Over the weekend I hit a post-holiday slump. With the end of our break in sight and the return of normal patterns and routines looming, I was suddenly tired and discouraged. I've noticed that the dreading is often worse than the reality... perhaps because in my crazy mixture of thoughts and emotions I forget to factor in God's grace. And His fingerprints... His mercies... they are always there.
This morning I was up as the sun was rising to read and savor the silence before getting the boys out the door. And I read, "My food," said Jesus, "is to do the will of Him who sent me..." John 4:34. "My food," he says, "my food." Jesus thrived on doing His father's will. My prayer is that I will thrive in doing the Father's will as I carry out His daily callings... His will. And that in the thriving, my life will well-up full with life-giving, grace-filled, merciful living water.
For from His fulness we have all received, grace upon grace. John 1:16

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You can find me on Instagram if you feel inclined to meander over there. It's not the same as blogging and I haven't figured out what a hashtag is or how to follow or how to be followed {yes, I'm stumbling around a bit} but for me, for right now it's the best I can do.

And, really, what it's all about is moving a little slower, taking time to see and savor, and giving thanks... because my life {and your's} is a beautiful tapestry of mercy and grace being woven by a creative and compassionate God. Let's walk together and look for the loving fingerprints of the Father.

It rained all day, but when the afternoon turned to evening and it was time to drop him off at camp the skies cleared. That's when we finally saw a bit of sun. We tromped up the hill and through the woods to his cabin where I hovered and fluffed like a mama bird, certainly enough to embarrass him. And then the professor said, "He can handle the rest." And he could. Gulp. Father and son gave each other a quick fist-punch. I snatched a short hug. Certainly no kisses! Then we were off again... back through the drippy woods, back down the muddy hill, back to the car. And he was there.

The children spent a hot, steamy afternoon in the pool. Shortly after we tumbled indoors all soggy and waterlogged the rain came, and afterward the cool air. Since then our mornings have been deliciously cool and breezy. When I wake, I crank open the windows to let in the fresh air. We meander outside in our pajamas to pet the cat and eat breakfast on the patio, always leaving the kitchen door open behind us. I find Sister leaning out of a living room window breathing it in. Who can blame her? These rare, cool mornings in July are something to savor.

Several weeks ago the children and I joined my mother for a day trip to the little town in rural West Alabama where she was raised. It was a sweet time of showing and telling, connecting with family, listening to stories, and standing in places that have, for many years, been only memories.

A highlight for me was visiting the home that my grandparents built. My aunt lives there now, in the house built of antique bricks with a big porch on the side, but everything is still so familiar, so little changed from the days of my childhood. When I stepped into the dimly lit breakfast room I saw the same table that's been there for as long as I can remember {always with hydrangeas in the center}, and I breathed the same familiar house-smell that's lived there always, and I peered out the window at the same piney backyard view, and in the seeing and the smelling and the remembering I realized that, although the moment might be fleeting, sometimes, in a breath and in a heartbeat, we can go back. And, it was sweet.

{the boys on the beach of Lake Michigan} We told them, "It's a lake but it's so big that you'll feel like you're standing on the shore of the ocean." It wasn't until they stood and gazed that they comprehended the vastness of Lake Michigan.
I think it's important for boys to be struck with enough wonder and awe of the natural world to remind them that they're not invincible.
Yet, to feel small while simultaneously being reminded that the deep friendship and love in the unique bond of brotherhood is larger than this wide, wide world is a blessing to treasure for a lifetime.

For the first three years of my oldest child's life, we lived in South Carolina in a little 1940's red brick house that we were, of course, renovating on the weekends. Those were mostly simple days. Our house was across the street from a small school and behind the small school was a large learning garden maintained by the teachers and students. There was a beautiful eucalyptus tree that grew in the middle of the garden. From time to time I'd step over there in the late afternoon where I'd clip little sprigs to fill our vases. I loved the fragrance of those branches in our little brick house... it was the fragrance of simplicity.
Last week I inherited an arrangement of white roses leftover from the wedding of a girl I've only met twice. Passed along through a chain of sweet friends, the vase of blooms and greenery and eucalyptus landed on my dining room table. And when the roses wilted I plucked the sprigs of eucalyptus from the vase and laid them across our copper bowl to dry. Seeing them and smelling them took me back to our quieter, simpler days in South Carolina.
In thinking of simple days gone by, I remembered something that my dear friend Emily said in passing a few years ago as we chatted about kids and calendars and activities. I doubt she remembers her words or even the conversation, it was, after all, just chit-chat on an ordinary day but her comment sank deep within me. She said, "When it comes to my family's activities and how busy we are... ultimately, I'm the one who is the gatekeeper."
As my children get older it's becoming easier and easier to fill up our days... going here, going there, friends, and activities. These aren't bad things, they're blessings and I'm so thankful for a full and vibrant life, but balance is important. These days, especially these summer days, I'm realizing that I must be intentional about keeping the gate. My children {and I} need space and time for moving slowly, for quiet moments, for watching Sister's squash grow in a green Dixie cup, for reading, for laughing at the cat, for late morning Cheerios, for chores, for floating, for bike rides, for catching tadpoles, for playing, for noticing, for loving, and for enjoying the eucalyptus in the copper bowl.

