I joined the Ten-Day Writing Prompt Challenge from Five minute Friday. I know I don't have to publish it, but I thought it would give me something to post for the next ten days, so here it goes.
Today's word is TODAY.
I was trying to come up with some thoughts for that word and was reminded of a favorite Winnie the Pooh quote.
"What day is it?"
"It's today," squeaked Piglet.
"My favorite day," said Pooh.
I am not always good about seeing each day as a gift and a blessing. Some days are just plain hard and that's not going to change. But I do want to see each day as a gift.
I want to come to each today knowing that I am right where God wants me to be and rejoice in that. I want my today to be my favorite day.
I want to smile at the passerby simply because God gave me life and breath today and I am on the street walking with my own legs.
I want to wake up on every today and be grateful for something and everything. I want to remember that ever new today is a new beginning. A new day to try again, a fresh reminder of God's grace and truth. I don't have to worry about tomorrow because I have not been given tomorrow, but have been given today.
I have today. The sun might be shining or it might not, but I have still been given today and today is a gift. I don't need to wonder how I am going to make it tomorrow or a week from now because I haven't been given that. I have today, so I want to live in today and rejoice in this today.
"This is the day the LORD has made:
Let us rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118:24
Experience with me all this city's joys,
People chattering in all different tongues,
Fragrant blooms before it's spring,
Music soaring on the wings of the wind.
Experience the noise of city life,
Impatient horns, people hurrying home,
Shoppers getting food before Shabbat,
Jaffa Street train coming and going.
Experience old arches and old doors,
Ancient building left empty, dark, and still,
New buildings rising from the dust,
A city on a hill.
Experience the quiet voices of the past,
Stories centuries old, told and retold.
Christ did come.
*Joining the Five Minute Friday Link up, Here!
We stand at the top of the hill
Children smiling, laughing in glee.
We lie down in the grass,
And we push ourselves away.
We roll down the hill,
It's easiest that way and it's fun.
And we laugh and stand back up,
And we let out a happy sigh.
We climb back to the top of the hill,
Only a little out of breath.
But we get to the top,
And smile and do it again.
We roll down the hill,
In happy laughter again.
This fun is repeated,
Over and over, rolling, rolling, rolling.
We roll and climb and roll and climb,
Laughing all the way.
We don't mind the grass stains,
We don't mind a little bit of dirt.
We just think it's the best of fun,
To roll down a hill. And it is.
Until we are grown
And fun isn't quite the same.
And a little bit of dirt,
Becomes too dirty.
The laughter is laughed
About things not so funny.
And sometimes we don't laugh at all,
Because we forgot how to have fun.
But then we stare at the children
And their rolling down the hill.
And we remember,
The days when we did the same.
And we laugh with the children
Because they are rolling down a hill.
It's been a little while since I have last written here.
January wasn't too eventful. I read, I wrote, I went places, I cooked, I baked, and I visited with friends.
I read 8 books this month, my favorite being Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie. It was the first time of reading one of her books and I thoroughly enjoyed it and would definitely recommend. Any one have a favorite of hers? I would love to read more by her.
We went to the Negev Desert and the Temple Mount. The first was cold and the second was even colder.
I have been volunteering for an organization, helping do what I do best. Assisting with meal prep. I volunteer two times a week and it really has been a lot of fun. It has been a great way to get me out of the house a little more. It has also opened the door for me to get to know some really sweet people. I have also been getting some new ideas for meals to make for Tyler and I. Coming up with meal ideas that are cheap and wholesome is always the hardest for me. Unless I make the same thing every day, but that starts getting boring after a while. So having the experience of cooking with others has given me a bit of inspiration for my own kitchen.
Yes, I am still writing and editing and writing and editing some more. I started a new story this month because I had an idea and started writing the idea down. But then I couldn't resist starting the story itself. I don't know if it will turn into a full novel or not, but kind of just seeing where it takes me.
If you get my Newsletter than you should be hearing more about January before long and if you aren't signed up for my Newsletter than, what are you waiting for!!! Go sign up now!
What is your favorite thing that you have cooked or baked recently? What is your favorite book you have read in the last month? What has your month looked like? Highs? Lows?
*P.S. The above picture is completely random and yet it is also so adorable (at least in my opinion). I couldn't resist using it!
This past Monday my computer kept on turning off without my permission, so I finally gave up trying to get anything done on my computer and decided to set my mind to other things instead.
I found myself being quite the little house wife or at least that is what I would like to think.
