...but this is carrying the whole crafts thing too far...too far, I tell you!
If you ever find me knitting an apple cozy, do just shoot me on the spot.
Too Far, I Tell You!
My fondness for creating hand made things just for the joy of it has revived of late, (see my word for 2010: Create) and I have many such projects on my front end list...
...but this is carrying the whole crafts thing too far...too far, I tell you!
If you ever find me knitting an apple cozy, do just shoot me on the spot.
...but this is carrying the whole crafts thing too far...too far, I tell you!
If you ever find me knitting an apple cozy, do just shoot me on the spot.
In Which Sheila Thinks of Spring and Redecorating...
Look at this lovely master bedroom. I do not like the lack of color, but I love the natural light, the seating arrangement, and the small table and chairs by the windows. I could easily do this sort of set-up in my own huge bedroom, once we get our home office out of it. When Sarah gets married, her room becomes my office. My very own. I can't wait to blog it - complete with pictures. Special request: if you run across any pictures of interesting and beautifully designed home offices, please do send them my way. I've already started my idea file...but don't tell Sarah.
Beautiful, amazing table and chairs. A most unusual shape and design. I have never seen anything quite like this before. 
I wish my foyer looked like this. Very, very doable - installing a shelf and pegs below it. I could do without the little horsey, but I love the pops of yellow. I'd have to make sure I also get the perfect tote bag - just to hang there and look capable and colorful! Form meets function here...Today, I stepped out and inexplicably came home with a pot of hyacinths and a pot of daffodils. I do this every year, when the days get the grayest. I don't plan it...it just happens. Every late-January, early-February, I end up needing spring flowers. And so it was today.
Nothing short of the use of my super-powers stopped me from coming home with a pot of tulips and an entire succulent garden on top of the hyacinths and daffodils. I really, really wanted three or four of the succulents, simply because the pots were clay instead of tacky plastic, and the pot colors were so unexpected and fresh. I needed to take a bunch of them home and make a new centerpiece for the dining room table out of them. My mind was thinking something about wooden trays, pebbles in soft muted tones, and a clusters of those tiny gray-green plants in the orange-toned pots.
I am loving the color orange these days. Also inexplicable.
We're expecting snow here in east Tennessee this week. This fact gives me a mild case of cabin fever. Gardening books work wonders, as does a trip to the plant nursery. What do you always do, this time of year, to cheer the winter gray?
It Wasn't Your Test...
Have you ever handled a situation imperfectly? ("Almost 100% of the time" would be the correct answer there...)
The other day, I was analyzing where mine and Tim's shortcomings lay in handling some events of the past year. Yeah. Imagine that. When are we both aware of our faults? Only all the time, every day, that's all.
Suddenly, God broke through my self important musing. (Going over one's faults can be a form of self importance.) I know His voice. He said to me, clear as clear can be:
"But Daughter, none of it was your test. It was __________ 's test."
I have been tested and tried by God so many times, even up to and including this day. Leaders get so used to being tested, we can begin to think that we are never not being tested. But none of what I was bothering myself about, in that particular series of events, was my test or Tim's test in the first place.
Perspective.
There may be things you have not handled perfectly properly as a parent, as a pastor, as a leader, as an employee, as a boss, as a person. But if the test wasn't yours, if God was not testing you, you weren't being graded, pure and simple. The person being tested is the person who needed the evaluation, more for their own information than anyone else's. Tests come by the way, not as final judgment or condemnation, but simply to reveal our mastery of material we are supposed to have learned. Sometimes we've humbled ourselves enough to pass, sometimes we fail.
But if we aren't the ones being tested this time...if the test is, in fact, someone else's test and we just happen to be involved, why then it "just is". There is no pass or fail for you in this case. Just do your best - live what you know to be right and true, however imperfectly.
If you are in a difficult place, with accusation being hurled your direction, it is very important to discern, "Whose test is this?"
Are you the one being tested? Or is this your son's test? Your daughter's test? Is this your test, or the other person's, or both? Sure, it can be both of your test. But not everything is your test. Get that. Hear that.
Some people tend to think everything is their test from God, some people live as though nothing is their test. I definitely fall in the first category. I know how to borrow guilt from the vast expanse of the universe. So it was revelation to me that...
....it was not my test. It was theirs.
Ah, that final letting go is sweet. Buh-bye accusation, once and for all, at least in this case.
Case. Closed. (That's what is said, by the way, when an accusation doesn't stick.)
