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Another Story About God

After hearing a preacher speak at an evangelistic meeting at our small Baptist church in the country, I asked my mother to pray with me to ask Jesus to forgive my sins. I was seven. I do not remember a thing about that moment, other than the story has been told to me by my mother long enough to create its own memory. At seven, I didn’t know the extent of my sins, only that I did bad things. At seven, I didn’t understand the extent of what Christ did in my place on the cross or even what “the gospel” truly meant. I only understood Jesus loved me and died on the cross for me because I was a sinner, and I also knew I did not want to go to hell when I died. Like many children raised in Christian homes, the thought of hell terrified me; along with the guilt I felt due to my sins. My thoughts of hell and my feelings of guilt brought many whispered prayers in the night…often asking Jesus that, “if I wasn’t already saved and forgiven, that He would forgive me now.”

The small Baptist church we attended was a classic in its time, every sermon ended with an alter call, the choir was the place to display one’s musical gifts, and people dressed up for church like it was a social event. Sadly that is all church was to most people. Many of my Sunday School teachers did not know much doctrine beyond what was presented in the Regular Baptist Press Sunday School curriculum. I remember once asking my Sunday School teacher why God created me. She seemed a little surprised by my question, and answered that “Maybe God was lonely and wanted friends.” I thought that sounded good, and didn’t visit that question again for a long time. And so melding humanism and Scripture began in my thinking even as a child.

In my teens, I began to focus on good works in an effort to draw closer to God. I read my Bible daily, spent time in prayer, and for a time, wore clothing that resembled the Mennonite and Amish people we lived near in Pennsylvania at the time…yes, I even wore a head covering! I felt God was truly pleased with my conservative ways.

Still, I was oblivious to the fact that I was seeking spiritual peace through my works instead of resting only in Christ for my salvation and sanctification. I prided myself in my plainness, modesty, simplicity, piety, and anything else I invented that made me feel closer to God.

Mother’s, though imperfect, can have insight into the hearts of their children that no one else has. My mother saw the contradictions in my life and heart and gently pulled me aside one day and, as Yankees do well, she bluntly spoke truth into my floundering mind. She pointed out my faults…the faults like my unkind speech, controlling nature, and lack of basic tenderness toward others due to my overblown self-image. After getting a glimpse of my true self, I remember feeling very much like a failure. The headscarf came off immediately, and I began thinking through the motivations for every behavior.

In my college years, my faith deepened as the Lord began to provide spiritual mentors in my life. Due to the friendships of some extraordinary older women, I began to see a glimpse of what it meant to live out the gospel (although that term was never used.) Grace began to become something I not only partook of, but was learning to live out what had been poured so generously on my life.

One day, while I was preparing to move on from my current place of work, my mother asked me how she could pray for me that coming week. I told her to “Please pray my husband would ask me out this week.” It was a very specific yet heartfelt prayer. Because my hunger was to marry and mother children, but I was getting older and those days were numbered. And I did not want to waste my youth in a waiting mindset. That very week a young man did ask me out! In six months, I was married to that man.

Jim had a different perspective on Scripture than me, in that He was reformed in his theology. Reformed theology was a unimportant in my opinion, so I certainly didn’t let that prevent me from marrying him. And thankfully he married me despite my lethargy about that portion of doctrine.

A year after our marriage, Jim and I were led by God to help a close pastor friend plant a church in the Midwest. The Lord provided Jim with a job that came with a free apartment if he would work maintenance for the landlord. So, Jim quit the job where he was thriving, and started in a new field of work. We felt we were making a big sacrifice to leave good jobs and family, but the Lord had in mind to bring about in our lives a blessing we had no idea existed…a church family.

Up to that point in our lives, church was truly and event and tradition, even though we believed it was biblical to attend, we missed seeing it as an essential part of our faith. In fact, both Jim and I found church very frustrating and our Christian brothers and sisters to be full of contradictions. In Nebraska, there are few traditional believers or pretend Christians. For instance, when I got hired on for my new job after our move, knowing that I was a woman of faith, the owner made it clear that she was not a religious person and would say words that might offend me. Which she did. It was actually refreshing to be around non-believers with no religious pretenses.

Our dear church grew very quickly. Being so far from our family those first years of marriage was also extremely healthy for our relationship with each other. We grew closer to God and to each other out of necessity.

But it was the family of the church that provided the greatest avenue for Spiritual growth. We were surrounded by people, who truly cared for the state of our souls. We had people praying with us and for us as we walked with God. As other Christian’s poured their wisdom into my life, my heart began to grasp biblical truths it had never before seen, and an excitement about the truths of God’s Word and the Gospel began to sprout in my heart.

One day, an older lady I met with regularly for studying Scripture and prayer, brought my attention to a sermon by an old-time preacher named, Paris Reidhead called “Ten Sheckles and a Shirt.” I listened to that sermon over and over with tears. Something clicked in my heart for the first time, as I realized my idolatry. In that Sermon, Reidhead brought up the humanistic thinking that had infiltrated the American church and I saw it abundantly in my own faith.

