Archive for the ‘Journal’ Category
Doing Too Much
She gave me a devotional, Meditations for Women Who Do Too Much
I don’t think I do too much. I don’t do enough.
The Bath, Mary Cassatt
After the commotion of the evening calmed, I read a few of the meditations searching to see if my offense was truth I needed to face. I found words about addiction and disease. I found admonishments to take time for myself. I found reminders that we have choices in this life. And perhaps that is the key.
I realize that I have choices. Our family is starting a business, and I’m helping to start a school. I have purposefully made these choices. I am not overwhelmed and overtaken because of the seeming chaos around me.
Peace is first internal. I find it in quiet prayers throughout the day. I find it by attempting to match my actions to reality. The children running around here are more important than the door that might fall off its hinges from swinging. Serving all the souls who enter my home is a privilege.
Slipping into bed, I asked my beloved if he thinks I am a workaholic like the book suggested. He worries that I do too much, too. His reply:
No, you just have so much faith. That is why you are busy.
Faith. Really? If those words from the one who knows me best here on earth are true, then my busyness is not some compelling drive for acceptance. It is not my doing at all. If those words are true, my choices simply start with being willing to open my heart, because faith is a gift.
For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. (Ephesians 2:8-9)
Easter Is Coming! Activity List
In preparation for Easter, I wanted to work through some devotions similar to what we did during Advent. I poked around the internet a bit, but when April mentioned making ornaments I pressed.
She shared the pictures of her handmade ornaments and told me about the devotion book she is using, The Lenten Tree.
I decided to get the book even though we aren’t making any ornaments this year. {Who says you have to make a Lenten tree even if you’re reading The Lenten Tree? The devotions are very nice all by themselves.}
With our new devotions, I decided to mirror Miiko Gibson’s free ebook, Lent Activities for the Family, and create a list of things to do during the upcoming days. A few of these ideas are from her list, but my children came up with their own ideas, too.
- Make sugar cookies
- Decorate eggs
- Hunt eggs
- Make hot cross buns
- Attend Passover
- Gather and enjoy Easter-related books
- Plant daffodils
- Pray
- Make cards to share with friends
- Clean our house
- Help a friend clean
- Go swimming
- Go on a nature hike
- Listen to the Twelve Voices of Easter
- Listen to Handel’s Messiah
- Make Easter story cookies
- Decorate bird houses
- Take flowers to a friend
- Serve at the church
- Weed garden beds
As we celebrate spring and resurrection, we will reflect on the blessings we receive and take some time to make a memory or two.
How do you celebrate this season?
______________________________
P.S. The Carnival of Homeschooling will be posted here tomorrow. If you have a post you’d like to include, please submit it at Blog Carnival.
Words Matter: “I’m Praying for You.”
A shy teenage girl left her room littered with clothes as she ran out the door. The thirty minute drive to church was a welcome respite from the busyness of school and work. With the radio blaring, her yellow Buick cruised down the canyon. Dusty browns turned green as the river came into view. Waterfalls poured. Birds soared. Praises escaped.
Bursting through the church doors, she was greeted with a high five from Pastor. Then eyes scanned for her best friend. Once together the giggling started as the weight of school slipped away. The friends sat together through service, grew together.
photo: jessie.millan
Sunday services repeated over and over without a record of words spoken, but truths sank down. Love sank down and changed this girl little by little.
The girl was grateful when the pastor’s brother, a towering saint with a bolo tie, came up to her and said,
Our Sunday school class decided to pray for our youth. I got your name. I’m praying for you.
She needed prayer, this struggling one full of angst and longing. She tried to be good, but what was good in a world blaring lies? In the deepest places of her soul, she wanted to make a difference in the world. In the darkest hours of the night, she wondered whether she mattered at all.
A few Sundays later, the words repeated,
I’m praying for you.
Five months later, the words comforted,
I’m still praying for you.
Two years later, the words penetrated,
I’m praying for you.
The girl continued to grow. She headed away to college, but always when she returned back to her home church she saw the smile and the bolo tie and heard,
I’m praying for you, Renae. I haven’t forgotten.
The simple promise repeated over and over echoes still. Wonder mingles with profound gratitude. A man of God covered me with prayer for over a decade and that matters even now.
Tags: words matter
Thankful Monday Morning
The sun filters through the fog beckoning me to a new day. I stumble out of bed and head to the coffee pot. Cold coffee sloshes into my mug even though each day is worth a fresh pot of fragrant brew.
My girls are busy playing and my teenager emerges to see what is for breakfast. Stomach grumbling turns verbal.
Why do we have to do school today?
Our weekend was too busy.
I try to ignore the moaning, but it’s in my soul, too.
Where is our joy?
We pray, eat together, and lessons begin.
It’s Monday, so I pull out our Thankful Journals.
The day I decided to make these books was a day like the one I described above. The sun had been missing for days. We all felt grumpy. We needed to go to Good News Club in the afternoon, but no one wanted to go.
The internal battle in my own heart was won by gratitude.
I told my soul Good News Club is a wonderful opportunity. It is work. It can be hard, but it is worth the effort. It is an act of worship, an act of love.
As I considered my own internal raging, I thought of my kids. They have opportunities, too. They are blessed, but have they been counting their blessings?
I asked the kids to wait while I went to rummage in the shed.
When I came back, I carried a stack of composition books. Four were brand-new, but a pile of others where full of handwriting and pictures.
Those full books were the journals I made while they were babies. I read a few bits of the prayers I prayed for each of them. I told them that we were going to make something similar.
Scrapbook paper, magazines, and old calendars soon littered the floor as my children found images they wanted to glue onto their notebooks. I joined them in the cutting and gluing and soon we each had our own special place to record our blessings.
These are our Thankful Journals. We pull them out every Monday morning to chase away the grumbling and complaining.
My children grab their books and scatter. It only takes a few moments to record their thanksgiving, but those moments change the rest of our day.
Inspired by One Thousand Gifts. {Disclosure: This is an affiliate link. If you purchase items from Christianbook.com after clicking this link, I receive a few pennies.}
Somewhere Along the Way
Why do I feel more vulnerable writing among the people who shared my story from the beginning before blogging even existed?
How is it that sharing my passion with strangers-who-became-friends was easier than exposing my soul living here? Here where so many have invested in me. Here where I bump into those long-loved and begin to love anew.
There are so many individual stories to catch up on, but there is a knowing. Maybe that knowing is what I fear.
photo credit: Robb North
Dylan and I packed our bus and went to Texas to mission training school, but it wasn’t our doing. Generosity was our income and faith was our food.
The people who live here paid our way. Names noted one by one. Faces of saints who believed in us. Families who prayed and cared and gave with an open hand.
There is a weight to those gifts.
I was going to the other side of the world, not Idaho. Sent out more than once, yet called back with a dim idea that I can make a difference. But who am I?
Voices say I am a prayer warrior, a good friend, a giver of grace…The words swirl around my heart. Then they quietly slip to the floor.
I know who I really am.
I am fickle, lazy, prideful. I talk too much and listen too little. My patience fails and my selfishness flares. I am a sinner.
Don’t expect much from me, but expect everything from the Savior.
Somewhere along the way, He taught me the risk of love was worth it.
Somewhere along the way, He taught me where I end and someone else begins.
Somewhere along the way, He humbled me by pulling me out of my myopia.
I am crushed by His mercy.
Vulnerability is having the ability to be wounded. Yes, that is what I still fear. Being misunderstood, being screamed at again, being stripped of even more of my pride. Hurting my family. Losing my friends. But does fear help? No, it hinders.
Love reaches out in spite of fear.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (I Corinthians 13: 4-6)
