I am honored to share a few thoughts on being a grown-up, feelings of unworthiness, and looking for professional holy people over at one of my favorite blogs, Missional Call. Please join me!
We bought the guitar– the first guitar– because we wanted our kids to be exposed to music.
It wasn’t the perfect first instrument for a child, but it was portable, it could be used by the whole family, and Christopher had a small sliver of experience that he could pass on. We did some research, haunted a small local shop for months on end, and finally walked out with an instrument.
“She thought to herself, “This is now.” She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.”
― Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House in the Big Woods
(Work in progress: Fingerless gloves in Cascade Superwash 220 Paints, Checkers colorway.)
We’d love to see your works in progress. Something that makes you feel simple, full, or creative. Something you’re making. Something you’re doing (folding a pile of laundry–again?). Something you’re planning. Share in the comments!
It’s a simple question.
On the outside, at least.
Do you want to go to Nepal?
If there’s one thing that we saw a lot of on our trip through the southeast, it was Cracker Barrels. And squirrels. And museums.
And while we only ducked in to The Barrel twice (hey–twice in a month is not bad for this country ham loving girl!), and we only assaulted a squirrel once (and even that was an accident), we did spend a lot of time in museums.
How much are the things you love worth? Your bookshelves? Your blender? Your bed?
How do you place a value on the items you’ve shared space with? The couch where your kids find your lap. The table your husband and sons built with their own hands. The basket you’ve folded your babies’ clean diapers into for six years. How can a number sum up the intimate details of the moments– both mundane and sublime– that knit themselves together into the fabric of a family’s life?
We are home. Weary, blessed, drained, filled … such a continual tidal wave of emotions to ride. I have a great many thoughts about the journey, about our upcoming leap, about the experience of saying so many goodbyes. I look forward to processing them here, even as we prepare for our next grand adventure.
God can use anything –even blogs!– to bring amazing people into your life: people who make you laugh, people who build you up, people who make you feel as if you just might not be the only salmon fighting the current, after all. While our family is saying goodbye to friends and family here in the States, I’m honored to feature the work of some of those folks right here on To Sow a Seed. These bloggers bring inspiration, encouragement, and a healthy dose of keepin’ it real to their corners of the internet. It’s my prayer that you’ll be blessed through their words, and if you’re not familiar with their blogs, you’ll pop on over and soak in some of the life-changing stuff they offer.
Today’s guest blogger does a fabulous job introducing herself, but she doesn’t brag nearly enough on her skills. Susan is the kind of woman you call when the wheels fall off and you’re pretty sure that you’re the most rotten mom ever. She’s the woman you reach out to when you have the most amazing news ever and have to share it with someone who is going to drop everything right then, right there, and happy dance with you. She’s the kind of woman who says she’ll pray for you and actually does it. She won’t listen to you bad mouth your husband, she won’t let you wallow in your junk, she won’t indulge you in too much whining than is good for you, and she’s so talented in the kitchen it’s almost unholy. In other words, everyone needs a Susan. I’m delighted to share mine with you.
This Wednesday finds us in Charlotte, NC. While Christopher and I each spent less than three years calling this area home, his parents, and all of our combined siblings still live here, making it a full, happy stop along our tour of the east coast.
The reality of nine people schlepping from house to house looks pretty much like you’d imagine: cranky toddler, dirty clothes busting out of a once-carefully packed box, too many Annie’s fruit snacks, teenagers unable to peel themselves from their sleeping bag before breakfast. This has been a good trip, but it has also been a test of our ability to roll with the random joys and pains of a life unsettled.