleased with the work we've done so far.  I'm going to paint my grandmother's old cabinet a deep turquoise blue too.  Now it's a pale green, which matches the walls, but a bit of drama might be fun to see.  I've got to take the clothes dryer apart sometime this week.  We've got a knock when it turns, and sometimes it has to be encouraged to spin.  We'll open it, hand turn it and then it'll work fine.  Some little zipper or button or something is catching somewhere.  I've taken that dryer apart so many times, it's becoming a yawner.  No big deal at all.

~ ~ ~

Glad our kids here in the house seem to be on the same page.  Gary talked to our youngest son who's 19, just checking what he's got on his mind.  He's very quiet, is an awesome self-taught artist and spends lots of time alone, which he prefers.  And usually, when our kids graduate high school, they've gotten jobs that fall.  Well, considering (three of the four) other boys who've left and their reactions when they hit the public, not always knowing how to handle the pressure----we're not pushing him to do the same.  Praying for something to show itself that Gary and he can do together.  We're not setting him loose.

We followed their talk with our own Communion service here on Saturday night.  Those Anglicans we go to church with might gasp with shock to hear we'd do that, but our son has issues with the Common Cup at church.  He can't get his head around sharing the same cup with everyone.  I get it.  So, we got around that, and Gary led us in receiving together here.  If you've not shared the Lord's Supper at home, you don't know what you've missed.  Pretty cool.

Must go.  Have said enough.  Thanks for your prayers.  I know you do really pray for me.

Friday

Okay, if you don't want to read about my bad mental health day, then fair enough.  You've been warned.

Today is oldest son's thirtieth birthday.  As most moms, my thoughts have been on the day he was born, and how we went with Gary's dad to dinner in Oriental, NC on the night before Jonathan was born.  We lived in New Bern back then, just for a year, and with him overdue, it was my FIL's plan to distract us (my MIL had been out of town).  Just reliving it.

And with us cleaning out closets, dressers, and what-have-you, I've run into lots of photos of the kids.  Last night I found two in particular of Jonathan, sweet little darling.  In one shot, that just pierced my heart, he's got his back to the camera and he's about five or six.  It's that little neck.  The most vulnerable part of any child.  His hands are behind his back, looking out the window, and he's wearing a red sweater and little blue (long-sleeved as he used to say) pants.  Young and vulnerable.  Before all this nonsense.

Got into bed last night---late----read and turned out the light, then couldn't get to sleep.  I was beside myself.  Went out back between one-thirty and two and just pleaded with the Lord to take away the pain.  I just couldn't bear it anymore.  Some days are better than others.  Anticipating his birthday was more than enough.

Anyway, no great revelations, but the sweet oblivion of sleep.  Escape.

I've never dreaded any of our kids' birthdays.  It's always been something to anticipate.  We've been together in some sense, even if not physically.  Last year I made him a cake, which our son who lived with him took to their apartment.  I realize he's grown, and that's not the issue, as you well know.  The separation between us and him is huge, and it's all of a spiritual nature.  We still keep in touch, though it's pretty surface.  But to know I've given birth to a child who's become so decadent is awful.  Sometimes, like last night, it's just unbearable.  There's no escape, but the desperate need for Grace.  For me and him.

I stay in God's face.  No embarrassment or hesitation in speaking up for Him.  At the end of the day, He's all there is.  But I'm so tired of crying.

'Hiding in the Light' by Rifqa Bary

Rarely do I read a book start to finish in one day, but I did just that with Rifqa Bary's book called Hiding in the Light.  What a testimony of God's grace.

From growing up in Sri Lanka in a very devout Muslim family, she's marked at an early age as God's own.  An experience she writes about when she was playing at five years old has her feeling the Spirit's presence.  She can sense Him.  That must've been the beginning, because in a gradual way she becomes aware of Truth.  He makes Himself known in such a sweet way.  

Abuse both in a physical and emotional sense becomes the norm for her, and escalates when her family emigrates to the United States.  Just prior to their move, she suffers blindness in her right eye from a playing accident with her brother.  Oddly enough, rather than show compassion for her disability, her parents begin to treat her like a liability and not as someone to cherish.  The men rule in the Muslim world she describes, both at home and in the mosque.  Women are berated and worn down, but it's considered acceptable.  This isn't to say all Muslim homes are like this, but this was Rifqa's experience.  I won't speak for others.  

