Post Category → wedding

a morning at home.

Sitting in my armchair with the window behind me cracked open. Mmm. Smell that grass.

A bird singing, loud and clear, over and over: “Do-Ti-Sol—” (“Sol” with a definite vibrato, not unlike the kind that 5-year-old girls affect after watching a PBS operatic special.)

Finding the find-of-finds: Matelasse in the right pattern and right color! Baby bedding, coming right up!

Of course, with the matelasse nailed down, the hunt for brown grosgrain was on — and lo and behold! Tell me I won’t spend hours perusing! Add to my list of heavenly occupations, “sitting at her sewing maching all day (a sewing machine that always does what it should), with hundreds of bolts and spools at her disposal, creating bags and skirts and belts and linens for an entire heavenly kingdom.”

This, of course, will be added to my already full schedule of full-time gardener, cook, pianist, art-aficionado, home architect, and lay-in-the-grass-doing-nothing hippie-type. (As well as, of course, singing in the choir or playing harp or whatever it is that we’re all supposed to be doing all the time.)

Anyway. Off to actually start my day. Real life: I still have to practice piano, un-jam my bobbin, vacuum my floor, and find clothes that fit my belly. Well, I guess I can handle such hardships!

raining.

Rain.

The 10-day forecast, with its gray clouds and highs of 58 degrees, definitely put a damper on my mood.

But then I heard how badly the golf course needed ten days of rain, and my perspective changed a little. Now, as the rain drops spatter on the window that is only letting in grayness, I think of those thirsty greens, greedily drinking up every drop, letting the wetness seep deep into their roots.

Perspective: there is a reason for the rain.

I hear You, Lord, speaking to my heart. I don’t like the rainy days, but I need it, too, as badly as those greens. It feels like a flood, like torrents pounding and drowning. But it’s seeping in, deep into my roots. The dusty soil of my heart is settling, turning the rich brown hue of fertile ground. You’ve come like the rain, answering my prayer of Psalm 1 — that I might be fruitful in my season.

So let the rain come, and help me to hold on — to be watered and not washed away. One of these days, the forecast will be golden sun, and I will find that the rain did not kill me, but rather, brought life.

There is a reason for the rain.

mish-mashing

So, this sounds really super-duper lame, but I have never memorized my login info for this blog — I just made a nice little bookmark and never gave it another thought. Of course, upon returning from Spain, I discovered that my husband had reformatted all of our computers (yes, I said all), and every single favorite, and every single bookmark, had been wiped away. Being the great memory that I am, I promptly asked Ryan about this four weeks later. (!)

That’s one reason there have been zero updates.

The other is that, well, I’ve just fallen quiet lately. My mind is quiet — simple, still, or silent. I’m not sure why. I swing from being disconcerted over this to simply chalking it up to a “season”. But regardless of my response or my interpretation, it is what it is: a quiet spell.

I will say that the Iberian Peninsula was breathtaking, the Atlantic from that side turqoise, and Madrid on a Friday night beats Times Square hands down.

I’ll say that being pioneer, heading Westward in the Kingdom, is as admirable as it is challenging, and it’s good to get the reminder that we ought never to lose our sense of adventure.

I’ll say that spring is always magical, and the first screen-door-day is liberating.

I’ll say that prophetic presbytery is profound in its impact, and I’m so thankful that God gave gifts to men, for the sake of us, the Church — how much richer we are for them!

I’ll say that packages from other continents addressed to me are awfully fun to open — especially when they’re filled with baby clothes or great-with-child-mama clothes!

I’ll say that it’s hard to believe the midwife is my midwife, and not my mom’s, and that she put that magical goo on my belly, and not my mom’s, and that the little heartbeat is my baby’s!

I’ll say that looking for baby stuff online is way more fun to do with my favorite little mother of three, and that ending it with a game of Scrabble is more than just a good time; it’s a special little gift of God season.

I’ll say that playing piano is fun, having friends over is even more so, weddings are exciting and great to be a part of, office work is not as bad as I thought it might be, and that it’s hard to clean a house while you’re doing all of the above.

And that I love my husband, I love my mom, I love baby Jacks, I love my sister who made me look beautiful today, I love my sister far away, I love my sister who “started cool”, I love my little girls who are bigger and more fun every day, I love my sisters-in-law who reply quickly to my pleas for help, I love my look-alike-daddy, and so many other people…

…and I love simple reminders to love the Word, and to steadfastly sow to the Spirit. It will bear fruit in my life, change in my heart, and newness in my spirit — and maybe some thoughts in my head.

update

This will be a “newsy” post, as my mom would say.

On Monday, I leave for Spain for two weeks. I’ll be going with my dad and two friends, but no Mom. She’d been planning on going, but a nasty spill forced a change of plans. Dad and I will miss her, for sure. We’ll have fun, anyway, but I’ve never traveled overseas with Mom and was rather looking forward to it. Another time.

So I’ll be going, tagging along and keeping Dad company while we enjoy our 5 days of planned events, and then the improvised remainder of the two weeks. I had to get a new passport, of course, and that’s always a bummer to me. I like to accumulate stamps on those blank pages, but it seems that the system always insists on me having to start all over again, just when I’m starting to make some progress. Oh well.

Packing needs to begin today (along with everything else!), and it promises to be interesting this time around. I have been very abundantly blessed this past birthday week with lots of maternity wear. And yes, believe it or not, at a mere three months, it’s become a necessity. I’m popping, more and more every day. People say that I look well on my way to being my mother all over again, to which I reply, quite simply, “Oh dear.”

Anyway, packing. I’ll need to sort out what fits now, what will fit later, and what might not still fit in two weeks. And of course, turn it all into outfits that look nice. (None of this jeans-and-big-sweater stuff.)

In the meantime, while I’m enjoying spring in full swing over in Spain and Morocco, it will be creeping in the Northern New York while I’m gone. Those crocuses I can smell on a mild day will be popping, and we’ll be only weeks from Easter. In an ideal world, I would pull all of my Easter decor out of the attic (okay, “all” makes it sounds like a much larger stash than this freshman at housewifery actually has), and have it up for Ryan to enjoy for the next two weeks.

Speaking of Ryan, if any of you who read this live in a close proximity to our apartment, feel free to have him over for dinner. If you play tennis, volunteer to be his opponent sometime. Or just call him to make sure he’s not going mad in this little apartment, all alone, day and night.

Thanks. :)

Okay. So, enough blah blah blah.

My thought for this morning, and then we’re done:

I have been young and now I am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his descendants begging gread. All day long he is gracious and lends, and his descendants are a blessing. –psalm 37

That’s going on my fridge.