More Ahead

Hope is not wishful thinking.
Hope is the audacity to believe:
"After all I have been through, there is more ahead of me." 

-Morgan Harper Nichols

The garden is still producing - still hanging on - despite the August temperatures and general lack of any rainfall. At all. I walked the rows this morning, delighting over the swelling black eyed pea pods and colorful peppers and okra I had to jump to reach. (It's on my Instagram stories, if you care to see: @brinwisdom.)

We have farm kittens now. A stray wandered up in spring, starved for food and love, and it was our joy to give her both. Marble, as I named her, was pregnant, it turns out, and had her kittens one blistering day in June. There were seven. These two kittens, Exxon and Mobil, they're now called, were inseparable from birth. Their antics and adventures are equal parts hilarious and adorable. They're staying. Welcome to our little farm place you two.

I'm busy today trying to put up garden produce and batten down the hatches for Hurricane Laura, which is promising to visit us with wind and rain. There's a tropical storm warning (watch? I never remember the difference) in effect for our region, although technically they drew the red line zone 10 minutes from our house. Regardless, prayers are being said today for all in Laura's path.

Gardens... kittens... storms: all simple reminders that, even after all we've seen and been through, there is yet more ahead of us. <3    

Audaciously hoping you have a good Tuesday,

-Brin

He Still Gives Grace

From His fullness we have all received

grace upon grace.

-John 1:16

Haven't we? I mean, absolutely: life is tough now. Sin, sickness and Satan are having their way with our world and, to some degree, our very lives. But even through it all- especially through it all- His grace glitters. His fullness flourishes. God is on His throne and He still gives you and He still gives me grace upon grace out of His fullness.

Sometimes we just have to quit complaining and questioning and stressing long enough to see it....

Praying His front-porch-sitting grace and solace will fill your mind and heart today. -Brin

(And yeah... I definitely need to mop and decorate this porch. What can you see here? Tell me in the comments and look for the porch reveal in April!)

Better Every Day - The B.E.D Mantra, Part II

Thank you- each of you- for your kind comments yesterday. I read every one and every word, whether you commented or emailed or Facebook messaged me. Thank you, really. Thank you for being here. Thank you for taking the time to write back. It means so much to me, and to the others who come here looking for a little something heartening.

I wanted to make sure I didn't give the impression yesterday that my BED mantra always results in the accomplishment of something... dramatic... or significant. Some days, my Better Every Day is a tiny victory. Some days, it gets diminished by laundry and cleaning and my long list of To Dos. Some days, Better Every Day is just shredding an old stack of mail. Or organizing a corner cabinet. Some days it's making a decision on something I've been putting off, or buying something that will help with a project. Weekend before last, it was holding a yard sale and getting rid of some junk and unnecessary things the previous owner left behind. The point is, every night at bed I want to be able to point at some step I took or task I completed and say, Yes. That made this place and our life here better today. No matter how small or simple.

This attitude is especially important to those of us taking on big projects, I think, in our get-it-now society. I mean, one episode of Fixer Upper has the potential to leave an overwhelmed DIYer discouraged for days. You know? They have an all-in budget of what? Chip and JoJo presented them the perfect home in how long? And then we look around, bewildered and frustrated, at our own projects and get lost in the magnitude of slow progress and what remains before us. Yikes. I adore the Gaines family and thank God for their testimony and putting Jesus and His goodness on display. (I mean, truly. God is showing off with that family!) But let's be real: some of us are living in and through fixer uppers on tiny budgets or hard circumstances and tackling small projects as we learn the necessary skills on the odd weekend or week off, right? Better Every Day is just something that encourages me to be patient, trust God's heart, and be thankful in the midst of overload or overwhelm. After all, sometimes our miracles and transformations play out over years, not days.
 
Do you know the poem Little By Little? I had to memorize it when I was 9, and it hasn't left me. Here's the beginning:

 "Little by little," an acorn said

As it slowly sank in its mossy bed;

"I am improving every day, 

Hidden deep in the earth away." 

Little by little each day it grew, 

Little by little it sipped the dew; 

Downward it sent a thread-like root,

Up in the air sprung a tiny shoot. 