(and she closes up her laptop, humming to herself happily...)
The other day, I was analyzing where mine and Tim's shortcomings lay in handling some events of the past year. Yeah. Imagine that. When are we both aware of our faults? Only all the time, every day, that's all.
Suddenly, God broke through my self important musing. (Going over one's faults can be a form of self importance.) I know His voice. He said to me, clear as clear can be:
"But Daughter, none of it was your test. It was __________ 's test."
I have been tested and tried by God so many times, even up to and including this day. Leaders get so used to being tested, we can begin to think that we are never not being tested. But none of what I was bothering myself about, in that particular series of events, was my test or Tim's test in the first place.
Perspective.
There may be things you have not handled perfectly properly as a parent, as a pastor, as a leader, as an employee, as a boss, as a person. But if the test wasn't yours, if God was not testing you, you weren't being graded, pure and simple. The person being tested is the person who needed the evaluation, more for their own information than anyone else's. Tests come by the way, not as final judgment or condemnation, but simply to reveal our mastery of material we are supposed to have learned. Sometimes we've humbled ourselves enough to pass, sometimes we fail.
But if we aren't the ones being tested this time...if the test is, in fact, someone else's test and we just happen to be involved, why then it "just is". There is no pass or fail for you in this case. Just do your best - live what you know to be right and true, however imperfectly.
If you are in a difficult place, with accusation being hurled your direction, it is very important to discern, "Whose test is this?"
Are you the one being tested? Or is this your son's test? Your daughter's test? Is this your test, or the other person's, or both? Sure, it can be both of your test. But not everything is your test. Get that. Hear that.
Some people tend to think everything is their test from God, some people live as though nothing is their test. I definitely fall in the first category. I know how to borrow guilt from the vast expanse of the universe. So it was revelation to me that...
....it was not my test. It was theirs.
Ah, that final letting go is sweet. Buh-bye accusation, once and for all, at least in this case.
Case. Closed. (That's what is said, by the way, when an accusation doesn't stick.)
(and she closes up her laptop, humming to herself happily...)
Underlined Bits
“The weapon of repentance, through rejection of false beliefs and affirmation of Godly truth, has changed thousands of lives. Repentance can liberate the mind and destroy speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of Christ (2 Cor. 10:5) And it can help us discover the wondrous significance we have in Jesus Christ: We are deeply loved, completely forgiven, fully pleasing, totally acceptable, and complete in Him. Our journey is a joyous and challenging adventure with Christ."
~Robert McGee
~Robert McGee
A Godly Mother
I ran across this quote the other day, a quote about "French" mothers. While it is all well and good to be French if you are French...(Scandanavian and French-inspired decor is all the rage right now!) it is equally well and good to be American, if you are American...and it is best of all to be a believer in Jesus Christ. My citizenship is in heaven, for sure.
Intelligence, Robert Frost said, is a feat of association. My mind, being at the mercy of its associations, rejects the idea that there is anything inherently "French" about being the sort of mother this quote describes, but rather these are qualities of a Godly mother.
I can own that. I'm not French, never will be.
Enjoy the ideas found in this quote from the book Entre Nous (meaning "Between Us", in French. I googled it.) by Debra Ollivier~
"The French (read: Godly) mother is often the source of everything that informs the French (Godly) girl: a sense of the feminine, of social conduct, poise, etiquette and, of course, cooking. She's an arbiter of continuity and tradition, a sort of magistrate who oversees the smooth functioning of family life--managing conflict, diffusing resentments, letting go of grudges in an elegant and seemingly transparent way. Through her all things eventually pass--the family's history as living memory as well as the future."
In a day and age when I see too many mothers get involved in the drama of their teenaged daughters, I am struck by the importance of managing conflict, and setting the example in "diffusing resentments". Why? Apples never fall far from trees.
Intelligence, Robert Frost said, is a feat of association. My mind, being at the mercy of its associations, rejects the idea that there is anything inherently "French" about being the sort of mother this quote describes, but rather these are qualities of a Godly mother.
I can own that. I'm not French, never will be.
Enjoy the ideas found in this quote from the book Entre Nous (meaning "Between Us", in French. I googled it.) by Debra Ollivier~
"The French (read: Godly) mother is often the source of everything that informs the French (Godly) girl: a sense of the feminine, of social conduct, poise, etiquette and, of course, cooking. She's an arbiter of continuity and tradition, a sort of magistrate who oversees the smooth functioning of family life--managing conflict, diffusing resentments, letting go of grudges in an elegant and seemingly transparent way. Through her all things eventually pass--the family's history as living memory as well as the future."
