Silence is not always golden.

There is a time when there is so much to say, nothing comes out.
The page remains blank, and no matter how many times you check that blog the same picture remains at the top.

Nothing new,
yet there is.
And,
there isn't.


Like the times you lay in bed next to each other, and you know if you start the flow of words, it will just take too long to sort it through, so you roll over and go to sleep instead.


I've been rolling over and turning my back to you.

It's been easier.

But it hasn't.

I've been busy, achieving boundaries on my time, choosing what is needed and hopefully profitable.
Yet I've neglected this one thing that could benefit us both.
 
Silence is not always golden.

I read this today. Maybe only other bloggers can understand this struggle. The rest just think we are crazy to put our hearts out in black and white anyway. Maybe we are. And yet relationship is born of honesty and communication and people who don't tell the truth about who they are are never really known by each other.

Loneliness is born of pretending, hiding.

To be honest, I've quit this venue and as a result, lost track of His voice. I've plugged my ears, stilled my tapping fingers, and closed up my heart so you can't see what is there, so I don't have to process and make sense of what I am:

An ungrateful mess.

How many times must I read the book, jot out gifts, lead the book club?
How many ways do I need to frame it up in my home, reminding myself, that this is all gift, grace?

I am broken.

But when I come here, I can only be honest.
Could it be that this place is where I best face what and who I am?

If I lose track of the stories, I’ll lose track of part of me. Lose track of His voice in this life. Telling our stories, keeping traces of His graces, even in a venue such as this, may indeed be important, sacred work, because in these stories, God meets us. We listen to our life and hear God. ~Ann Voskamp

I cannot roll over and turn my back anymore.

Thank you for still being here, for not giving up on this mess, even when she has nothing she is willing to say. Thanks for listening as I listen, that together, we might hear God.

Garden Planning, also, I'm not really a girly girl

This is the pretty part of gardening.
The lists and pretty packages and lovely doodles and neat handwriting.
The flowers plucked from a bed of disarray, brought in, tamed, displayed in glass on doily.

The is the truth of gardening and me:

I'm really not such a girly girl.
I have garden gloves, but rarely wear them.
I wear open toed sandals in the dirt and let my feet feel the earth squish up and around my soles.

It's hard work, of course.

But oh, it feels good.

My list of good things:

 Her and her.

safety in storms
breezy picnics
garage sale with friends
free stuff
deals
finding just what I needed
and a few things I didn't
bikes all the right size
motors that start after sitting idle for a season
asparagus that planted itself, put proper in its row
things reorganized
study guide I don't have to write

Other thoughts of mine on gardening:
Meeting in the Garden
A Warm Healing

sharing this list with others who count....

Good and Perfect

 Just popping in to say, yes, I am counting. 

Amidst last week's raindrops 

and this week's sunny glimmers, 

my list grows, 

seven a day, 

sometimes more.

boy - belting it out

red hair

budget costumes

remade hats

all things vintage

boys in suits

slicked back hair

quiet ticking clock

warm sun spots

guacamole

cotton balls and Vaseline (Minute to Win It church game I played)

a tile, rub-ons and a dry erase marker

weeds that pull easy

first dandelions

freshly tilled garden

new leaves

late sun glimmer on the underside

first sunburn of spring

the good tired and sore of hard work

clip art

neices chubby arms

shunshine

warm toes

lunch at Mom's 

donuts and coffee with Robb

baby kisses

four signed up and at least four more, to read One Thousand Gifts with me. 

things waiting to be counted, unopened gifts for tomorrow

Every Good and perfect gift 

is from above 

coming down from the Father 

of heavenly lights 

who does not change 

like shifting shadows.

 James 1:17

Sharing my list with the Counters of Gifts at Ann's.

Surfing the Waves

I didn't want to brag, so I've not posted or said a thing (here, at least) about our recent vacation. We've been home a month now, spring has yet to come, and I'm tempted to forget how blessed I am.

We went to Mexico for a week. And we didn't have to pay for it. You'd think the gratefulness would carry me through for a while. 

The waves have come, we're storm tossed, sucked under, sand worn, and I've complained about the waves that pull at my anchor.

I've forgotten that waves are meant to be surfed.

Gratefulness can carry me to shore.

