Handmade Burp Cloths

Two precious friends recently had babies...one a delicious and long awaited baby boy, and the other a tender and sweet, much celebrated, baby girl! In a labor of love, I created a gift that would be both practical and decorative....beautiful handmade burp cloths. Really, it was a gift in itself, I had every intention of putting away the sewing machine and not thinking about it again. And yet in the creating of these small gifts, I found such peace...such celebration. As the machine hummed gently along, and I watched these sweet gifts emerge right before my eyes, I found myself praying for and celebrating these tiny souls!

My thoughts drifted to my dear friends, envisioning them holding these tiny loved ones...these new, precious members of their families. Awe...celebration...and with every stitch of the machine, these thoughts and prayers were tucked inside these humble gifts.

Two other friends happened to see my new "creations", and asked if they could order a set for themselves. I was humbled, and blessed by their interest and gladly filled their request. This time I had more fun, as I embellished a little more, added a little ribbon trim and let my creative juices flow just little bit. I was finding such joy in making these little trinkets! The recipients were thrilled and thus began my tiny, home enterprise...Iva Rose Creations.

"Iva" was my dear great, grandmother who held every bit of grace and strength in her wrinkled hands. Hands that snuggled babies, and wiped tears. Hands that cooked and cleaned tirelessly for a large family and anyone else who happened to stop by. Hands that opened her home to all who needed a quiet refuge from the storms of their lives. "Iva" Robbins, a simple, ordinary and delightful woman whose very presence enriched the lives of generations of children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and even great, great grandchildren before her passing. Leaving behind her a legacy of rich memories, it is with tearful eyes that I christen these little treasures with her name...

And so I gather my fabric and quietly putter at designing something simple, but beautiful. I do not know where these new creations will eventually find their home, but I know it will be on the lap of a loving momma, as she tenderly celebrates this precious new life that she's been graced with. And as she reaches to wipe up the ordinary "messies" of this new little one, my prayer is that she may find celebration and beauty in every moment spent in the presence of her tiny angel.

Please visit Iva Rose Creations for ordering information or email me directly at

ivarosecreations@yahoo.com

Heavenly Treats

My precious baby. A delight to my soul. Always wanting to be where I am, doing what I do. A momma in training. I marvel as I watch her heart for homemaking. Often asking me in almost desperation and angst, "Momma...what should I be when I grow up, I just can't decide?!" Even in the midst of the shelter of our home, she has picked up on a worldly message that says she has to "be" something more than she is. That she has to pursue career, money, achievement... And yet her pleas come from a place in her heart; a place that craves the simplicity and joy of home. A deep and inner calling that desires to be a wife and a mother above all. And so I affirm her, and yet gently remind her that mommas get to be a nurse, and a chef, and decorator, and gardener, and a teacher. That she can be all of things things as she simply pours out her gifts into the life of her husband, and her children. Oh, but she is only five, tender years old. I smile.... she has so much time.

Yet I am painfully aware at how much she watches my every move, mimicking even my facial expressions or hand motions as I speak. She watches how I tap the wooden spoon on the side of the pot after stirring delicious soup...and moments later, I watch her do the same thing, then glancing at me with a look of satisfaction. She is delighted to sort laundry, and organize closets. She adores cooking and gardening. She is always right beside me with her little metal spade, digging, weeding and planting. She finds tremendous joy in sorting laundry, folding towels, and ironing place mats. She loves all cleaning, especially if it involves a little spray bottle! And she delights most of all in taking care of babies. She is desperate for me to have another one so she can take care of it for me! Again, I smile....what delight. What a gift.


Oh Lord, that I would find such delight and wonder in the tasks of my day. That I wouldn't view them as mundane or as a simple list of chores to be checked off, or somehow accomplished. But instead, as opportunities to explore, to find myself, and to worship you. Just as this little one is looking at me, help me to look at her and desire to become a little more like her every day.

I am struck by the scripture this morning that urges to us "make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 28:19) And I pause to think that we have so magnified those words ..make disciples, into "the great commission"...a great and ominous task. We have reduced them into a command that must be obeyed.

