Flashback Friday - a post from the archives about "Simple Joys"

I hope this little piece from my archives is a blessing to you today...enjoy...


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If you, like me, have ever struggled with actually doing the little things each day that bring you joy, if you have ever wondered if you were being selfish...can I speak some love over your life?

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Taking joy...every day...will make you a better wife, mother, boss, employee, entrepreneur, preacher's wife, you-name-it.

All I will remind you, in your quest for deep joy and sustainable pleasure, is this:

" 'tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free. "

Keep your joys as simple as a wood fire; as satisfying as a glass of Merlot; as sustainable as making roasted rosemary chicken for you and your love for dinner. Keep your joys free from comparison and competition. Leave comparison and competition to the unimaginative souls who must utilize those mindsets to be motivated.

You and I? We are so rich in Christ. All things are ours, indeed. A bouquet of sunflowers is our gold, and the stars twinkling above on a winter's night-walk are our diamonds. Holding the hand of the man of our dreams, grown deliciously and delightfully mature, is the stuff of fanciful girl-talk.

Daily, our God loads us with benefits. Rarely do they strain our budgets. Souls of artists, down through time, have discovered the tiny treasures tucked into the travel-trunk of each new day....and have written or sculpted or painted about them.

Take joy. Simple joy.



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Wear Your Praise Wednesday {...Wear Your Words - The Printed T-Shirt, 3 Ways...}

Words are my defining passion, my art form...and lately, I find myself wearing them.

As in, it would take you 19 minutes just to read me.

So I wanted to share with you 3 ways you can rock the printed T.

Yes, even in middle age.  I am a grandma.  Fifty is a year and a few away.  And I wear words with impunity.

The first way I want to show you the printed T, is with "joggers".  I thought these were just sweat pants with a band around the ankles, but when I was recently in (of all things) my Lowe's store, I walked past a cute college-age girl with her grandma.

I was wearing these sweat pants joggers, and she, a complete stranger, said to me, "I like your joggers."  Then, as I thanked her and kept walking, I heard her remark, "Grandma, see, those pants are called joggers.  I really like them.  I want a pair."

I think she was hitting grandma up for a trip to Target.

I wear my joggers with the legs pulled up, and my smart phone in the pocket...a fact which annoys me from time to time (slippage and bulk, respectively) but there you have it.

I love this little T - it says, "One Life...and then all of eternity".

It is a cheerful message if you are a Jesus Freak...kind of a buzz kill if you aren't.  But I'm fine with that.

My all-time favorite printed T.  Here, I layer it with a camisole, and pair it with boyfriend jeans and a heeled peep toe (I swear, my fingers just typed "poop toe"...where does that come from?).

This T says, "Mimi's Kitchen - Open Late".  I love it because of the font, the color, and the fact that I am a closet foodie who does not believe in dietary restrictions of any kind.  I even created my own hashtag this year { #mimiskitchen } and I invite you to check it out.

I am an avid cook on some days.  I'm all about whole foods and healthy and cake and bread and stuff and wonderful things.

Here is the same T, dressed for when you go to see that Minion movie this month.  Am I the only one who freezes in movie theaters?  If I were going to the movies, I'd likely trade out that poop peep toe for some Chucks.

That long sweater was another Marshall's score last winter.  I saved it for summer, because, believe it or not, it is the perfect summer layer.  It is whisper-thin, and lengthens and leans out your look like nobody's business.  I wish I had bought one in every color they had.

Next, here is the printed T all dressed up with nowhere to go.

This is a brave look, and not for everyone.  But I've rocked it before...

...and if you don't have a black and white striped skirt yet...well...you don't Pinterest, do you?

{roll up the sleeve on your little T, when you are dressing her up...and put on a statement necklace.}

This one confuses the hound out of everyone I meet.  (That's southern-talk for people don't know what my T-shirt is saying.)

It simply says, "OHDARLINGLETSBEADVENTURERS".

Oh.  Darling.  Let's.  Be.  Adventurers.

Come on, now.  It ain't that hard.  I love this shirt.  I'm determined to wear it every time The Preacher and I go bike riding this summer.

Now - here is the same look, with a denim jacket, for when you are in a freezing cold restaurant:

And by the way.  Denim with black and white stripes?  Getouttahere.  It's perfection.

...that's just me, fooling with the shutter-clicky-thingy.

The things I do for you.

Go forth and wear words.  I don't care how old you are.