Questions that Reidhead brought into my head taunted my mind. Did I follow Christ only because He has promised me salvation and heaven? I concluded that God is worthy of my lifelong worship and praise even if my destiny was to be hell for my sins. The idea that God did not need me also became a reality. Even the concept, that a person is helpless to receive redemption without the drawing of the Holy Spirit (John 6:44), and that even the faith to believe is a gift of God (Eph. 2:8-9) permeated every thought. And to know that Christ did not redeem mankind to fix an unexpected mishap, but that redemption was God’s amazing plan before He created the world! (Eph. 1:4, Ro. 8:29…). God’s sovereignty began to make its appearance to me through Scripture.

I focused my thinking on the sovereignty of God, and spent hours in awe and as my heart began to understand a bit about God’s sovereign grace, and the concept that God choose me. I devoured doctrine and Scripture as though seeing it for the first time. Scripture suddenly made sense as it was placed in the perspective of devotion to God’s glory. I realized Christ did not come to redeem me for me, but for Himself. I had, without meaning too, crossed over to what many Christians call reformed thinking. Scripture passages fell into place under the perspective of God’s sovereignty. My life and all its circumstances took on a meaning beyond myself. To me, it was a turning from the humanistic perspective I had about God, Scripture, and my place in it all, and a simple resting in the God who created and ordained all things for His glory.

As my understanding grew, so did an ache in my heart for my friends and family, neighbors, my children, who must also come to realize that EVERYTHING is about God, not about us! My heart resonates with Paul “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!” Rom. 11:33. Even now, I understand but a glimpse of those depths and my heart is amazed. My theology up to that point had been so man-centered…humanistic, but the truths that John Calvin, Jonathan Edwards, and modern-day John Piper brought to my understanding from Scripture, sunk deep into my heart. My perspective turned from its humanistic marriage with Scripture to seeing Scripture through its goal to bring God glory. I still feel I have been playing doctrinal catch-up as I study Scripture up to this day.

After seven years, leaving our church family in the Midwest was truly the deepest grief we have ever felt. But the Lord had made it clear we were meant to move, and so we followed His lead with hope of finding a similar fellowship in our new territory. We thought finding a good church would be easy, but it proved otherwise.

After a year, of seeking churches, we had found nothing. We needed to find something… so we settled at a conservative, Presbyterian church and joined. After engaging in small groups for a very short time, our hearts were greatly saddened to see the lack of value placed on Scripture. In fact, no one even opened a Bible during small groups. We were floundering spiritually, and finding our hearts living in discouragement. We knew we needed the fellowship of Christians along with sound Biblical preaching. So, continuing to fellowship with the small Presbyterian church, we also started attending Sunday evening services at a mega church in order to deepen our relationship with God. We debated joining the large church, but children were not welcome in small groups there, and we really wanted our children to be a part of the church, not just a Sunday School class. After a year of attending two churches, we began praying and seeking for a church again, but with little optimism.

A month into our new church search, Jim received a call from a head-hunter for a job interview. In a short time, the Lord once again asked us to move… this time, we were determined to find a church, so we could be close to the believers we fellowshipped.

We committed the matter of a church to prayer. Once evening, Jim was browsing on his phone one evening and came a across a post from an old college acquaintance. It was a post of a worship service. “Listen to this.” He showed me. After we listened, Jim said, “I wonder where his church is…” After looking it up and seeing the church was minutes from our new location, we planned a visit. We knew after our first visit we had finally found a church home. We still marvel at God’s work.

After a summer long transition, we are two months settled into our home and absolutely cherishing our new church family and looking forward to seeing what the Lord will do in our hearts and lives as we seek Him and continue to grow.

I am in awe of what God does and how He truly encompasses our ways in life to not only physically place us in a position to draw closer to Him, but how He orchestrates every event to even give us a hunger for Himself. It is all about Him…truly everything is all about Him!

Like Mary, in Luke 1:48-50: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.” Not because of anything I have done, but I rejoice in Him because of what He has done for His glory.

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Home-Schooled and Home-Schooling

Yup, that’s me. I was in the first generation of American Home-Schoolers who branched out bravely in the late 70’s. They helped form laws and prevent laws that would prevent parents rights to educate their children at home.

My parents helped found our state’s home-school group and my brother and I graduated in a class of 7 from that group. We knew nearly everyone in our city who home-schooled.

If my mom had to take us out during regular school hours, we were always asked if school was out. When we explained that we home-schooled, people did not know how to respond. I even remember my mother being told by a grocery clerk that she didn’t know that was legal.

Nearly everyone who home-schooled in the eighties home-schooled for religious reasons. Home-schooling was usually accompanied by a set of faith based standards. My parents held such a conviction to home-school that they were prepared to move out of the state or even out of the country to keep our education at home. They believed everyone who was a Christian should home-educate their children. They believed home-education biblical choice.

Home-education rose in popularity, and by the time I graduated, there were many joining our home-school group who were secular.

Poor academic standards in public schools, rising costs of private school, school shootings, bullying, and more special needs awareness…multitudes of reasons to home-school brought on the rise of disatified parents home-schooling.

Home-education also became widly accepted and Moms and Dads no longer feared legal difficulties.

Now, home-schooling is everywhere. My un-churched neighbor is a second grade school teacher in the public school at the end of our street. She is going tp home-school her daughter next year. Her daughter has an unusual walking and running gate due to childhood arthritis and her Mama is afraid of kids being mean to her in school. She expects to put her back in for high school.