And yet, discipleship...is really imitation through relationship. Through continual time, fellowship and communion with another...we begin to take on their character, their nature. We find ourselves dressing like others, talking like others, even thinking like others....

I cringe at the times I've tried to MAKE myself or others a disciple for the Lord. When all the while, He only wants us hidden in deep, rich relationship with Him. And somewhere in all the time and fellowship spent with Him, we find ourselves thinking a little more like Him, acting a little more like Him. My thoughts becoming a little more like His, and my ways....a little more like ~ His. My heart learning to LOVE like He does.

As I look at this little one of mine, I ponder what she is becoming. Through time and relationship, she is becoming a follower of ~ me.

Certainly, she is becoming a disciple of the Lord, and growing up to follow hard after His Spirit...but she is following...me. She is imitating every word, every voice inflection, every motion of my hand.

As this realization begins to set it, I become increasingly humbled. The weight of the reality that my attitudes will form her attitudes sinks into my consciousness. I take a deeper look at my daily actions, words, attitudes...and prayerfully ask that they be worthy of imitation. That as this little child grows, and matures into a young lady, as she learns and develops the ideas, attitudes and skills that will shape her life...may they be that of a gentle and contrite spirit. May she smile at her tasks, and delight in the ordinary.

And so I draw her close, this little sponge of mine. finding joy in teaching her what it means to bake cinnamon rolls from scratch, and how to fold towels so they look pretty in the cabinet. How to write a letter of thanks for a graciously given gift. And somewhere, somehow, may I teach her, even in my own failure and weakness how to honor a husband, to be a helper and support. I pray that she find joy in teaching her children to read, and in helping a sick friend. And most of all, may she somehow learn to walk daily with the Lord, learning from His Spirit, and drawing from His grace.

As the fragrances of freshly baked cinnamon rolls drift from the oven, and we all gather round the table for a chilled glass of milk, devouring these delectable treats....I glance in my baby's direction. She is overjoyed at the compliments, and blessed by pouring out of herself and watching it bless her family.

"Well done, my precious girl....well done"

by the way....in case you want a little taste of heaven...here's the recipe ~

Cinnamon Rolls

1/4 cup warm water
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/2 (3.4 ounce) package instant vanilla pudding mix
1 cup warm milk
1 egg, room temperature
1 tablespoon raw sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 cups whole wheat flour (or 1/2 unbleached)
1 (.25 ounce) package active dry yeast

1/4 cup butter, softened
1 cup brown sugar
4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
3/4 cup chopped pecans

1/2 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup butter, softened
1 cup confectioners' sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 teaspoons milk


DIRECTIONS
In the pan of your bread machine, combine water, melted butter, vanilla pudding, warm milk, egg, 1 tablespoon sugar, salt, bread flour and yeast. Set machine to Dough cycle; press Start.
When Dough cycle has finished, turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and roll into a 17x10 inch rectangle. Spread with softened butter. In a small bowl, stir together brown sugar, cinnamon and pecans. Sprinkle brown sugar mixture over dough.
Roll up dough, beginning with long side. Slice into 16 one inch slices and place in 9x13 buttered pan. Let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 45 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
Bake in preheated oven for 15 to 20 minutes. While rolls bake, stir together cream cheese, softened butter, confectioners' sugar, vanilla and milk. Remove rolls from oven and top with frosting.

Photo: Cinnamon Roll Baking with Emily

Be Still, and Know...

"Be still, and know that I am God..."

Psalm 46:10

Soothing balm to my anxious heart....Be still, and know...

Life happens, emotions swirl, heart hurts....and He beckons me to Be still...

I strive, I toil, trying to fix, trying to orchestrate....Be still...my beloved...be still.

Relationships crumble, plans fail...be still, and know.

It is a difficult divine whisper to hear, amid the clamor and the chaos. This urging to "be still"...doesn't come naturally to my flesh...

But my Spirit basks in it...yearns for it.

The pages of my Bible are tattered and stained at the site of this passage... it is a passage He draws me back to, again, and again, and yet again.

Because somehow...I don't live here. Instead, I rest, I recoup...then I pull up my bootstraps and head back into the storm.