Her story escalated when she had to flee her parents's house after it was discovered that she'd become a Christian.  Her father actually threatened to kill her if she wouldn't abandon her Christian faith. What followed was a series of court cases, an extended stay in juvenile detention, and more.  Really amazing.

Without going into too much detail, I'll just say that I was so inspired by her reaction in discovering what the Christian church is all about.  We as Americans are exposed to evangelism all the time, and forget the wonder of our faith.  Rifqa was hearing it all for the first time, and her innocent reaction to it was so refreshing.  She gave me hope.  And her belief was so strong, she was willing to sacrifice everything, even her life, if need be.  How many of us who were born free in this country, and also believers would be so passionate?

(i received this book free to review from waterbrook/multnomah)

Muttering along

I'm such a slow mover.  Signed up for email notifications in regards to a book I'll review in the next few weeks--there's a Bible study/book study to go along with it.  The first few emails poured in---actually poured in, and the women who run the site are so full of energy and enthusiasm.  Frankly, it makes me tired. :)  As I said, slow mover.  Too much effervescence makes me want to run the other way.  I had to put my email notifications on snooze for a bit.  Otherwise I'll just delete.  

When you get to looking, there are plenty of Christian women's sites like that.  They have such big, white teeth.  Beautiful 30-something young women who have such a following.  Good for them, but I need a tired old fifty-something women's group.  The one where you really don't care what the other person looks like, and you toss off your shoes and put up your feet.  Not into making an impression, just making it through the day. 

Can I hear an Amen?

The older I get, the less I'm impressed.  Folks try so hard.  Me, I try hard, but in different ways.  Honestly, when I get in bed at night, I'm so relieved.  I'll joke with Gary that we've survived another day.  Thank you, God, that we made it.  Might sound defeatist, but if you had some of my children, you'd feel the same way.  Gosh.

* * *

Cleaned behind another cabinet in the living room today.  The least one got behind it and did the walls, trim and floor.  Sparkly, pretty much.  Moved it back at a different angle and re-filled the shelves.  Just refreshing to see it all tidy.  And that was all I could do.  Naptime!  Tomorrow we'll pull out the piano and clean there, then redo the arranging on top of it.  My energy level is still sorta stinky.  You'd really think I'd been sick. Anyway, it's gratifying to get things neat.  Does my spirit such good.

Be sweet.

'Empire's End' by Jerry B. Jenkins

The apostle Paul is one my favorite characters in the New Testament, so I was curious to read a fictionalized take (well, partially fictionalized) on his life.  I've always been attracted to his feisty personality, and how the Lord used the same passion he exhibited with his attacks on Christians in his leading of new believers after the Lord saved him.  Jerry B. Jenkins has portrayed him beautifully.  He follows Scripture telling the story of Paul's hatred and persecution of new Christians, his Damascus Road experience, and his later writing of many letters of the New Testament.  He does add a side story, including what could have been a possible romance on Paul's part, tying in the story of Paul's involvement in the stoning of Stephen, the first martyr.  While some readers will be more hard-line, saying a Biblical writer doesn't need to speculate, but really, it isn't a problem, at least not for me.  

I appreciated the parts of the story where the Holy Spirit spoke to Paul.  It was powerful to realize that this same Holy Spirit who spoke to Paul's heart, is the same One who speaks to me.  It brought me to tears at times, and that's always a good sign.

Jenkins tells a wonderful story, and even though he takes artistic license in adding the romance line, it's a sweet telling of a true man of God.

(i received this book free to review from worthy publishing)

Refreshment

There must be some sort of subliminal messaging going on in our house.  Gary brought home 18" carpet squares from the church the other day, leftovers from some renovation work we'd had done there.  They save EVERYTHING.  Good for us.  We now have a beautiful carpet in our bedroom, which has totally transformed it, and some in the dining room as well.  We've cleaned up things that have been long overdue,  I'm thinking we're cleaning our lives of muck in person, sort of getting stuff out of our heads as well.

At least I am.  The freedom I'm feeling with the backside of things being dusted and washed is incredible.  Very freeing.