Day after day, and year after year, 

Little by little the leaves appear: 

And the slender branches spread far and wide,
 Til the mighty oak is the forest's pride.

So I just wanted to encourage you: You can do this. Not today. Not all of it. But today you can do a part of it. Little by little. Day after day. Do what you can, and one day you'll look back and realize you have your miracle. Your tiny acorn will be the forest's pride. Better every day.

I'm right here with you. -Brin

-     -     -     -     -

Not to bog you down with children's lit  today, but this is another (on topic) childhood favorite:

Do your best,

And leave the rest,

'Twill all come right

Some day or night. 

-Anna Sewell, Black Beauty 

Oh! And the reason for the strawberry picture is this: today my BED project is painting these strawberry stones.

My B.E.D Motto

So maybe, like me, you're dreaming of a place in the country where you can stretch out and have a flower garden, a mini milk cow, and some independence, but for now you must bloom where you're planted and such. Or maybe you're pleased as punch to be right where you find yourself but want to add a bit of the country life where you are. Either way, I think you might be interested in what I have coming up on the blog.

And what's coming up is this: putting a pretty, functional garden on a 1/3 acre lot in a busy city that makes you get a permit before you sneeze. We're going to have to be very creative while building this little urban homestead. We can't keep chickens here (although we've formed a coalition to overturn that ordinance) or keep bees here. Yet. I anticipate this changing soon. So we will prevail, and I will show you how as we go along.

I think I've spent several months being sort of let down and upset over this place, to be honest. (I've always been honest with you guys, I think. To a fault.) After all, I gave up my cute cabin to get married... with the understanding that a place in the country would be an option soon. But friends, as you probably know all too well, life usually doesn't work out as it does in our heads. A compromise means we bought an old house on this double lot in town. I must make the best of it!

Yeah. It was a difficult time during our 2015 house hunting days.

My first goal on this homeplace was to get a clothesline, stat. Not having to run the dryer all week saves me real dollars every month on my electric bill and, in turn, give me an excuse to slow down. Hanging laundry, for me, is therapeutic. Most days I even fold it straight off the line. For now I have this retractable clothesline running between the house and a nearby tree, and it's getting the job done until we can get a permanent one built. If you're renting or don't have a clothesline yet, I highly recommend going this route. Baby steps, friends. Baby steps.

The goal I'm tackling now is what you saw in the picture above: putting in a combo raised bed/in-ground bed vegetable garden. I'm making progress every day and can't wait to show you once I get it completed. I'm shooting for a completion date of my birthday, April 8. It's a big, big task, but I am determined. Today I'm preparing the second in-ground bed, Back to Eden style. I'm also getting some herbs in those well-used terra cotta pots you see in the picture above. Between the clearing out and the putting in and the garden bed making, I've come up with a motto for these challenging, early days. Better Every Day, is my recent motto. BED= Better.Every.Day. I ask myself each night as I get in bed, Did you do anything to make this place better today? Elementary, I know, but it helps. It really helps.

Do me a favor? Talk back to me: tell me what project you're working on or what you're doing around your homeplace. Help encourage or inspire me/us to keep going. I find it wildly heartening to see other women talk about their challenges, their projects, and their hopes for their homes. It sort of helps us chin-up and tackle our own mountains knowing that someone else out there is climbing hers at the same time, too.

Off to tackle that second garden bed before I ask myself my BED question at bed tonight. Have a good Wednesday! -Brin


This post contains an Amazon affiliate link for the purposes of sharing exact products I'm using and enjoying. You know the spill, right? If you click and buy, Amazon gives me a small kickback for the referral to their site, and that money helps me keep the blog going. It doesn't cost you or impact you in any way. Thanks!

Granola Ladies

It's still here today, and cloudy- the kind of heavy, translucent-gray weather autumn trots out after pulling on her sweater. Inside, windows are open and there's deep, thick, honey-sounding cello music coming from the study. I hear it from the kitchen where I'm stirring batches of homemade granola.

