over coffee

raw material

2012-02-01T14:56:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the raw material just sits at my house, month after month, waiting for diligent hands to create. . . but other times the raw material is so lovely, it sits there and I simply enjoy the view, thinking about the potential-

So- here I have some stripes, some grey and blue, a hint of orange and the softest wool yarn, called Thyme. Some may call it "work in progress" but really, there's no progress- yet.

But soon I'll begin creating. . . for a little boy to be born this spring in Ohio.

He is the One. . .

2012-01-27T09:56:00.000-08:00

A few months ago John and I attended a meeting of the Teachers Retirement System of Texas; we're peeking through that crack in the retirement door.
So, there we were- in a room full of Texas teachers, aging teachers ( but young at heart-says my husband). For 2 hours we listened to options, information, choices. . .
And it was difficult, good, confusing, hopeful; I know, I know, change is woven into the fabric of my life. . .but change is almost always perceived as loss.
Then over dinner we discussed the options, information, choices; I determined not to drift away in my mind to a more appealing topic.

Recently I heard from Francey-she moved away last summer (Ah, these dear girls move in and out of my life!) Francey and Michael are facing big change, the exciting kind that swallows your breath. She shared Psalm 37: 23-24 with me.

The steps of a man are established by the Lord;
And He delights in his way.
When he falls, he shall not be hurled headlong;
Because the Lord is the One who holds his hand.

He is the One. . .the Psalmist continues, I have been young and now I am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken. . . (37: 25)

So, we keep peeking through the crack, and praying. . .

extravagance

2012-01-24T11:40:00.000-08:00

One evening last week John and I picked up Julia and Landis for a trip to the Broadway Central Market; we planned to choose treats from the delectable pastry case, a date to celebrate my birthday.
While John held Landis up to the glass, explaining the delights of all things chocolate, Julia and I discussed the sweet items that appealed to me.
"Look, Julia, you could choose a mini eclair, a mini cream puff, or these darling petite fours."
"No, they're not big enough", she replied.
hmmm, what might a wise grandparent say? You know, she might talk about moderation, or appetite, or the perils of too much sugar.
"Darling, choose whatever you'd like!" I said.
And she did- a huge chocolate cupcake with glossy chocolate icing, topped with the biggest butter cream rose, pink. . ."because that's my favorite color!" she told the bakery lady.
Julia ate it all and I was happy to be extravagant on my birthday.

one about the church

2012-01-21T10:49:00.000-08:00

Mercy drove back to college a few weeks ago, back to the Texas Panhandle, through the hill country, through oil and sorghum fields. . . far from home.
She arrived at her house late that night- opening the door she smelled gas fumes and the carbon monoxide detector was beeping an alarm.
So, our daughter called home and I heard her groggy father, "No, I'm not upset, I'm just trying to wake up and figure out how to help you."
". . .then call us back!" he instructed.
After about an hour she did, and John and I were quite awake.
"I called a family from my church; they talked me through turning off all the gas; I'm spending the night at their house.
Ah, Good! I thought.
We heard from Mercy again the next afternoon, "Let me tell you about my life. . .it's my car, but a man from my church runs a mechanic shop. . . a man from my church is a fire fighter-he'll come and check for carbon monoxide.
Ah, Good! I thought.
The next day I asked John if I should call to check on Mercy.
"No, I don't think so," he said. "The church is taking care of our daughter."
(mmm, how do I love and care for the church?)

So, I don't like the orange glare on the glasses nor the shadow on him, but I love the picture-brother and sister, I think they like each other. . .

Ahhh, the tongue. . .

2012-01-17T06:21:00.000-08:00

Respect is a demeanor that should characterize all your communication to and about your husband.
. . . so obviously true, why even remind ourselves? But the desire to manipulate and control others with my tongue is also obvious - I need repeated reminders, over and over reminders.
"She opens her mouth in wisdom and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue." This woman communicates grace to her husband! She opens her mouth in wisdom; she displays respect, and then I'm sure she knows when to close her mouth. . .
So-how do we communicate respect-

Respect your husband verbally-tell him that you respect him!
write your husband a respect letter-include the obvious things you respect about him; thank him for working hard, for coming home night after night.
Examine how you communicate about your husband when you are with other women. What impression to you give to others about your husband? (I think that the husband of the Proverbs 31 woman was known in the gates because of how she talked to others about him.)

One morning last fall a young woman invited me to her home for brunch; among the the group, I met the hostess's 2 aunts, women about my age who spoke little English. The food was amazing and the table conversation in 2 languages was fun. Then the woman to my right pointed to me, "Your husband good" and she repeated the identical statement, pointing to each woman around the table. Then she pointed to herself, "My husband no good!" Our young hostess spoke up, "She has a good husband-he works very hard."
Never downgrade your husband to anyone! with just 4 words in a language she barely spoke, this woman gave us an awful impression of her husband.
Perhaps my words aren't so blunt, my scenario not so glaring-but I've been there, I'm sure.
I'm thinking about GRACE. . .

just a small black book and a new year

2012-01-11T14:56:00.000-08:00

I chose a jar of blueberry jam from the family gift exchange basket-and one morning after Christmas I made scones and opened the jam.
"Mom! jam with scones?" Rachel questioned. Well, usually it's toast and jam, but that morning I couldn't resist that lovely jam. . .
Every year I buy a new calendar the week after Christmas-a simple habit.
Last week Gabrielle, Rachel and Jamey were discussing calendars and planners, making choices, customizing their own--and I listened, impressed by their commitment to manage time and responsibilities.
So, the holiday dust has settled and I'm looking at my desk that resembles a volcano. . .and my small black calendar book; it's basic black with little squares for each day in 2012 and a lined page opposite. This one should suit me fine.
hmm, what do I want and anticipate from 2012. . .? Well, mostly I want to filter the entire year through an eternal lense, like I want to write created for forever in each little square in my black book, and then live it. . .

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. (C.S. Lewis)

more about respect-and listening

2012-01-09T09:31:00.000-08:00

A wise woman builds. . .
So, respect is the opener of eyes-the more I respect about my husband, the more I will see to respect.

And respect is a demeanor that involves listening.
to listen: to pay proper attention to, to heed.

I ask myself: Do I listen carefully, or do I tune out? (when he talks to me about bicycles or the like!)
When I ask my husband, "How was your day?" do I listen, really?

Attentive listening is one of the most significant ways a wife fulfills her helper role. And besides, half listening is rude!

A young woman shared with me that her husband was wrestling with some big decisions regarding their future. "What are you doing to help him?" I asked.

"Well, when he talks to me about these issues, I ask him if he wants me to say something. . .to give my opinion, or this time would he rather that I just listen."

hmmm, good for her. . .

a home for the lonely

2012-01-06T08:57:00.000-08:00

Our friend, Ralph, lives in the room above our garage-he's in and out, using parts of our house; we're glad he's here.

So, on New Years Eve John and I, Rachel, Brett and Mercy prepared dinner (I harvested the huge white cauliflower from the front garden!)

Ralph was with us in the kitchen, washing his dishes; then I heard Brett initiate, "Ralph, does your family have any New Year's traditions?"

"I don't have a family," he said.

I wanted to run in there- to emphatically remind Ralph, "We're your family, remember?. . .and remember, the church is your family!"

God is a father of the fatherless and a judge for the widows. . .God makes a home for the lonely. (Ps 68:5-6)

God makes a home. . . God puts the lonely in families.

So- on the threshold of 2012, I'm thinking alot about how I can cooperate with God- making a home for our friend, giving him a taste for the Kingdom-loving others more, loving myself less. . .for Jesus sake.