I am working on finding ways to save money and one of those ways is buying dry beans and cooking them myself, rather then buying canned beans. So Monday I did my own beans, soaking them on a low heat all day. They turned out delicious and it was super rewarding and much easier than I thought it would be.
A friend had given us some really delicious apple pear cinnamon jam and after trying a little bit of it (which, by the way, was delicious), I knew exactly what I needed to make. English Scones. English Scones were the perfect compliment to this delicious homemade jam. I made a pot of tea and we enjoyed the tea, jam and scones for lunch along with pita pizzas.
When the beans had finished cooking, I made a small pot of vegetable soup and added some of my white kidney beans to it.
Sometimes I am intimidated to try something new, like cooking my own beans, but it is always so rewarding to have down it myself. And I have a feeling we can save a good amount of money this way, as well.
Happy new Years! What are your thoughts and reflections from 2019? Or what are your new years resolutions? Do you have a bucket list for this new year?
Brought winter, snow, and ice.
Lots of books to read,
Some old and some new.
Cherishing old memories, making new ones.
Brought more snow
And long days of work
And cozy days,
With pen, ink, paper, or book.
The snow kept falling.
Red barns in the country with friends
Or adventures in Still Water, MN.
Yarn to crochet, and a flower bouquet.
Giving thanks for little things,
Like Mugs of coffee and pretty sky.
The snow is starting to melt.
Coffee shops and books.
Green was starting to be seen.
Buds are finally in bloom.
Tyler graduated, my niece was born.
Reflecting on one year of marriage.
Lots of cuddles with my niece.
Waterfalls to explore.
More reflections and new adventures
That are to come.
Saying goodbye to our first apartment.
Traveling the roads
from MN to SC to GA to SC to NC.
Coffee shops, bookstores, family, and Chick-fil-A.
Biking or coasting the Virginia Creeper trail.
Exploring D.C. for fun.
Flying to Israel.
Walking the streets of Jerusalem for the first time.
Making a new home in a tiny apartment.
Exploring this country.
Writing and reading a ton.
Experiencing a new culture.
Visiting once more with dear friends.
Touring old ruins, walking through dark tunnels.
Cooking different foods.
Exploring musty old bookstores.
Making new friends.
Walking through the Old City.
New memories being made.
Visiting Masada and seeing more ruins.
Walking barefoot in the sand
Along the Mediterranean Sea in Tel Aviv.
Writing, baking, cooking, having fun.
Merry Christmas from Israel!
It's rather strange to be writing that. It's rather more strange to be celebrating Christmas so close to where the Messiah was born.
This year doesn't feel so Christmasy. I have no Christmas decorations even though I kept telling myself all month that I was going to put up something. But in the end I did't. Call me lazy or call me cheap. I'ts probably a little bit of both.
However, even though I have not decked my house with boughs of holly or anything else for that matter, it is still Christmas. It may not feel like Christmas in the way we usually think of it. There isn't a Christmas tree. There are no gifts. It feels almost like another day around here.
Yet it is Christmas and Christmas isn't all about the tree or the decorations or the gifts all wrapped up. Christmas is about celebrating the birth of Christ, who came to earth as a humble baby, lived on earth a humble life, died a horrible death, and rose victorious, so you and I might have everlasting life. Christmas isn't about the Christmasy things we do or have, Christmas is about Christ.
We will still have fun this year. We will still eat yummy food and drink cozy drinks. We will have friends to spend the evening with even if not with our family. We will celebrate. But we will also remember Jesus' birth, only a few miles away from where we live.
We are each other's gift. And Christ is the greatest gift of all.
14 years ago today, my brother, Micah, at 15 years old went home to be with Jesus. I have often written a poem in memory of him each year on this day, but this year I have written something a little different. This is one of the rawest posts I have ever written, but I hope it makes a difference in your life. It is a little longer then my usual posts, but it is from my heart.
For the first 8 years of my life I lived childhood bliss. Life was pretty "normal". As normal as a big homeschooling family can be. I had 7 siblings at the time. I was the oldest girl after four boys and and I had three sisters younger than I. My brothers delighted in teasing me and I eventually learned how to handle it for the most part, but not after lots of tears and running to mamma for comfort. Other than having mean brothers that I still some how adored and followed around even to the point of almost getting lost, life was pretty normal.
We lived on five acres of land, but in an unofficial way we owned all the property around it, too. Life consisted of school in the morning and exploring the woods in the afternoon. We played make-belief and lived in unrealistic worlds of our own imagination. We listened to Elisabeth Elliot and Adventures and Odyssey on the radio, built forts in the woods, made tree swings, and road bikes. And that is just a very small peak into my life at 8.