I have another friend who is raising a daughter to be a profesional ballerina. Home-schooling allews her the flexability to dedicate to practice and performances.

The standards of public education continues its downward spiral and that, combined with poor parenting, is forming continually unpleasant education environments.

Now here I am with four little minds in my care, and we are home-schooling.

Why are we home-schooling? I honestly don’t know why, but that is what God has for us, and I am very much at peace with it, despite the days that bring me tears.

Unlike many in my parent’s generation, I can’t say for us it is a biblical conviction, other than we are each to be sensitive and humble to God’s calling on our lives. My husband and I do not feel home-schooling is the right choice for everyone who is a Christian. Each of us must raise and educate our children how God lays on our heart and directs our paths. For someone to home-school who God is leading to public education would be just as wrong as for me to send my children to public school.

I do have friends who keep an open mind to how they educate their children and re-address it every year. Or say they are doing this for now, but are open to whatever God has for them in the future. Nothing is wrong with either of those aspects.

That is not us. I have always hoped to be able educate my children at home. Since I was a little girl I played school with siblings and friends, or just my stuffed animals. As I grew older, I wanted to start a boarding school and wrote out ideas in a book. Education has always been important to me. My mother was an educator. My grandmother was an educator. And my Great-Grandfather was a school principle. Education runs deep in my veins. My husband is also an educator as is his mother. We thrive on teaching and embrace every teaching moment. Home-schooling is a perfect fit for our family. And it is amazing to see how God not only prepared both of us to embrace the task of educating our children at home. Every story and every family is truly different, and that is another marvelous aspect of God’s creativity and grace as well.

Why Charlotte Mason? I have always wanted to nurture little brains with more inspirational methods than the molds and curriculum of traditional education allows. I fell in love with Charlotte Mason the first chapter in her book “Home Education.” I knew that is how I wanted to teach my children and began using her methods of inspiration even when my children were tots. I also value the techniques of Montessori and have incorporated those as needed. Classical methods of education are timelessly proven in their effectiveness as well. So, we do some fact memorization, recitation, and copy-work. I have gotten to the point that everything sounds so good it is easy to question the path I am on. So I get the struggle every teacher faces as we try to wisely choose methods and tools of instruction that will be most effective for our learners.

Will you home-school forever? What is meant by that question is, until my children are graduated. Honestly, only the Lord knows the answer, but I hope with all my heart that we are able to do that. I would love to be able to walk with my children all the way through those high school years. I feel privileged that God has asked me to pour my life into my children in such a practical way.

What about socialization? Are you part of a home-school group? I have been asked those two questions by people with great intentions as well as those who are scared for home-schooled children. My answer is “Look at them…they are socially balanced, not shy, and have friends of piers as well as other generations.” In fact, I would venture to guess that children who interact with multi-generational groups are often more socially balanced than those who are only close to piers on a regular basis. I love listening to the vibrant conversations between my children and other people. But aside from a social concern, I rely heavily in God’s grace and sovereignty to have placed my children in our family, knowing exactly how they would be raised. He can also fill in the gaps of my parenting and teaching with His grace. I had to learn social graces in college, but I did, and God provided the grace in my life to grow in that way. If my children were in a public school or private school setting, there would be other gaps that would have to be filled by God’s grace.

What about sports? What about sports? My husband and I are not into much. He loves Nascar, but other than that, we never watch sports. Sports aren’t everything. In fact, they can be a very much God-distracting affection. I am perfectly fine not having my children participate in any team sports. In fact, team sports are a fairly new phenomena in this century. I am not saying that they are wrong in any way. I would certainly support my child in a team sport if he or she was so inclined, but it would be them doing it for their interests, not being involved in a sport because Mom or Dad wanted them to participate.

How Do I Balance Being a Teacher and a Mother? I chuckle at this question, because anyone who asks it has no idea what being a mother is. I would say a huge majority of mothering tasks are teaching, even if a mother is unaware of it. Because all children, whether at home or in a school environment are learning…always. What difference does it make if that teaching it is potty training or reading lessons? All mothers are teachers. I do not have a mother hat and a teacher hat. I am mothering while I give lessons, and teaching while I mother. It is all the same thing in my opinion. Now every mother chooses how much academics she will teach her child. Some, choose to entrust much of that teaching to others, some, like me, simply know we are the ones meant to teach our children academics.

What about the arts? Fine arts are my first thrust. I honestly value fine arts to an incredible degree. My children are being raised listening to Mozart, Handel, and Beethoven. We study artists and their masterpieces as part of our daily lessons. I encourage creativity and individualism in our home as much as I am able. My children, from, kindergarten, are well familiar with the Stories of Shakespeare. I am teaching them to memorize poetry. I want them to be inspired to learn by meeting the arts. I also see an increasing future for anyone who can come up with something new in any field. We live in any ever changing, easily bored society, and anyone who can think in innovative, creative ways will do well in this fast paced world.

Hey, I am scared for my children! Has anyone ever considered what courage it takes to be completely responsible for ones children’s education? Am I going to adequately prepare them for the life God has for them? Am I good enough a teacher to meet their learning needs? Do I challenge them enough? Too much? Are they going to be smart? Are they going to be God fearing adults? My children’s future hinges so much on the next twelve or so years. But here also enters God’s abounding grace. I lean heavily into His grace. I seek His wisdom as I prepare to teach each day. I truly find myself no different that any other godly mother in the burden I have for the precious, precious souls entrusted to my care, for a very short time.