The little red flowers have come out on our maple trees. Very soon, the green leaves will follow. The night-rain and wind scattered tiny blooms across our patio and picnic table, where the new bird feeder sits waiting to be filled and happily situated in the yard.

"Great Style should appear effortless. There should be no signs of hard work, no joins, no lapses. Great style relies on careful editing, whether your preferred effect is sleek and sophisticated or bright and bohemian. It's what you leave out, as much as what you include... True style is ruthless and is based on rejection." Jane Brocket, The Gentle Art of Domesticity, my emphasis
At our house, it's no secret that the professor handles most of the "decorating" - he's both more opinionated and more talented in this arena than I am. To decorate, however, is a reference that makes him cringe. The word curate, I believe, is a more accurate description of his philosophy and methodology, and it's one that I appreciate because it connotes a slow, deliberate, meaningful process. However, when it's all said and done {and it's never completely done!}, I suppose what determines if one's style is pure and/or great is really all in the eye of the beholder.

In the Deep South, late winter/early spring has a give and take kind of way about her. "Here, take a week of glorious, balmy days... and some flowers, too," she says. But then, she gets fickle and takes it away. The cold rain arrived in the night and, once again, a fire burning in the fireplace will be bliss.
Before the winter chill returned, Sister and I gathered blooms one afternoon while we waited for the boys to get home from school. I missed a sweet friend's birthday {it seems I'm often a day late these days}. We pulled together a sweet smelling bouquet, plopped it in a mason jar, and hand stamped a simple card. When the boys got home we made a quick delivery. Even the simplest gifts bring smiles.
Last night, after homework and laundry and dinner and tucking in children, the professor and I sat on opposite ends of the couch huddled under a big, warm blanket. Through head congestion and a double-dose of pinkeye {me} and a sore throat with headache {him} we laughingly wished each other a "happy" anniversary. And such is the way life goes sometimes, but, oh, I'm thankful for this man and for fourteen years covered in God's grace. I'm thankful, so thankful.
A few days ago I was reading in Luke about the angel Gabriel's visit to Zechariah... Gabriel tells Zechariah that his barren wife, Elizabeth, will give birth to a son who's name will be John. This son, he goes on to say, will go before the coming Messiah, he'll be a messenger to make ready "a people prepared" to receive the coming Grace. "A people prepared," I love that... Shouldn't we also be people prepared? Prepared to receive grace, prepared to be messengers of grace, prepared to be vessels of grace, prepared because we're clinging to the Source... the One who is grace.
This week I found grace in an understanding friend, in two sinners remaining one in heart for another year, and in the innumerable blessings showered down on us like the fickle February sunshine and rain.

Fourteen years ago we were counting down the final days to our late February wedding. A winter wedding, or so I thought, until late one February afternoon when I took a walk with a neighbor and noticed the season's first daffodils just in bloom. It was then that I realized we were really planning an early {very early} spring wedding.
Around here the sun is coming up a bit earlier each morning and the birds are singing a happier tune. I found daffodils in the yard this afternoon which I picked and brought inside. A bit of sunlight and green for the table. The first notes in the beautiful song of spring have begun!