Back when I had my bakery, granola was a top seller. There's one granola customer in particular I remember. She came in a couple of times a week wearing this shawl you could tell was handmade and carrying a dog-eared copy of someone's poetry- Dickinson's or Oliver's or Millay's. She would tuck her book under her shawl-wrapped arm and, after squinting for what seemed like ages at the huge glass jars of granola, she would always request the same thing: "blueberry and almond, 5 scoops, to go". That was it. No conversation aside from that. The poetry would stay wedged under her shawl arm while she slid cash across the counter, clutched her paper bag of granola, and left without saying another word. I always wondered about her and what sort of place she ate her 5 scoops of blueberry almond granola in.

I'm not making blueberry almond today, though. Instead I'm doing an almond and golden raisin for those who enjoy things like raisins and coconut and fruit. And I'm doing a pecan and dark chocolate kind for me, who enjoys things like dark chocolate and milk chocolate and white chocolate. Ha. Yes. We know who the healthy one is in this house.

What sort of things do you like in your granola? These are things I wonder about sometimes. To me, you're kind of like the blueberry almond lady... showing up, yet wrapped in an internet shawl and seldom saying a word. I wonder about the kind of things you like and what sort of place you're reading in. I wonder if, ever given the chance, we could sit and talk for hours about how life brought us here and what our life looks like once we leave.

But most of all, I wonder if we know how our quiet, ordinary-seeming selves impact those watching. I wonder if the blueberry almond granola lady will ever know that sometimes I made it just in case she came in that day. I wonder if she knew that sometimes I put extra scoops in her bag. And I wish I had the chance to tell you what I never told her: I'll bet you're fascinating. And I think you're more beautiful and interesting than you know. And whatever your life looks like once you leave my world, I hope you know it matters. 

I hope you know you matter.

Headed back to my still, gray day and my granola now....

-Brin

What We're Doing To Our Bibles

If you're a print Bible reading sort of person, you may be aware of the Bible journaling phase that's sweeping the print-Bible-reading-sort of-person nation. If you're new to this mad fad, I encourage you to take a second to Google or Pinterest search this. It's insane.

This is my Bible. Inspiration courtesy of genius on Tumblr.

For real, go search. In fact, I'm going to, too, because it's new and strange and you won't believe how talented some of these pages are.

....

Anyway. I am a print Bible reading sort of person, so I watched from the sidelines as these brave and careless people began writing, doodling, coloring, and doing all sorts of artsy things within the pages of their holy book. I wanted to dive in to this particular Bible weirdness, but I was raised Baptist. (Baptists don't dance, don't drink, and certainly don't color in their adult Bibles.) But then one day, I could stand it no longer. I have a study Bible that I would never draw in, but I have another that was a gift... more for casual reading. I picked up some colored pencils and began sketching something similar to a picture I saw on Tumblr. 

It was freeing. Like, kid drawing on the wall with nail polish, kind of freeing. It felt so rebellious and yet again, so right. Instantly, I was converted. 

Do you read the Bible? Do you ever write (journal, color, go crazy) in yours? This fall, I feel a renewed inspiration to spend time with my Bible, specifically in Genesis, Psalms, Daniel, Ezekiel and Revelations. I see much drama coming forth from- and on- these thin, delicate pages.

Speaking of thin and delicate, I picked up a few supplies to go with my underlining/highlighting/doodling/writing in the Bible phase. It should be noted that you can't begin "personalizing" your Bible with just any old rough, heavy pens and markers. So far, these color pencils are fantastic. Ditto for these no-bleed-through Bible highlighters. And don't try this for yourself without getting a hold of Micron's Bible Study Kit. What? I write with them for everything now. Love Micron pens.

Are you in on this Bible journaling and art thing? Would you rather walk the center aisle naked before you'd ever draw in your Bible? Tell me about it and we'll discuss. 

Happy Friday and weekend! -Brin

This post includes affiliate links. Because bloggers cannot live on Bread alone. (Haha. Bible joke.)

The Luxury of Common Threads

In the tapestry of childhood, 

what stands out is not the splashy, blow-out trips to Disneyland 

but the common threads that run throughout and repeat: 

the family dinners, nature walks, reading together at bedtime, 

Saturday morning pancakes.

-Kim John Payne

It occurs to me that, elsewhere, most are not living a life with common threads. There are no family dinners around the table. No bedtime stories. No Saturday morning pancakes.