And reflecting on family. . .we just met sweet Evelyn, our newest member- born at the close of 2011

respectful demeanor

2011-12-17T06:44:00.000-08:00

A wise woman builds. .
So, I've been writing a lot about how disrespect tears down-enough of that. . .
Stop tearing down! Begin to focus on your husband's good qualities even if these are not the qualities you want him to have. . .start to build.
"Respect is a demeanor that should characterize wives in all their conduct towards their husbands and in all their communication to or about their husbands--this means courtesy in the home where the husband is treated with honor." (Nancy Wilson)
I ruminate on this good quote and certain words jump out-Demeanor: the way a person behaves towards others.
So, respect for my husband is a demeanor that involves:
Eyes: respect for my husband grows as I activiely look for ways that God is at work in his life. Vigilantly study your husband, looking for qualities to respect and pray that God will open your eyes-you know, a critical eye blinds. List all the things you appreciate and admire about your husband-some may seem trivial.
Recently I invited a woman to my home for coffee; later as I walked her out to her car, I noticed and commented, "Look at that-my husband is awesome, he pulled the trash can to the curb this morning!" Now then, the trash can on the curb is trivial, and frankly, more often than not I think a critical thought when my husband doesn't. . . .
But that day, I noticed-and I respected my husband infront of my friend. . .God's grace, indeed.

airport? bus station?

2011-12-14T13:05:00.000-08:00

I've been traveling a bit, visiting my children and grandchildren in Dallas and Memphis. I pieced together a travel plan including train, plane, bus, car-a travel mosaic!
I purchased an airplane ticket on line, one-way, Dallas to Memphis. I knew the plane would be small. . .but not so small. I should have suspected when the clerk asked, "Your weight, Ma'am?. . . you'll have to buckle your bag into a free seat, or you can check it." So, I checked it-we were 9 passengers, no empty seats.
The first flight landed in central Arkansas and taxied up to a little building- like a bus station.
"I didn't receive a boarding pass for the next flight," I told the fellow at the little counter.
"We don't give boarding passes, Ma'am."
Of course, my name was on a list, on a little clipboard and I spied my one lone suitcase on the tarmac; the guy with the clipboard stuck my bag into the belly of a little airplane-a 6 seater, really. . . (I didn't sign up for this)
We were in the air and I couldn't ignore the sky-the outside was inside. . .(I didn't sign up for this.) Through the engine noise I wanted to call to the pilot, "I've had enough, let me off," but instead I kept knitting really fast.
We landed in Memphis and Lindsey called, "Where are you? I'm at baggage claim."
I could see the airport in the distance-Where? maybe I'm at the bus station, I thought.
Later I related my day to John-he laughed, "If I had been with you, then we would have had fun together!
So, now I'm home-I love the mosaic of people who filled my travel days. . .

Gwyneth in Memphis

disrespect focuses on differences. . .

2011-12-09T11:39:00.000-08:00

the foolish woman tears down her house with her own hands. Disrespect focuses on differences. I married a man-more mud, more wet towels, more noise; while differences may tempt me to disrespect my husband, the biblical response to difference is forbearance. My husband has a Thomas Edison bent but I like to play it safe (well, not totally safe- my safe is just different!) Once my husband built a catalytic converter for our van; he envisioned amazing fuel economy-but his invention just set the engine on fire. Then I look at my face in the mirror. . .do the differences between my husband and me make me smile or make me irritated?

Disprespect focuses on weaknesses. We're not all strong in the same areas- some are more susceptible to discouragement, to anxiety, some struggle more with physical weakness. Considering my husband's weaknesses, I may be tempted to say, I don't know why this is such a problem for you!

So, at my house I see and hear words-my husband sees pictures and diagrams; I write words on paper-he sketches and doodles. One Sunday morning we discussed our afternoon plans-lunch after church at a friend's home, but since my husband had a meeting, I would ride with the hostess and he would follow --simple enough.

"Would you ask Mary to draw me a map to her house?" my husband asked.
"Really- draw you a map? Couldn't she just tell you the directions? (and my mind belittled. . .)

My scenario has to do with differences, but also with weaknesses; my husband and I are different in the way we communicate, and each is strong in a different way.

Aye, what's a woman to do? Well, I can choose to repent, choose to respect my husband, to remember God's grace upon grace. . . right there is the Gospel applied to my heart. . .and your's.

more later-the wise woman builds. . .

a critical eye

2011-12-05T08:26:00.000-08:00

. . .the foolish woman tears down her house with her own hands.

So, I observe in myself and in other women how disrespect criticizes. . .
I"m out of town for a week, visiting my children and grandchildren, and when I come home. . .well, I have to guard my heart-I know the temptation to look around my house and wonder, "What did he do while I was away?"
And I wonder-does your husband ever fail to meet your expectaions?
Perhaps your husband is working on a job around the house, but he doesn't complete the job according to your expectation. . . instead of believing the best about your husband (1 Corinthians 13:7), instead of remembering that his priorities may be different than your's, you believe the worst. . .you might think, He's been playing solitare on the computer! (or riding his bike). Then maybe you nag him. . .
"I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgement." (Romans 12:3)
I've been thinking a lot about that verse -when I'm critical of my husband (or others), then I' thinking more highly of myself than I ought to think-Ahh, hideous pride.
Remember, a critical eye blinds. . .blinds you to the many things to respect about your husband.
(and there's more. . .)

cranberries and cake. . .

2011-12-02T07:33:00.000-08:00

Cranberry Coffee Cake is a favorite family-20 years ago I cut the recipe from a magazine. . .
last week when the family came for the holiday, I pulled the cranberries out of the freezer and made the cake. As is the custom, we ate it for breakfast and throughout the day-til only the rich crumbs remain on the plate.

Rich Cranberry Coffee Cake

1 (8 oz) package cream cheese, softened
1 cup butter
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
4 eggs
2 cups flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries (I add a little extra) mixed with 1/4 cup flour
In a mixing bowl, beat cream cheese, butter, sugar and vanilla until smooth. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Combine dry ingredients and gradually add to butter mixture. mix 1/4 cup flour with whole cranberries; fold into batter (it will be very thick). Spoon batter into 10-inch fluted tube pan, greased and floured. Bake at 350 for 65 minutes (I check after 55 minutes) or until cake tests done. Let stand 5 minutes before removing from the pan. Cool on a wire reack and dust with powdered sugar.

(I still bake this cake in a cast iron bundt pan with chipped orange enamel on the outside-a wedding present; it's tradition.)

a trifling thing. . .

2011-11-29T07:50:00.000-08:00

. . .the foolish woman tears down her house with her own hands.
I've noticed how the temptation to disrespect my husband inches in by way of petty annoyances-like where he parks his bike or stores his tools . . .whether he drapes his shirts or closes the closets . . .when he looses his keys. . .
Petty: of trivial importance, a trifling thing. . . in a heart beat, in our minds, a trifling thing grows huge.
Early one morning I stepped out of the shower and caught a lovely wave of classical music, then pound-pound booming from the kitchen; it was my husband, attacking the block of Mexican brown sugar with an ice pick, sugar for his hot cocoa. . .a petty annoyance, noise in the morning, irritating, disturbing my peace (and where? I wondered, did those little chips of brown sugar fly off to?)
Today- identify a petty annoyance that provokes you to think a disrespectful thought about your husband-then repent.
1 Corinthians 13:7 whispers. . .love does not insist on its own way, love bears all things.

and of course, there's more. . .

2011-11-25T17:10:00.000-08:00

At bedtime on Thanksgiving I read to Julia, An Old Fashioned Thanksgiving (Louisa May Alcott).
. . .Down among the embers, saucepans simmered, suggestive of an approaching feast.
"That's what we had today-a feast!" she exclaimed.
I'm not suprised, since Julia was the girl narrating dinner, "Oh, the turkey is so good, the mashed potatoes so good . . ."
Sometimes you plan a feast-plan, invite, shop, prepare; then maybe everything and everybody is ready but the turkey is undercooked-
Tilly, whatever made you put wormwood and catnip in your stuffing? asked Ma.
-the stuffing, overcooked, sticks to the pan-
The pudding was an utter failure-as hard and heavy as one of the stone balls on a great gate.
And the pies, so lovely to look at, aren't so perfect afterall. . .
but the guests are gracious, grateful--and it's still a feast.

