Stayed Upon Jehovah

In 1876 Frances Havergal was vacationing in the south of Wales when she became very ill. She was told that death was at her doorstep. Her reply: "If I am really going, it is too good to be true."

Frances reviewed her time of illness with written response, recognized today as this hymn of hope.

Like a river glorious, is God’s perfect peace, Over all victorious, in its bright increase; Perfect, yet it floweth, fuller every day, Perfect, yet it groweth, deeper all the way.

Refrain: Stayed upon Jehovah, hearts are fully blest. Finding, as He promised, perfect peace and rest.

Hidden in the hollow of His blessed hand, Never foe can follow, never traitor stand; Not a surge of worry, not a shade of care, Not a blast of hurry touch the spirit there.

(Refrain)

Every joy or trial falleth from above, Traced upon our dial by the Sun of Love; We may trust Him fully all for us to do. They who trust Him wholly find Him wholly true.

Yesterday, a boy I knew in high school (I suppose he is a man now) posted a note on my facebook wall: "Hey you, are you enjoying winter?"

You know, winter? Not really. It's cold. The roads are slick. I'm more worried than usual, because I'm afraid my new driver, Fash, might slip on those roads and get hurt. I don't really ski or snowshoe or ice skate. Though I did go skiing with I.T.'s family earlier this season and I did spend about five minutes on ice skates at the ski resort. The views were beautiful! I remained vertical on the skates, but did not do any impressive twirls or anything- just skated to one end of the short pond and then back. I'm not sure what I did actually even qualifies as skating. About the skiing: the chair from the lift booted me in the hind end on my way off, my skis were crossed and my tips weren't up. I fell, bruising my pride and causing a potential pile-up. I did make a few runs down some "green" hills (green, as in "easy" the hills were actually white with snow, tons of snow). All in all, the huge flakes falling on big snow covered peaks and the crunch of thick snow under my boots, as I climbed from the parking space to the condo- the gathering of family around food and conversation- these were the real highlights.

And then, on the more somber side of life this winter, there has been the empty space that death leaves when it comes too soon, as I spoke of in yesterday's post.

But here's the thing. While I may not be exactly in love with winter. I do love Life. I love Life- that indescribable gift from God. Not the physical life I trudge through in winter, but the life He gave me at the cross. I have deep joy that springs from this Life. I hunger and thirst after this Life. And my appetite for Him is quenched by the reading of his precious word, by communing with him in prayer and by reading the works of those who draw breath from this same Life of which I speak.

For example, right now I am reading Dug Down Deep, Unearthing What I Believe and Why It Matters by Joshua Harris. This young author has gripped the gift given by this Life and is eager to share the joy he has found in it. I read a little, pray a little and then I'm off the couch to do some dishes, read some psychology with Fash, cook. Worry sneaks into some of my moments. The pressure of time makes me hurry. But all the while, I am stayed. Stayed upon Jehovah. And as I'm stayed upon Jehovah, I am aware. Aware that my heart is fully blessed. It has taken me a long time, but I am truly finding, as He promised, perfect peace and rest.

Yeah, I have a lot to do and I procrastinate most of it. But one thing I hope I will not neglect is trusting my God fully. For I am persuaded that when I trust Him wholly, I will find Him wholly true.

Am I enjoying winter? Not nearly as much as I am enjoying Life!

Hope?

It's 12 degrees outside.

I just dumped coffee grounds all over a dish towel on my kitchen counter, because I mistook the French Press for an item I'd just washed that needed to be flipped upside down to air dry.

Our emptied garbage container was left by the road and the top blew open, clearly an invitation for passersby to drop their baggies of dog poop in there.

"Trillion" paired with "dollars" doesn't evoke a lick of hope, no matter the sentence structure.

Four young adults from our community met death unexpectedly this past month in separate accidents of various sorts.

And Haiti.

But this I know-

I was made. God is Creator.

I had a beginning. God exists outside of time and space.

I need air and food and drink. God relies on nothing outside of himself.

I can be in one place at one time. God is always present everywhere.

I am limited in what I can do. God can do all things, no purpose of his can be thwarted.

I forget. God knows all things past, present and future.

I'm not always sure what I will do. God does what we could never do.

God is holy. Above us. Beyond us. But with us. With us.

"What is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?" (Psalm 8:4)

This is the God I serve. The one I have no hold on and the One who holds me in the palm of his hand. This is the God who loves me. And this is the God who loves you.