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His Grandma Shocked Me

I was at a playground with my children one day and noticed a couple little boys playing together on the slide.

One of the little boys, whom I will call Boy A, accidently caused the little Boy B, to stumble and fall. Boy A, was either careless or unaware of any trouble he caused and continued on his play without checking on his fallen friend. Boy B sat on the ground and cried about the tumble Boy A had caused him.

Boy B’s, grandma was sitting beside me on the bench.

I expected her to jump up and check out little Boy B. Perhaps give him kisses and pats, telling him it was “OK.”

But she didn’t!

She didn’t budge instead she called to him,

“Awe…Brush it off and get up.”

“Brush it off? Get up?”

I had never heard such a phrase shouted by anyone at a play-ground. Most parents see themselves as their child’s defender and security and would certainly side with the child’s response in some way.

But, “Brush it off?” Those words were unexpected. There was no coddling. No sympathetic, “I know you were wronged, Honey, I am so sorry.”

Unstead, she was teaching that little guy to respond in an amazing way. I soaked in her words.

What an incredible lesson for our emotionally sensative society to hear from this Grandma.

For me, I have re-itterated those words often to my children since that day. It will be an incredible strength to them someday if they can learn how to move on past how they are wronged. Because playground wrongs, are nothing compared to wounds they be given through the years.

How can a person learn to move on, forgive, not let mistreatment be taken personaly?

By teaching that little soul how to resoond at a young age by brushing it off and getting up.

There is more to life that nursing grudges and living in a bitterly bent fashion. I know our world is bitter. It is full of people who believe everything and everyone is against them. If more children were taught to brush it off and get up, what a socity of strong, confident, and brave people we would have!

We cannot be responsible for how we are treated by others in life, but we certainly choose how we respond to being mis-treated. Wallowing in self-pity about such things is not only a futile responce, but a responce that prevents us from moving on a living life to the fullness God has for us!

So are the words I speak to my own soul hears over and over, “Brush it off”

“And get up.”

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Taking a Pause to Ponder, My Father’s Goodness

I have found that there are times my heart is full as I ponder God’s goodness to me.

This morning His goodness has been the prevasive thought on my mind.

Thank you for my dear husband! Thank you for our precious church family! Thank you for my coffe maker and a great cup of coffee this morning. Thank you for warmth on a cold day. Thank you for my cozy old robe. Thank you…

And my heart begins to worship. The song Tony Brown and Pat Barret wtote: “Good Good Father” pierces my ears as I begin the day playing the song on our Echo Dot.

“You’re a good good father
It’s who you are, it’s who you are, it’s who you are
And I’m loved by you
It’s who I am, it’s who I am, it’s who I am”

I am absorbed in pondering God’s goodness to me. Even the goodness I see in His promises. The promise to heal. The promise to restore. The promise of victory. The promises that bring confident expectation to my soul.

The day has begun in worship. How beautiful to embrace those thoughts for a moment. And not stifle them with the business ahead of me and the tasks I will engage to do today.

I am loved by my heavenly Father. He is tender with me: Psalm 103:13. He provides for me: Matthew 10:29-31. My Father loves me more than any earthly Father possibly could!

“He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” Romans 8:32.

I will sit here for a fading moment and enjoy God’s goodness.

“Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!” Psalm 34:8.

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My Mini Wardrobe: Two Years Later

I started creating my mini wardrobe nearly two years ago and thought it was time to give an update on my thoughts about it after seasons have passed. My first post on my minimal wardrobe was over a year ago. So it is time for an update.

I was inspired to pare down my mismatched, ill-fitting, poorly planned wardrobe after reading the book Lessons from Madame Chic by Jennifer L. Scott.

I went through my entire wardrobe and donated or sold pretty much all of it. I had a lot of clothes that I had nothing to wear with, did not fit, or flatter me, were outdated, and simply items I did not like. I found it amazing how little of what hung in my closet that I actually wore.

I began cultivating a wardrobe consisting of about ten basic items, I leaned heavily on French fashion. Breton striped shirts, white jeans, and red, white, and blue as my core colors. I settled on ballet flats, espadrilles, a pair of oxford shoes, and healed boots for my feet. I wore scarves as a daily accessory.

As seasons changed, it did not take me long to realize the practicality of what I wore was also vital in my life.

Some beautiful French staples that didn’t work for me:

Scarves quickly proved to be annoying as I am constantly wiping floors due to people messes. The scarf would dribble and dabble in soapy water, and get in my way as I bent down so often throughout the day. A scarf out on the town is perfectly nice, but since my life is spent 95% at home…scarves ended up being constantly removed until I gave up on them.

I also invested in a really nice white blouse. I loved it, but found it impossible button to keep clean, and it would often wait a while on a hanger before I had time to iron it. The upkeep of a white blouse in my life was also out of the question.