Today I am painfully aware of my blessings... and my routine refusal to recognize them and be thankful.

Enjoying the luxury of common threads today, and thanking God for His graciousness. Even in hard times, we have so much to be thankful for....

Ore

Times of great calamity and confusion have been productive for the greatest minds. 

The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace.

The brightest thunder-bolt is elicited from the darkest storm.
-Charles Colton

I'm in the energy industry. Am. Was? It's hard to tell these days. Everyone, it seems, is out of work. I'm no exception. The oil company came down in March, cited falling oil prices and failing wells, and pulled the funding for the project I contracted. Not a problem, usually, only every other company was pulling plugs, too, and there were no other jobs around to get plugged into.

That was March. There's still no sign of work out there anywhere.

This is my second career. The first was reporting- I worked for ABC and CBS and other lettered affiliates and chased down stories and lived to be on the air. This oil and gas consulting came next. Long story about that transition. But here I am, at 36, coming to the realization that in today's economic free-fall we must all adapt or die.

But there's hope. The more I understand of the past, the more evident it's become that adversity produces. Hard times beget new ventures. It's all in what we make of it.

So I just finished packing my office, storing the tables and chairs and cabinets and files (what you see above was half of my little consulting business), and telling myself that it's okay... that God has a plan... and that I am not alone in this. ... ...

You know what ore is? Ore is a rock that has good stuff, profitable stuff, embedded in it. But ore isn't worth much unprocessed. It has to leave its environment, undergo extreme pressure, and watch itself be separated into waste rock and precious minerals. Then it's valuable. Then it's precious. 

I wonder if sometimes we aren't that processing or recently-processed ore. We're hating the transformation even as it's doing something fantastic to us. Or else we're processed, two halves of a former whole, and wanting our ore back together... identifying with the bulk of the waste rock while regarding that precious bit as insignificant. Or worse yet, despising the glittering, priceless treasure that came about because of the excruciating process.

Point is: yes, times are getting tough. The economy is failing. Jobs are scarce and necessities are expensive. Our country is hardly recognizable. And yet... and yet... what we're witnessing here- and in ourselves- is the process of adversity producing. Of staggering transformation. Of a separating of the highest order. And if we're willing to let it, this could be the best, most beautifully beneficial, time of our lives.

We're in this together, bright lightning bolts and purest ore friends. We're in this together. -Brin

Summer's Ghost

We know that in September, 

we will wander through the 

warm winds of summer's wreckage. 

We will welcome summer's ghost.
-Henry Rollins

Fall is out in the stores. I'm expecting, any moment now, to see pumpkins and leaf-strewn wreaths on front porches of houses I drive past. I love later summer/early autumn- its decay and moodiness and restlessness. Summer's is the only ghost I welcome.

I have Beef Stroganoff simmering on the stove and am half-heartedly mixing up leftover bits of cornbread and chunks of thick, white loaves for dressing. (Stuffing, if you're from up north?) Chicken and dressing will hit the freezer soon. I'm trying to make extras of meals and freeze them up for days I just don't want to cook. Which lately has been most days. Strange, seeing as how the kitchen sink just went in and we dreamed of home-cooked meals all summer. Very strange...

It seems I've hit a wall (early) with this renovation. Tonight will be night 93 on the air mattress and I think I'm just exhausted. He is adamant that the bed NOT be put together until the master bedroom is painted and floors are redone, so I toss and turn and toss and turn. I'm praying the bedroom is move-in-ready in a week. Y'all, I fear for life on planet Earth if I have to crawl off that thing many more mornings. How was this so much easier at 24 than it is at 36?

Ah. But there's progress in the kitchen! The countertops will be finished soon, so all that's left in this phase will be to paint and hardware the cabinets, tile a back splash, hang shelves and begin setting up. I'd show you, only right now it's a jumble of tools and pantry items and opened boxes of spices and a strange assortment of unpacked dishes. (Read: whatever was at the top of the dishes box is what's been unpacked and used.) The tentative "have company over" goal date of September 1 blew by without so much as an apology. It's okay. It's really okay. Those who matter, don't mind... and those who mind, don't matter. Right?

