Sheila Atchley Designs

Happy 4th of July

Last week, we received an invitation to be the guests, this 4th of July. We haven't been the guests very often in the last couple of years...we are usually the hosts. We like it that way - however, I do admit that I was relishing the idea of being guests.

Honestly, we became torn, because our good friends the Buycks have moved back to Knoxville and to Harvest, and the whole church was invited to their home, where they provided most of the meal for everyone, plus water festivities! But we had already accepted our other invitation....so today, we happily loaded up the whole family, grandson included, Jonathan and Sarah too, (Isaac and his sweet girlfriend had already committed to the 4th at her family's house)

...we spent the afternoon with some new-ish members of Harvest. We were treated to ribeye steaks, shrimp, homemade salsa (two kinds, one hot, one mild), salad (two kinds), corn on the cob, baguettes with garlic and butter, an amazing homemade cake...and I seriously could go on.

Timothy loves swimming in Mr. Don's in-ground pool...next year, he will be big enough to go down the slide!

Heartmeltingly adorable. Tim shot some video of Timothy "swimming"...I hope to be able to post it. He really does think he can swim. In fact, if Hannah takes our hosts up on the open invitation we have, he actually will be swimming by the end of summer, even as young as he is. He totally "gets it" and is unafraid to put his face in the water.

Tuckered out daddy and son...

We ate (and ate and ate) and I was invited - nay, pressed upon - nay, forced! to peruse our hosts' lush and large garden. I was prevailed upon to pick a bucketful of blackberries from a thornless blackberry patch, pick at least ten beautiful squash, a half dozen cucumbers, and to harvest all the herbs I wanted. Later, there will be about thirty tomato plants ready to pick, at which time I will get canning lessons. Then, potatoes and garlic and corn will be ready to harvest.

And I haven't even told you about the sewing room, with its four top notch sewing machines plus a serger. Not even lying. Or all the Belgian hand-embroidery going on in that room.

Or the beautifully landscaped property outside.

And I haven't even told you about the fireworks we were treated to, as the sun went down. And I've been asked not to tell you about the cinder block that the men blew up....accidentally. You see, Mr. Don is a former cop, and a firearm safety expert (he trained the men who patrol our southern borders!), and this couple wants to host our teenagers and our families with little ones, and so they don't want anyone thinking that they don't care about Safety First.

So I'm not going to tell you.

Now, it is eleven o'clock, and we are back home...and here is what we are doing:

Cut-throat. These people are brutal board gamers.

Lastly, we miss our son Josiah. We are so proud of his service to this country, as a United States Marine...he is at Camp LeJeune today, unable to come home for the holiday weekend...

We sure wish he could have enjoyed a big ol' ribeye steak with us today. Our hosts would have welcomed the opportunity to spoil him, as they spoiled us.

Happy 4th, everyone!

In Loving Memory

Gerda Blizzard was my pastor's wife, in the Bible Presbyterian Church, when I was a very little girl. From the time I was four years old, until I was about eleven, she taught me the Bible every single Sunday morning...after playing the piano for the whole church, as we sang from our hymnals.

I think she told me every Bible story from Genesis to Revelation, via felt board. She assigned me memory verses every week, and patiently prompted me with only one word when it came time to recite. I was so motivated to please her.

When I was older, I well remember Paul's missionary travels, taught complete with maps that pulled down like shades, small footprints on them, traversing the then-known world.

With the wonders of modern technology, I googled Mrs. Blizzard just now. She was so fondly in my thoughts, I've been thinking all afternoon of her, and of how much I owe her.

She passed away one year ago today.

Tearfully, I am one year too late to tell her how much she meant to me. She taught the Bible faithfully to a little girl who, I am sure, seemed a frightful and precocious mess. I was a mess. But praise God for His great grace, for Presbyterians, their doctrinal views on election, and their emphasis on teaching the Bible to children.

All of it has been used of God to make me the woman I am, the wife I am, the mother and grandmother I am, the pastor's wife I am.

Wow. I am a preacher's wife, just like Gerda was. I could only hope to be so effective and selfless.