For as a woman thinks. . .

2011-11-22T10:27:00.000-08:00

The wise woman builds her house but the foolish woman tears it down with her own hands (Pro 14:1)
What a graphic word picture! And it's about women, imagine that?
Let's consider the destructive affects of disrespect: the wife who disrepects her husband tears down her house one board at a time with her own hands-the more she disrespects, the more she sees to disrespect.
So, what does disrespect look like? Sometimes disrespect bellows, but most often it sneaks. . . disrespect belittles, cut downs, talks down to, criticizes, nags, ignores; disrespect is sarcastic, impatient, rude. . .
Recently my 4 year old grandaughter sent me an email, dictated to her mom, "Gran, I hope you are not being rude to your Papi!" Ahh, I love it-I can hear her mother say to her, "Selma, love is not rude!" Selma's question makes me think of the connection between rudeness and disrespect.
Disrespect begins in the mind. . ."For as a man thinks within himself, so he is" (Pro 23:7)
Do you notice the arrows of disrespect that zing through your mind? (this is not my job. . .he makes more work for me.)
So, here's a challenge: Listen to how you talk to yourself about your husband. Catch and put off the subconscious thoughts that lead to disrespect.
And don't daydream! Daydreaming leads our minds down the path of disrespect; we're tempted to replay old offenses; we're tempted to compare. . .
Disrespect begins in the mind. God has given us criteria as to how we should think about our husbands; my pastor calls Philippians 4:8 the leash law for the mind. . .Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

I like to envision the leash, reigning in my wayward thoughts.
enough for now. . .but there's more

remembering. . .

2011-11-19T07:48:00.000-08:00

Last week my siblings and I exchanged a flurry of emails, memories of our mother; it's been a year since she went to heaven.
So, the other day I lost one of my favorite earrings. I poked around my little box and choose some pearls to wear instead; my mother wore pearl earrings- often she lost one, and then she would buy another pair, pearls again.
So, I have a pair of Mom's earrings-I think they match. I'm not a pearl earring girl, really-but I've been wearing these all week, and thinking about Mom. . .
Then Reader's Digest came in my mailbox. . .Mom sent the subscription (or was it Dad?). Reader's Digest isn't my reading preference-it's still coming to my mailbox. Last week I browsed the pages and thought about Mom. . .
And last Friday we hosted an early Thanksgiving dinner for our Bible study; I made the coffee, set out cups, sugar, spoons to stir, and I filled the little pitcher with cream, Royal Copenhagen china, and I thought about Mom-good remembering, indeed.

the problem

2011-11-16T06:41:00.000-08:00

. . .and let the wife see to it that she respects her husband.
When I struggle to respect my husband, the root of the problem is my own sin, really-
Scripture doesn't give me permission to make the sins of my husband my first priority-but I'm tempted. . ."God, give me the desire and strength to obey you; make me attentive to my own sin."
Now then, attentiveness to my own sin will create humility in me, and that's a good thing. At the heart of my struggle to respect my husband is my pride-I think more highly of myself than I ought; God tells me to think of myself with sound judgement. (Rom 12:3)
In his book, When Sinners Say I Do, Dave Harvey writes, "Cultivate a healthy suspicion of your own heart motives."
hmm, sinful heart motives-like pride, selfishness, lack of love, desire to control, discontent, speck focused. . .speck focused? "And why do you look at the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?" (Matt 7:3-5)

"An excellent wife is a crown to her husband, she who shames him is rottenness to his bones" (Prov 12:4)
Think for a moment about a rotten thing, you know-how a rotting thing looks, feels, smells. Disrespect rots! when I disrespect my husband, I dishonor God (who purchased me with his blood) and I shame my husband.
So-all this is sobering, my own sin problem, the rottenness of disrespect. . . and while sin erodes and destroys relationships on a horizontal level, sin impacts our relationship with God.
Sin is wrong not because of what it does to me or to my spouse or child or neighbor, but because it is an act of rebellion against the infinately majestic God. (Jerry Bridges)

enough for now. . .but there's more.

2011-11-12T08:27:00.000-08:00

Last month when I was in New York John drove to Bastrop to meet our sons and their families. He called me, "I'm in Texas holding Gwyneth and Adalyn!"
"I'm in New York holding Florence." I said.
"You are the gold star grandmother and I am the silver star grandfather," he said.
"How can that be?" I questioned, "You're holding two sweet grandaughters and I have one."
"You are the gold star grandmother. . . because I miss you."
Always good to be home-

when it's hard. . .

2011-11-10T07:11:00.000-08:00

And let the wife see to it that she respects her husband.
"Do you think this is such a struggle for all wives?" a woman asked me recently.
Well, yes-a struggle for all wives, because to obey God is to go against our nature.
But, no-not such a struggle, for some the struggle is less arduous, for others more, and frankly, some husbands are more difficult to respect (and some wives more difficult to love!)

Perhaps you are that wife in a particularly difficult situation; perhaps it seems asthough your husband is actively working against your efforts to obey God's command.
It's hard. . . looking through a biblical lense then, I know this is true:
1) God's command in Ephesians 5: 33 is true for all wives, without exception. And God is on the throne, his sovereignty rules over all. God doesn't get off the throne, stop ruling, when life is hard-so I remind myself. A firm reliance on God's sovereignty will help you and me to obey God.
2) Focus on God's glory. While pleasing God must always be my motive, a wife's conduct can impact her husband.
"Wives be subject to your own husbands so that even if some do not obey the Word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives when they see your respectful and pure conduct." (1 Pet 3:1-2)
What an amazing passage-God says here that a wife's respectful conduct has influence. It doesn't mean that she never says a word; we're told in other parts of Scripture to speak the truth in love, to be ready to give an answer for the hope that is within us, and a biblical reproof may be the most loving response to a husband who is sinning. However, this wife doesn't preach at her husband-she speaks fewer words and her respectful behavior is a powerful influence in her husband's life.
3) Trust God. . . Ah, yes, trust God. Scripture tells us how the holy women of old trusted God. Sarah respected her husband, calling him Lord; she hoped in God not being frightened by any fearful thing (1 Pet 3:5-6). That example is for you and me.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. . .we can do that, even when it's hard, because of Jesus-
because we know that Jesus is the author and perfecter of faith. . . (Heb 12:2)
Aye, sorry so long-enough for now, but there's more. . .

orange things. . .

2011-11-07T05:35:00.000-08:00

On Wednesday, Luke and Gabrielle returned from their trip and we returned their children. For an entire week two sets of grandparents divided the grandchildren, half-n-half. . .
Saturday at our house we read Molly's Pilgrim (Barbara Cohen) and talked about it; then we ate orange things-baby carrots, cheddar cheese cubes, gumey pumpkins, tart and sweet pumpkin candies, orange juice. The next day we made pumpkin muffins with cream cheese frosting. We ate them- and drank Pumpkin Pie Soda. I couldn't resist, the label and packaging were amazing (surpassing the taste.)
What's a grandmother to do?
And the thoughtful parents brought gifts for the grandmothers, blue for Martha, orange for me; I can't wait to fill it with salsa or guacamole-and I can't wait for the next time (now that I've cleaned up and rested a bit). . .the grandchildren come to stay.

thinking biblically about respect-a command

2011-11-03T12:14:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I wrote some thoughts about thinking biblically and about focus-about where I choose to focus the lense of my mind. I was preparing for a teaching opportunity. . .Thinking Biblically- Respecting Your Husband. So, I prepared it-and last Thursday I taught it. . .
Respect: to be in awe of, to honor, to treat as someone special, to esteem, to admire, to pay proper attention to (not ignore!), to show consideration for, to treat courteously, to heed (to listen to).