Therein lies hope.

Hope.

Just Sittin' Around Eatin' Bon Bons

In the olden days, when I had three young children, two in diapers, one in pre-school and I cared for a friend's pre-schooler a few days a week and I was the leader of the Mom's group at our church and I was the funeral luncheon organizer at our church and I was a Sunday school teacher at our church- sometimes I would imagine that the look my husband gave me when he came home from work meant, "what on earth have you been doing all day?" and without him actually saying that, I would still glare at him and actually say or maybe even growl, "oh, you know me, I just sit around here all day eating bon bons".

The poor, loving guy probably didn't really give me a look that had that question in it. He probably was giving me a look that meant, "what's for dinner?" But he certainly didn't say that, either. He is, and always has been, a very smart man.

I used to think that when, "this too shall pass", as my mother always promised it would, that I would be well on my way to easier, less messy and less stressy days- and just maybe piping hot food would be waiting on a lovely set table when Mr. I.T. arrived from a long day of working hard to provide for the gang.

Well. Home schooling three children did not turn out to be less messy. Changing churches was certainly not less stressful. And getting the kids through junior high was definately not easy. Re-doing the bathroom was not less messy. Teaching three kids to drive was not less stressful. And, believe it or not, having three adult children is, actually, not exactly: easy.

It is not easy to give excellent advice to our 18 year old, and only, daughter about dating. Why? Because we aren't sure what the excellent advice is. It is not easy to know when to say something and when to say nothing to these adult children, who ultimately must think through all that stuff we've been trying to teach of faith and life all these years, for themselves. And it is not easy to stand in a house void of children, who needed you for everything yesterday, but today are pretty much grown up and gone.

Now, most days, I.T. does come home to food on the table. He also comes home to a look from me that asks from one eye "now what?" and the other "what now?" I'm ever thankful that Fash still lives here and fills a lot of our moments with lively conversation and I.T. and I do find things to talk about and do together , but lately, like today, I spend way too much time wandering through the empty house, thinking about what I might do next. And truthfully, today, I sat around here all day just eating bon bons.


(All this after a wonderful weekend of staying in a ski in/ski out condo up north and skiing, ice skating and hot tubbing with I.T., Outside the Box, Fash and I.T.'s extended family- so, maybe it's mostly just coming down from that cloud that has me in this mellow mood.)

Here's to finding out what the next step is- in 2010.

Bonsai Me

When Pilgrim was here in early December, he took one look at my bonsai tree and proclaimed that my life was out of balance.

As you can see in the above header picture, Ziah is just barely hangin' in there, though she is trying to look her holiday best. I guess entertaining and redecorating and change are a bit much for her.

Maybe now that the bathroom project is mostly done, and Christmas is pretty much past, she can concentrate on growing new leaves and nurturing their development. Maybe now she can get it together and stop worrying about everything and start doing something and quit wasting time feeling sorry for herself. Move forward and chin up.... Life goes on, Ziah. It does. The kids grow up, they move out, you move on. There's a lot of learning left to do and opportunity is just outside the door (and in the kitchen).

Come on Ziah, girl. You can do it!

The Bathroom Project Saga

If you've been a reader of my blog for a little while, you may have read a few posts and seen a few pics of our ongoing bathroom project here in our 1970's ranch, Suburbia, USA. If not, click here and have a lookie see.

Well, I.T. got the ceiling painted a nice bathroom white and he installed a fan, which is working very nicely, preventing moisture build-up during showers. I wonder why builders in the 1970's thought bathrooms did not need ventilation fans. Anyone?

Anyway, check out this ceiling and fan:

Now, I spent about two seconds of patience on trying to figure out how to adjust the lighting so my Nikon Coolpix could capture the color we painted the walls and cabinet doors. But that didn't work out so well. The walls are a coffee with cream sort of color called "saddle up your horses" or something like that and the cabinet doors and walking through doors are somewhere between "retro green" and "pennyroyal", which is also a shade of green. The trim is one of a million shades of off white.
In the above picture, you can see the butterscotch characteristic of the coffee on your saddle tan walls when the light hits just right. Unfortunately, you can also see the peachish tan with pee carpeting that is still in this bathroom. It will- one day- be tile or perhaps, linoleum, instead.