Today's List:

Planning a book club on One Thousand Gifts. I can't wait to share it with my real life community!
Relaxed Sunday
Vintage gloves and shoes
Little girls having tea in gloves and dresses and shoes
YouTube (Do I really need my own channel? I say yes. :) )
Dance recital
Formal wear
Growing up girls
Little girls who worship and pray together
An agreeable committee
Walking with friends
New hobby for Mitchell
Unexpected Bible Quizzing awards (Megan's team got 1st and Mitchell placed 15th individually.)
Gifts we don't deserve
Justice
Hope
And love that never fails.

Linking with friends who count here.

With everything....hope.

I am weak today, tired, and feel not-quite-right, but can't put my finger on why. The day looms ahead with its chores, checklists, all of which I need to motivate self and children to fulfill.

I don't have it in me.

I press on anyway, and as is usual, they press back.

Sigh... Why is this so hard?

I answer my own question: Because we do not live in a void. There will always be resistance when we seek to live contrary to the prowling prince of this world.

I face off in the bathroom with one child who hates me and hates school and sit there on the only seat in the room, finally calm, yet sadly listening to lies.This is my reality for the moment, but it's not the only reality. A heart spewing is not the end of the story. I will not let angry words deafen me to truth.

The words of a song unexpectedly interrupt the barrage in my ears.

Let hope rise, and darkness tremble in your holy light,
that every eye will see, Jesus our God,
great and mighty to be praised. 

God of all days, glorious in all of your ways,
your majesty, the wonder and grace,
In the light of your name...with everything,
we will shout for your glory....your praise....

Hope...the knowledge that the Light of truth reaches through the darkest anger, His word hidden in my heart overcomes self-deception, and His power is great enough to change the thoughts and attitudes of an angry child or my own. His ways are glorious, though the way is sometimes wrought with struggle, his grace is wonderful, though the pain of sin is still remembered. I hope....knowing that He loves us too much to leave us the same.

Hope. It changes everything.

There are days I will sit in the bathroom hearing words that grieve my heart, but I must remember, his work is not yet complete. He is at work. In my children. In me.

With everything, in hope, and for his glory and praise, I list gratitude.

subtraction with seashells we picked off the beach
"beautiful beyond beautiful dresses" for a beautiful price
treats and compliments "You're the best Mrs. S!"
combed hair
freshly showered boy
early bedtime for a sleepover
relaxed evening
skype
spring snow that melts by noon
the smell of ground thawing
a made bed
a husband who knows what my heart needs
A God who knows even better

One Thousand Gifts

This is not the power of positive thinking.

This is taking each thought captive and making it obediently thankful.

Fear redirected toward grateful.

Worry turned to thankful.

Frustration calmed to reflection on the gift in its midst.

Preoccupation with mistakes changed to awe at the presence of a generous God who knows my heart and beckons me to notice His grace in every moment, even the most difficult.

This is eucharisteo. A triplet of words, really. Grace. Thanksgiving. Joy.

Hasn't this been my pursuit? My middle name, Joy. My first, Kristina, meaning follower of Christ. Finding joy in following Christ has been my life-long quest.

Could counting gifts really change me?

I'm doing this for real now, understanding the significance, the Biblical foundation for living a life of faithful gratitude. I'm tired of living tired, missing the joy meant for me. So I count.

"We only enter into the full life if our faith gives thanks... Thanksgiving is the manifestation of our Yes! to His grace." ~Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

• piles and piles of laundry done by my 10 year old
• a smile at more snow, seriously
• daughter's hair, curled up nice
• morning sunrise illuminating hoarfrost on the window in front of my elliptical machine, what a view!

• teaching Megan something new - making instant pudding
• Robb working from home on a Friday
• thumbing through new cookbook, mouth watering
• plans to wear a swimsuit
• pretty things I've made
• moonbeams on the ceiling, illuminating the dark fears of the night
• glorious morning fog and frost clinging

•  borrowed perfume
•  rearranged decor - bringing new life to each item
• causing someone to laugh
• calming music
• clearance valentine candy
• wake up kisses
• long embraces
• fog frosted world, the heavy presence of God evidenced

• Opera on radio in van, and kids singing it, laughing
• new coffee mug
• dim morning light, the world waking, and me too, with joy!
• the accidental mirrored art of light and shadow

• Hard discussions, leading to clarity, growth.