How are things with you? I feel as if it's been awhile since we talked. Drop me a comment or a Facebook message or email and let me know what's on your stove and what's going on at your house and how you're dealing with the ghost of summer. That's what we're here for, right?

I'm so glad we're friends. -Brin

Monday Brain

My Must-Do List this week is getting me down. Especially because I woke up with a monster awful sore throat and aches. Ain't nobody got time for that!

There's so much I want to say this week about the stock market, the deal with Iran, and what this fall has in store for us. It surprises people, I think, when they meet me and realize I'm not all gardens and homemade bread and refinished floors. I bore people to death with documentaries on Netflix and random YouTube videos. In real life, I'm a pretty intense person. (Or so I'm told.) As a former reporter, I live and breathe news. And stock market reports. And economic collapse blogs. And weather model forecasting. But here, none of that. Here, I'm sink-shining Brin with a long Must-Do List.

We're okay with that, right? 

I think of all the things I have to tackle this week, getting back into bread making is what I'm least dreading. Fresh bread! There's something everyone can agree on. My banana bread recipe is an old favorite on this blog. (You can find it here.) In addition to having some banana bread tucked in the freezer, I also want to have bread dough I can pull out and bake in a flash. Omgosh, have you seen that they came out with a NEW Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day?! I'm so excited. I have the first (old) copy and the master recipe for the Boule (the artisan free-form loaf) is my favorite, favorite bread ever. It's ridiculously easy, even if you don't bake.

So. The kitchen. We've had a brief hold up in there. It's me. I can't decide what to do with the countertops, so everything's come to a stand still. I'll show you tomorrow and maybe we can come up with something workable.

In the meantime, happy Monday! And happy back to school to all those headed back today. May God keep you all! -Brin

Waning

 

Everything is waning here. Draining color. Bowing in defeat. It's as if nature itself is surrendering to the heat.

Temperatures have been holding steady between 100 and 105 F each day. It's the kind of weather in which you hang jeans out to dry and go check them 2 hours later and there they are, stiff as a board. The streets are quiet between 10 am and 7 pm. Who would dare risk a heat stroke during those hours?

There's so much to do outside, but in we sit, sweating by the fan and wearing as few layers as possible. I need to settle my blueberries and strawberries into permanent beds, but it's just too hot. Even the bees are out of the hive, hanging from the entrances and buzzing their frustration. It's too hot. It's just too hot.

The other day it was cloudy and I put on a CD of rain/relaxation music... the kind of CDs you see in those displays in Target that you can listen to before you buy. I put it on and turned it up... then I played instrumental Christmas music from my iHome. Yes. Yes, I did. In my world, it was a rainy December day. Outside, it was hot as blazes August. Folks came over and I apologized and went around turning off the thunder soundtrack and the O Come, All Ye Faithful.

We do what we can to survive.

I am eagerly awaiting your arrival, Autumn. Please hurry. -Brin

Monday Moment: Rest

In repentance and rest is your salvation,
    in quietness and trust is your strength...

-Isaiah 30:14

I'm working on a quilt for one of the guest rooms- a quilt of skinny scraps of yellows, blues and greens. It's light and cool and reminds me of summer in the country. At first, I had a mind to tie it, and started pulling blue yarn through all the layers. Then I stopped and began pulling it all out. I dislike tied quilts, so I decided to put in the effort to machine quilt it. Going all out on this one! Can't wait until it's finished.

The word "rest" has been showing up in my devotionals and conversations and music. A lot. Rest. It sounds unattainable. Archaic, even. Who rests anymore? The coolest people are the busiest. Resting is for the lazy and unambitious, right? But the more I read, the more I see God calling out to us to... rest. Not be apathetic or neglectful, just to quit striving. Rest. 

It's my heart's desire to see this house become a place of quietness and rest. A refuge house, even. I think about it all the time. I'm looking for ways to introduce that atmosphere into this place.

Do you have any ideas? I think I'm going to compile a list. What, to you, says quietness and rest?

We should discuss....

