{ Excerpt }

 I have been reading this book called Grace for the Good Girl, Letting Go of the Try-Hard Life by Emily Freeman, who writes at Chatting At the Sky and it is hitting me hard, every page and I mean that in the best possible sense, as a compliment to the author. It's spooky how sometimes I'll read a page and wonder how she got into my head, because she just described me so to a T. It has impacted me like no other book since 1000 Gifts has.I have underlined and circled and written notes on nearly every page. And could not recommend it more highly. Especially for those of us who are second generation Christians.
So here is a snippet from one of my favorite paragraphs so far:

" When you're used to wearing a mask, you are comfortable with compartmentalizing life. Mask-wearing good girls put worship in a slivered-up pie chart, dividing our lives into segments of importance. We assign percentages for work, service, prayer, school, exercise, PTA, meal planning, bill paying, dog walking, toilet cleaning, church and rest (if we're lucky). But the woman who has freely received the abundance of truth from Jesus abides in that truth as her very life. In other words, the lines of the pie chart disappear, and worship covers the full circle. Free women respond with worship in everything. We receive love, and extend worship. We embrace children, offering worship.  We comfort, we laugh, we mourn, we dance, we read, we dream, we exist- all worship. We pay the bills, we go for a run, we enjoy a good movie, we make dinner, we welcome friends with open arms- worship, all worship. We send money and offer prayer and sit with a lonely neighbor, in Jesus name. We wait for love, we long for home, we pour out our hearts and hopes and fears and longing; we create with words and photos and colors and food, all beautiful beautiful acts of worship! "

Or as Romans 12:1 say " So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. This is truly the way to worship him.   - The Message/NLT

Quote from this mornings sermon.

"The sin underlying all other other sin is not finding joy in Jesus."

This morning in church, those words hit me hard, and resonated. And they have stuck with me throughout the day. 

Also, I wanted to share with you two blog posts that are penetrating my soul this week. You can find them here and here.



" We die daily. Happy those who daily come to life as well. "

-George MacDonald

{ belt it out }

Do you ever leave church on Sunday morning to wake up and  find yourself still singing a certain song on Monday morning. Because you can't get if off your heart?  I love it when that happens.  Here's what we are humming to Jesus this morning, over stinky daiper changes, secret anniversary preperations,  yogurt with granola, and finger painting. How about you?

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong, a perfect plea:
A great High Priest, whose name is Love,
Who ever lives and pleads for me.

My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart;
I know that while in heaven he stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart
No tongue can bid me thence depart.


When Satan tempts me to despair,
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look, and see him there
Who made an end of all my sin.


Because a sinless Savior died,
My sinful soul is counted free;
For God, the Just, is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me
To look on Him and pardon me


Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Praise the One,
Risen Son of God!

Behold him there, the risen Lamb
My perfect, spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I AM,
The King of glory and of grace!


One in himself, I cannot die
My soul is purchased by his blood
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ, my Savior and my God
With Christ, my Savior and my God

{ a pocketful of grace }

My first-day-of-October collection of thankfuls.


My $ 2.00 bargain bouquet of the most gorgeous dahlias from a nearby roadside stand.

Morning and evening's necessity to " run and put on a sweater."

Annabelle's delight in learning. You should have seen her excitement over learning the the word polliwog today. We are reading Charlotte's Web out loud. A real chapter book. She sits perfectly still and stares at my face, spellbound. But then she also argues with me like a practiced 15 year old. Right now she's equal parts heart-melting + hard.

Dreaming of baking up something spicy and comforting. And then sharing with loved ones and neighbors, over a big steamy mugs of good earth tea. Now if I only I could decide either apple or pumpkin?

Giddy, so giddy at the thought of moving at the end of the month...knowing that friends are waiting with open arms, ready to love us. Also giddy for our friends who have over the summer become man and wife or welcomed sweet new babies, for friends who are moving + settling into their new homes. As the answered prayers unfold around us and your heart aches with gratitude. Still we continue to pray and pray for friends that are still waiting for it to be their turn.
Annabelle rosy-cheeked and twirling as flame-tipped leaves swirl around the yard in the wind.

Our little evening visit with Granny Annie. And how wonderful it is to really truly see her back to herself again.
Snacks of perfectly crisp apple slices + juice-down-your-chin pears.
Recent cravings for the company of a good book. And have been staying up into the wee hours of the morning curled up on the couch reading to the the soft beat + rhythm of the rain against the window as background music.
Stretching out the early morning under the cover giggles, cozy + snuggled up together...
Loving the schemes and plans and brainstorming sessions with David, over ideas for the house. And our future.
Jack's delicious roly-poly-ness. His unbelievable squishy kissy cuddle-bug cuteness. Oh and did I mention, he's sporting not just one but two (hard earned) wee pearly whites. That and he's had his first taste of real food? Pumpkin pie. Straight off Daddy's fork. First he loved it...and then he puckered up and made terrible faces and we laughed so hard, and then after he got used to the texture, he loved it again and clamored for more. He is dying to crawl and gets up on all fours and rocks back and forth. Once he figures out how to move his arms he will be everywhere.
Longing to grow. Keenly aware of my insecurities, of how ugly the selfishness in me is.
" Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound. " Rom. 5: 20
The fear is like a blister. Doubts tug at me.
Until I remember Jesus. Then I am overwhelmed by His goodness. Overtaken by love.
Perfect Love.
" For perfect love casts out fear." 1 John 4: 18
And then my smile returns. And it is huge.