Oh, so much goodness today, as always, on Ann's blog, on eucharisteo, joy, comfort zones (did I not just talk to my husband last night about just this thing?! But of course, God reinforces his teaching in my heart with words on my screen.) So I have one more to count:

• God-given themes in my life

I like snow. And this is why.

We've had a lot of snow here this year. 18 - 24 inches of white blankets the ground.

Snow is good. Lots of snow is better. Let me count the reasons why.

1. It's pretty. You can't argue that. In wind blown drifts, or soft piles of fluff. The world is beautiful covered in white.
2. You can eat it. Seriously. Make your own lemon ice.
3. It's bright, blinding even, but definitely not dreary.
4. Blizzards are exciting. You can tell by the amount of weather warnings. And the way the house shakes.

5. Blizzards are an excuse to do nothing but watch movies, read books and bake cookies

6. It's fun to play in, slide down, crunch under your feet, throw at your brother or sister or mother
7. You can't downhill ski without it. Duh.
8. It reminds me Jesus makes me whiter than snow

9. It's glittery like a million billion diamonds, and is delicate like lace.
10. It's better to have cold WITH snow, than cold without it. Don't ask me why. It just is.
11. Snow means no mosquitoes. Except the occasional one still in our house. Don't ask me how they are still here.
12. Snow is a good excuse to own a pickup.
13. Snow is better than freezing rain. And less dangerous. At least for those of us who know how to drive in it.

14. Snow brings out the neighborly. Now, that's my kind of snow blower! And the service is better than AAA!

15. Hot cocoa and rosy cheeks. Slippers and afghans. Enough said.

Counting blessings, even during another snow storm warning.:)

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Glitter, Glory, Grace - One Thousand Gifts

We are recovering from a busy holiday weekend which was filled with family and friends, the warm glow of the hearth and the whine of a saw blade. Two days were spent with relatives and two were spent working on the barn renovation. It's almost done! (And I will soon get out there to take pictures and post a full update.)

I'm struggling over here to get back into a school/life routine in the midst of bouts of mild vertigo/dizziness. I don't know what to call them, but these times have come on and off for a while now, with increasing frequency. At this point it's only a bit annoying, but would you pray for me please?

Still, as I sit with laptop on top of afghan on top of me, in a living room strewn with unorganized pretty Christmas paraphernalia, son studying, daughter playing under the haphazard child-decorated tree, and Christmas music lending happy atmosphere, I come here to share a thankful list.

I will give thanks.

With uncertain heart, weak faith, I say, "Lord, help my unbelief."

And He does.

One thousand gifts.

Pandora - the Amy Grant holiday station
touch screens
friends who are dear to us, gathered near to us
family who come from far away, and those that are always nearby
pine cones and glitter

rearranged furniture
barn project nearly completed
Christmas lights on house, synced to music
holiday food
another completed Bible study

Thank you friends, for love and grace as I pop in here sporadically. May your holiday season be filled with the light His presence, the glitter of His glory, the fullness of His Spirit.

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Gratitude is Key

Our family has a great many things to be thankful for, and I am, but I must admit, I can't seem to have two good days in row lately. The one good day completely wipes me out. The consistent parenting, discipline. I wake the next day and I just can't do it again.

I'm frustrated with my inability to do what I know I should do, to do it with a cheerful heart. I want to return to my somewhat naive but happy tendency to assume everything will turn out. I believe it will, but somewhere deep in me I must have doubt. And it's showing it's ugly face. 

My good days are great. My bad ones are not. I'm frayed and war torn from the battles both in my heart and from my children. This life is war, and I'm not a soldier. I want peace, naturally. But the cost of peace IS war, so I'm gonna learn to fight.

With gratitude.

And prayer.

And truth.

And a daily list to remind me that He is good.

How so like my God that Sunday's sermon was on this very thing. Depression is proven to decrease, joy abound, when we keep a weekly journal of gratefulness. Last week, I was too busy, too something, and I didn't. No wonder my heart was frail and downcast and I had to try so hard not to fall completely apart.

He convicted me, and there in my chair, the tears came, and this week, I have my list.

My broken offering of thanks:

One Thousand Gifts

Joining the playing
A good drama : Amazing Grace
Salt on icy roads
A sermon on joy and weekly counting gifts!
A day off
New fabric for purse designes
{So}Sartina orders
The learning that comes from a business
Robb's job, restructured to everyone's satisfaction
Long term plans
Conversations in the van
A forgiving daughter
Madison's black eye healed (snowboarding incident)
A cat bite, healed
A husband's comfort and wise words
Tears that release and cleanse
That after the long dark night comes dawn. The sun always rises.