The Simple Human Gift

...What a rare and beautiful treasure

Is the simple human gift of joy.
-Giles Andreae

We can't lose it- this rare and simple human gift of joy. We can't. No matter what comes, no matter what we see, no matter what fills our newsfeeds or our sleepless nights, we can't lose joy.

I was thinking about this awhile ago while unpacking my dishes and stacking them in the built-in hutch in the dining room. (Some women loves shoes. Or lipsticks. Or purses. I'm a dishes girl. I have a mix of white dishes I use for every day, but I love my different sets. I think I have 7 different ones.) Setting a table, making dinner, inviting over friends... family... new faces... gives me joy. It's simple, but it's real. Joy. 

The news is beyond scary lately. It's only in the past few weeks that I've been thankful I'm not a reporter anymore. But the scarier the news gets, the more confident I become in a good God... an attentive God... and a God with purposes and promises that will all make sense in the end.

So I unpack my dishes and pray my prayers and keep on trusting. Trusting... and looking for moments of that simple human gift-- joy.

Don't forget about The House Helper Giveaway! -Brin

Paradoxes, Part One

I have said that Texas is a state of mind,

but I think it is more than that....

-John Steinbeck

I wore boots yesterday and went to a ranch. The community's raising money for a local young woman, an avid equestrian, who has cancer. She's a beautiful girl from a beautiful family, and folks turned out to buy nachos, sing karaoke, bid on auction items, and take selfies with horses named Rio and Blackjack and Pongo.

Have you ever been to Texas? It's a confounding place. It's the land of paradoxes- it's steamy and it's dusty. It's the plains and the ocean. It's palm trees and snow. It's liberal hipster and skeevy redneck. It's loud, it's serene, it's bustling, it's remote. 

It's impossible to be bored in Texas. I think that's why I stay. That, and it's where my family is- both sides. They all sailed from England, landed in Virginia, wagon-trained to Georgia, and settled in Texas. The men had names like Bird and Tavner and Abner. And William. Always, William. They worked hard and fought harder and preached, some. I've been putting together a family tree on Ancestry and got word that I could apply to be a DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) gal, just like Emily Gilmore on Gilmore Girls. That revelation hit like a smack to the funny bone- hilarious, yet sharp/deep at the same time. Paradox, again.

Lately it's been on my mind how important it must be: the where we come from and who we are. Is it something you ever think about? Is it something you believe matters? I mean, I was raised to understand that Texas isn't just a place, it's in your blood. It's your birthright. But I have always felt like I belonged in a windy, gray, salted-air ocean place, too... like I know something I don't and am carrying a secret no one's ever told me. Crazy paradox, I know.

So I'm about to tell some stories... I'm about to string words together and make a chain from William to Brin, from history to present. It feels necessary, somehow. Necessary, and yet a completely frivolous way to spend these precious days. Could be a present state of mind, but I think it's more than that....

More to come on this.

Rocks and Roses

....It struck her that that perhaps everyone 

had the ability to see themselves in others. 

Even in the rocks. Even in the roses.

-Holly Lynn Payne, Damascena

 

I'm glad you're here. 

We're kind of like a family, you know... those of us who come here. You read me, I read your comments, and I think we see ourselves when we look at each other. Rocks, roses and all. Hi there, you.

The roses are blooming and so I picked some and brought them in. But really they're for you. Thanks for sharing my days, my quiet thoughts, my messy life.

Call it Earth Day or Wednesday or whatever you'd like. Today I'm grateful for... and looking at... you.

Let's be friends always, okay?  -Brin

Whippoorwills, Singing, Gardens and Houses

A feather from the Whippoorwill
That everlasting—sings!
Whose galleries—are Sunrise—
Whose Opera—the Springs....

-Emily Dickinson

Everything is alive here- sprouting and swaying and singing. It's all just so... alive. I'm not sure why, but this spring has brought so much reassurance for me. I've heard her opera of hope: we may be facing chaos, but God is on His throne and He has a plan. Just look at the roses and tell me He doesn't. The Everlasting still sings.

Is this not just the most beautiful, Secret Garden-like place you've ever seen? It's Whippoorwill Gardens in Cass County, Texas. I went not long ago, and we wandered around until it clouded up and threatened rain. I want something like this- these rooms of roses and fountains, I told him. I want something like this at the new place.

