C.H. Spurgeon
He who forgets the humming of the bees among the heather, the cooing of the wood-pigeons in the forest, the song of birds in the woods, the rippling of rills among the rushes, and the sighing of the wind among the pines, needs not wonder if his heart forgets to sing and his soul grows heavy. A day's breathing of fresh air upon the hills, or a few hours ramble in the beech woods' umbrageous calm, would sweep the cobwebs out of the brain of scores of our toiling ministers who are now but half alive. A mouthful of sea air, or a stiff walk in the wind's face, would not give grace to the soul, but it would yield oxygen to the body, which is next best.
Now That Christmas Is Over...
Time to plan a wedding, friends. The vibe is kinda vintage, kinda casual, but not completely casual...and done on a small budget. Two weddings in one year...well, enough said. We are trusting God for provision.
We pulled off Hannah's wedding on an equally small budget, and it turned out lovely. So we are undaunted by it all, and I now must move instantly into wedding mode.
(Oh, I will still enthuse about grace and church life and theology and recipes - and thank you for putting up with a blog that runs the whole gamut...even encouraging me to keep writing. You say you come here to be encouraged and inspired and entertained. My prayer is that God gifts me more and more and more to do exactly those three things! Someone let me know last week that they visit my blog each day, hoping to find something new, and are disappointed when I haven't posted yet. That is a high, high compliment, one that I do not take lightly. I shall do my best for my blog friends, new and old!)
Please, please I beg you...if you have any simple, beautiful wedding ideas, things that can be done for little money and big style, email me! I am so open! Any websites, any blogs, pictures, tips, any anything. That is how my creative soul works. I gather and gather and gather inspiration, and then condense it and stew on it, and out comes something hopefully new and fresh and creative.
Here are Sarah's and my inspirations so far (keep in mind these are our visual inspirations, not "the plan"...)
We love the baby's breath!
collage...
more baby's breath...
vintage vibe...
outside, casual vibe
barn vibe...(our reception location looks almost exactly like this, only even better, with gorgeous post and beam construction. It is a dream-place!)
We pulled off Hannah's wedding on an equally small budget, and it turned out lovely. So we are undaunted by it all, and I now must move instantly into wedding mode.
(Oh, I will still enthuse about grace and church life and theology and recipes - and thank you for putting up with a blog that runs the whole gamut...even encouraging me to keep writing. You say you come here to be encouraged and inspired and entertained. My prayer is that God gifts me more and more and more to do exactly those three things! Someone let me know last week that they visit my blog each day, hoping to find something new, and are disappointed when I haven't posted yet. That is a high, high compliment, one that I do not take lightly. I shall do my best for my blog friends, new and old!)
Please, please I beg you...if you have any simple, beautiful wedding ideas, things that can be done for little money and big style, email me! I am so open! Any websites, any blogs, pictures, tips, any anything. That is how my creative soul works. I gather and gather and gather inspiration, and then condense it and stew on it, and out comes something hopefully new and fresh and creative.
Here are Sarah's and my inspirations so far (keep in mind these are our visual inspirations, not "the plan"...)
We love the baby's breath!
collage...
more baby's breath...
vintage vibe...
outside, casual vibe
barn vibe...(our reception location looks almost exactly like this, only even better, with gorgeous post and beam construction. It is a dream-place!)Please pray for us, and again, we encourage your ideas, tips, whatever. If you run across pictures that veritably ooze classy- vintage- wedding, send them on!
Let the games begin...
God Rest Ye Merry
(Because of the wonderful response I got on this post last year, I am reposting it, one year later...oh my, it was verrrry prophetic. Looking back over the past year, I can easily see that God knew what battles were ahead of us, and He put His word, His two edged sword in our hand. Merry Christmas to my family, and to all my faithful friends!)
I've always wanted to greet people I care about in this way at Christmas time: "God rest ye merry, my friend."
For many years, I never understood that old carol, "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen". It originates all the way back to the middle ages, and was written in old English. In those days, "merry" didn't mean "happy" as it does now. In those days, "merry" meant "mighty". A great and powerful king was a "merry" king, and a great and terrible army was a "merry" army.
"Rest" didn't mean to put your feet up, nor did it mean that you took a nap. "Rest" meant, in old English, "to keep in a continual state of".
"God keep you in a continual state of might and strength, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day, to save us all from satan's power when we had gone astray.
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy! Comfort and joy! Oh tidings of comfort and joy!"