Making room for the Holy Spirit to continue a good work in our lives.  

A mother's re-focus

The verse for now is, "My Grace is sufficient for you."  

I know too much.  More than my husband about our sons.  Moms tend to, you know.  Stuff is worse than I could ever imagine (speaking of son and his girlfriend's business), and quite honestly, my imagination isn't very active.  I can go a certain distance and then say to myself, "Oh surely not. Please no, he can't be doing that."  I'm pretty much, a what-you-see-is-what-you-get person.  And I take folks at face value.  I end up being gullible when I should be shrewd.  But, here's the thing---the Lord has given me two spiritual gifts, ones I was made aware of ages ago.  One is the gift of healing, which I used to take to mean the laying on of hands.  In reality, it's the herbs, and I do have a God-given knack with them.  Makes me laugh.  The other gift is discernment, but only with those outside the family.  I can see through a fake instantly, almost like mind reading, as long as they're not blood.  My kids can fool me all day long.  So, when they tell me something, whether it's believable or not, I accept it.  A stranger or a friend, not for a second.

The Lord says to walk away from our boys, as I mentioned in my last post.  Pray, and don't engage on purpose.  Let them make the moves toward me, but don't initiate.  That's hard.  I tend to want to at least text when I've not heard in a few days.  The thing is---I want them more than they need me.  Yeah, I get it.  I don't yearn for too much involvement with my own mother either.

He asks me to trust Him.  Don't help except to pray.  No letters, no nothing.  I hate to see my boys entrenched in lifestyles that are so full of darkness.  But they're okay with that.  And when oldest son was here the other day---he'd not been by since he began his new job and had out-of-town training---he had a different look on his face.  He looked happy, which is no big deal, really.  He always looks happy, but there was a frenzied look about him.  Glittery.  My neighbor had the same look on her face last week when I visited her.  She's sort of too into mystical things, and had a story about this New Age/witchcraft-like herb store she went to, but it was hard to believe, at least to me.  Another story for another day.

Demons.

I just shake my head.

Now, to not give too much air-time to the prince of the air, our son who's in California is doing very, very well.  That Christian retreat where he's working is concerned for the spiritual and physical welfare of their employees as much as wanting them to be good workers.  They were taken as a group to a large non-denominational church over the state line in Oregon yesterday.  After five years in the restaurant business, and the worldly atmosphere there, he's being refreshed with other believers.  He's exactly where the Lord would have him be, and that gives me great peace.  Even though I miss him crazy-like.  Definitely a Praise the Lord situation. :)

I'll stop now.  Have more to say, but need to quit.  Y'all take care.

A quiet Saturday

Mornings are my favorite times of day, only seconded by evenings in bed after my bath.  Quiet, window open, all is well.  I adore the hour in bed with my tea.  Usually I read the Psalter reading for the day in my Book of Common Prayer and the Office in The Divine Hours*.  Then I feel ready to get into my study of Stephanie Bennett Vogt's book Your Spacious Self.  Healing, that's what her book is to me.  I've gradually been cleaning out things, weighty sometimes.  Finding old photos of my children, hurting over the journeys some of them are taking, but remembering the Covenant we made with the Lord.  Reformed Presbyterians (my old church/my husband's heart is still there) have a beautiful service for infant baptism.  Always loved that.

The carpet is down in the dining room.  Gary opened the old trunk we have in there, usually burdened closed with two Lawyer's Bookshelves that sit on top of it.  Pictures and more.  My grandparents' old pictures, aunts and uncles long gone, and a couple of my old high school annuals.  The girls have laughed today over those.  

Every so often, I leave my bed (my safe, healing place lately) and tidy up some. Get overtired, lie down and then get up and do some more.  It's not that I'm ill, but am giving myself room to get stronger.  I do feel so weak after little effort.  

The Lord spoke clearly to me this morning, telling me to let my boys alone this weekend---pray always for them, but leave their lives for Him to work on.  Tend to myself.  Enjoy the day.  Rest and recover.  Allow myself to be still. 

I'm even just going to gather flowers and greenery here for the church altar vases tomorrow.   No expense.  The paraments (altar cloths) are green for the summer, and I was thinking some orange day lilies and greens behind them would look pretty.  Easy and sweet.  Plus, there's plenty by the garage. :)

Must go tidy some more.  Remember to rest.