Speaking of, so far, still so good on the new house. We're on schedule to close May 9. I'm in this alternate world right now of gardens and paint colors and flea markets and list making. And how wonderful that it's all happening in spring, with all her galleries and operas and whippoorwills!

We're so blessed to be talking gardens and houses. The Everlasting... He still sings.

Dreaming Again...

The house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer,

the house allows one to dream in peace.

-Gaston Bachelard

It's happened again,  you guys. I have fallen in love. 

Meet the Whitaker House, a circa 1890s mansion that looks as if it could be the setting for one of my favorite girlhood books, The Velvet Room:

I took my Mom to meet her over the weekend.  This is all I have ever wanted, I breathed, hand wrapping around the iron garden gate that, seemingly by magic, creaked open. I took it as an invitation. Wouldn't you? We creeped inside the brick and iron wall and just stared at the old place.

It was for sale but now it isn't. Apparently a local optometrist purchased it from the estate of an out of town doctor, but there's no word on what the eye guy intends to do with the place.

I intend to find every dollar I possibly can and pray, wish and hope beyond hope that one day the phone will ring and it will be a gruff-sounding voice on the other end saying, So, I heard you were interested in the old Whitaker place....

Not interested. Enthralled, is a better word. Utterly smitten and completely in love.

It's time to find a place to dream in peace again....

Strawberries and Onions and Everything's Going to Be Okay

What good is the warmth of summer, 

without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.

-John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley

I've been watching Foyle's War on Netflix sometimes. Days when it's not too heavy. The show is a British production set just as WWII is winding down, as food is still scarce and everyone's nerves are frayed. A recent episode showed the characters, amidst the chaos of war aftermath, being absolutely thrilled at the discovery of a large onion. An onion. They passed it around, smelling it...marveling... and the way they looked at that fresh onion was heartrending. Who would have thought an onion would invoke so much awe?

Guess it takes no onions to appreciate an onion again. Guess it takes winter for us to appreciate summer. After all, cold and gray days like today do make pictures of my summer strawberries look that much sweeter.

I continue to hear from ladies across the country who are going through hard times. Hard times. Lay offs and health issues and economic concerns have us all concerned and a little frayed at the edges. Personally, as a girl who makes a living in the oil and gas industry, this time is worrisome for me. I haven't been paid in 41 days and our freezer is emptying out by the day. Last night I got a little emotional about it. A friend reminded me that God will see us through... He's working a plan... and didn't we have everything we needed for today? 

This morning, I opened the freezer and found a small bag of homegrown strawberries wedged at the back. For some reason, I felt grateful for it all. I felt like I needed to rejoice, especially today. These times of not running to the store at every craving or new recipe has me discovering those sweet, forgotten strawberries. I mean, what good are times of plenty without times of want to make them sweeter? Would we have good, sweet memories if we didn't also have unpleasant ones?

If it takes these times to appreciate the other ones, I'll take it all. God is good. I'm sure of it. He is on His throne, He has not forsaken us, and a we have a glorious, sweet hope. Everything's going to be okay.

P.S. Check out these depression era recipes. Aren't they fascinating?

Updated: A Letter at Christmas

I got a comment today. No, actually, we got a comment today. You and I did. We got a comment on the Christmas Candy post from a dear lady. I read it before I even got out of bed this morning and it took the breath right out of my lungs. While I'm writing a response to her, please read her letter/comment. And please, let's love this woman and pray for her together.

Here are her words. Click her letter to enlarge.

Dear "broken",

First things first, it's going to be okay. You are going to be okay. Things may not look better today, and they may not tomorrow, but you are going to survive this. Beautiful lady, you can do hard things.

You mentioned in a follow-up comment that you feel you have no right to the feelings you shared above. After all, aren't people throughout the earth living unspeakable horrors? Let me stop you right there. You are completely justified in feeling everything that you are feeling. Feeling broken... sad... hurt... overwhelmed... empty... at the brink... these are very real emotions. God you gave you your emotions. He gave them to you for a reason. Please don't minimize what you're feeling just because someone somewhere else has it "worse". You have every right to feel exactly how you feel today. Please give yourself that.