Blazers and sports jackets have never suited me. I feel stiff and unnatural wearing them. But I did give them a shot. I love the look of a brown wool plaid blazer with a warm wool skirt, leather gloves, and tall boots in the autumn….jeans will work too. I also like a blazer with jeans. Mixing the casual and dressy create the perfect blend for all occasions. But on me? I found myself constantly shedding a blazer throughout the day, simply because I find it constricting as I work. Eventually, I never even tried to put on a blazer and just gravitated to my favorite black cashmere sweater…over and over.

Espadrilles were bad news for my feet and also very unpractical for my daily life. I bought two pair of beautiful and good quality espadrille shoes for the summer. A black pair by Andre Assus and a beige pair by Kanna from Spain. The hard soles of the espadrilles were very uncomfortable and hard on my back after a day of wear. I also find my life in the summer involves walks in the woods, pushing little folks on the swing, and time both in and out of doors. Making espadrilles wear out and become dirty very quickly. Espadrilles also are a heavy shoe and I found them too stiff for my daily work. So, I bought a nice pair of Clark sandals and wore them for the rest of the summer, shelving my espadrilles.

Leather jackets can look smashing and chic when paired with pretty much anything. So, I bought one. But friends, it just wasn’t me. I felt unnatural and not myself when wearing it, even though I got a business cut instead of a biker design. I found I never gravitated toward wearing it, and it hung lonely in my closet. So, I sold it last year and have not missed it at all.

Silk…I will try to wear silk again later in life. I love silk, even a touch of it gives any outfit instant luxury. I however, cannot keep up with its care. It spots easily, even with just water. It melts under a hot iron. Silk should not be cleaned by any other method than the dry cleaners, and that only on rare occasion. I have hand washed a silk blouse from time to time to save money, but know from my textile classes, that I am damaging the delicate fibers and slowly dissolving the strands of silk with each washing. Silk simply doesn’t work into my hands-on lifestyle right now.

My journey into chic French classics was not in vain. I discovered a few sticking traits in my wardrobe that I love to wear every day. And I certainly received an education concerning what doesn’t work.

What I held onto in my journey into the chic French classics?

A matching wardrobe! Everything in my wardrobe works with each other. I don’t go shopping without an idea what I need. And I don’t desire to buy clothes that won’t work with what I already own. I have a wardrobe pallet of black, grey, white, navy, and blush pink right now. I like the soft, muted tones.

A good quality purse! I love my patent, cherry red, Burberry purse. It might not be Chanel, but it is well made, and it’s size is adjustable, so suits my needs when I go out. Yes, I only own one purse. I bought it on Poshmark used for several hundred dollars. But it was in amazing condition and would have been an impossible purchase for me at it’s original price tag. I am hoping my Burberry purse will last me until my children are grown. Then I will look for something a little smaller and perhaps in a more finesse design. But that will all be when I am no longer packing items for my children on a regular basis, and have sippy cups, diapers, books, and crayons to tote on the go.

Breton striped shirts have always been a style I gravitated toward. I own two from Boden. One is navy and white stripe and the other is grey and navy stripe. I also bought them used on Poshmark, but am comfortable paying $20 for a great quality shirt and getting snot on it, than if I got the same shirt new for $75.

Cashmere is a recent discovery of softness. I love the cozy warmth a cashmere sweater brings. I seek out middle-of the road cashmere. So farm I have yet to buy a sweater from Naadam or Everlane, but they would be a brand I would gravitate toward. I found a really nice Elizabeth and James black cashmere cardigan on E-bay. I got it cheap because a button was broken. But it probably would have cost several hundered new. My other two cashmere sweaters are from L.L. Bean. One is a blush pink hoodie and the other is an oversize taupe with a turtleneck. Older J.Crew cashmere also has a good reputation, but the newer cashmere is not as fine. I would not buy cheap cashmere from Pure Collection, Gap, Charter Club, or Banana Republic. I would imagine any cashmere sold under a fast fashion label would be thin, would pill, and would itch a little.

Simplicity is something that I love about French fashion. I do believe over-accessorizing simply looks gaudy. I do not need a necklace and a scarf. I do not need sunglasses and a hat. I do not need a watch and a bracelet. One piece of jewelry is ample for any look. I need simplicity in my life, and the French have licensed me to do so.

Mixing casual and dressy pieces to complete the perfect look. Dresses with sneakers, blazers with jeans, silk with denim, skirts with a graphic T-shirt…are all examples of well thought out looks that ultimately provide balance. Not that every outfit must be contrasted in that way, but I find it helpful to keep in mind that dressy and casual can be mixed instead of living in their own quarters.

It is hard in our culture, but I am walking away from Polyester…ok… to be perfectly honest, I do have three polyester dresses in my closet at present, but they are moving out soon. I got a couple for my birthday and absolutely love the prints, but due to the fast fashion and cheapness of the garments, I do not expect them to a long life in my closet. Polyester, is essentially a fine plastic filament. It is like wearing a plastic bag for clothing. It does not allow the skin to breath and so can cause body orders to incur. It seems like an unhealthy fabric to be wearing. It is also extremely cheap. So, other than some experimental breathable Polyester that has just hit the market, (it won’t be in shops I can afford for some time), ALL clothing made with polyester is cheap, no matter how much it cost. I cannot tell you how many shops I have been saddened to see beautiful garments made with the plastic. It immediately puts the entire brand in the mode of fast, cheap, fashion…even if the price tags don’t read that. Someone is making a killing. As I am writing, I see a need to expound on fabrics more, but that is for another post.