Ahh, a worthy pursuit, a huge topic, and no, I don't have it all figured out- but truth challenges my heart.
So, first the command: ". . .and let the wife see to it that she respects her husband."(Ephesians 5:33). Sometimes I chafe, imagining that God's commands just dangle, unattached. . . Soul, remember His character- our God is holy, not harsh-loving, not capricious nor fickle; every command He gives is meant for my good and assuredly, He gives the means and grace to obey. When I'm tempted to doubt God's goodness in this command, I remember. . ."He Himself bore our sins in his body on the cross that we might die to sin and live to righteousness." (1 Peter 2:24)
The wise will give heed. . .consider the loving kindness of the Lord (Ps 107:43)
God's command in Ephesians 5:33 is addressed to wives-all wives, without exception.
Wives are commanded to see to it that they respect-the command is worded in such a way as to lay the responsibility squarely on the wife's shoulders. (Have you ever noticed that as wives we see to it that alot gets done-errands, bills, meals, car pool, coffee, laundry, knitting, reading. . .?)
In Ephesians 5:33 respect is a verb, something we do or show. We know that out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks- so, respect begins in our hearts and is displayed in our words, attitudes, actions. . .toward our husbands.
"I want you to understand that the head of every man is Christ, the head of the wife is her husband. . ." (1 Cor 11:33)
It's about God, about His design; He has set the husband as head, and He calls the wife to honor that postion. I've been thinking about it, focusing my biblical lense. . .respect is to be rendered to my husband because God has required it, not because my husband has earned it. Respecting my husband is a decision I make to obey God's Word. It's really all about God-and me.
Enough for now. . .but there's more.

kitchen day

2011-10-24T11:50:00.000-07:00

Ahh, Central New York has apples, so many kinds of lovely apples. . .and I have memories of our orange Fiat, full of windfall apples in Oregon and crates of apples in Zacatlan de las manzanas in Mexico-years and years ago.
So-it's nice to spend all day in the kitchen. . . well, not every day-but from time to time, especially when there are at least 2 cooks, each focused on her recipe; then over a coffee good talk fills in the cracks.
Abi and I spent one entire day in the kitchen. . .we baked scones in the morning for tea guests, and in the afternoon she baked 3 loaves of bread while I cooked up 2 different soups- Abi's kitchen has just one pot large enough for soup. (we are resourceful women)
Then we took a break from the kitchen and delivered 1 soup and 2 breads to a friend who has a new baby; finally we sat down-and ate the other soup and bread.
But the pinnacle of our kitchen day was Apple Cinnamon Coffee Cake-here. it was so good, chunks of apple rolled into a cardamom yeast dough.
So, if you like apple and sweet bread. . . carry on!

a carpet and a quote. . .

2011-10-19T04:52:00.000-07:00

The leaves make a carpet. . .and one day over lunch, we purused quotes by G..K. Chesterton--here's a favorite . .

Feminism is mixed up with a muddled idea that women are free
when they serve their empl0yers but slaves when they help their husbands.

one about focus. . .

2011-10-17T05:10:00.000-07:00

brown eyes, blue eyes

I'm trying to become a better photographer. . . Florence and her sweet Mama make a lovely subject, don't you think? So, I'm practicing with aperture and shutter speed, attempting to figure out lighting and focus-I'm working at it.

And I'm studying for a teaching opportunity at the end of the month. Think biblically, I scribbled at the top of my page. Biblical thinking is a lot like focus with my camera. Sometimes the wrong image is in focus, the bush rather than the boy- sometimes everything is out of focus- Blurry! I notice how my camera focuses on what appears to be the prominent image--but really, I need to tell it where to focus!
Likewise, by thinking biblically, I'm telling the lense of my mind where to focus. . .I choose to view my circumstances through the lense of the gospel, remembering that I've been redeemed wtih the precious blood of Christ, He loved me and delivered himself up for me!
And I view my life through the lense of eternity-set your mind on the things above where Christ is. . .and through the lense of truth, God's Word-for the grass withers and the flowers fade, but the Word of God endures forever-

Hmm. . .so we'll see where this takes me--with my camera, with the teaching topic at hand-and in my life, amid it all. . .where I chose to focus the lense of my mind.

We make it our ambition, whether at home or absent, to be pleasing to the Lord (2 cor 5:9)

The Sink Room

2011-10-15T06:26:00.000-07:00

I love to have people in for visits and overnights. I tell them, "Overnight at the Newton's is a bit like camping." (mmm, I just need to say it. . .)

I arrived in New York on Friday while Abi and Nathaniel were hosting out of town guests; so I spent a night with Jeremy and Lucinda, on the hill in the big yellow house. I slept in the sink room.

I climbed the stairs with Lucinda and peeked in the doorway--windows and light, lace, a curved wooden bed frame, an arching lamp with a little table beside- and of course, a tiny sink at one end of the room, just right for washing up.

I think the sink room is perfect - well, not a perfect magazine kind of room. . .a lovely room in an old house, with vestiges of 12 children who filled it, grew up and went away.

I wonder if Lucinda is ever tempted to add a postscript, "Overnight at our place is a bit like camping."

(Really, friend, overnight at your place is lovely)

brother banter

2011-10-08T11:09:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I arrived in New York- I'm visiting Nathaniel, Abigail, and sweet Florence; tomorrow we'll drive to Vermont for a family wedding and I'll see autumn in the Northeast-for the first time!
But I'll miss the 24 hour bicycle race in Texas next weekend- my boys are competing in the race. (sometimes it seems like my children perform their lives on revolving stages. . .)
Think about it, mountain biking for 24 hours, in the dark-it's crazy, but they love it.

Recently John and I spent the weekend with these 2 -they're hungry to win. I overheard them talking about the other brother,

"Tell him to eat more meat- he better bring his A-game to the team or we'll replace. . ."
Then I remembered years of loving exhortation - Boys, encourage each other, don't cut your brother down, no sarcasm, don't choke your brother, love each other. . . (back then was my voice sweet?)
And now they're grown men- still brothers, still a team. . .
I"m glad-

make no provision

2011-10-05T11:11:00.000-07:00

The women at Tuesday Bible study answered the question, How does God provide help for every woman's struggle against sin? "Put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the flesh in regards to its desires." (Romans 13:14)

"So, how do you make provision for the flesh? And how do you make NO provision for the flesh?" I asked.
A vigorous discussion insued. It was really good, a worthy pursuit. (no wonder I never make it to the end of a lesson. . .)
And throughout the week the question and application resurfaced-over lunch on Tuesday, during a skype conversaton on Wednesday, over coffee at my house on Thursday, at a fast food restaurant on Friday, in an email correspondence, again and again- How do you make no provison . . . it wasn't the other women who needed application and encouragement-it was me, really.
It all begins in my mind, maybe like this. . . my married children all have wonderful new families (but I have to learn to share). I'm tempted to think, "Ah-again, my daughter is spending time with that other family. . .they've forgotten us." I wallow in my mind. I'm filled with envy in a heartbeat-I crash over the cliff.
(and of course, I can choose to make no provision- by believing the best, by being thankful that they have new families who love them. . .)
Ah, yes, every woman struggles against sin . . . But Jesus, "He can sympathize with all our weaknesses; he has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. Draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, to receive mercy and grace to help in time of need." (Heb 4:14-16)
Lord, this is one of my times of need . . .

assembly required

2011-10-03T06:59:00.000-07:00

When you must rip out knitting-and sometimes you must. . . then the yarn looks like ramen noodles-til you knit it up again, or throw it in the trash, or give it to your darling grandson to trot around in his pocket.
So, I've ripped this little boy vest-ripped 3 times and started again with renewed confidence.
One day I was ripping and muttering.
John said,"Knitting--assembly required!"
I kept ripping.
"That's a joke. . .you're suppose to smile." he said.
he makes me smile- and this post is for Rachel, who faithfully rips to create something more beautiful!