This time is different. I observe the storm raging, some days more than others...and humbly realize my place in it. Not so much in the braving of the crashing winds and enduring the torrential rains beating fiercely upon my face. But rather, tucked deeply away in the safety and comfort of His presence.

In stillness I wait....

Be still, cease striving (the NAS reminds me)...and know that I am God.

It is not yours to control, it is not yours to weather...for He longs to show me the tiny, calm center that is in the midst of every storm, that is Himself.

And so in this early morning, as a thunderstorm booms in the darkness, and rain pours down outside my window...I am stilled...and my soul is quieted.

Knowing...Resting...Waiting....

Photo: My tattered Bible...

Called by My Name.....

Another early morning walk….earlier this time, a search for a quieter experience, proved true. As I donned my workout clothes and tied the laces of my shoes…I thought nervously, “do I really dare walk while it is still dark?” Married 16 years to a police officer will do that to a woman…caution. And so placing my cell phone in my pocket (just in case), I ventured out….The air was damp with humidity, the dogs were silent this time, no cars leaving for work, no rumbling engines, or loud highway sounds filtering into my neighborhood. Yes, still a basic, run of the mill neighborhood and certainly not the beauty that I found at Broce Ranch in Evergreen Colorado (photos)…., but instead of being assaulted by the sheer busyness….today, I felt the silence.

As my steps padded the pavement, a certain rhythm emerged, and I found myself breathing in the cool, Autumn air…and my spirit began to stir.

Initially, my prayers were for thanksgiving, for praise, …eventually they moved toward myself and my personal walk with the Lord, crying out for more of Him, and less of this world. On the dawn of this new day, I laid before Him my anxious thoughts about this new President of ours. Election reports still ringing in my ears, my gut wrenched. What will become of our nation with a man like that in office….I cried out. And yet, the gentle reminder from within that beckoned me to trust Him…for He alone has raised up this leader, and He alone knows the plan for our country. My heart sickens a little, wondering, knowing really, that humility and brokenness are the in the future for this country. The journey ahead is unknown, but I exhale…and breathe in trust…in One who knows…and who’s plan was set before the foundations of the earth. This election was no surprise to Him….He raised him up….for such a time as this. Oh America, humble yourselves, turn to the one who set us apart…return to the One…who was our first love. I ache for our nation….I ache for the apathetic Christians in our nation who have so mixed and mingled with the world that we are indistinguishable from it.

Just yesterday, the kids and I were reading how the Children of Israel, once again began to complain to Moses…even after all of Gods miraculous intervention, all of His mercy….in spite of it all…they insisted on idols, insisted on turning their hearts to Egypt, and almost welcoming(even desiring) the bondage there, over the need to trust Him in desert. And we read, how they began to show discontentment toward the manna….the very sustenance of God himself. Demanding, MEAT….Oh, how that is our nation….it wasn’t enough that God drew us out from the rule of of an oppressive England, it wasn’t enough that he prospered us, it wasn’t enough that poured out his blessing again and again…still we allowed the “mixed multitudes” to influence and draw us into discontentment. Even though slaves, the Hebrews longed to be cared for by the Egyptians, provided for….even if it cost their freedom. So it is in this modern day land of ours. We demand MEAT! We are entitled to it! Give it! NOW!

As the kids and I read this story, we saw how God granted their demand…causing the quail to fly in, in an eerie almost plaguelike moment. Has God granted our “demand”? They were giddy….catching them, killing them, gorging themselves on this “meat”….that they had demanded. And they ate, and they gorged, and they ate some more…..until they were sick. Their greediness, their desire had not seen past their instant provision….but the result of that provision was sickness, death, a plague of gut wrenching illness…..brought on by their gluttonous hearts. Many, many died….succombing to the death brought on by the very thing that they thought they wanted.

My seven year old Reaghan, during the narration, the telling back of what we had read…. Said, “even though God knew that the manna was better for them, they thought it was boring and so God gave them the meat they wanted. But sometimes, what we want is not what is good for us. They had to die before they realized they should have been grateful for the manna.” Out of the mouth of babes….