Levi Jeans are truly the best. I find the fit and make of classic Levi’s to be the best jean. I don’t wear any other brand. Levi’s wear out into a beautiful distressed look too. Some jeans simply look worn out. But Levi’s tend to look like they were made that way. I have three pair of jeans. A dark skinny Levi, a light distressed skinny Levi, and a dark boot-cut Levi.

A little black dress is a favorite of mine, even though it is not a truly a French staple. Other than my two cheap polyester dresses, I currently own two other dresses…both black. One is made by Boden. It fits and flatters beautifully. I bought it on E bay for under thirty dollars. The other dress I have is a fancy Swiss Dot black dress made by Anthropologie…yes, cheap, poly fabric, but the cut flatters me and I typically wear it for the times I dress up. I am going to hang onto that dress until I can find a suitable quality replacement.

And that is my mini wardrobe going on over a year and a half now. I am so grateful for the time it has saved me and the lessons I have learned by owning a minimal item wardrobe. I have more fun being creative with my clothes than I used to. I also feel sharp in each outfit I own and don’t have to wonder if it looks good on me. Everything in my closet fits! And moving to better quality items had opened my eyes to the value of buying something beautiful that will last for generations. If I care for my sweaters, they are perhaps something my daughters can enjoy wearing someday. My Burberry purse will probably withstand ten more years of life and I can still sell it for a good bit to put toward another great handbag. My feet don’t hurt from poorly made shoes. My jeans fit and flatter, even if I gain ten pounds. I love mixing and matching my clothes! I never ask myself…”Does this shirt go with my sweater? Because everything does! I am very happy with my choice to own a mini wardrobe.

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The Value of Repetition

Christian music has been an area of controversy among Christians for generations. I think we might be finally walking out of that as doctrinally rich hymns, songs, and spiritual songs are being written.

I would like to gently address a common thought that songs that repeat the same words over and over are vain and obnoxious. My thought as I study Scripture is that repetition is a Biblical form of worship and teaching.

I see in Revelation creatures who are ceaseless in their repetition: “And the four living creatures, each of them with six wings, are full of eyes all around and within, and day and night they never cease to say, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” Rev.. 4:8

Psalm 136 is another great example of repetition as David points out occasion after occasion where God’s “Steadfast love endures forever.” “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.  Give thanks to the God of gods,
    for his steadfast love endures forever. Give thanks to the Lord of lords,
    for his steadfast love endures forever;” Psalm 136

Repetition is not in vain unless it is said meaninglessly. Matthew 6:7-8 warns us of meaningless repetition in prayer. “And when you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard for their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.”

Truly there is nothing but vanity in singing anything repetativly or thoughtlessly. There is also vanity in meaningless words that lack biblical truth. Biblically untrue songs cannot be sung with a heart of genuine worship because only truth about God from Scripture is able to bring about a heart of worship.

With that said,

Repetition is part of Worship: Worship is truly all about the heart of the worshiper. Are we truly involved in our worship or just observers mouthing words? Do our eyes fill with tears when we sing of the cross. Is our heart full of awe when we sing of our Creator’s glory? Or is worship about us? Is it about the tunes and instruments we like? The songs we are familiar singing? The people we are comfortable worshiping with? Honestly, sometimes I need to repeat a phrase a few times before the concept sinks in and my heart can praise God through the truth. And then, I want to emphasize that truth and sing it louder and with more heart. Repetition is valuable in worship IF it is truthful and heartfelt.

Repetition is necessary for our souls: Yes, sometimes we sing songs that minister to our own souls. But even in those songs, what is wrong with repetition? What is wrong with reminding ourselves with repetition how good God is? We learn by repetition. We need repetition for the health of our faltering, weak, and sin tainted souls. How often we stumble and fall into the same sins of distrusting God? Failing to see His goodness? Not resting in His promises? We need to meditate on truth, which means speaking and even singing Biblical truths to our own souls repeatedly.

Oh that we would sing more repetition! Oh that we would be in awe of every word that we sing! And sing over and over and over….through all eternity…Because God is worthy of every word…over and over and over.

“Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.” Revelation 4:11

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Creating Selfless Valentine Traditions

Since I was a little girl, I learned to love Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day meant cheesecake, heart shaped cookies, and crafts with ribbons, paper doilies and lace. I don’t remember my parents always escaping alone for a date on the day. Very often it was a family celebration and we invited grandparents and friends to join us in eating cheesecake.

A few days before Valentine’s Day, my mother made the habit of setting all of us up at a table covered with stickers, glue, and red and pink paper. We spent time making Valentine’s Cards for our siblings, parents, and anyone who would be alone…widows, unmarried, and divorced friends and kin. Then she would mail them off. It wasn’t until I was in college, that I realized many people saw Valentines’s Day as “Single Awareness Day” and I had many friends who wore black because they were single and hurting. It was then that what my mother did, struck me as something truly special.

So, I continued the tradition and tried to reach out to lonely people I knew around the heart shaped holiday. As I married and had children, my children now create Valentine’s Cards to share with others…even strangers we cross during our grocery shopping trips. When my children were really small, they made stacks…and handed them out to everyone at church. Now, I mail the child created Valentines off to various souls, give them away to neighbors and friends at church and we still have more than we need.