{ awakenings }

Here I am, pecking away at the keys and it's late...so late that today is about to slip past us into tomorrow. And while I sit here I feel compelled to at least make an effort to try and spill out some thoughts, in spite of my fear that they will come across as muddy and confusing.

In the past months I have found myself longing for more alone time. The all day, every day demands of a 3 month old and a 3 year old, as most of you Mama's already know so well don't exactly add up to "extra" time to quiet my heart before Jesus, and allow Him to fill me up. And yet I find myself in greater need of Him than I ever have before in my life.
It's a thirst.
A longing .
A missing.
A ache.

A soft but persistent tugging at my soul as He draws me to His heart and towards the things that I know will bring me to a deeper knowing and sense of His love. I feel like I am in the midst of being changed. And I desire a heightened awareness to His gentle whispers of truth and overflow of grace. Like I said, I feel my need. My soul is like a raw open, gaping sore as I am painfully aware of this truth: that the only thing that is deeper than the ugliness in my own heart, is the pure flawless beauty that He has replaced it with. And what an exchange it is, bought with His precious life blood. I feel shaken up and so unsure of myself, and I mean that in a good way. I crave more time with Jesus, more time listening to His beautiful, holy voice. More time pouring over the life giving, joy bringing words He put into a love letter for us. More time sitting at His feet and collecting wisdom and the fruits of the spirit, and feeding my soul with His very own. And out tumble these stunning thoughts:

God wants us. God wants me.
God loves us. God loves me.

Without limit or constraint or conditions.

And while I cannot even begin to grasp an inkling of the reality behind all of that, I feel as if I am being woke up, ever so tenderly from a long drowsy summer afternoon nap. And while the warmth of the sun enfolds me, and the wind kisses my face and all is comfort and peace and I am dearly tempted to curl up further and continue to give into the sleepy, heady haze of unconsciousness. While the sky beyond is waiting, as if brushed across in alternating shades of blue and sapphire. While golden rays reflect off the lake, as in a mirror and skip twinkling across like a million diamonds. While a field of green, with the greenest green grass you've ever seen, is intertwined with thousands of cheerful daisies that are graced by every exotic kind and color of butterfly known to man, flitting in the shadow of great craggy, snow capped peaks.

The open eye, holds greater promise.

And if only I knew the scope of the depth and beauty and spiraling heights of joy that await, of course I would want nothing more intensely than to wake up from any nap, now matter how pleasant it's dreams.

Lord, please open my eyes.

{ photo borrowed from here }

{ a slice of sweet conversation }

Mommy ( to Annabelle) : Hey Sug. ? ( short for sugar)
Annabelle : Yeah, Mommy?
Mommy: Who loves us the most?
Annabelle : Daddy.
Mommy (Smiling) : Yes Daddy. And who loves us even more than Daddy?
Annabelle ( without hesitation ): Oh Mommy, Jesus does.

That's right, Sugar. That's right.

{ For Whom The Bell Tolls }

I sat on the floor, in the corner of our living room, observing the empty space and the eerie way my voice bounced off the walls in an echo when I called out to my husband. In the mad rush that was filling and loading all our earthly belongings into boxes and the miles of bubble wrap and packaging tape that come with such a ritual, my little five week old son let it be known that just because we'd forgotten about our dinner, he had not forgotten about getting his. So I scooped him up in my arms and settled with him down on the floor, the flurry of moving day put on pause for a little bit, and then it all began to hit me. I could hear myself think and it scared me because I dreaded the deep surge of emotion that I had tried so hard to bury in box after box being loaded onto the U Haul, to be moved over the mountains, and across the state to a new home.

Then the bells from the Catholic Church adjoining the back corner of our yard began to ring out, their last call for Saturday night mass. As I sat there I thought about how much I'd grown to love those bells over the last five years of my life and remembered how I would always stop whatever I was doing to listen to their happy sound whenever they would ring, and I thought about how much I was going to miss those moments of peaceful reflection. Those bells expressed so well all my feelings toward this home sweet home we were about to leave...they summed up almost six years of memories made...hours of accumulated laughter, some tears, the birth of both our children and many beautiful milestones, great and small, along with the millions of just regular, ordinary sort of moments that make up life.
And as I listened to the familiar dong....dong...dong...the tears that had been pooling up in my eyes spilled out over my cheeks, as I felt an overwhelming pang of sadness knowing that I was hearing those bells for the last time.

The next morning as I stared out the car door window, familiarizing myself with the streets and houses around my future home, half pinching myself inside as we pulled up in front of the towering blue, circa 1909 house that we'll someday call home, half terrified at the task that lay ahead in making this house a home, I stepped out to the car, with a hopeful heart. It was then that I realized I was I hearing bells. Lood and clear, these glorious bells rang out around me. Goose bumps popped up all over my arms as, awestruck, I whispered my thanks to Him. In that moment I felt seen and known and loved as I listened to the bells ring in a new season as they had rung out an old,  His faithful love stunning me afresh.

But isn't that just like Jesus to send us little reassurances, like that.




P.S. - I cannot tell you how glad I am to have a blog full of memories to look back on, of the years we spent in our first home. It's one of greatest blessings of keeping a blog. That, and having the love and support and encouragement of each of you.