But life took a turn for the worse on a briskly cool Thanksgiving morning when our mom had sent us out to play while she worked on getting a Thanksgiving meal ready. That was the day that thanksgiving didn’t feel much like a Thanksgiving. My brother, Micah, fell out of a tree that day and hurt himself really bad. My parents had to take him to the hospital and it turned out that a broken femur, torn spleen, hole in his lungs, and fractured vertebrae weren’t the only problems. That’s when my family found out that he had Leukemia, too. And that was just the beginning of a very not normal life. I was 8 and scared and sad and confused.
There are lots of suffering families around the world, lots of broken homes, lots of deaths, either parents or siblings. I know my family is not the only one who was facing an unusual life and deep suffering. But what is it like to have a completely normal and carefree life that is all the sudden thrown into havoc? What’s it like to have parents who are rarely around not because they don’t love each other or you, not because they work too much, not because they don’t exist, but because your own brother is in the hospital more days than not? What’s it like to have brothers babysitting you even though they really don’t want to? Or going to another homeschooling family's home to do school with their kids? What’s it like to watch your brother loose all of his hair and what’s it like to watch him grow weaker and weaker, unable to move around like he wants did? What’s it like to watch your brother slowly fade away? What’s it like to go to the hospital on a cold winter day and stare down at death in the image of your very own brother who once had been very much alive?
Or what is it like to feel the guilt of realizing you could have loved him better but didn’t because you always thought there would be a tomorrow, but then one day there wasn’t? What is it like to have your friends look at you and not know what to say because you are now different then they and they can’t understand what you have just walked through? What’s it like to listen to all those kind attempts from others as they try their best to say something comforting? You want them to know that you appreciate their kindness, but also saying “sorry for your loss” is simply an understatement. I didn’t just lose my favorite stuffed animal or doll. I didn’t just lose my favorite toy. I lost a human. I lost a part of me and that is not supposed to be normal, not at 12 years old.
And what’s it like trying to make life go back to “normal” when you know that “normal” will never exist again? That life ended four years ago. You create a new normal, but it’s still different. My parents are now home more often, but only in body and not in soul. But I know its a million times worse for them then it is for me. I lost my brother, but they lost their son.
Slowly, slowly I learn to readjust. But life doesn’t pick up where I left off at 8. At the age of twelve I was basically an adult. I knew more about suffering than most of the twelve year old girls in my homeschooling circle and I don’t know what they really thought of me, but I am pretty sure they knew I was different from them now. And I would always be different now. My new normal was now living every day with the realization that my brother was gone forever in this life. And thinking more about heaven then the average girl. How many of you go around thinking about heaven? If you do it’s probably because you have someone you love waiting there for you, too.
But I don’t look back on my life and think how terribly sad and miserable it was or is. I won’t lie either and say that there wasn’t any of that. No, my life has a lot of painful and sad bumps in the road. But I had a lot of good things, too. In those days of never ceasing hospital visits, I looked forward to the days that I got to go to the hospital with my mom and brother. And the days that we had to spend homeschooling at another family's home was actually a lot of fun. We had some pretty special people in our life who were willing to take a lot of extra children under their wings. They not only homeschooled their few or numerous number of children, but they also added several more kids to the group. I can look back and marvel at the church of God and how they supported my family. So many meals were delivered to us and so many anonymous gifts given, gifts that to this day remain a mystery. How many people in our church, but also all over the world surrounded our family with prayers and fasting. No, this life wasn’t normal, but it was special. It is not normal as a little girl to see first hand the body of Christ surround your own family in such a very real way.
And just because my brother died didn’t mean that life had to stop. I kept on living and I kept learning how to laugh again. And I was the little girl who could tell my friend that it's ok to talk about my brother because we loved him and we like to talk about him. I was the little girl who was learning at 12 that this world isn’t all there is to live for and that heaven really was a better place for Micah to be. I was the little girl who learned that his suffering had ended and he was safely home and he wouldn’t have to ever face suffering and pain again. I was the little girl that knew that it would be wrong to wish him back down on this earth again. No, life wasn’t normal anymore, but life could still be good.