In a day and age when I see too many mothers get involved in the drama of their teenaged daughters, I am struck by the importance of managing conflict, and setting the example in "diffusing resentments". Why? Apples never fall far from trees.
I Had a Dream
This song, "Dream", by Priscilla Ahn, speaks of those deep things, those deep dreams about being a mother, those dreams I cherished since I was "a little girl alone in my little world".
I really, really did feed my pretend houseguests bark and leaves. And oh, how I dreamt of having a little home of my own, with a husband to love me, and children to read books to at night.
God and I created just such a life. The dreams all came true. He gave me the husband. He created the children, and I created their home. It has been a purposeful life, this whole blessed thing of raising little ones, giving them roots and wings.
My oldest daughter got married last year. My youngest-by-thirty-seconds daughter is about to be married. My oldest son has had his own apartment for awhile now, and is about to become a Marine and live on the other side of the world...or maybe a police officer, and live across town. My youngest son will be a senior next year, and has very suddenly done some growing up lately.
I never thought I'd be looking back on almost every bit of it. I lived it full and lived it well, there's many tales I've lived to tell. And now, a brand new chapter in life lies just ahead.
I am ready now to fly...
What's next for me? For my beloved and I?
I am nearly done with this season of mothering young ones, and I am sadder than I ever thought I'd be about it. With the end in sight, I pray with all my heart that I finish well. If I have done my job right, this has to be a life I am willing to leave.
Soon. But not yet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was a little girl alone in my little world who dreamed of a little home for me.
I played pretend between the trees, and fed my houseguests bark and leaves, and laughed in my pretty bed of green.
I had a dream
That I could fly from the highest swing.
I had a dream.
Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park, I asked God who I'm supposed to be.
The stars smiled down on me, God answered in silent reverie. I said a prayer and fell asleep.
I had a dream
That I could fly from the highest tree.
I had a dream.
Now I'm old and feeling grey. I don't know what's left to say about this life I'm willing to leave.
I lived it full and I lived it well, there's many tales I've lived to tell. I'm ready now, I'm ready now, I'm ready now to fly from the highest wing.
I had a dream...
I really, really did feed my pretend houseguests bark and leaves. And oh, how I dreamt of having a little home of my own, with a husband to love me, and children to read books to at night.
God and I created just such a life. The dreams all came true. He gave me the husband. He created the children, and I created their home. It has been a purposeful life, this whole blessed thing of raising little ones, giving them roots and wings.
My oldest daughter got married last year. My youngest-by-thirty-seconds daughter is about to be married. My oldest son has had his own apartment for awhile now, and is about to become a Marine and live on the other side of the world...or maybe a police officer, and live across town. My youngest son will be a senior next year, and has very suddenly done some growing up lately.
I never thought I'd be looking back on almost every bit of it. I lived it full and lived it well, there's many tales I've lived to tell. And now, a brand new chapter in life lies just ahead.
I am ready now to fly...
What's next for me? For my beloved and I?
I am nearly done with this season of mothering young ones, and I am sadder than I ever thought I'd be about it. With the end in sight, I pray with all my heart that I finish well. If I have done my job right, this has to be a life I am willing to leave.
Soon. But not yet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was a little girl alone in my little world who dreamed of a little home for me.
I played pretend between the trees, and fed my houseguests bark and leaves, and laughed in my pretty bed of green.
I had a dream
That I could fly from the highest swing.
I had a dream.
Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park, I asked God who I'm supposed to be.
The stars smiled down on me, God answered in silent reverie. I said a prayer and fell asleep.
I had a dream
That I could fly from the highest tree.
I had a dream.
Now I'm old and feeling grey. I don't know what's left to say about this life I'm willing to leave.
I lived it full and I lived it well, there's many tales I've lived to tell. I'm ready now, I'm ready now, I'm ready now to fly from the highest wing.
I had a dream...
Thrift Scoring...
Yes, "scoring". There is an art to "thrift storing", I confess. My daughters have it, I am acquiring it.
Today, I so scored.
In generations past, before we stopped caring about how we looked at home, and before there was google (sometimes I just want to say to a girl who obviously googled a book or a topic, and now thinks she can pretend like she knows, "Honey, I knew that before there was google.")...