Livin' The Dream

I spent the better part of the day outside, today. I transplanted three tomato "volunteers" - plants that self seeded in crazy places. Only the birds could have carried seeds there. So I dug them up and re-planted them with my Kentucky Runner pole beans.

Strawberries are on the vines, herbs like mint and rosemary and basil are bustin' loose. There's squash and cantaloupe and cucumber out in my garden. And today, I put garden soil in some bushel baskets and planted some quick-harvest bush beans. They should be on my plate in about 40 days.

So much to love about summer at the cottage, not the least of which would be Tracker rides, my grandbaby, and my cute new-ish cowboy hat. I wear it when we take those top-down rides, and when I work outside in the sun. It is made of straw, and Tim thinks I'm adorable in it. That trademark cowboy hat-brim dips low in front, keeping me from squinting overmuch. I caught a glimpse of myself the other day, in the window reflection...hat, skirt, tank top...and purple rubber gardening boots.

(my Mother's Day gift from Sarah, and I use them pretty much every day, lately!)

Today it was cut-off shorts, T-shirt, hat, and those purple gardening boots.

Oh, dear. My grandbaby is way, way, way cuter.

This shot taken by his momma (my daughter), with my Nikon, just this past week. Hannah takes better pictures with my camera than I take with my camera.

Cute, or what??

This shot was taken on daddy Justin's birthday. I think this boy makes all our hearts ache with pure joy.

It rocks to be me, in spite of the fact that I wear purple garden boots and cowboy hats.

Oh, and summer has become my favorite season! If you only knew...that is huge. Autumn has been my favorite time of year all my life, previously. Summer is my husband's favorite season, and the sentiment was never shared by me. But the song of the cicada and garden chores and gardening boots and long days and Tracker rides on summer nights have won my heart.

Small Is The New Big

"Small rooms or dwellings discipline the mind, large ones weaken it." Leonardo Da Vinci

"I had three chairs in my house; one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society...Many of our houses, both public and private, with their almost innumberable apartments, their huge halls, and their cellars for the storage of wines and other munitions of peace, appear to me extravagantly large for their inhabitants. They are so vast and magnificent that the latter seem to be only vermin which infest them." Henry David Thoreau

"May your home always be too small to hold your friends." Anonymous

"Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry; and these we adore; Plain living and high thinking are no more." Wordsworth

The photo is mine...but all these quotes are taken from, astonishingly enough, this month's issue of House Beautiful. The July/August theme is "Living Large in Small Spaces".

Everyone is catching on.

The Coin Purse Makes a Comeback

When I was a little girl, I remember carrying a few little coin purses...I'd always lose them, but I distinctly recall a few. One was a thick, hollow, rubbery-plastic disc, yellow, with a slit in the middle - with a smiley face on it. If you squeezed it just right, the slit would open, and you could get to your coins inside.

I also remember other childhood coin purse designs, one was a leather fish, and its mouth was the clasp. I remember loving that one...I seem to remember that it was green.

Still another, my mother bought for me in a desperate attempt to keep me from continually losing my coin purses - it was a beaded little thing, with a long neck chain. I wore it around my neck for half of fourth grade. I kept that purse the longest before losing it.

But nothing tops this:

This yellow leather rose is a coin purse I bought awhile back. I hooked it onto the outside of my gunmetal colored purse.

I have lost count of the compliments from total strangers I have received on this little coin purse. Seriously. I have even had a couple of different women follow me, tracking me down, to get my attention so that they could ask, "Did that come with your purse? Where did you get it?"

Next time I don't feel like rocking the big gunmetal Michael Kors all day, I will be tucking my driver's license and debit card in my coin purse, and clipping it to the belt loop of my favorite jeans. How cute will that be? I'll be so fierce, I will wish I could stare at myself.

Methinks coin purses are making a comeback.

Methinks I won't be losing this one.

(Psssssst! Stay tuned....soon, I will be hosting a giveaway. A coin purse. Exactly like mine. Only pink. I went back out and grabbed the last one....just for a cherished reader...maybe you!)

