seeing the purple petunias

Elijah and I sat on the front porch. The weather was cooler than a typical June day, and yet despite the heavy clouds and bursts of wind we were comfortable. He rested on my lap, his soon to be four year old head nestled into my shoulder.

We just sat.

I asked him what he was thinking about and after glancing around the porch he quickly replied  -- about purple flowers, momma. There was a huge pot of deep purple petunias sitting by the entry.  Anything else, Elijah? I asked. He  sighed, and looked around again and simply said -- oh, and about God, momma.

I told him thinking about God was a really good thing and he quickly told me he knew that.

We sat there -- him thinking about purple flowers and God -- and me wondering about life and summer and words. I was mulling over how we define stresses -- I hear it so much -- I'm stressed about this or stressed about that -- and yet, for myself, I wonder if what I'm calling stress should really be called stress.

You know, like getting stressed because I have to do the dishes. Or clean. Or run the kids to ballet. Or mow the lawn. Or plan homeschool curriculum. Or write a post by a deadline. Or get the car washed. Or take those pictures. Or fold the laundry I'm behind on.

I think I might have been calling blessings stresses. And not seeing the beauty of the purple petunias right in front of my face.  If I had been Elijah I probably would have said -- I see weeds in the flower garden -- completely missing the beauty of the petunias right in front of me.  Sigh.

I'm convicted to think before I refer to items as stress. I remember years ago, when we lived in San Diego {and yes, we moved back to the snowy land of Minnesota} being in a Bible Study with some lovely and wonderful ladies. I was this young mother, and we were going through financial stress -- real hardship -- and we were 2000+ miles from friends and family. After I poured my heart out in a prayer request the next lady was up to share. I can still remember sitting there, with my tear-stained face, as she proceeded to lament about how stressed she was in prepping for her trip to Paris in two weeks, and how she needed so much prayer.

Only seeing the weeds.

It stuck with me. That realization of keeping one's eyes open and not allowing the blessings in life to become the stresses in life. And to be really really careful about what I ask for in a time of prayer requests.

Oh, to be like Elijah. To see the world for all it's beauty. To be content to rest on a patio chair on a June afternoon and think about purple flowers and God.

Let me learn from him.

And see the purple petunias first.

{I've linked with what is on your heart.}

life can be beautiful

Life can be beautiful.

Whether during the morning sunrise, the clouds in the sky, or the evening dusk

I've been challenged to look for the beauty in life. My sweet photographer daughter, Hannah, captures real life in the most beautiful ways. Her photography motivates me. Inspires me. Reminds me of beautiful.

Whether it is the laughter of Brennan

Or the moments of an afternoon game captured.

Somehow her lens freezes time allowing me to see what I might otherwise miss.

Whether it is the kids all cuddled in the corner

Or the orange peel left behind on the counter.

All these miscellany images,

 each telling its own story,

 and yet combining to create our story.

Oh, how I wish I could keep that everyday beautiful focus throughout the day. 

In the folded laundry piles towering in the laundry room. Or the army men lined neatly in a row in the older boys' bedroom window ledge. Or the care and precision with which my Chloe made my dinner {and let me tell you she is an EXCELLENT cook. I am uber-blessed by her love of food.) Or in those fleeting moments of rocking a toddler  Or in the tender way in which Brennan brushes back Samuel's hair.

It's all too easy to miss.

Especially with all there is to do.

You know, the daily grind.
Yeah, the daily grind.

But what if it wasn't a chore?
That grind?

What if it, the "daily grind", became beautiful?

Chopping veggies. Wiping the sink. Sweeping the floor. Picking up the 1239th lego of the day. Folding those mismatched socks. Ignoring the maze of streamers in the family room, and instead marveling at the creativity. Wiping spilled orange juice grateful for the one who spilled it. Blessing the food as it's bubbling away. Thankful for the car that needs snow brushed off.  Loving the sweet face behind the sticky cereal crumbs.

The everyday? 

It starts to become this beautiful endeavor.

It's a different way of thinking.

Looking through the lens of beauty.

That's my miscellany today.

Ramblings on my messy, and yet beautiful, life.

{you can visit Hannah at her blog Aspire by clicking here}

{you can link up with my dear friend, Carrissa's monday miscellany by clicking below}

the sacred in normal

Our family lost normal.

For a month everything was turned upside down. 

Sickness and worry clouded our days.

  I knew that the sacred, the beauty in normal needed to return.

Simple joy.

Candles lit lining our table.

The red catching in the morning sun.

Marking this space as wanted. Needed.

Nothing else changed. 

No new books or schedules or plans.

Just candles. Flickering light.

Celebrating life.

Learning.

The crayons were still there. 

 A waffle here, my coffee there. 

 The table was full.

My mindset had changed.

The table wasn't cluttered anymore.

It was beautiful.

I had forgotten normal.