February can be a tease. Rainy and cold with whispers of snow and ice one day, then hammocks in sunshine two days later. I don't mind. The professor arranged everything on the new shelves in the hall. I love this little alcove; it makes me happy. If I could add an extra window and a cozy chair I would. And, Sister did some decorating of her own one afternoon; an endeavor that kept her busy for hours. It seems she prefers a washi tape and watercolor theme, quite colorful and fun. As for the washi tape... we found strips of it plastered on every surface in her room with several rolls hanging on the wall.
Little moments are quickly filling our February days. Big Brother provides the music {always the clarinet!} while Little Brother adds plenty of commentary. Sister contributes the flair... hello, green fingernails and pink tutu adventures. Despite the chaos I try to see and savor the beautiful, ordinary moments... my orchid in bloom, chocolate cake, sweet sibling companionship, sunlight in windows, good books, the kitty always around, and winter sunsets.
Most days, the sunset hour is the hardest. Between homework, home-keeping, attitudes, and tired, hungry, noisy people it's the time of day when I need the most grace. Oh, how I fail. I often catch a glimpse of our winter sunsets when I climb the stairs as the day turns to evening. Sometimes I step out on the deck. From the top of our house that sits on top of a hill I watch the painted sky, the Artist's canopy at the end of the day. I'm keenly aware of my failures, my shortcomings, and my need for grace. This daily task of tending my own heart and lovingly, faithfully shepherding little hearts adds an intensity to life that only God's promise of sufficient grace can soothe.
I've been thinking about the Israelites in the wilderness and how the presence of the Lord went with them... a cloud of cooling shade by day, a pillar of warming fire by night... always a visible reminder that He was there. The circumstances weren't easy but there was comfort because He dwelled among them. His presence was literally a canopy of grace. I've pondered this a lot lately and in the pondering He's reminded me that He still dwells among us... intimately in the hearts of His children, hearts that are covered with mercy and grace. A canopy. In the day-to-day grace-needing moments {and I have so many!} there's comfort in knowing that, like His people wandering in the wilderness, I dwell under a canopy of grace, and His grace is sufficient for my failures and my trials.
Then the Lord will create over the whole area of Mount Zion and over her assemblies a cloud by day, even smoke, and the brightness of a flaming fire by night; for over all the glory will be a canopy. There will be a shelter to give shade from the heat by day, and refuge and protection from the storm and the rain. Isaiah 4:5-6

Winter Sunrise : : Morning Bedroom : : Afternoon Moon
Friday afternoon and evening.... Moments to exhale after a full week. Moments to toss school bags in the corner, forgotten. Moments to kick off shoes. Relaxed, cozy, warm moments. Taking our time moments. Stop to see the baby moments. Playing moments. Moments to chase the cat. Moments for ignoring the call of the laundry room. Easy dinner moments. Thankful moments for another blessed week and a family gathered home. Together. Moments to be still and filled. Grateful.
And Jacob said, “O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac... I am not worthy of the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness that you have shown to your servant... Genesis 32:9-10

The five of us returned to school on Monday. The going back was a reluctant meandering for four of us, while Sister, of course, was excited and ready, ready, ready! Now a few days in, we're finding our regular rhythm again. Our late December and early January days were simple and slow in the delightful way they should be. It was hard to have the break come to an end, but I'm grateful for the time we had together with very little on the calendar.
Last week we woke one morning to a frigid house only to discover that our brand new, just six months old, furnace decided to go flakey on us. Since then it's been a week of unreliability in the heat department... and during one of the coldest cold snaps I've experienced! With the help of a service team {yes, a team!!}, we've diagnosed the problem and have a temporary solution. In an effort to keep warm during the unpredictable cold-house moments, I cooked and baked myself silly, we sat in front of the fire, and wore our coats in the house. The quilts were nice too. I'm thankful for a warm house today.
One theme that's emerging in our home renovations is that we continue to remove storage spaces... first, the coat closet on the main level became the return for our new HVAC system, then the workroom closet became a utility space, and now we've converted half of the built-in cabinets in the upstairs hallway to built-in bookshelves. The professor worked hard this past weekend to install some custom lighting in them which looks great. In the future, we plan to open up the stairwell to create a light-filled stair atrium of sorts. When this happens we'll knock out a wall and, of course, tear out another closet.
We cheered hard and loud for Auburn {our alma mater} on Monday night. While the win slipped away at the end of the game we're proud of how the Tigers played and for their amazing season. War Eagle!
Today is what Sister calls a home day; no school for the two of us. We've been puttering about in the most quiet and delightful ways... vintage Fisher Price Little People, Frances books, recipes, ballet slippers, tea, patches of sunlight, and chocolate. It's good for my soul to move slowly and quietly, to see and to savor His blessings. I find it best to do this often because His grace is always there and, for me, seeing it is the first step in savoring it. "O taste and see that the Lord is good..." Psalm 34:8