More than we need…

Just like the love our heavenly Father has poured out on us overflows our cup of need, so I like to share His love with neighbors and friends who could use a little extra love this month as they may feel a little extra lonely.

Loneliness is an epidemic in our culture. Whether it is the sweet little lady we brush carts with in the grocery store, or the young mother carrying her new baby in a wrap close to her chest. Everyone struggles with feeling alone. Perhaps a little paper heart, or a chocolate cupcake and note helps can help those struggling hearts see a bit of the endless love poured out on us. February the 14th can be an incredible excuse to share a bit of the love that has been shown to me by my Savior. Because truly, I have more than I need.

The Lord appeared to him[a] from far away.
I have loved you with an everlasting love;
therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you. Jer. 31:3

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Some Liver with My Butter

Calf liver is pretty high on my list when it comes to nutrient density. It is loaded with vitamins and minerals.

When I nursed my babies, if my milk needed a boost, liver, was my go to source. Liver not only increased my milk supply, but gave my milk a buttery yellow color. I found I had more cream on top as well.

I serve my children calf liver for lunch, about once a month. Despite it’s strong taste, I have never had a major issue getting them to eat it. A favorite? Probably not. But for children, it is a very tender meat to chew and they are still developing tastes for things, so it is a taste to which they becoming accostome.

As a child my mom would cut liver into strips, roll it in cornmeal or flour and fry it in butter. We then would dip our liver in generous amounts of ketchup…shivering as we swallowed.

A dear motherly friend of mine from the former Yugoslavia taught me to soak liver a 6-24 hours in milk before cooking it.

That little trick makes a big difference in reducing the bitterness of the meat. So now, when I bring a package of liver home from the store, I usually open it up, and put it in a ziplock bag with some milk. After a day in the fridge, I drain the milk, potion out the liver for lunches and pop it in freezer bags. So it is ready to cook for lunch.

When I want to serve liver to my children, I put a pack of meat in the fridge first thing in the morning. By lunch, the liver has thawed, but not completly, making it the perfect consistancy to cut into strips. Then I fry the liver for about 7-10 minutes, in nearly a half stick of butter. I turn the meat a bit while it cooks to insure it is cooked on all sides. A bit of salt, and the meat is plated with some veggies.

When shopping for liver, it is also important not to confuse calves’ liver and cows’ liver. Liver from a calf is much more mild than an organ from a full grown creature.

Liver is a very inexpensive cut of meat and makes an easy to include for a nutritious lunch.

I like to serve liver in the winter. Served with a side of homemade saurkraut and broccoli that has been drenched in the same butter with a bit of salt and garlic makes an excellent immunity boost for my little people.

A serving of liver is so nutrient dense it is a complete multivitamin. And truly, it does not deserve the bad report. It can be cooked to be something delicious!

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Entering into Grief

With tears running down my cheeks, I sent out a couple quick texts to a few friends. I was bleeding… I had just lost our fourth baby. I didn’t know how to think. I was raw. One friend texted back the polite, and common response…”I am sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

My response in turn… “No, just pray. Thank you.”

But in reality, there was something they could do I just didn’t know what it was.

Then another friend texted: “I am on my way over.” I hadn’t invited her, but she was coming. I wasn’t going to tell her not to come.

A few minutes later, I was sobbing in my friend’s arms. She had even gotten to me first; before my husband could even come from work. She pulled out play-doh and sat down with my children while I made necessary phone calls to my doctor and parents.

Then another text, from another friend. “I am coming to watch your children. Go spend the afternoon out with your husband.”

As one dear friend stepped out the door, another stepped in. My husband came home, we went out for the afternoon. No treatment could have been better for us. I needed the space from my little children and a time to grieve alone with my husband. I was gifted that. I did not know it was even needed.

Then a phone call came while we were out, and another friend spent a few minutes on the phone and prayed with me. I could not speak due to my tears, but her prayer for comfort blessed my soul. I was feeling supported. I was not alone. I felt God close even in my pain. I know those first-responders were key in helping me think through my pain in a biblical way without bitterness and anger.

We arrived at home to find dinner made for our family, the dishes washed, and the children in good care. With a hug and prayer, my sweet friend slipped out the door after having her day completely altered for my behalf.

That evening, home, the children in bed, a church elder came by with his wife for ten minutes. They didn’t even sit down, but stood in our doorway and embraced us in prayer, and then quickly departed.

Sleep evaded me that night. It is hard to set aside mental pain for rest.

There was no knock, but when I went to check the mail the next morning, there on our doorstep was a very small bouquet of flowers and the sweetest note from another mother who had walked the same journey of loss. That was the only bouquet of flowers I got.

If my child had lived to be born, I might have had a few more, maybe even a plot and a stone. But, with a miscarriage, there is little that a mother has to remind herself of the treasure she once held inside of her. I pressed the flowers in the big family Bible where they are today. That is all I have to remember my baby. I have no pictures, no stories, no baby blanket…just empty hands and a bouquet of tiny pressed flowers.

Yes, even now, I am crying, and it has been several years ago. Such holes…never die, never fade, never heal…. we simply learn how to live with that emptiness and incorporate it into the person we are.