*Phyllis Tickle's books---btw, she's very ill now with cancer---found out through church friends who used to attend the same church as Phyllis---she lives just outside of Memphis, so is nearby.

My hope...

Joel 2:21-32King James Version (KJV)

21 Fear not, O land; be glad and rejoice: for the Lord will do great things.

22 Be not afraid, ye beasts of the field: for the pastures of the wilderness do spring, for the tree beareth her fruit, the fig tree and the vine do yield their strength.

23 Be glad then, ye children of Zion, and rejoice in the Lord your God: for he hath given you the former rain moderately, and he will cause to come down for you the rain, the former rain, and the latter rain in the first month.

24 And the floors shall be full of wheat, and the vats shall overflow with wine and oil.

25 And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpiller, and the palmerworm, my great army which I sent among you.

26 And ye shall eat in plenty, and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lordyour God, that hath dealt wondrously with you: and my people shall never be ashamed.

27 And ye shall know that I am in the midst of Israel, and that I am the Lordyour God, and none else: and my people shall never be ashamed.

28 And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions:

29 And also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my spirit.

30 And I will shew wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, and fire, and pillars of smoke.

31 The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord come.

32 And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be delivered: for in mount Zion and in Jerusalem shall be deliverance, as the Lord hath said, and in the remnant whom the Lord shall call.

Exactly...

"The mild red road goes on beneath the slanting and peaceful afternoon, mounting a hill. 'Well, I can bear a hill,' he thinks.  'I can bear a hill, a man can.'  It is peaceful and still, familiar with seven years. 'It seems like a man can just about bear anything.  He can even bear what he never done.  He can even bear the thinking how some things is just more than he can bear.  He can even bear it that if he could just give down and cry, he wouldn't do it.  He can even bear it to not look back, even when he knows that looking back or not looking back wont do him any good."

~ ~ ~ 

"It was all coming down on her too fast.  There was too much reality that her hands and eyes could not deny, and too much that must be taken for granted that her hands and eyes could not prove; too much of the inexplicable that hands and eyes were asked too suddenly to accept and believe without proof.  After thirty years it must have been like a person in solitary blundering suddenly into a room full of strange people all talking at once, and she casting desperately about for anything that would hold sanity together by choosing some logical course of action which would be within her limitations, which she could have some assurance of being able to perform."~both quotes from Light in August by Wm Faulkner

* * * 

Lately I've thought that if a person who sat in front of me asked me how I was doing I'd collapse in front of them, tears flowing.  Likely I would.  We're so stoic.  Life sort of shatters without our permission, children wander off down the wide road, and we wring our hands.  Crushed.  Some days I feel as if I'm holding my breath.

Last night I asked Gary if when a person is involved in a decadent lifestyle they get full up with the weight of it.  He asked what I was driving at, and I said I was reaching for straws, wanting our boys to stop filling that God-shaped void with bad living.  My husband had his own issues as a young man, before I met him, so I knew he understood where I was going with it.  He said his own experience was that he knew when he'd reached a place where he had to make a change or suffer permanent consequences.  He added that he hoped our boys would feel the Spirit's absence before it was too late.

Amen.

'Daily Painting' by Carol Marine

What a happy book.  Carol Marine's book called Daily Painting, is a joy to read.  It's full of paintings you'd want to tear out and hang up (but I will resist).  She shares her story of difficulties in finding time to paint, even when there was nothing more she wanted to do, yet she lacked the zest to get going.  She poured our her heart to a portrait artist she admired and he suggested she do some sort of art everyday.  His three page response thrilled her, but she failed to follow it. The daily painting movement really launched her into doing small paintings everyday, and she's been at it ever since.

In the book she covers supplies (not being such a critical decision that it takes away the joy), colors of paint to purchase, surfaces to work on and more.  Included are paintings by other daily painters---advice from them, and on the whole this book is all a person would need to attempt to self-teach themselves.  She's covered the questions a beginning artist would likely come up with, and is just so very encouraging.  I heartily recommend it.

Also check out her website at http://www.dailypaintworks.com/artists/cmarine. 

(i received this book free to review from crown publishing)