2011-09-29T06:29:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning Gabrielle and the children invited me out for bagels and then to the Botanical Gardens-lovely. I arrived home in the afternoon- John and the neighbors were working in the garage with crow bars, shovels and lifts. (our garage leans)
"You had a phone call-she'll call back," my husband said.
She called at 9 P.M. "Sorry. . . I only call you when my life is a mess."
"I'm glad you called," I said- and I listened.

No temptation has overtaken you but such is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, that you may be able to endure it. (1 Cor 10:13)
That's what I wanted to remind her, for sure. . .that the way of escape is endurance and that God is faithful to give enough grace.
I told her. . . and she listened.
So, she's coming to my house tomorrow. I want to embrace her-and tell her that a woman who trusts in the Lord is like a tree planted by the water, that extends its roots by a stream, that will not fear when the heat comes. . .nor cease to yield fruit-nor cease to yield fruit. (Jer 17: 7-9)

And I want to tell myself-

Violet's stool. . .

2011-09-26T09:55:00.000-07:00

It seems like I have a new piece of furniture when I move an old piece to a new spot. . .
My grandfather made a tall three legged stool for my grandmother, Violet. I've heard that Violet would sit on her tall stool peeling carrots.
Now it's my stool, but I love to think about my tiny grandmother sitting on it, peeling carrots. . . did her legs dangle? did the stool todder?
So, last week I was standing over the recycle bin, flipping fast through magazines, and I saw this idea-Violet's tall stool could be a little table, maybe. . . it works next to my favorite chair; it holds my pile of books smartly, but will it hold a coffee cup-without a todder?
This week I've invited two women over for coffee. I'll try out Violet's stool first, with my coffee cup-and I'll watch for any hint of todder.

good grammar

2011-09-21T13:13:00.000-07:00

The other evening John and I drove our grandaughters home from an event, "Tell me about school." I asked.
"Grammar is hard!" Amaleah said.
"Oh, no, grammar is good (I love grammar). . . tell me what you're learning." I said.
"You know, about sentences- declarative, interrogative, imperative- and we're suppose to replace weak verbs with strong verbs. . ."
"Sounds good, no whimpy verbs allowed." I said.
The next morning I read Psalm 28, "The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped; therefore my heart exults."
Listen sweet grandaughter, My heart trusts in Him, therefore my heart exults. . .
declarative sentence, strong verb-

a visit and a psalm

2011-09-19T08:05:00.000-07:00

(ahh, a little metal pitcher with Peter and the cabbage leaves. . .)

Last week I visited my friend, Jennifer- we drank tea in china cups and ate little cookies and tender biscotti. . .special treats from Amy in Mississippi.
The house was quiet-nice (but not necessary) for tea and talk. Jennifer shared Psalm 13; I pulled my travel Bible from my book bag and followed along-
"How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?. . .consider and answer me, O Lord my God; light up my eyes. . .but I have trusted in your steadfast love. . ."
I remembered-no matter the season or circumstances, the challenges in a woman's life are the same-the clothes are different, the heart's the same. . .and God's Word restores.
Then Jennifer left to pick up her children and I drove home.
The house was quiet- at my desk I opened my worn old Bible and read Psalm 13 again; the page is wrinkled, words are scribbled in pen and pencil in the margin, "I will sing to the Lord, because He has dealt bountifully with me." (vs 6)
Worship. . .scribbled in the margin

my mind rambles. . .

2011-09-15T06:43:00.000-07:00

Women's Bible study started up on Tuesday, a new year- I can't wait. There are new things ahead for me, opportunities not planned by me. . .
And on Tuesday I met new women- so nice.
We circled the group, introducing ourselves, and I could only think of one thing to share; you see, Tuesday was Josiah's birthday, and Noah's birthday-they share the day, 5 years apart.
So, I told the women, "Today my sons share a birthday, born 32 and 27 years ago!"
Now my boys are fathers -I imagine my sons with sons, but God has given them daughters. I love to watch . . .
Boys! keep training and loving - supporting her head, holding her hand and all the rest. . .for a very very long time.
(Now I need to remember what those dear women shared with me about themselves. . .)

a space between each book. . .

2011-09-12T07:54:00.000-07:00

Last week I visited Caroline-she showed me her clean, organized pantry.
"Lovely! Leave the door open for a few days." I said.
I told her about my bookshelf cleaning project-dusting, sorting, giving away, rearranging.
a clean bookshelf is nice. . .you know, a shelf with little spaces between each book. And I love that empty middle shelf. . .
I discovered some treasures and a bunch for the give-away box; Wild Alaska belongs to Josiah, sent from his dear grandmother who filled the title page with a personal letter; she also promised to send him an ample collection of books about Alaska. (I only found one)

So-John started a new school year and I started cleaning the bookshelf-I thought about Psalm 16, "I have set the Lord continually before me, because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken."

I have set the Lord. . .not a person, or vision, or ministry or any good thing. Then day by day my children and grandchildren started back to school, teaching and attending-universtities, high school, elementary, home school. . .in Mexico City my 3 sweet grandchildren began a new school year.

I recalled past school days. . .with a hint of longing. So, I kept cleaning the bookshelf and I prayed for them, for me. . .

I have set the Lord continually before me, because He is at my right hand I will not be shaken. (Ps 16:8)

just a button

2011-09-08T09:27:00.001-07:00

So, I'm writing a post about a button-curious, but then the tiniest details seem to weave our lives together, don't you think?
This sweater is ready to send off to sweet Florence, but it needed a button- just one.
So I spilled out the button jar and quickly chose 4 or 5 possibilities. Then I asked my husband his opinion. . .fully expecting that he would respond, whatever-all good. . .
But he didn't-instead he chose the large colorful button, and really, I love it- and I love that my husband had an opinion about my handiwork. . .

Consider Him. . .

2011-09-06T08:35:00.000-07:00

Friday night after Bible study I sat with a friend on the edge of the pool- our legs dangled in the tepid water.
surrounded by noise, splashing, laughter, conversations -she shared, "I want peace, this relationship is still broken, what more can I do?"
A tangled mess. . .that's what she described. we had discussed it before, her part in pursuing peace.
As much as possible with you be at peace with all men.

I hear my friend's confusion and feel her sadness; I want to smooth out the trouble for her, take away the hostility, somehow bring about reconciliation. . .
today I've been thinking about our world broken by sin- and about the gospel. . .
"Consider Him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted." (Hebrews 12:3)
So, today I'll call and encourage my friend . . .remember the cross! the gospel applies here, now, Consider Him. . .

dry but thirsty

2011-09-02T10:27:00.000-07:00

Amaleah called on Monday, "Gran! it's 102 degrees-are you and Papi okay?"
so sweet. . .actually, at 5 P.M. the temperature outside was 105 degrees and I was driving home from cool Starbucks. I stepped inside my house, slipped off my sandals-the hardwoods felt hot.
And such is south Texas at the end of summer, hot and dry.

Last week I ate lunch with a young friend, "I wanted to ask you about this. . .I feel spiritually dry." she said.
Dry?? I look around me and dry means cracks-like the ground cracks, walls crack, skin cracks. . .but I understand my friend, and I know what it's like to feel dry on the inside.
Sometimes I feel parched. And the inside struggle flares when I don't thirst, or when I thirst for what is dead.
So, I keep putting the living God before me- My soul cleaves to the dust; revive me according to your word. . . (Psalm 119)

It helps to cultivate thankfulness. . .for small things.