I.T. built a little medicine cabinet to hide the hole he had to cut in the wall, to do the wiring job for the ceiling fan (which he did not do- our electrician expert neighbor did the wiring). The cabinet door is one from our old kitchen. It just happens to be the same style as the lower cabinet doors in the bathroom. I.T. sanded the door, primed it and painted it with two coats of green paint. Then he proudly brought it in for me to see.

Above shot is with the hinges ON, but when I.T. first brought this little number in, he stuck the door up to the cupboard and just kind of set it in there. I held it in place and he stood back to check it out. Then I said, "will you hold it, so I can step back to look" and I.T. stuck a piece of blue painter's tape over the top of the door, slightly adhering it to the frame. "That'll hold it." We held hands and took a few romantic steps back........and watched.......as the little green cabinet door plunged forward onto the faucet of the sink below and banged a deep gash in its decorative molding. And in a couple of other places. (picture below is after the wood putty repair job and two more coats of green)
Jewel, my college blogger friend, posted about a corporate stress reliever scream that students participated in last night on campus. At midnight, everyone screamed at the same time out their open windows. This is a more than excellent idea and would work very well in my neighborhood at times (such as the one I am blogging about) like these when your freshly painted cabinet door decides to leap into your sink and become a train wreck, before your very eyes.
As for the doors, two days after he painted it, I.T. noticed a fingerprint on this one, near the doorknob, so he started to rub it out with a damp cloth and presto- the paint rubbed right off. If you can zoom in on the knob, you'll see it.

This caused me to blow a gasket. I gathered up the little, green cabinet door, the can of green paint, the damp cloth, my receipts and burned some rubber over to Home Depot. I demanded that the paint man mix me up a batch of green paint exactly the same color as I had in this can right here, but with a different kind of stick -to- itness. Then I demonstrated how if you wet a cloth (I spit on the one I'd brought along) and rubbed ever so slightly on the door, such as you would if you needed to clean off a mere fingerprint, poof- the paint rubs off! (The paint didn't rub off the little green cabinet door.) BUT. The paint man mixed me up a new batch, no questions asked and took back my easy-off can #1- breaking the rule of no returns on paint. As I think back on it now, I believe I may have been showing signs of anger and with all that spitting....well....I do feel bad now for the paint man.
I may or may not use this striped shower curtain indefinitely, but I found it in the pile of things that did not sell at the garage sale this spring. Since it looked kind of okayish for Christmas w/the red in it and all- I put it up, because the family was coming over for Pilgrim's homecoming party.

The trim around the window did not get painted, yet and I don't know what I'm doing for a curtain, but these Christmas napkins are the current solution for peeping Tom prevention. That's my neighbor's house out the window. Hi guys!

I have no towel bars hung and no toilet paper roll holder. The lower cabinets beneath the vanity did not get painted. But they are supposed to be green doors on wall color cabinet to match the rest of the room. I.T. says he thinks he has to scrape all the paint off the doors and repaint with the new and improved green paint.

My favorite comment so far is Pilgrim's. He took one look at the whole project and said, "Funny, mom, you've always complained about the green sinks and green tub and green toilet, but now you've added green doors on everything. It's all very green."

Corporate scream time. Everyone open your windows and let 'er rip....... !!!

Passing on a Good Message

If you haven't visited Karen today at Surviving Motherhood, you should. I could have made that video myself sans the rats. If I had one message to give, the one from her video today would be it:

Rest in God's grace and know that Jesus- knowing him, loving him, letting him teach and lead- is enough. Jesus Christ will accomplish in your life, what you cannot accomplish on your own (not talking about the trash under the couch). You can trust him for it.

Pressure's off.

Later today: How the bathroom project is shaping up- with photos....

The Homecoming

Six months after leaving for California on the Greyhound bus, the beloved middle son came home for a ten day visit. Here's a piece of my heart:

Small kitchen, big fun. The family welcomes him home:

Fash effortlessly kept the nieces and one nephew (her cousins) entertained during the party. The other nephew was playing Othello with I.T. Here is the zebra shoot:
Here is the nerdz shoot:

Divas and their manager shoot: (wardrobe provided by Fashionista's closets)
Too cute shoot (check out the ponytails):
Another night, this longtime, wonderful friend surprised Pilgrim with a ticket to the Skillet concert for his birthday. Pilgrim turned 20 while he was here!

That's all for now- hope your holiday season is bright.