In 2009, I went to the office of a trusted counselor and pastor. I dumped my enormous heart-load of grief over losing my beloved Freeman House, my Jeep, my bakery business... and then seeing death take someone I loved... at this person's feet. And then I did the same thing you are. I apologized. I felt guilty. I said, "Who am I to whine and cry when women are being held as sex slaves? When women are struggling to feed their near-starved children? I hate myself for crying over my sad little first-world grief.". 

And I'll never forget with this man said. He looked at me for a moment, searching my face, and then leaned forward. "Hey. Wait a minute," he said. "Forget for a moment about them. Forget about people you see on the news. Look at your life. Is this an extremely difficult time for you?" 

"Yes," I whispered.

"The hardest time you've lived through?" he asked.

"Definitely. Yes," I answered.

"Then that's all that matters. For you, for your life, this is as hard as it's been. This is the biggest, all-encompassing difficulty you've faced. These are your hard times. No wonder you feel as you do. You can't compare your grief with someone else's. You can't grade your emotions based on some cosmic sliding scale. Emotions don't need to be justified. Your heart doesn't work that way. This is the hardest blow it's taken, and that's all that matters. It's okay. Really, it's okay."

I say the same to you.

No one knows exactly what you're going through... exactly what today involves... but you. Well, you and God. But my gosh, I swear that I understand that empty, God-less feeling you described. I remember feeling so raw... so open... and so devastated that the loving God of heaven seemed so far when I wanted someone most. The only thing that comforted my mind- not even my heart, really, but my brain- was that Jesus knew what I was feeling. That He hung, raw... open... and seemingly devastated that His loving Father of heaven seemed to be fading out of the picture when He wanted Him most. My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me? Now I'm not Jesus, and my suffering could in no way be compared to His, but I borrowed His words anyway and took some solace in the realization that, just as He did for Jesus, God had a plan for me.

He has one for you, too.

Why does it involve cleaning your proverbial slate? Removing jobs, cars, comfort, home, and people you love? I don't know. Why is He allowing it all at once? No clue. I can say, though, that it was some of the same for me... that sudden, Job-like devastation... like a life tornado that ripped away everything. I don't know why He allows that to fall in some of our lives... except that He sees all, knows all, and is working it all for good for us. Blech. That's the last thing you want to hear in the middle of the tornado- when everything's whirling- but it's truth. It will all come right, some day or night.

I'm glad you commented. I'm so, so glad you did. Because now I know your name. Because now, because you shared your story, I see that God is still in the business of working in lives in dramatic ways and that I am not alone in my story. But mostly, I'm glad you commented because now I can pray for you- pray hard for you- and pester God about you and your situation and your devastated heart. And when you can't pray, I can. When you have no words for Him, I'll have plenty. When you can't complain, I'll complain. When you don't have the faith to trust that God will hold you during this time, I will. I will stand in the gap with and for you, G, until He gives you a crown of beauty for your ashes and a beautiful dress of praise for your old pajamas of despair. 

Please know you're not alone. Please know God hasn't left you. And please know that even in your despair, your beautiful heart is testifying to the courage, strength and might God has placed in you. You are going to be okay.


"Let the one who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the LORD and rely on their God." Hold on, my heart. Hold on, hold out.

-Brin

What I Recognize As Belonging

An expectation is a future object, 

recognized as belonging to me.

-Samuel Alexander

 

A summer storm blew a limb onto the power line yesterday. The chickens were terrified and ran to the coop as the power company came with their chain saws and bucket-in-the-sky truck to cut it all down. I watched from the kitchen window as wood fell, heavy and splintered.

The kitchen in the little red house is dated and cramped. Folks ask for pictures of the house, but it's not much. Honest. If I weren't so focused on saving and preparing for my future cabin, I'd fuss with it. As it is, I put out my stuff and wipe counters and move along.

And of course put out candles and plants. Candles, plants, and good soap. Always.

In the meantime, while I'm here, I visit my Cabin board on Pinterest to plan and dream. I focus not on this house, but on the expectation of my future object- a place I've long recognized as belonging to me...