Today I'm thankful for a new screen door. . . John is building, piecing, repairing, painting it. There are still cracks all around me, but I'm focusing on the lovely door.

O God, my soul thirsts for you, my flesh yearns for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. (Ps 63)

a little cheer

2011-08-29T06:53:00.000-07:00

Fanny Crosby wrote, "All the way my Saviour leads me. . . He cheers each winding path I tread."
So, I sing it, believe it. . .
Sunday after church meeting, John handed me a brown paper bag containing a lovely golden brioche. That evening we sliced and ate it- toasted, with butter and jam. Perfect
Monday I got an email from Michelle, "I know your kitchen is hot; you probably don't bake bread in the summer-I thought you'd like some homemade. . ."
Wednesday John and I munched goodies in the kitchen, "I keep meaning to thank you for buying these dates!" he said.
"Me? It's our friend, Patricia-every time I visit her, she sends me home with dates!" I said.
I love to think on the particular ways the Saviour leads and cheers. . . and how He uses people with bread and dates and more-
And this week my boy sent me a text, "students are back, bike shop is crazy busy, no day off for 2 weeks."
hmm, how to cheer his path? I sent a fast food gift card- Yep, fast food.
2 days later he texted, "Thanks, Mom, you're the best!"

love in the Gospel. . .

2011-08-22T19:12:00.000-07:00

Today John started back to school-prepared to hug weeping 4 year olds.
And Mercy went back to college on Saturday, after a consult with the optometrist.
"Yes, you do need vision correction-wear your glasses all day!" he said. Sigh, she probably needed glasses years ago (she's #8 . . . )

Mercy and I traveled to California for Molly's wedding, just the 2 of us. Mercy meets people, puts herself out there; one evening she got to know Eddie's family-some of them don't speak English. I love that about her.
So, on the flight home we shared people stories.
Mercy and the cousins talked about worldview and practical faith, about living selflessly or selfishly-how does it look?
(where was I during that worthy pursuit? I was distracted by mountains of fresh peaches.)
We talked and I had an opinion- the topic under youthful examination seemed clearly defined, but maybe not-
So, I've been thinking,"do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit. . ."
These days John and I are doing an unselfish deed. . .outwardly I appear totally, radically unselfish. But in my mind sometimes I hear ghastly selfish thoughts, feelings-shocking!
I can't make myself be more selfless-
Heart, remember God's love in the Gospel. . .
"We who live in him are no longer to live for ourselves, not even for our good record, our family's approval, or our clean conscience. We are to live for Him who for our sake died and was raised." (2 Cor 5:15)
Ah, so totally unselfish. . .

from house to house. . .

2011-08-18T09:24:00.000-07:00

We spent the last weeks of our summer road trip traveling house to house, visiting our own children. We walked the older neighborhood where Josiah and Lindsey live in Memphis.
And we craddled our newest grandaughter, sweet Gwyneth.

I watch and listen to all these children of mine . . . and their unique and varied lives. They've lived in places I couldn't have imagined 10 years ago-California, Colorado, Indiana, New York, North Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Spain, England-this summer one couple moved to Mexico City (mega-city!) and another to Ohio (college town!) . . . And not only the places, but the pursuits-Ah, so this is what God was preparing her for. . .I had no idea! (Mother's think like that)

I remind myself that God has a good plan-mostly I pray that each would follow Jesus, especially in hard places. . .and sometimes I'm grateful that they are young, and I am old, just watching, cheering them on. Dear Ones-Trust in the Lord and do good, dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. (Ps 37)

2011-08-15T05:38:00.000-07:00

There were pinwheels for Molly and Eddie's wedding-lovely.
then my camera battery died.
so sad-but the good part. . . no camera means more conversation!
I met Fern and Merv, retired missionaries from Africa and Mexico. They just celebrated 55 years of marriage. Last year Fern had a stroke.
"I don't really do anything now," she said.
"You pray, don't you?" I asked.
"Yes, I pray. . .and I enjoy my husband!" she touched Merv's knee.
"Do you have marriage advice?" I asked.
And without hesitation Fern said, ". . .stop-sit down-have a cup of coffee-and enjoy one another!"

I'll be remembering. . .

in the path of old saints

2011-08-12T08:26:00.000-07:00

Rachel texted me, Glad you got home safely. . .with stories to tell, I hope??
Indeed, I have people stories. . .
So, I want to park myself in the path of old saints, Christ followers who have followed and followed, followed fully; you know the kind, they're like gold. . .
The sweet lady on the left is Helen Kay-she's grandmother, aunt, mother-in-law to this group.

Helen Kay is gold. One morning we sat together and I asked questions; her life is marked by adversity, a particular affliction with no earthly end in view.
But Helen Kay doesn't talk a lot about her circumstances-today I see her face as I work on Colossians 2:6-7, "Therefore as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith. . .abounding in thanksgiving."
We hugged goodbye, "Darcie, I'm not very deep. . .I just skim from the top." she motioned with her hand.
Oh no, Helen Kay, you live deep with the Saviour. . .
And I can learn much-

home is good. . .

2011-08-09T06:57:00.000-07:00

And for those souls (like me) who love to travel, there's a time to be home-mmm, home is good.
after 5 weeks on the road, 6,000 miles, and a quick trip to California for my niece's wedding, I'm home to stay-at least for awhile.
Today I'm resisting the temptation to react to the undone, all that waits for me. . .to resist making 20 appointments this week- (perhaps 1 or 2)

This morning I sat- simply sat in my regular spot, at the regular time, with my favorite worn out Bible. . .I'm back to the beginning of Psalms.
In the morning, O Lord, you will hear my voice; in the morning I will order my prayer to you and eagerly watch (Ps 5)
And it was good.

cooking, critiquing, and more

2011-08-04T07:41:00.000-07:00

This isn't a cooking blog, really. . .but then women cook together, cook and talk. I do that a lot.
So, in Indiana Rachel and I made a key lime pie. Brett squeezed all the key limes. We ate it and critiqued it. . .
Brett made a few gracious suggestions for next time. Dave ate it up-no critique (but I think Dave is content with whatever Rachel cooks for him).
The next morning I offered to make scones-my recipe.
"I think the recipe is in my head." I told Rachel.
"After last night's pie-I don't trust you. . ." she said.
hmm, I thought I'd posted the recipe on this "non-cooking" blog, but I guess not-so here goes:

Darcie's Cranberry Scones
(this recipe comes from Southern Living, but I've been making it for a long, long time. . .)
2 cups flour
2 Tbl sugar
1 Tbl baking powder
1/2 tsp soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 cup butter
2/3 cup buttermilk or sour milk
1/2 cup dried cranberries (or more)
Mix the dry ingredients, cut in butter til crumbly, add cranberries, mix in buttermilk.
Pat dough into an 8" round on floured surface, cut into 8 pie wedges, place on lightly greased baking sheet, brush with milk and sprinkle with sugar. Bake at 400 for 12-15 minutes. (careful not to over bake)

in Indiana. . .

2011-08-01T08:00:00.000-07:00

Brett amd Rachel live in a home that once belonged to Brett's grandparents; they live with Dave, Brett's Dad. It's small town Indiana-the house sits on a highway, and across the highway, a university. The flower bed along the house is new-I love its curve and the perennials that Dave chose to fill the bed.