Grief… it is a hole, an emptiness inside. Grief is not always accompanied by death, but always by loss. The loss of a church family, the loss of a marriage, the loss of trust in a person, a broken friendship; the ache of a child who is alive, but no longer cares to be in touch; the permanent loss of health, the loss of a life-long dream…we all experience grief throughout our lives. We all understand it.

Why then, is it such a struggle for us to understand how to bless other people as they journey through grief? Or do we know how to bless, but find grieving people uncomfortable to be around? I have come to despise the statement: “Let me know if I can help.” It is a complete cop-out. Because, I believe we know how we should help. We are just reluctant to commit our hearts to the matter of helping. It is hard.

In response to “How can I help?” I have often heard the answer, “There is nothing you can do.” I have given that answer myself on many occasions. I have found it takes a discerning friend to know for sure if that is the case. Because I have found through seasons of grief, that very often, there is much that can be done, but the person grieving has no clue what that is! In the midst of grief it is hard to process the pain, much less the suddenly stupid tasks of life. It is important not only to have people close to us pick up the slack as we work through grief…clean, make food, care for children, yard-work, laundry, groceries, church, and work responsibilities. It is also valuable to simply show a face, give a prayer in person, and create a memory around the moment for the grieving heart to hold onto as time passes.

That weekend, a few days after my loss, I was at at church. One of my friends who knew of my heartbreak spoke nothing of my pain, no words of comfort, no prayer. She chatted with me as though nothing had happened that past week. Later, that same friend texted me to apologize for not talking about my mis-carriage. She let me know she was praying, but didn’t want to talk about it with me in case that was too hard for me. I learned a good lesson that day about what should never be done. One should never ignore the loss of a grieving person. Yes, it is going to hurt and possibly bring tears to discuss the subject. But by bringing up that loss, one is able to enter into that pain and be a part of the comfort. Even along hug without words would have sufficed. My friend completely stepped out of my grief by not acknowledging it to me. I had done the same to others in the past. My mistakes toward grieving hearts in my youth are many. Lesson Learned…Find ways to step into other’s grief. By not purposing to to step into it, you are stepping out of it.

Oh how frightened we are of saying the wrong thing and increasing a person’s grief; as a result excuse ourselves from the matter completly and make ourselfve unfit to minister to that grieving heart. I have failed in this area far too often. But lessons have been learned and I have allowed my own grief to be my teacher in such cases. I do not have to walk the same path of grief to offer support and encouragment to the grieving hearts I know. I only need to understand my own grief and step out to help them understand theirs. When I am told there is nothing that can be done, the cry of my own heart outweighs that answer. And instead I hear: “Help me please…I don’t know what to do.”

Oh sisters, Sometimes it isn’t a physical need that we are meeting, but an emotional need. The need to feel supported runs deep. As I have been loved through grief, I reach out to other grieving hearts.

  1. Be there
  2. Give a hug
  3. Write a note
  4. Flowers
  5. Food
  6. Talk about the loss
  7. Talk about the grief and pain
  8. Pray WITH the grieving person not just for
  9. Don’t have them reach out to you for help, because they won’t find ways to reach out to them with help
  10. Don’t wait for time to pass, act quickly. First responders to grief are crucial to helping a grieving heart work through the pain biblically

The point? Step boldly and quickly into the grief of others. Because when we don’t, that is when we cause pain.

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Why I Make My Own Brown Sugar

I will begin by stating that I have never used light brown sugar. Dark brown sugar is superior in taste, texture, and is a few more minerals than light brown sugar. Honestly, I was raised on the dark stuff and am pretty adament about its superiority in the world of sugar.

So, we moved across country almost four years ago. Up to that point, I purchased dark brown sugar reasonably at our grocery stores. Then I went to buy dark brown sugar in our new location. I found it expensive and difficult to find. So, I began to make my own.

It’s easy! Dark brown sugar has a high molasses content. I buy blackstrap molasses in large containers. To make dark brown sugar, all I do is mix about one a cup the blackstrap molasses into a three pounds of granulated sugar.

So often what is more expensive is simply paying for someone else to work instead of me. Regular table sugar is cheap compared to purchasing dark brown sugar. Blackstrap molasses is also on the cheap side, especially when purchased in bulk as I do.

Blackstrap molasses is rich in minerals and antioxidants. In fact, if a person is to use any form of sugar, blackstrap molasses is probably the most nutritios sugar available. Tablespoon to tablespoon, blackstrap even trumps raw honey in its wealth of antioxidants and minerals! The more blackstrap in my sugar, the more nutrients rich it is. I even like to go even a bit darker than what I can find at the store. Too much will make the molasses flavor overbearing, but I certainly go as dark as I can with each batch I mix.

Dark brown sugar contains moisture. When added to a recipe like cookies or brownies, instead of being dry, the result is a chewy, moist texture.

Dark brown sugar is key to making mysteriously flaverful baked goods. A recipe of Nestle Toll House chocolate chip cookies becomes stunning when the dark sugar is added…home-made granola bars…blonde brownies…cakes…muffins…coffee cake…cinnamon rolls… Nothing store bought can compare with the flavor dark brown sugar brings to baked goods made from home.