This Christmas, I've been smitten over and over with the simple statement of a great heavenly host. There...filling the heavens...Jehovah Sabaoth, Lord of the Hosts, sent His great host to break centuries and centuries of silence between God and men. God could have commissioned them to say anything. These ministers of His, this great, innumerable host, are as flames of fire, carrying out His Word, down to the smallest detail. They've declared war before, down throughout human history - lots of times.
Would this be that sort of message?
God could have instructed His hosts to give only the facts: "Messiah is here."
He could have sent a message of judgement.
God dropped a bomb, to be sure. He dropped a bomb that would forever make that field in Bethlehem the greatest, most utterly meaningful, most famous "ground zero" of all time. But it was an explosion of joy.
The Grace Message was finally detonated.
A blast of mercy, engulfing the planet. Into the black of the night, into the darkness of our human spirit, came the bright light of Good News. It was tidings of comfort and joy. Jehovah Sabaoth utilized His great host, He sent the mightiest, "merriest" troops in the universe to tell us, "YEAY!" and to promptly throw a party amongst the stars, in full view of a few shepherds.
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, Peace....Goodwill....to men."
Peace.
Goodwill.
Let it sink in. Let those two words be the good news they were meant to be. Your very own tidings of comfort and joy.
Merry Christmas, dear ones. God rest ye merry...
I've always wanted to greet people I care about in this way at Christmas time: "God rest ye merry, my friend."
For many years, I never understood that old carol, "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen". It originates all the way back to the middle ages, and was written in old English. In those days, "merry" didn't mean "happy" as it does now. In those days, "merry" meant "mighty". A great and powerful king was a "merry" king, and a great and terrible army was a "merry" army.
"Rest" didn't mean to put your feet up, nor did it mean that you took a nap. "Rest" meant, in old English, "to keep in a continual state of".
"God keep you in a continual state of might and strength, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day, to save us all from satan's power when we had gone astray.
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy! Comfort and joy! Oh tidings of comfort and joy!"
This Christmas, I've been smitten over and over with the simple statement of a great heavenly host. There...filling the heavens...Jehovah Sabaoth, Lord of the Hosts, sent His great host to break centuries and centuries of silence between God and men. God could have commissioned them to say anything. These ministers of His, this great, innumerable host, are as flames of fire, carrying out His Word, down to the smallest detail. They've declared war before, down throughout human history - lots of times.
Would this be that sort of message?
God could have instructed His hosts to give only the facts: "Messiah is here."
He could have sent a message of judgement.
God dropped a bomb, to be sure. He dropped a bomb that would forever make that field in Bethlehem the greatest, most utterly meaningful, most famous "ground zero" of all time. But it was an explosion of joy.
The Grace Message was finally detonated.
A blast of mercy, engulfing the planet. Into the black of the night, into the darkness of our human spirit, came the bright light of Good News. It was tidings of comfort and joy. Jehovah Sabaoth utilized His great host, He sent the mightiest, "merriest" troops in the universe to tell us, "YEAY!" and to promptly throw a party amongst the stars, in full view of a few shepherds.
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, Peace....Goodwill....to men."
Peace.
Goodwill.
Let it sink in. Let those two words be the good news they were meant to be. Your very own tidings of comfort and joy.
Merry Christmas, dear ones. God rest ye merry...
There is No Place Like Home...
I'm home on Christmas eve, and I'm glad all the way into the marrow of my bones. I'm home...my own home...where I can bake cookies in my own oven, whip up a batch of mashed potatoes on my own stove top, and listen to my "Scottish Christmas" CD.
The designer Coco Chanel, who owned enough houses and had enough of this world's wealth to know, once said about her favorite house, "It isn't the house...it's the life I live there."
I'm no longer impressed with grand houses. I used to be - not unhealthily, mind you - but impressed nonetheless. And I can still appreciate a beautiful Arts and Crafts bungalow, or French chateau-style architecture, or a rustic log cabin. But I have learned, up close and personal, that houses really do mean very little. It is the life lived inside the house, by the people in residence there, that makes the cold, attractive but inanimate piece of architecture a warm and welcoming haven...or a place where warmth might have been the goal, but it is rarely really felt.
As my blog header proudly declares, I live in suburbia, in a declining middle class neighborhood. So it isn't the house....it is the life I live here. I live soulfully and creatively, lovingly and yes, even artistically - all inside the walls of an unremarkable 60's rancher. I have personally shared the gospel with every single neighbor on my street, and even two houses on the street behind me, and even a street or two over, I can show you the homes of people whose lives I've been enabled to bless.