...back then, the more artistic and soulful a woman was, the prettier she looked while she was cooking dinner...and the less she spent monetarily. Read in "The Tapestry" or "L'Abri" what Edith Schaeffer could do with a second-hand skirt, or a sweater with a moth-hole in it. Or a yard of leather and some furniture tacks.
You can buy stuff, but you can't buy style. You can build a house, but only a wise woman builds a home.
I aspire to be wise. I aspire to live well on less, not because I have to, but because I can. It is noble, and it takes intelligence and heart. At least I know ahead of time what I will be wearing on Sunday. This is saying a lot, since this will be a busy weekend in which I will be working on wedding details, plus hosting a guest speaker in my home, followed by a long day spent at the educational co-op on Monday.
My whole life is in transition, and I want to be well dressed for it. Girlfriend, what we wear tomorrow morning is about the only thing we have any control over. Work it.
Looking good is the best revenge. Besides, it is the only revenge preacher's wives are allowed, and they certainly better not spend too much money doing it, either.
Tell me what you think:
Vintage necklace was a gift from a friend...
I've wanted a sweater dress all winter. Retail price? At least fifty bucks for a nice one. More, if you want it really well made. This one is merino wool, from American Eagle Outfitters, fits like a dream, and cost me $6. The Levi's denim jacket, in brand new condition, also $6. This is what I'm wearing Sunday.
Looking ahead to spring! Brand new, never worn sandals from Ann Taylor. Retail price, $48. My price? $2.
A sweater wrap dress - my big splurge at $9. It ties in the back, and you can't see it, but the front drape is so designer, and so lovely - slightly asymmetrical. My only puzzle is what color camisole to wear under it.
In the interests of encouraging each other to "reduce, reuse, recycle", I am going to try to make thrift store shopping a regular feature on my blog. (Weekly? Monthly?) It will encourage me to get out there and get the creative juices flowing. What I am really hoping for is a beautiful piece of furniture from which I can create a "before" and "after".
After the wedding.
Today, I so scored.
In generations past, before we stopped caring about how we looked at home, and before there was google (sometimes I just want to say to a girl who obviously googled a book or a topic, and now thinks she can pretend like she knows, "Honey, I knew that before there was google.")...
...back then, the more artistic and soulful a woman was, the prettier she looked while she was cooking dinner...and the less she spent monetarily. Read in "The Tapestry" or "L'Abri" what Edith Schaeffer could do with a second-hand skirt, or a sweater with a moth-hole in it. Or a yard of leather and some furniture tacks.
You can buy stuff, but you can't buy style. You can build a house, but only a wise woman builds a home.
I aspire to be wise. I aspire to live well on less, not because I have to, but because I can. It is noble, and it takes intelligence and heart. At least I know ahead of time what I will be wearing on Sunday. This is saying a lot, since this will be a busy weekend in which I will be working on wedding details, plus hosting a guest speaker in my home, followed by a long day spent at the educational co-op on Monday.
My whole life is in transition, and I want to be well dressed for it. Girlfriend, what we wear tomorrow morning is about the only thing we have any control over. Work it.
Looking good is the best revenge. Besides, it is the only revenge preacher's wives are allowed, and they certainly better not spend too much money doing it, either.
Tell me what you think:
Vintage necklace was a gift from a friend...
I've wanted a sweater dress all winter. Retail price? At least fifty bucks for a nice one. More, if you want it really well made. This one is merino wool, from American Eagle Outfitters, fits like a dream, and cost me $6. The Levi's denim jacket, in brand new condition, also $6. This is what I'm wearing Sunday.
Looking ahead to spring! Brand new, never worn sandals from Ann Taylor. Retail price, $48. My price? $2.
Vintage pink shirt dress - in new condition - $2. I took the shoulder pads out, and it is the cutest thing on. I am so wearing this around the house when the weather gets warm. I will do dishes and mop floors in this.
A sweater wrap dress - my big splurge at $9. It ties in the back, and you can't see it, but the front drape is so designer, and so lovely - slightly asymmetrical. My only puzzle is what color camisole to wear under it.In the interests of encouraging each other to "reduce, reuse, recycle", I am going to try to make thrift store shopping a regular feature on my blog. (Weekly? Monthly?) It will encourage me to get out there and get the creative juices flowing. What I am really hoping for is a beautiful piece of furniture from which I can create a "before" and "after".
After the wedding.
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