When Samuel was so sick I wanted to be able to sit at the table and learn with my children.

Yesterday, finally, I did.

And

It was glorious.

In the holy hush of the early dawn

I hear a Voice

"I am with you all the day,

Rejoice! Rejoice!"

(George MacDonald)

those hidden treasures

I have this bowl.  When my grandmother died, there were a collection of bowls that I was blessed to receive.  There was one bowl, a bowl that no one really wanted -- that I took.  I brought it home and dubbed it my "scrap bowl" -- the bowl that I put all the garbage and scraps in when I cooked.  Gradually, I learned to love this little, not-wanted bowl. 

Then yesterday, at a family reunion, I found out that my bowl was a collectors item.

That people pay large amounts of money for my scrap bowl.

And I started to laugh.

Isn't that how life is? The real treasures tend to be overlooked, shunned, and pushed to the side. Maybe it's a loved one -- instead of focusing on their good traits all we see is what they do wrong.  And then, one day, our eyes are opened to their beauty.  But at what price?

We are no better than that bowl.  The world defines us as worthless, without price or value.  We don't measure up.  We don't look as good.  We don't have enough money.  We don't. We don't. We don't.  Oh, how easy it is to allow those We don't statements to define us.  Then we are defined by the world.

But we are hidden treasures.

In the Lord we are like that bowl.  Priceless.  Beautiful.  His treasure.

So, the next time I chop my tomatoes, or make salsa -- which is what is in that bowl now -- I'm going to thank my Lord that He sees me and He defines me.  Not the world. Their labels are worthless. His?  Priceless.

Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Luke 12:7b

(Interested in my bowl?  It's a TEXAS WARE 111 bowl.  And I love it.)

 

a bit of history.....and intentionality

Blogging creates intentionality in my life. I set aside time to write. I set aside time to play. And to work. And to write. To get the stuff in my head out. To be REAL.

my keyboard

Somehow in the scheme of life I find myself aware of the joy and beauty around me more when I write. It's as if knowing that I get to write frees my eyes to see the abundance of joy. It's funny because I certainly have lived a life that has many, many hard roads. Roads that were dark and ominous...roads of cancer, roads of financial woes, and roads of self-doubt. Yet the Lord was faithful, even in those difficult times. When my husband was diagnosed with cancer I remember feeling so incredibly close to our Lord. Those around me couldn't understand the peace that filled me, a peace I attributed only to Him above. During those times, moments where I didn't know the future, I began to see life, to see everyday, differently. As a gift.

It's easy to race through life missing the beautiful moments. How many times do we think or say, "when this happens I'll be happy." or "I'll play with you guys in just a little bit." or "If I only had this...insert anything...then I could be the best"  And we lament over what we don't have or should be doing. I know. I was there. I still battle that. However, the Lord so gently led me down this road of surrender. And on that road I began to see beauty. In the ordinary, everyday moments of life.

You know the moments.

A warm cup of coffee in hand. An infant snuggled to your chest. Fresh rain leaving trails down the driveway. A toddler singing "Jesus loves me." The sound of a piano playing. Family.

coffee

When my husband was sick I began to journal online. It started with  our caringbridge site with just simple updates. As the weeks passed it began to become a journal of faith. Everything was grey and cloudy. We had no idea how we would end up, how we would survive. And here we are. Four years later. And with two little boys who we were told could never be. One of them is that sweet Samuel from the previous post. And the other? My Elijah...aka as Moochie Man. He is a blessing, victory over cancer. The Lord is good.

my moochie man

So blogging has become a lifestyle. I took a break for a bit because I needed to figure out why I was blogging. Was it for me? To be popular? To get followers? I needed to understand. And I think I do now. Yes, it's great and uplifting to have followers, but more than that I've come to realize that if my words, my realness, gives hope or joy to one other person then it was time well spent.  And, honestly, many times it helps me.  It allows me to look at life differently...with a different and fresh lens.  Blogging is a blessing to me. I process all the stuff inside and write it down. Vulnerably. And then I'm not bogged down with thoughts. I become free to live.

The best part? God. When I blog I feel more connected to Him. I search the the Scriptures. I'm more in tune with the abundance of gifts and beauty around me. Finding Joy became my title when I was in the midst of massive crisis. I was determined to live alive to Him despite the lies of the world and the oppressive reality surrounding me. And God was good. He surprised me with the extraordinary joy found in living a life intentionally for Him. I am so excited about resparking (is that I word? Because if not I think it should be. It's soooo cool) my blogging journey. I've seen the blessings blogging has given our family. From my own blog to the blog of my daughter Hannah at Aspire . It's neat. And I thank each of you for joining once again on my journey. It's truly a gift to share with you a bit about me.  And in return, I get to learn some of your journey.  As we walk this road of life there are ups and downs.  I know.  What better way to journey than with friends.

Samuel and me

(thank you to my daughter Hannah for all these fabulous pictures)

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