And so on this quiet morning….a silence fills the air. An entire nation of people…wait. Some rejoicing and dancing at the prospect of this new leader, and some sickened and beginning to fall on their faces before God, knowing that on some level….the nation has gotten what it asked for….and the repercussions may…be… a death to all we have known.

The words of 2 Chronicles 7:14 thunder in my ears...

"If My people, who are called by My name, shall humble themselves, pray, seek, crave, and require of necessity My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land." (amplified)

What does it mean to be HIS? Am I really...His? Is He really my Lord? Or am I “my own”? …..

My heart longs to know…what does it mean to be called by His name?

NAME in the ancient text refers to…..nature.

We use his “name” as if some magic letters J-E-S-U-S… are going to make it so.

And yet all through scripture, we see it is never that easy…as a “magic” word. When the God of the Universe “calls someone by name” or “changes their name”….He usually walks them through some experience, wereby He CHANGES their very nature into His own. An ending of the old….a death to who they’ve been, the dawning of the new…..and as they emerge out of the darkness of the refinement experience…they are NEW.

And so…I ponder this morning as my neighborhood sleeps….what is our nature? Wheat and Tares are grown up together…and only God can tell us apart.

It starts with me….What is MY nature? My heart wrenches at the realization of all the areas in my own life, my own walk…that do not reflect His Nature.

My carnal inclination is to “fix” this problem, to dust off my list of rules….the detailed picture of how a Christian should live…then grit my teeth, and make myself follow those rules. Or at least be a good “witness” by looking like I follow the rules.

But He calls me deeper….As deep calls unto deep….He says simply, COME. Come to me…drink of me….sup with me….fellowship with me….

Drawing me, yearning for me….to simply come. And in the very coming, a small piece of my flesh dies. I drink deeply of his cup….his presence, his life…and a gentle transformation, begins to take place.

No list of rules….no determination….just intimate fellowship with the Lover of my Soul!

My carnal mind screams that there is NO way, it is this easy…there must be something I can DO!

I think back to a lengthy and hard discussion had with my Brayden…my precious nine year old son….on the power of associations. We’ve always heard “you become like the people you hang around”….have we not?

I have watched as a sensitive, tender boy with natural leadership ability, has spent far too much time around others who live differently, talk differently, act differently…whose core values are vastly different from our own. And then, found myself shocked when after a few weeks of continual summer play with these same children… my tender son, now mocks and disdains his sisters. His once transparent heart, is now deceitful and sneaky. His respectful obedience to his parents has been replaced with rolling eyes, and an argumentative spirit. And the Spirit speaks….you are surprised by this? A pulling back was necessary...and just now after two months of changing the friends, limiting the influences...we are seeing the sweet nature returning.

And so, if this nation is to be transformed, if we are to see godly leaders in our nations highest offices, it must start on a heart level. For the Kingdom of God does not come through legislation….but through relationship…where those of us who call our selves by his Name….find their own “closet”, and gets intimately acquainted with Abba, and through communion, and fellowship, and stillness in His presence…He lays us bare….opens us up….and begins to gently wash, nurture and prune our lives, pouring forth Himself, and therefore His character into our souls.

And we find all of those things that so easily ensnared us…our pride, our self sufficiency, our self righteousness, our lying tongues, and our lustful eyes, our bitterness….begin to fade and be weeded out of our hearts.

And without striving, without anguishing….He says, “Be still….and know”, and we rest.

And I cry out with Much Afraid, in Hannah Hurnard's classic book, “Hinds Feet on High Places”….”Oh, Lord….tie me to the altar…that I may NOT be caught struggling.”

I so desire His nature to completely erase my own wretched one. Oh, that my flesh would die, and my ways would somehow become His ways…that my thoughts would somehow become His thoughts.

And it starts with pulling back…silencing those influential voices that sway my heart and keep my flesh alive and well….and allowing Him to draw me into the Holy of Holies. To linger there in that place, to gaze deeply and long…at His face…and to inhale His holiness, and His righteousness….

And in doing so…my name is changed….