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Perfect Gifts

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of  the heavenly lights. He does not change like shifting shadows.  James 1:17

Robb left on Thursday for a coveted weekend of deer hunting for the first time in his 40 years.

Warning: This post may or may not include a picture of a dead animal....

He acquired his hunting license and texted me, all excited with hint of beard already poking on his newly slimmer face,

"I'm a man now!"

And I feared. A little. For his safety.

 Flying. in a teeny. tiny. plane.

Lord, I thought and prayed. We've come this far. We are in the place of rest and waiting, peace and joy. You would not take that away, would you?  Would you allow more pain? Hasn't there been enough? And in my cautious, self-protective heart, I waited for the next foot to fall. My imagination dabbled in grim scenarios.

Oh, me of little faith. 

My idle thoughts were interrupted by a Whisper.

  ^{Matt. 7:9} “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? ¹⁰ Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? ¹¹ If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!

And, of course, Robb came home last night just fine.

With a story to tell.

Oh, what a story to tell. Of a God who cares about the heart of a first-time hunter. Of a buck that got away.  Of a hunter who got a second chance. Of a man who has hope that God speaks and gives good gifts.

Join me in counting God's good gifts?

47. A 10 point buck. God's gift to Robb.
48. a hunting opener like never before on that property. 3 bucks.
49. hope
50. the quiet voice of God
51. that He knows my name
52. bread, when we fear a stone
53. Scripture, remembered, at just the right moment
54. friends who teach new things
55. chick flicks and popcorn
56. grace for absences
57. my twin sister, also a hunting widow, to keep me company
58. holding my niece through church
59. invitation for next year
60. him coming home
61. a mounted head to go in the new "man cave"
62. a freezer full

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Rest

I hadn't talked to her in three years. Not because I didn't love her, but because she lived on the other side of the world, with a passel of kids, and I had my own family too. I tried calling once, but the phone lag and children distracting (my own) was too much. We kept up through blogging and Facebook. 

There are the kind friends who know you love them anyway. She's been a sister. My "other Sarah sister." We've known each other since we met at a homeschool conference when she was 14 and I was 16. Even though she's a bit younger, I could call her a mentor, because her faith surpasses mine, challenges me, but is always encouraging.

Yesterday, I arranged my schedule. She's been at the hospital for three weeks with her 6-week early baby, and I'd waited long enough. I missed my Sarah.

I was already having an emotional day, an emotional week if I'm being honest, and the sound of her voice on the phone, excited at the possibility of seeing me soon, brought tears to my eyes.

"Get over here!" she exclaimed.

I had to stop for gas, and lunch, but hurried and cried my way to Minneapolis and Lake Street and the busy city. Seriously people. I was a wreck of emotion.  I parked and found my way through the skyway to the ICC of Children's Hospital. And there I found my friend and we hugged as long lost friends will do.

We sat in hospital chairs with sleeping baby nearby and monitors beeping and rounding nurses. It was as if those years didn't exist and we picked up where we'd left off when we talked at my sister's wedding those three year ago. 

We talked of growing up in faith, in grace, in life. We filled in the gaps with stories and tears and smiles. These years have been full of many things. Stressful things, good things. Things that make us long for rest.

But as Sarah shared with me what she's learning through her unexpected circumstances, God doesn't promise us restful seasons. Not for our bodies anyway. He promises rest for our souls.

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.... and you will find rest for your souls. Matthew 11:29


The requirement is learning. From Him.

My body may be tired, my emotions fragile, but my soul is resting in Him. 







I've learned to rest in His faithfulness. 
I've learned to trust His goodness. 
I've learned to believe His promises.


Join me in the joy of counting blessings and the resting of the soul?


35. friends who've known me for what seems like forever
36. dinner and cards and laughter
37. a good competition
38. the warm autumn colored sunset
39. hours with a friend
40. sisters hugging after Sunday school - they missed each other!
41. beauty that heals the soul
42. meeting Sarah's "new" kids
43. butterfly painted faces
44. grace on a hectic Sunday morning
45. a husband's public embrace during Sunday worship - a rarity!
46. red velvet cake with homemade cream cheese frosting. I think I died and went to heaven.