From the 2011 Archives {...for "Throw Back Thursday" - a post entitled "You Won't Find Perfection Here"...}

In honor of "Throw Back Thursday" { #TBT } I dusted off this gem

from the archives.  As much joy as I experienced then, in 2011, and in spite
of all the imperfection...little did I know that things were 
about to get even harder.
CRAZY-harder.
And things were also about to get even better.
CRAZY-better.
 I hope you enjoy...

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You won't find perfection here...

...because, to begin with, I have been fighting a stomach bug for two days. So I am in no mood to ply you with perfectly staged pictures of my sweet little life.

And I've just about had enough of some of the "Fundamentalista-blogs" out there, portraying life as though it were one big bubble blowing "we love Jesus, that's why everything's perfect" party. I've read through a couple tonight, and off the cuff...well, they are beginning to irk me. If I ever retract that statement, I shall blame my current state of nausea. I won't name names, though I could. I am half sorry I've recommended a couple of them in years past. I wasn't "onto" their game, then.

All those homemade dresses. And cooking. And knitting. And perfect children, both grown and not quite grown. And (here is the shame): no mention of even one struggle...I'm serious. Now that I have the luxury of looking over the body of work on these couple of blogs - I lie not - not a single struggle is mentioned beyond the death of loved ones.

Meanwhile, here at The Cottage, you've heard me talk about how Waltonesque we are here - with three generations under one (small, middle income, not-hip-or-architecturally-interesting) roof. But how did I put it?

"We are so Waltonesque....only Mama takes her half-an-Ambien at bedtime, and John Boy chews tobacco and can be mean sometimes."

We are trophies of grace - not a trophy family. And I am so daggum okay with that. Yes. I said daggum. Yes, I take a half an Ambien to get to sleep. If you had a crying grand baby in your house, if you had a less than perfect, sometimes noisy teenage son, and a husband who snored like a bulldog with a sinus issue, with no extra bedrooms to spare in your ordinary 60's tract home, you'd need a half an Ambien too. Deal with it.

We are in full time ministry. We home schooled each and every child from birth through high school graduation. (The youngest graduates this spring.) We never sewed our own dresses, we wore jeans. We did and we do bake bread, but only because we enjoy it. I knit because it keeps me sane.

We read CS Lewis, GK Chesterton, Churchill's History of the English Speaking Peoples, the Iliad and the Odyssey, and Semus Heaney's translation of Beowulf. We listen to classical music, worship music, and a bit of Eric Clapton. Everyone (but me) sings and plays a musical instrument, and plays it skillfully. What is my point?  My point is this:

I have enough material to pretend with.

I have enough good going on, I could only tell you the good parts, and conveniently leave out the struggle.

I could. But why would I?

Both daughters married well, saved themselves for marriage, and married strong Christian men. One of my daughters gave us our first grandson in December of last year. She and her husband and our grandson live with us, because my daughter's husband was in graduate school getting his Master's, interning at a local high school for free, and working part time when they found out she was pregnant.

To take a small bit of the pressure off of them, they chose to move in with us for a season. They are now at the point at which they are scouring the papers, looking for the perfect house on a teacher's meager salary. They'll move back out next year.

Our other daughter married an artist, and they spend all their time developing his art business, and helping out with various ministries in our church.

And our oldest son is no longer in the Marines. He is the tobacco chewer - a habit the whole family fervently prays he soon outgrows. And he will. I don't doubt that. He is back in town, attempting to get a fresh start. As a family, we are trying to help him do that...help him just enough, but not too much.

Our youngest son is also a work-in-progress. He left home last year, and after a great deal of heartbreak and prayer, willingly came back home. He repented and asked for a fresh start, and we gave that to him. Do we know how it will all turn out? Not really.

All I know is that grace will accomplish what the law could never do. The law can't make anything righteous, but the bringing of a better hope most certainly HAS and most certainly WILL.

Does that all seem so...so...so blue collar? So not-fundamentalist-homeschooler? So much less than perfect?

Thank you. Thank you, thank you for saying so. Somebody has to live this life honestly, and embrace it with true joy. Because the last thing I want you to find, when you visit me here, is the same old bubble blowing perfectly-faked-life crap.

Here's the point: I'm okay! I lived through the turmoil! I survived finding out that my family is less than perfect. Yet. Yet, there is so much beauty in my life these days, it often overwhelms me.

I am overflowing with joy. After wrestling through law and gospel issues, and actually applying the gospel to my private world (THUS "ordering it") I discovered that the good news is actually good news. And it brings health and beauty into lives. It mends people and hearts and relationships. I'm living proof.

Note: "beauty" and "perfection" have never been synonymous.