And He smiles

Photos: Broce Ranch, Evergreen CO...nature at it's best

He is Enough...

The early morning….still dark, I am drawn outside to walk, to talk with the Lord. And so I ventured out, camera in hand, jacket on my back to shelter me from the chilly air. My heart is adventurous, anticipating what beauty I will find in this wee hour, as the sun is beginning to light the world.

I am immediately struck by my neighborhood, identical houses, street lights symmetrically placed to shed artificial light on our homes. I begin to take pictures of this manufactured life that our society has all created, saddened in a way by it’s existence. But I wait….in expectation…for the sun is still about to rise.

The neighborhood is beginning to awaken, cars seem to crowd out my thoughts with their engines running, as they roar past me on the way to their jobs, their activities, their busy, busy lives. I breathe out the frustration….okay, now…to find the stillness, the quiet that my soul craves. I almost hear it ~ it is almost within reach…this silence. Yet as I walk by a house with a garish, blow up witch popping out of an eerie blow up pot (leftover from Halloween…), I cringe….Assaulted in a way.

My heart is searching, aching, longing for peace….for beauty, and I pray…

My feet plod along on the concrete, I walk past oil pumps toiling to pump fuel out of the ground for our never ending needs for fuel. And all the while I keep glancing toward the sunrise…even positioning myself so that I can “catch” it the moment it peeks it’s head above the horizon. A perfect crown for my “quiet” morning….I hope. At least I’ll get to see the sun rise…. yet…..still no sun.

More and more cars, leave their homes and roar past me…drowning my silence, and squelching the small voice of my Father. I cry out! I anguish! Lord, why??!! Why do you have me here..??? I was perfectly content in the mountains of Colorado, living on the beautiful Broce Ranch…snow capped mountains as my backdrop, amazing evergreen trees, magnificent elk and other wildlife traipsing through our front pasture…. But here??!!! Why!?

Has the sun come up yet??!! Not yet….yet the world is growing strangely light….as if the sun came up, without a sunrise. I am waiting for it, waiting, NEEDING to see it. And the world toils on….never stopping to even cast a glance! I begin to feel the grief of the Father….who provides so much for us all every day….and yet we never even stop….no, most never even PAUSE to take it in, or offer gratitude.

My walk is almost over….there has been no beautiful sunrise….only a dawning of a new day without pomp, without circumstance….it just got light. My soul aches.

And I pray…then I notice the shape of a cross in the manufactured concrete sidewalk …and my eyes begin to glaze with tears. This is a small crucifixion for me…a dying to something I hold oh so dear….. This is my desert, this place where there are no props, no aesthetically pleasing surroundings….only hard and difficult things…..and my thoughts drift to a man who had all things he loved stripped away. His family, his homes, his wealth, his friends, ….I groan inwardly…and his words echo in my mind…

"Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him..."

Job 13:15

As I round the corner to my street I glance up to notice the street sign above my head…..Diamond Lake…(Oh, wouldn’t that be nice….a crisp, cool beautiful lake, nestled in the mountains…shimmering like diamonds?)….and there perched on top of it, was the “cross” street…..THORNTREE.

…A thorny crown, pressed painfully into the precious head of my Lord……and a rugged, terrible tree, that he willingly died upon….an agonizing death….

And though, my eyes never saw the sunrise that they longed for….it is enough. Dayenu.

He is enough. If I never leave this neighborhood, if I grow old in this manufactured little house, in it’s man made street, with it’s lights, cars, sidewalks, and shoebox size back yards…..It is enough.

For my joy doesn’t come in the forests and the flowers, or even in a magnificent sunrise…. It comes in finding myself hidden in Him.

Dayenu…It is enough.

He is my all in all….anything else…. is extra.

Dayenu

Photos: Early Morning walk through neighborhood

Wisdom Begins in Wonder

Wisdom begins in wonder.