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Listing Thanks, Fighting a War

I have declared war.

My tools: an old fashioned mouse trap and a glob of peanut butter. The critters have invaded my kitchen, and I'm ready for battle.

The proof of them litters a drawer of silverware, the dishtowels, the cutting board, under the sink, and the bread drawer with its chewed on loaves.

I'm done. I've had enough.

Everything that can be is washed, thrown in the dishwasher or the Maytag. Traps in empty drawers and disarray on counters, we wait. And wait.

So far the score is 4 for 4. Plus one. Four little beasties met their death, four traps cleaned by sneaky delicate snackers, and one thumb stung by it's own weapon. The same trap that did not snap on mice, snapped on me. Go figure.

I'm strung back tight like that trap, with contents of kitchen about me, and the regular mess of life too. I snap.

Isn't it often this way? The little nuisances, the extra bit of stuff to do, the unexpected battles in life set us taut. At the slighted pressure, we snap.

But it doesn't have to be this way. Pressure is released in praise and enables grace so we don't have to snap. Thank goodness, because there are always more mice.

So we continue fighting battles with hands stretched upward, in praise and surrender to the only One that changes hearts and reactions.

He reminds me to be thankful for my temporarily disorganized kitchen. And maybe even the mice.

Counting again this week for One Thousand Gifts.

21. neighbors offering combine rides - a first for our kids!
22. blue Mason jars - 3 dozen of them - free!

23. library books and the quiet moments they bring, especially in the van
24. homemade doughnuts
25. suede boots with long sweaters
26.  that my daughter wrote school on our One Thousand Gifts board
27. help with the dishes
28. seeing our friends' new house and rejoicing at every detail perfect for them
29. visit with great aunt and uncle from a far away state
30.  impromptu mosey with two friends through my favorite store
31. chilly rainy day for the chili feed. perfect and appropriate.
32. that a child of mine gives thanks for the Bible
33. fall rain storms bringing lightening and thunder and an excuse to pull the covers higher
34. rest

Jumping

"I stood at my dishwasher and cried because I just want to be able to do simple tasks alone without my children around bickering." my homeschooling friend admitted. "My husband told me I should stop using public school as a threat, but it's the only threat I've got."

I understood. Sometimes this homeschooling life drives me to the edge of who I thought I was. I sob into my pillow regretting who I've become and how I've failed.  It's all too much and I just want to jump. And I remember what all moms used to say.

If your friend told you to jump off a cliff, would you?

Of course not, we all answered.

But what if that friend was Jesus?

What if what he asks you leads you to the edge and then He says jump.

Jump from doing this thing on your own and in your own strength. Jump from your idealistic ideas of what your life would be. Jump from thinking it's all up to you. Jump.

And He'll catch you.

Because " underneath are the everlasting arms."

Today I jump into gratefulness, the pursuit of joy, and join One Thousand Gifts. Endless thankfulness can be found in the midst of disappointment, regret, insecurity or any circumstance that threatens to rob joy.

"Consider it pure joy,  whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. And perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." 

Today, I give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God.  Like Aaron and Hur and Moses at Rephidim, the battle is won when our hands are lifted.

1.  children playing outside at dusk
2.   stories around a fire
3.   fall color
4.   grandparents' visit

5.   photo shoot in leaves
6.   the guys going out to breakfast
7.   the girls going out to lunch
8.   new tools even if they're not mine
9.   peppermint mocha creamer
10.  bare trees
11.   harvesting combines
12.   friends around the table
13.   a church on its face in prayer before the Healer
14.   music that sets a soul right
15.   husband's amazing discipline and progress toward health
16.   that I sit at the King's table, loved though lame (like Mephibosheth)
17.   Mitchell's tears when Grandma and Grandpa left
18.   cream scones with homemade raspberry jam
19.   a friend scooting up to me right as church started and handing me my favorite Tazo tea concentrate that my Target no longer carries
20.   raindrops pattering on the metal roof during our prayer gathering reminding me of this song:

Spirit rain, flood into our thirsty hearts again. He'll come......

He'll show up in my everyday mundane as I thank Him for common graces. And He'll come in extraordinary ways as I yield to Him, and with hands raised in praise, jump ~ into his arms.

Blessed be His name.