I am the adult who finds it almost impossible to imagine what a normal childhood life is supposed to look like. I am the adult who is ok with a quiet peaceful life because the only excitement that I am familiar with, I would wish upon no one. I am the woman who reads a novel and then says, “Real life isn’t like that. Real life isn’t that easy or simple.” But I forget that real life for me really wasn’t that easy or simple. Or maybe the book does hold a mixture of excitement, but it is the kind of excitement that seems so unrealistic, so unreal. I am the woman who wonders where the books are that tell of a childhood that really does exist, but that everyone is afraid to speak of. There are lots of books with a broken home, but how many people know the broken home that I knew. It's not broken because of a divorce, it’s broken because there is a missing puzzle piece and it will never be found and it will never be replaced.
I am the the young woman who longs for children of my own. But at the same time I am faced with a very real reality that at any moment that child could be ripped out of my arms again. I still want it, but I also dread it.
I do not write this that you may take pity on me.
I write this because I need to tell some of you it is going to be ok even though right now it feels like it will not. I write so others will know there is hope and the greatest hope you can cling to is Jesus Christ himself. And I need to tell some of you it won’t all make sense at the time, it may never make sense on this earth, but God really is real and he really does have you in the palm of his hands and he really does care. I write so some will see that they really can laugh again some day, maybe not right now and maybe not soon, but it is possible. I write to tell some that life really can go on, though life will never be normal again.
But for some I write so you can know even just a little better what some have had to face. Maybe it's your best friend or maybe its someone you hardly know, but just met, or maybe it is someone in your church. I write so I can tell you real life is not always normal and real life isn’t always a fairy tale. I write to tell you that some of the biggest heroes in your life are those who are laughing, though they have walked through fire and they're still alive to live another day. I write to tell some of you your day may not have come yet, but when it does come, cling to hope. Life will never be normal again, but you will have joined the many who have survived and who can still rejoice.
I’m here to say that life isn’t always normal, but it is beautiful!
I have shared several photos of my most recent adventures to Masada on my old blog because it is easier to post pictures there. So if you want to check them out go visit my Graced with Grace blog, here. I will probably continue to share photos on my other blog, but I also share photos on my Instagram which you are welcome to follow (link on side bar). And don't worry, I am going to keep writing on this blog, while posting most of my pictures on the other one.
I have been thinking a lot lately about why it seems that some people (maybe the younger generation more specifically) don't really appreciate or enjoy classics and would much rather turn to the most recently published books.
Maybe part of it is an acquired taste. I grew up reading classics, so I learned to appreciate it at a young age. Maybe if you are not taught to read and appreciate it at a young age it is hard to appreciate and enjoy it as you get older. My degree is also in History of Ideas which is basically the study of Literature and philosophy, so college obviously taught me how to love classics and older literature even more. I definitely did not love everything I read, but I did learn to appreciate it for the beauty that it was whether I agreed with and enjoyed it or not.
However, one thing that I think I have noticed in the younger generation who dislikes classics is that they cannot stand all the descriptions. They find it tedious and boring and would much prefer reading a book of fun dialogue or action. And I agree that sometimes the description in classics can be really lengthy. I wonder sometimes why the author has to go into so much detail about something. Is it really necessary? Could they have written just as good a book without all that description?
It struck me the other day (while sitting in my Historical Geography class) why it was so important and necessary for writers of long ago to write with detailed description of places and events. Maybe this doesn't exactly argue for why writers need to do it still today, but maybe it will at least help readers and writers to appreciate it.
I was sitting in class thinking about all these really ancient documents that have been preserved and found and were used by explorers to discover and uncover ancient sites of historical events. These documents have such specific descriptions of places and the story behind that place that allows the explorer to rediscover almost exactly where an historical event took place.
Before the camera was invented, the primary way for an event and the place of that event to be documented and preserved was through words. The writer had to be able to describe something accurately if they were going to have something preserved throughout history. Some of these descriptions are not necessarily colorful and magical in word, but it is clear and specific.
In many classics there may be a lot of description, but in those days that was the best form of picture, describing something with words. Today's generation has the camera at our fingertips. We can pick up our phone and snap a picture of something or take a video. We preserve memories through our lens. But maybe taking the time to take a picture with our words is an art that is slowly being lost in today's generation.
I am not necessarily writing this post as an argument that readers and writers should read and write more description. If that isn't for you then that's ok. We do have the gift of photography these days and that is a beautiful thing. However, I do believe there is a lot to appreciate and respect for those who did take the time to write a thorough description of a place or an event, allowing us to rediscover places of historical events that would otherwise be lost forever.
I would love to hear your own thoughts about this. Do you read classics and if so why or why not? Do you enjoy reading long descriptive paragraphs? Do you try to put a lot of description in your own writing? Why or why not? Comment with your own thoughts.