Socrates

In the early years, when I was dabbling with the idea of homeschooling....I was very intrigued with the idea of delight centered homeschooling. I could see within my children a God-given curiosity, a wonder for the world around them. Little delights like the blue bird gliding through the sky, or the first snowflakes of winter, or even a chicken pecking around in the farmyard at the Berry Patch Farms in the plains of Colorado. It was exhilarating trying to keep up with their questions, their joys...they truly were sponges, just soaking up the beauty and wonder in the world around them... Somewhere along the way, our learning turned more structured. In my own insecurities, and my own comparisons with other moms who were, oh so much better at this than myself....I began to take on their methods, their ways...and sadly, they never quite fit our family. It was like wearing the worn, comfortable shoes....of someone else. They just don't ever feel quite right. So has been our homeschooling journey. I tried and experimented with all the different "methods" and all the while have watched the light go out of my children's eyes. The wonder, replaced with a certain apathy, even whines of "how much more?".... My heart broke. I was failing at this....My soul cried out! Lord, You called us to this... you birthed a vision in my heart... you love these babies of mine...I give up! What do YOU desire for us. And so amidst the tangled web of methods like unschooling, unit studies, Classical education, Charlotte Mason....and the countless other "methods".... I listened. A slow and uneventful season of truly quieting the voices around me. Quieting the comparisons of my own children's progress to the children of my friends.... both those who homeschooled, and those who did not. I tore up my emotional "report card" and began to look into the eyes of my children again. To remember what it was that ignited this desire to homeschool, back in those early days.

"Education is that which remains when one has forgotten
everything learned in school. "

Albert Einstein

These words echoed in the hollows of my heart.... And so the pace changed, and the days slowed, and the agendas got laid aside. And for a small season our focus has been on regaining the wonder.

I have been amazed that it truly has not taken that much....time, energy, ....mainly a silencing of all the outward stimulus. Fewer videos, fewer friends, fewer activities....More quiet, more "boredom", more creativity, more nature. I read once that a child must be "bored" for a good 30 minutes to an hour, without any outside help to entertain, suggest activities ....just all out boredom. And at the brink of all the boredom the child can stand, a miraculous thing happens... true, deep creativity is born! I have seen it with my own eyes...and marveled!

The first thing that changed in our home, was a momma who was less "driven" by keeping up....and more excited to just "be".

Most of the changes happened in me. I found the quiet center of God's Spirit in my days, and asked for eyes to "see" his magnificence in every "little" thing around me. He gave...and gave...and continues to pour the gift of "seeing" into my soul. I am changed. This gentleness, and contemplative heart that He is weaving into my soul...is making room for the mundane, the ordinary to be transformed into the extraordinary.

The two other changes that have flowed from this transformation have been a rediscovery of the incredible hand of our Creator, in none other than nature itself....His grand creation! In and of itself, it has become our great "science" curriculum... and we are soaking it up like a dry, parched earth soaks up the rain! I put the "canned" Science curriculum back on the shelf, pulled out our nature notebooks, our camera, and our backpacks...stocked with water, compass, freshly sharpened pencils, and some healthy snacks... and began to find little bits of nature hidden away in the midst of this great DFW metropolis. Our nature walks have spurned unbelievable conversations on the Nature of God, on the deep, rich truths of the Kingdom. It has made many of the parables of Jesus come alive...as we observe ants, and trees, and vines, and branches, and wheat...all the "little" ordinary things that Jesus used to teach. Divine Curriculum....

And somewhere amidst the play...Learning, real, true, "stay with us for life", kind of learning is happening. We are discovering hidden birds nests, tucked away paths leading to flowing creeks, ancient strong oak trees, and tiny colorful caterpillars. We are observing life in rotted logs, and under rocks...the things that are hidden and obscured by the casual glance. We are discovering life itself, and in that created life....we are glimpsing a Kingdom life...and beginning to lay hold of what lies before us.

The second great change, in addition to our amazing walks through nature, is the rediscoveryof great literature. Oh, I had plenty of books on my shelf, and was a great "collector" of books, yet somehow....the days got swallowed up with "real school" and assigned reading...and we lost the joy of the rich, living books. The kind that evoke thoughts, and create ideas. And so we began to read for the simple pleasure of hearing the words spoken, and watching the stories unfold in our imaginations. As I read these life filled stories, ....one could hear a pin drop in our home...as my children are beautifully enraptured in the story. And as I come to the end of a chapter...my heart soars as I hear the pleas of my delighted children....begging....for "one more chapter... PLEEAAASSEEE!" ..Okay, just one more chapter. (And I smile as I remember my own mom saying the same to me, as she fostered a deep love of reading in my own heart, in much the same way).