A Man Ignited...

For over two years, now, this man has been preaching the Gospel, Sunday in and Sunday out. The Gospel is inherently about the grace of God, Christ alone, by Him, to Him, and through Him are all things, the plan of salvation that was in place before the world was created.

How can a man spend that much time, more than 104 Sundays running (plus many, many more before that - but truly, non stop for more than two years now) on essentially "one" topic?

Because the Gospel isn't topical. It is a life lived, a Person who is infinite yet knowable. Because every single day of your life is a chance to apply the Gospel to your life in a fresh way. Because His mercies are new every morning.

Since His mercies are new....new!....new every morning, that means every day is an opportunity to go deeper in your understanding of Father and His plan from the foundation of the world, to grow in grace by the sacrifice of the Son, and be pointed to all things Christ by the daily, hourly, moment by moment breath of Holy Spirit.

You'll be the rest of your life making the theology of the gospel apply to your biography. It takes effort and clarity and burning love for God to allow grace to affect not just your destiny, but your day and your relationships.

So. You need a pastor-teacher (apostle...prophet...whatever...my husband has been "named" all these things) who is courageous enough to stick to The Message as God gave it, and not chase rabbits like "Purpose" or "Make Peace with your Finances" or "Your So-So Life Now" or "How To Grow a Church" or "Get Your Rear End Out There and Evangelize, Thou Sluggard" or "Spanking...To Do or Not To Do?"

Forget the conferences entitled, "Endless Training Unto Godliness". Here is a quote from this past Sunday's message:

"Jesus said in John 6: 35 that He is the bread of life. And trust me...you are what you eat. If our plate is filled with one good thing, there will be no room for other questionable foods. Filling our spiritual plate with Christ alone will lead to a discovery that Jesus is sufficient for everything we need, and that through Him God has given us everything that pertains to life...and Godliness. Not life without Godliness. Not Godliness without life. Life AND Godliness are found in Christ...not in any Christian tool or character building effort we can expend."

104 messages plus, all on one theme, and he's just getting started. And the calibur of his preaching, its excellence and thorough exposition just keeps getting better.

He is - honestly - one of my heroes of the faith. A man who labors for the love of God and love of God's people, who labors in a small church, without regard to criticism or praise...and people are growing. They are ALL, at various rates and in various stages, becoming rooted and grounded, firmly planted and well established.

He's my preacher, and I'm his wife, and we are a package deal. We got each other's back, period. We are crazy about each other. We are each other's best friend and confidant. We began this thing called "ministry" arm in arm, and I suspect we'll see it through till Christ's return in the exact same way.

Tomato Stem Primordia, and Storm Damage

There used to be a large, lovely tree, where that bare, sawdust spot on the ground is...

Empty, empty...

My clothesline used to span the distance between trees in my back yard.

...and now it sits on the rail of the deck, as I contemplate a new home for it.

This pile of tree branches is larger than it looks in this picture.

This one is the size of a car...and we aren't done. My man spent all day yesterday, from early in the morning until dinner time, helping neighbors clear their fallen trees, as well as cutting down the tree in our back yard. Thank heaven for sons-in-love (and daughters) who helped.

Then, almost overnight, this gross looking growth came up on one of my tomato plants. It is stem primordia - a result of storm damage. The plant was blown around so much that a main stem was damaged. This, coupled with the over-watering from the storms and the high humidity, all those little growths you see are the plant trying to re-root, through the stem.

It looks daunting, but it is harmless. I will have to keep an eye on this plant, but with a little care (and some drying out, after the series of storms and heavy rains) it should be okay.

Stem primordia is a common problem, but when people first encounter it, they tend to freak out a little bit, thinking some awful pest has descended on their garden. I posted a picture of it as a public service...believe it or not, there aren't very many clear pictures of this on the World Wide Web. If this looks like your tomato plant, put your mind at ease, and give it a little less water.

After all the pictures of ugly-in-my-yard, I have to end with a few pictures of pretty-in-my-yard: