Early in the morning, I gathered a basket of autumn up for inside the house. Why should all of the free, fall decor be crunching under my boots? I loved them in the window. My own little oak tree display.
And I figured that since I did get up this morning, and since I had yet another full day with which to fill up, I may as well be intentional about the good parts, so I made a mental list. I called it,
"Things That Should be Done Everyday, if You are Me:
1. I should do something beautiful every day. (leaves hanging in window) 2. I should take time for a few photos.(...because that's just fun)
3. Everyday, I will eat something from the garden, even if it is just a snippet.
(.....because that's just exciting and, yes, plants grow there in December) 4. Every day, I should spend a moment on creative ideas, whether planning or doing because that feels like living. (baking bread, arranging a vase with flowers or greenery, sketching or writing, or whatever) 5. Everyday, there is time for a walk. (walks are the best) 6. And last, but most exciting part that makes any day marvelous and must never be missed or else a desperate dullness will ensue over your day---at least I'm sure that is what would happen to mine; I will visit that "Dreamy place that is ours and God's together". No day can measure up to much without Him being all rolled up in it!
Not sure what this is, but it is hot and tastes like horse rashish!
And every day, I will treasure love in my heart. Today, I found a little blue card in some old things. Inside it said, "I love you, Rosebud. Love, Mom." My heart melted onto the floor and the card was promptly placed in the window where I can see it now, every day. I, so,treasure the love.
Thanks, Mom. I love you, too.
All the best things seem to me to be the simplest things.
Though the night is long, the light is always coming again, always the sway of dark to light to give a weary ponderer a beacon to yearn towards.......Oh yeah, morning is coming strong towards you, strong and sure to open up your life's scene to a cresting light. It is. But, did you see the moonflowers in the nighttime hour? I saw them last night, opening as the evening moved towards sunset.
The little goat herd browsed by and plucked a few of the milky blooms right off as I regarded them, as if they hadn't noticed they would be delicious before. All draped in a tangle along the strawberry patch, I hadn't noticed how delicious it was to see them there before--- as a flower for the night, the darkest hour. Last night I dreampt I woke up afraid, but not really afraid, I was remembering how it was when I was a child. I went to turn on the lights and no light came. I ran to my sister's room and couldn't wake her, so I went upstairs to my mother's room where she lay silent with Dad, all safe and secure in there. I called in my 10 year old voice as if I was not 50 years old anymore, "Mom, mom!" And Mom left Dad's side, came to me in nightgown beauty, she made a place in another room and on another bed for me and her. As I watched her make it ready, I knew I would sleep sound with her laying beside me. A white bloom for the nighttime hour--a comfort under the canopy of shadow. Who will see this loveliness? --anyone awake in the night.... anyone who "calls out" will see it there waiting silent, beautiful like mother in gown coming to comfort the child awake in the dark. 3Call to Me, and I will answer you. I will tell you of great things, things beyond what you can imagine, things you could never have known. Jeremiah 33:3
I didn't know I loved a Super Hero. I didn't reach chubby fingers for action figure men long ago, and I didn't have my own cape like my little boys did, but all along I loved a Super Hero, too. I didn't know I loved a real Super Hero until He started showing me His flying powers, landing right by my side at the exact crucial moment, and His healing powers, touching the torn place and sealing it all back up, good as new like a real hero would.
Yeah, we use up ALL of the band-aids for just one scratch because getting a super hero bandage is the best.
And when my thoughts turn against me and I give in to self doubt..........
......I just call for Him and He will come to save the day.
If I say His name in the night time troubles...............
............His super powers come busting in to save me from myself.
And when I forget my lessons, He reminds of the notes I took and the things I learned about who I am........he reminds me that I love a Super Hero and a Super Hero loves me.
....He wants to be a Hero to all!
: He/she will call on me and I will answer.......................I will rescue him/her and give him/her honor. Psalms 91:15Boom! Bam! Pow!
Cooking rice on the stove....shaking in the soy and stirring the vegetables, too. I was just listening to the music while I worked and was clicking away at the black keys here. And I was waiting for the feelings to come, the ones that come singing a song served up fresh and full. It is "for King and Country" today......Sometimes one must look for the feelings and call for the calming to come. Some must train in the trying and tutor the story to tell your tale of triumph.
Dusty windows leave baskets and books, blowing bells and blueish
birds in view from the kitchen.
It is a Wednesday and a birthday eve of even numbered, lived out years for me. The boys will leave for church and I will clean the rice from the skillet and the chicken from the crock and feel all of this.
Barns and brothers, big and small on an eve of half of the whole hundred...it's 50 years eve and still, it is me.
A goose and a gander, a goat outside of the gate, a garden and a gathering of my thoughts.
A collie and a "calling", I am watchful of them both. And I'm looking for the pretties, the pleasers, the pleasant in the eve of a day. I'm searching for the hints of heaven, the tint of treasure, the bloom of something beautiful because I can do this, I can.
I'm searching the sorrow for the Savior and searching sadness for the souvenir, surveying the sacrifice for a Shepherd; hiding and seeking. These same ole autumn winds blow, like in Kentucky when I was born. They come to play this birthday game for me and perch the prize up high so I will stretch for it........like up in the oak, like out on a limb. I don't love games.....but I will pray for the prizes and I will, on purpose, play.
I see a wide open field of fruit out there in the distance ---ripe for the picking--thrusting stems wave wild in the favor of this faith on this birthday's eve ♥.
Yeah, it's scandalous they say-- a love triangle and I am unashamed........Or, imagine Bermuda, that old polygonal legend of disappearing ships and planes......but even near the Bermuda I am not afraid of its devouring, three sided mystery. And I am not afraid of the scandal. I am disappeared in a love triangle. But, I am being tricky with you now. I am just playing a game with my words. Of these corners of three I can barely even tell of how they pull back beyond my imaginations and of their watery grave for worn out ways--it won't be told in latitudes and longitudes. No, I am not ashamed in the Triangle of "Three" and if my disappearance is complete, never mind rescuing me. Let my worn out ole ways rest in peace deep within the water of the Triangle of "Three". May the grace of the LordJesusthe Anointed, the love ofGodthe Father, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit remain with you all. 2 Corinthians 13:14
A true story of a Saturday in August etched out here for my dear sisters who climbed the mountain to Camp Mitchell to meet with a King and to lay our crowns at his feet. ♥ The weekend began with a journal laid open on my lap and pen etching out this holy, daily dialogue......pen to paper, heart to heaven...it's the same thing. ♥ I scrawled the letters into prayers, into telling, and thinking in ink, and then some questions. And the page full was turned and in the "uppery"corner of the next was a little something already written by the nice someone who makes the journals for people with pens and things to think in ink. **It read, "Expect the day to hold little treasures that have been hidden just for you by God who has given you His heart." Just under it I had penned the last of my questions before noticing the print above, I wrote: "Lord, what about the mountains?"(I was asking him about Camp Mitchell and if I would climb the mountain, too. Should I spend the money, do I belong with the others this year?)♥ I would wait for an answer.
But back to the words in the "uppery corner". :) You know sometimes words pass by and leave nothing much behind their passing and sometimes those same words, for reasons not always known, SPARKLE. Today I saw the glistening and a pittery pattery pounded soft in my chest wondering about little treasures sneaking around in my Saturday. Ticks and tocks on the clock moved forward the morning, and I sat down to the big white screen and logged in. A man from California leaves a note each day for all to see and he says they come from Heaven to share. I wondered if they really do. **It read, "Watch for unexpected blessings and hidden treasures to be revealed." The pittery pattery sound in my chest beat faster now and I wanted to search for this treasure, but where? I whispered to the urging to "be still" since it only said to be watchful. I could wander into Saturday with all of the wonder of a child. The morning went vanishing while pulling out a chair for the afternoon. And I was passing by a little thrift store on my way home from the grocery. I was caught up by an enthusiasm to venture inside . I found the isles felt full of wonderment (could there be treasure?). Up the last isle I saw, sitting alone on the floor a little brown suitcase for a bargain. The brass tag said Samsonite, but it looked more like plain Sam. He was old and perfect so I brought him home, even though I don't think I needed a suitcase. As I pulled away from the curb, I looked back with a start to see the sign above the door reminding me the little shop was called, "Trendy Treasures". ♥ I set the suitcase up high on the chest of drawers so that I could see it with ease because every time I glanced its way I saw the SPARKLE of a treasure, like an adventure, like a new story was starting to be told and only a few pages were yet turned. The invitation to watch for treasure seemed to stretch out far beyond the rising and setting of a Sat. And my new suitcase, Sam, was more than just a place to carry my clothes......it seemed an invitation into adventure..........and the question from the start of my story seemed answered now.....Sam and I would take our first adventure to the mountains and Camp Mitchell.
Evening came and I climbed into bed and opened the book with the good words one last time to no page in particular and it read, "The Kingdom of Heaven is like treasures hidden in a field......Matthew 13:44". I was watching for The Kingdom all along! ♥ --------------------------------------------------------- Psalms 139:17 Your thoughts and plans are treasures to me, O God! I cherish each and every one of them! How grand in scope! How many in number!
Matthew 6:21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Camp Mitchell, Petite Jean Mountain Fellowship of Christians Women's retreat 2016 ♥ "Daughters of the King"
Oh Sunday, it is YOU again! Hello! Good morning! I've spent the week in the wake of Your goodness. I got up real early just to greet you and your awesome sort of something that makes you like no other day. It's true that the "church" is not a building and that the "believers" are sent out beyond its sanctuaries. But when we gather together in the bosoms of our churches, we savor the "us" that God has made out of you and me. Together we lift each other higher, and for Monday to be the perennial love peddlers looking for their paydays in a Kingdom a'comin'. It's so easy to say what I see in you, Sunday! Sunday, you are the shower, the coffee, the choosing the same old jeans and the something above them, a little better than " my on the farm" wear. Sunday, and I choose the newest thrifted shoes that my friend will notice and say she loves. Sunday, and the farm chores are cut short because critters have to wait for me to return in the afternoon time, after all of the Sunday magic has been lived and relished again. Sunday, and before I go, I read the living words, speak to the adoring Father, and face the loving God that gives me a Sunday again! Sunday, and I call my mom on the way there. It is our weekly drive together. We love each other with listening and talking and "knowing" one another well. She had a good week, she has encouraging words. I hang up when I get to the big parking lot with not too many cars there just yet. There's not much time to dawdle, I rarely leave enough. Sunday, and I make my way to the little room to the right of the stage where the other few are waiting. I walk against the long wall on my way while the musicians are belting out the good songs about the "goodest" news of "ever". Sunday, and I enter the little room at 9 a.m. where the loved ones are poured out to pray awhile together. Sunday, and the morning prayers end too soon, but this place is filling up now with smiles, with exchanges of affection, affirmations, and love tones all around! There is more coffee, food and the followers, following their "Faithful One", are filing in. It's always the same in some ways! I love you, Sunday! How could I not!? When the music begins to play again, a collective "us" are drawn into celebration as all revel in our most fortunate positions; daughters and sons, beloved of God, sisters and brothers of belonging. When voices swell to meet the joy in our hearts, all is well with the world. Later, when the night time comes and I am back home in my bed, the supper was cooked, and my chores all done, I sleep in the glow of Sunday---- until we meet again! ;)