And so our actual "recorded" school (you know...the records you keep to show the authorities, should anyone ever ask....) are filling the pages of my planner and THEN SOME! We are steeped in scripture, literature, science, history, classical music, and the list goes on....but instead of divided "subjects", we are finding our own rhythm...a rhythm of... family... instead of school. And it delights my soul.

And while I watch other parents who have academically superior children....I think...that it's really okay, because at my very core...I am less concerned about Ivy League Colleges, and astronomical SAT scores.... what I desire is that my children maintain their wonder! Because wonder....passion....is what will catapult them into their life callings. Passion....for any subject will cause a child to soak up every last fact of that subject....and as a result, their test score will only then reflect his absolute love of the material...not what was crammed in order to pass the test.

And so the Lord beckons me to "be still and know"......"taste and see that the Lord is Good".... and I press on to offer my children the gift of stillness, the joy of discovery, and a taste for the holy....that their hunger for more will be insatiable.

Colors of Chaos

Wisdom in Simplicity. How we seek after great truths, strive for knowledge, eager to attain some elusive greatness . But I am finding that often God speaks in a whisper, and often it is in the ordinary things of our days. As my children and I have studied the magnificence of our Creator, and the majesty with which He has poured forth himself into all of creation...it only takes a moment, a stopping to observe, a lingering to ....see. So many of my days reflect a certain chaos. Not really full blown mahem, but more of a crazy mix of joys, emotions, frustrations, hurts, silliness, disobedience, repentance, loudness, refinement, struggle, smiles, laughter....the list goes on.

Oftentimes, when this "mix" of our lives happens...it just gets MESSY! Tempers flare, rash words spoken, hearts hurting. Spilled milk, dropped and shattered dish, reluctant learners, doctors appointments, mounds of laundry, forgotten appointments, strained family relationships....all become one big mixed up pot of colors. Swirling, splotching, with no pattern...just chaos. Or so it seems......

And yet as the kids dash outside after a whirlwind of paint and brushes, creativity flowing....I sigh as I realize they have left yet another "mess" for me to clean up. I smile as I look outside and see them laughing, playing, jumping together, and think that I don't dare interrupt such joy. So I lean to pick up this plate of paint...and my first observation is that it seems they have used up the entire bottles of paint...and lament at such "waste". And then I hear the whisper....

look beyond what you see

... I stop and observe this drippy mess...and think....this is such a reflection of my life. Seemingly disjointed, chaotic in it's own precious way. Our lives.... messy. I pick up the globby paintbrushes, and casually begin to stir the colors...mesmerized by their gentle mixing and swirling. Soon I feel almost rythmic as I find the joy in creating order, even design....in the midst of this chaos. At first it is a simple back and forth watching the colors and textures appear...and then I realize...TRUE BEAUTY can come from this chaos. And it did... a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, as I found delight in what I was creating....designing...causing all the colors, swirls, textures, to work together....WORK TOGETHER to create something beautiful.

My thoughts drift back to the chaotic colors that make up my life...bright yellows of my children's laughter and joy, the deep reds of the harsh words spoken that sometimes leave wounded hearts. The bright blues of peace and rest, the pure whites that are the grace of my loving Father...covering my weakness. The haunting blacks, that are the heaviness of broken relationships and lonely hearts...and out of these flow colors too numerous to mention...but all begin to flow... to work together.... Creating a masterpiece almost too beautiful to wash down the sink. And I touch the heart of God once more....

His thoughts become my thoughts. I see for just a moment through His eyes...

I glance outside again, my children playing joyfully and contentedly (for now...) and I marvel. Grace.

"We are assured and know that all things work together and are
fitting into a plan for good to and for those who love God and are called
according to His design and purpose." Romans 8:28 (Amplified)