Tuesday evening we walked to the nursing home where LaVerne, Brett's mom, lives. LaVerne has early onset Alzhiemer's-she's my age, our birthdays are 2 weeks apart.
Dave and LaVerne married in 1972, just like John and me- almost 40 years of marriage for them, for us.
-over 5 years ago Dave and LaVerne began a journey with Alzhiemer's.
These days Rachel cooks in LaVerne's kitchen; last week we cooked together.
Memories of my own first years of marriage flooded in. . .the same yellow tupperware, small flowers on white Corning Ware.
Photos of young Dave and LaVerne picture little Brett sandwitched between 2 sisters. In the 70's LaVerne sewed a polyester leisure suit for Dave. . . while I embroidered on denim for John.
We all followed Jesus. . .

LaVerne sits with us on the patio at the nursing home on Tuesday; she wears 2 bracelets-lavender, her favorite color.
Brett asks, "Mom, do you remember who gave you those lavender bracelets? David! He's your husband, do you remember?"
Then I wonder, Does LaVerne understand that her dear son is married. . .married to my daughter?
Sometimes words like confused-helpless-broken sceam in my mind.
Heart, remember redemption, the cross, blood shed for me, for her. . .and faithfulness
I think about faithfulness in marriage, of Dave's testimony to love and care for his wife, for 39 years, into the unknown, til the end. . . and of God's faithfulness to LaVerne and Dave, to John and me, into the unknown, til the end. . .All the way my Saviour leads me, Cheers each winding path I tread, Gives me grace for every trial, Feeds me with the living bread. Though my weary steps may falter, And my soul a thirst may be, gushing from the Rock before me, Lo! a spring of joy I see.

a week of sweets

2011-07-29T05:54:00.000-07:00

So, when we visit our Syracuse family, sweets abound-like a little drawer in the kitchen with shortbread (for me) and dark chocolate (for John) for tea time-with the white teapot. . .and more.

On Thursday we planned a day trip to Buttermilk Falls in Ithica, but early in the morning Abi and I worked on dessert for the evening. . .Strawberry-rhubarb Pie was preferred, but there wasn't time for a pie that day.
Instead we made sauce, and really, it was abolutely perfect- a bite of sweet strawberry and tart rhubarb, spooned over vanilla ice-cream.

Rhubarb-Strawberry Sauce
3 cups strawberries, 3 cups rhubarb, 1/3 cup sugar, 1/3 cup water.
We defrosted Abi's local fruit, cooked the rhubarb in a saucepan with water and sugar for 10 minutes, then added the strawberries, simmering for about 7 minutes.
That evening we took our sauce and ice-cream to a gathering . . .tart, sweet, smooth, cold, red, white-just perfect.

morning with a friend. . .

2011-07-27T07:22:00.000-07:00

It's nice to share grandmothering with a friend, so I've discovered.
hmm, sweet Florence-really, Lucinda and I could eat her up. . .

And with Lucinda, there's lots more to talk about. . .when I came to Syracuse in January we spent a whole day together, leaving conversations dangling-
So, last week we squeezed in a morning together at the bagel shop; we talked fast, picking up unfinished thoughts, broaching new ones, yet to be completed, and as we explored personal issues, some complex- my friend reminded me of a clear and worthy purusit-
Blessed is the man whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and it leaf does not wither. . .
Then Lucinda dropped me off at Nathaniel and Abi's, for it was time for the day to move on-it's that way in a woman's life, no?
But in the evening Jeremy and Lucinda joined us for dinner.
"Darcie, there are 3 things we didn't talk about this morning. . .we didn't talk about aging!"
(really, dear friend, we talked all about aging. . .)

3 kitchens and a recipe

2011-07-24T08:59:00.000-07:00

Last month my kitchen was 100 degrees and Gabrielle's kitchen was under construction. Sometimes it's easier to face a challenge in someone else's space.
So, one day I offered to make dinner for the family at her place. I tried a new recipe-Mediterranean Orzo with Olives and Feta; between our kitchens I collected all the ingredients, and we agreed- it's good.

Last week in Syracuse , Abi and I cooked together in her kitchen. We had some lovely hospitality opportunities and one evening I made the orzo salad-try it!

Mediterranean Orzo. . .
Cook 2 cups orzo, drain and rinse
Add: 2 cups chopped raw spinach
1/2 cup chopped sundried tomato (oil packed)
1/2 cup feta cheese
3/4 cup sliced kalmata olives
chopped red onion
1 (6 oz) jar marinated artichokes, drained and quartered
reserve marinade and add to your liking, tossing pasta lightly. Serve with extra feta.

(And invite some folks in to share. . .)

sojourning- 4 weeks

2011-07-21T14:29:00.000-07:00

This morning I read Psalm 146, The Lord watches over the sojourners. I'm sojourning. . .we've been traveling for almost a month; I like road trips-the adventures, but mainly the people.
Sometimes as we drive along I peek at the other drivers, Who are they? Where are they headed? I wonder what it would be like to be old and travel around in a monstrous motor home visiting parks, lakes. . . And a road trip always provides the opportunity to trust God with the unknown-so I've discovered.
We left Lancaster on a Friday, headed for Nathaniel and Abigail's home in Syracuse. The car lost electricity just 15 miles into the day; on the roadside John diagnosed the problem- something broken on the fan belt pulley.
So, up the road a few miles in Reading we found a VW dealer (I'm in Pennsylvania at a VW place?). they didn't have the part. Should we drive to Harrisburg or Scanton?
John told the clerk, "Not Harrisburg. . .we're heading north to New York."
And I said, "But Harrisburg is close. . .Scanton is far."
He said, "We'll be fine-our VW has a diesel battery!"
Trust the Lord. . .and trust my husband -
So, 2 hours later in Scranton we found the VW place; then John discovered that the problem wasn't the fan belt, but the alternator.
He returned the unneeded part, purchased the needed one, and in the July afternoon sun in Scanton, Pennsylvania, my husband decided not to try his shade tree mechanics on the side street.
"What if. . .we charge the battery at Auto Zone for an hour while we eat lunch and then drive to New York?" he asked.
Trust the Lord. . .and honor my husband.

Then we drove on a curvey highway in a heavy downpour, and once we crossed into New York it seemed earier to trust. Surely Abigail and Nathaniel would rescue us if need be. . .

hmmm, the Lord watches over the sojourner. . .and that's life, all of it, a sojourn.

in Pennsylvania. . .

2011-07-18T04:52:00.000-07:00

Tuesday we drove to Lancaster, Pennsylvania to visit Joy and Clarence.
Ahh-on this road trip I keep discovering hydrangeas-and each bush is more amazing!

I love to sit with Joy in her sunroom- wicker, cushions, little tables for writing, morning sun.
How to keep up with our children?
for her-2 daughters and 5 sons, for me -4 sons and 4 daughters, all growing up, moving out, away from us. . . How to wisely fit into their lives. . .to be a blessing, to glorify God in the midst?
"Consider Him" because if not, I'll certainly "Consider me" every time.
I was alone one morning in Joy's sunroom; I read Psalm 143; then Joy came around. . .Friend, I prayed for you and me, "Teach me to do your will, for you are my God! Let your good Spirit lead me on level ground!"

And we met Beltron . . .Hug, Hug, tickle, he calls.

Joy and Clarence are adopting Beltron, 8 years old, from a Peruvian orphanage. We prayed for this little guy- now we've held him, talked and played with him.
And Beltron sings. . .

in New England. . .

2011-07-14T04:26:00.000-07:00

After a wild ride through New Jersey and New York City, I think a GPS would be a worthy purchase-John agrees.

It seems just right to spend 4th of July weekend in New England, dont you think?
On the town square in Havehill, we located the church where Adoniram Judson was commissioned to go to India; someone said we'd find a statue in the commons - I whipped out my camera. . .no statue of Adoniram.
But really, we traveled to Haverhill to visit Mel and Marsha. . .our friendship goes back to 1976 when we were in missionary candidate school together, then language school together (Marsha and I carried our girls, Naomi and Mandie, together) and then Mexico together-so, friendships are forged. . .