The sounds and smells and sights of Christmas fill this home to bursting. I'm sure there are a few grand and huge and beautiful homes, where the lives of the people living in them fill it with purposeful and artistic living, warmth and joy, perhaps even exceeding my own. But there probably aren't very many. A great deal of those kinds of houses are image props - beautiful boxes that must be artificially filled with stuff that reflects the sort of lifestyle that the owners want to live, but don't actually live.
And there are small houses, in declining middle class neighborhoods, in which joy cannot be found, where the family fabric is shredded, and warmth isn't even attempted.
See, it isn't the house, it's the life you live in it.
I'm home on Christmas eve, and I'm happy to the marrow of my bones. The life I live in this house is built on the foundation of grace - there is no other foundation to lay than that which has been laid, which is Jesus Christ. And I have been very careful how I've built upon that foundation. I've made the tough choices that tend towards abundant life. Therefore, this home will be filled, throughout the day, with family and friends, just like every other day. They will all come and go and partake of the peace and loud laughter that fills these walls. Maybe someday I'll also be able to offer them all a hot drink inside a home that is bigger, with beautiful and far more interesting design - but it won't be the house that touches their heart. It will be the life I live inside the house.
I'm happy. To the marrow of my bones. That is what makes this home a haven.
The designer Coco Chanel, who owned enough houses and had enough of this world's wealth to know, once said about her favorite house, "It isn't the house...it's the life I live there."
I'm no longer impressed with grand houses. I used to be - not unhealthily, mind you - but impressed nonetheless. And I can still appreciate a beautiful Arts and Crafts bungalow, or French chateau-style architecture, or a rustic log cabin. But I have learned, up close and personal, that houses really do mean very little. It is the life lived inside the house, by the people in residence there, that makes the cold, attractive but inanimate piece of architecture a warm and welcoming haven...or a place where warmth might have been the goal, but it is rarely really felt.
As my blog header proudly declares, I live in suburbia, in a declining middle class neighborhood. So it isn't the house....it is the life I live here. I live soulfully and creatively, lovingly and yes, even artistically - all inside the walls of an unremarkable 60's rancher. I have personally shared the gospel with every single neighbor on my street, and even two houses on the street behind me, and even a street or two over, I can show you the homes of people whose lives I've been enabled to bless.
The sounds and smells and sights of Christmas fill this home to bursting. I'm sure there are a few grand and huge and beautiful homes, where the lives of the people living in them fill it with purposeful and artistic living, warmth and joy, perhaps even exceeding my own. But there probably aren't very many. A great deal of those kinds of houses are image props - beautiful boxes that must be artificially filled with stuff that reflects the sort of lifestyle that the owners want to live, but don't actually live.
And there are small houses, in declining middle class neighborhoods, in which joy cannot be found, where the family fabric is shredded, and warmth isn't even attempted.
See, it isn't the house, it's the life you live in it.
I'm home on Christmas eve, and I'm happy to the marrow of my bones. The life I live in this house is built on the foundation of grace - there is no other foundation to lay than that which has been laid, which is Jesus Christ. And I have been very careful how I've built upon that foundation. I've made the tough choices that tend towards abundant life. Therefore, this home will be filled, throughout the day, with family and friends, just like every other day. They will all come and go and partake of the peace and loud laughter that fills these walls. Maybe someday I'll also be able to offer them all a hot drink inside a home that is bigger, with beautiful and far more interesting design - but it won't be the house that touches their heart. It will be the life I live inside the house.
I'm happy. To the marrow of my bones. That is what makes this home a haven.
Winter Solstice
As of this week, the light will be ever increasing. Tucked away in the cold of the first day of winter, we find the promise of spring! I'm no pantheist or wiccan - I am a believer in the good news of Jesus Christ, but every year, I celebrate the winter solstice - that shortest, darkest day of the year. It comes on December 21st, day before yesterday. It is the day when my part of the world silently changes from becoming dark earlier and earlier, to dark coming later and later...the sun setting later and later...a few more moments of light each day. I know the science behind it all, but to me it still is such a small miracle.
"And heaven, and heaven and nature sing!"
On the day of winter solstice, I feed the birds. It is a serene, centering ritual I've enjoyed for years. My thoughts linger over the love of a God who is aware of the sparrow. The birds need food in winter, and my soul needs nourishment, too. By His hand we all are fed. I quietly, in my own heart, think of the promise of spring and the faithfulness of a God who said, "While the earth remains, Seedtime and harvest, Cold and heat, Winter and summer, And day and night Shall not cease." (Gen. 8:22)
On the day of winter solstice, I feed the birds. It is a serene, centering ritual I've enjoyed for years. My thoughts linger over the love of a God who is aware of the sparrow. The birds need food in winter, and my soul needs nourishment, too. By His hand we all are fed. I quietly, in my own heart, think of the promise of spring and the faithfulness of a God who said, "While the earth remains, Seedtime and harvest, Cold and heat, Winter and summer, And day and night Shall not cease." (Gen. 8:22)
Winter. The season of light (yes! of light!) and bare, beautiful, sculptural branches. I want to bring these concepts into my home, after Christmas, to decorate a few corners and table tops temporarily. I will add touches of light and bare branches here and there. The ideas are still forming...ways to decorate with light itself, when the Christmas twinkle lights come down. I enjoy a home that celebrates the seasons.
I'll take pictures and blog them for you, once I figure this out and execute it. Any ideas? Please email me with them! I'm sure whatever I come up with, it will be beyond simple to do - because I don't do complicated or ostentatious.
Let us love this winter. We might not get to experience another one. Enjoy this one as though it were your first...or your last. There is no such thing as an ordinary season or an ordinary day.
Christmas With Our College-Career Small Group
Tim and I shared a special moment this evening. Our daughter and future son-in-love hosted the college-career small group that typically meets at our house. Sarah still lives with us at home, since her wedding isn't until March. But her fiancee Jonathan rents a little house in town, and Sarah went over there today to help him get ready for small group. It is the first time I've seen the house since they've moved their new furniture in, and got it all painted and decorated...
...it was like walking into an art gallery. Jonathan's beautiful paintings were everywhere. I have to say - the wall colors were the perfect "foil" for his art. (Good job, Sarah!)
But it was so much more than that. Tonight, Tim and I saw the results of some of our labor, as this group of young people, almost twenty of them, worshipped and shared their hearts. We're going through the Truth Project curriculum, but for tonight, we set it aside in favor of celebrating Christmas together. It was Jonathan and Sarah's very first time hosting any kind of small group, yet it was as though they'd been practicing hospitality together forever. The fireplace...the candles...the food (simple but good)...the way they directed the flow of the evening's activities without being intrusive...
I have to say, it is beyond a pleasure to oversee this small group. The couple who previously were in charge of our college-career group resigned without securing a replacement for themselves this past year, just sort of handing it all back to us. Tim and I gladly took it back over. It was bumpy there for awhile, as we prayed our way through, and added new faces to the mix. This group is absolutely flourishing now - it was languishing before we took it back. I almost feel guilty, as though I am scooping up this massive blessing - sort of like when someone else runs into difficulty and has to sell their home for a loss...if I were the buyer, I might struggle with guilt over capitalizing on such a miraculous deal.
This is how I feel! The previous leaders' loss is Tim's gain and my gain. We love this small group, and they love us. They are totally refreshing, totally real, and completely cool and utterly loveable.
Our future son-in-love Jonathan is facilitating the Truth Project, and is doing an amazing job. After tonight, I can already see that the gift of hospitality has indeed been passed on to the next generation.
...it was like walking into an art gallery. Jonathan's beautiful paintings were everywhere. I have to say - the wall colors were the perfect "foil" for his art. (Good job, Sarah!)
But it was so much more than that. Tonight, Tim and I saw the results of some of our labor, as this group of young people, almost twenty of them, worshipped and shared their hearts. We're going through the Truth Project curriculum, but for tonight, we set it aside in favor of celebrating Christmas together. It was Jonathan and Sarah's very first time hosting any kind of small group, yet it was as though they'd been practicing hospitality together forever. The fireplace...the candles...the food (simple but good)...the way they directed the flow of the evening's activities without being intrusive...
I have to say, it is beyond a pleasure to oversee this small group. The couple who previously were in charge of our college-career group resigned without securing a replacement for themselves this past year, just sort of handing it all back to us. Tim and I gladly took it back over. It was bumpy there for awhile, as we prayed our way through, and added new faces to the mix. This group is absolutely flourishing now - it was languishing before we took it back. I almost feel guilty, as though I am scooping up this massive blessing - sort of like when someone else runs into difficulty and has to sell their home for a loss...if I were the buyer, I might struggle with guilt over capitalizing on such a miraculous deal.
This is how I feel! The previous leaders' loss is Tim's gain and my gain. We love this small group, and they love us. They are totally refreshing, totally real, and completely cool and utterly loveable.
Our future son-in-love Jonathan is facilitating the Truth Project, and is doing an amazing job. After tonight, I can already see that the gift of hospitality has indeed been passed on to the next generation.
Good times...good times.
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