In Haverhill we workshipped with a young church in an old building and spent the 4th in Newport, Rhode Island; we picniked and ate ice cream like the young, remembered the past, considered the future. . . retirement?
And we looked at pictures-lots. Our friends just returned from a 2 week trip to Haiti where they traveled the island by truck, visiting the places where Mel was born and grew up.

My son says I can download my pictures onto my computer. . .one man helped another.

We wanted to see all 1,500 pictures, hear all the narration, ask questions, discuss. . .

Sometimes old travelers fade fast.

lost in Jersey, caught in New York City. . .

2011-07-12T04:12:00.000-07:00

This I know about myself: when I am lost, I struggle with fear. . .

Last Saturday John and I left Richmond, Virginia, headed towards Boston.

I'm the navigator. . .reading printed map directions, I navigated neatly around Baltimore, but somehow, somewhere I missed a line and instead of getting on the New Jersey turnpike, we stayed on I-40 east. . .the scenery was lovely and I was reading aloud to John.

hmm, I guess if we drive far enough east we'll hit the ocean, I told my husband. . .

Indeed, we hit the ocean, in Atlantic City, imagine that? And then we were lost. . . in Atlantic City.

Heart, why are you fearful? And of course, every city has a way out. . .

Yet more confusion-toll roads, turnpike tickets, a maze of highway arteries, an intense traffic snarl in New York City (how did we end up in Manhattan?)

Heart, why are you fearful?

I texted our kids, Pray! We're tied up in New York City-Scarey! (one cheeky girl suggested we visit Central Park and the Empire State Building.)

We crossed the George Washington Bridge, and of course, every city has a way out. . .

That morning as John and I wandered east through New Jersey, I was reading to him from the autobiography of Patricia St. John. She writes of the Morracan children who packed into her little room to hear the parable of the lost sheep, of their delight, amazement. . .The man having a hundred sheep, if he he has lost one, leaves the ninety-nine and goes after the one that is lost, until he finds it. . .then he carries it home on his shoulders, rejoicing (Lk 15)

And such is the Good Shepherd, always. . .

in Virginia. . .

2011-07-08T20:12:00.001-07:00

though I am absent in body, yet I am with you in spirit, rejoicing to see your good discipline and the firmness of your faith in Christ.

Alex lived with us in Texas when he was single and young in the Lord. Arriving home from work and school, he would say, "Darcie, can we have tea and talk?" So, we visited Alex and Kathy in Virgina last week; we met their sweet children. I was cleaning out the car and Alex called to me, "Aren't you going to join the conversation?" Not much has changed, and I'm glad.

Deborah was part of our home group Bible study in Texas-she is dear to us; in April she married Paul and he took her to Virginia. Last week we ate Mexican food with Paul and Deborah in Virginia, imagine that? We asked Paul what he's learned about Deborah since they married. . ."Have you tasted her chocolate cookies?. . .She's kind and soft spoken now, just like before I married her!"
While John drives, I've been reviewing Colossians 2:1-5, practicing my verses for him- and thanking the Lord for our sweet young friends in Virginia.

For though I am absent in body, yet I am with you in spirit, rejoicing to see your good discipline and the firmness of your faith in Christ.

in North Carolina. . .

2011-07-06T19:12:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Mr. Newton and Mrs. Newton. . .a note on the bedside table in 5 year old style, 2 water bottles and 2 Hersheys chocolate bars. So- Allan, Courtney and 5 sweet children welcomed us to North Carolina.
We arrived Monday evening, the same day Allan deployed to the Middle East-expected, but not expected so soon.
John did bikes and bugs and baseball. . . and shoe tying lessons. I held tiny Rebekah and untangled the sewing machine bobbin a hundred times-perhaps we cushioned the gap a bit. . .

Courtney and I crammed a year's talk into 3 days. we sat at the the neighborhood lake, counting 1-2-3-4 dark heads. . .and we talked about life in a broken world, about God's grace and goodness.
And Courtney said, "Darcie, it's not until I experience the opposite of God's character that I really appreciate God's character. . .when I experience loneliness, then I appreciate that God will never leave me. . .when I experience upheaval, then I appreciate that God never changes. . . "

We explored that worthy thought, fleshing out truth with real life.

And I was so glad to be in North Carolina with my friend.

summer on the road. . .

2011-06-29T05:39:00.000-07:00

A few days ago we packed up the VW again, headed east on I-10, and 900 miles later we stopped in Auburn, Alabama. We spent the night in a hotel-imagine that?
My husband is an amazing packer; he fits things together like a puzzle-I watched him deftly manuvere 2 bicycles and a suitcase into the hotel elevator-I fit too.
The next morning a man in the hotel asked about our trip. . .5,000 miles planned!
Then we counted up the people we will visit-12 family groups (maybe more?)
An even dozen-we can hardly wait!

road trip, part 2

2011-06-28T09:38:00.000-07:00

I've noticed. . .most stories involve a Part 2.

Monday evening the VW came back repaired! I was set to drive home Tuesday.

However, I needed to be at the airport in Austin to pick up John at midnight-How to break up the drive? How to steward my time?

So I called a friend who lives half way . . .

"Here's the deal. . .can I come by for a visit? How about dinner?"

"Please come!" she said.

So, Tuesday afternoon my friend and her sweet children were waiting on the porch. The kids showed me the new puppy, new paint, new room decor, the boys showed me new matial arts moves (my friend showed me the window broken by a foot through the glass. . .I have boys.)

It was all good.

Later my friend and I sat together. We talked, and she brought up familiar themes -the need for vigor in the christian life, future fears, past regrets, priorities, priorities, choosing to believe truth when it's hard. . .. Lots poured out-and fast.

I thought, God's truth layers into our lives-always

Friend. . ."Blessed are those who keep His testimonies, who seek Him with their whole heart."

I left my friend's place after 9:00 and arrived at the airport just in time to meet John's plane.

We drove an hour home- I told him all about my good day. . . road trip, Part 2.

a cup. . and a girl

2011-06-25T06:06:00.000-07:00

I became a Texas Tech Mom when Mercy went away to college-this cup is big, too big for a comfortable coffee, so I eat vanilla ice cream out of it-and I think about Mercy studying hard, scooping ice cream on the side, in the Texas Panhandle.
But she's home for the summer-and last week we took a road trip to visit family in Dallas. We were hoping for a little adventure like that, just the 2 of us.
So-we drove and talked, drove through heavy traffic and talked. . .no music this time, just talk; we stopped for a coffee and more driving and talk-talk about vision, communication, relationships, writing, the gospel, people-how to love the people in our lives. . .
"if I can't connect with a person, it's probably because I haven't taken time to find out how we're alike," she said.
True, I thought
The next morning our road trip took a slight twist when the VW wouldn't start.
John and Noah attempted to trouble by phone, Texas to California;they concluded the VW needed a real mechanic.
And the next day Mercy took the Greyhound home-7 hours on the bus, by herself.
hmmm, not really by herself-I missed the talk. . .

Aunt Mercy and Adalyn

when the kitchen is 100 degrees. . .

2011-06-20T11:40:00.000-07:00

Today I'm going through old cooking magazines, tearing pages from Summer Cookbook. The recipes look amazing, cool dishes for hot summer days-but my kitchen is 100 degrees. . .
Summer comes and goes in my kitchen, and I've learned a few things:

Butter puddles fast on the counter (and honey pours onto my toast- good)

Yeast dough balloons up and out the bowl (hint: no summer breadmaking)

Buy few bananas. . .

Close the refridgerator door fast-less humitity inside the fridge means less drip.

Plug in the crockpot on the deck-outside

Eat salad-

Well, I say Eat Salad, but in 100 degrees food wilts, looks and tastes just so-so; I tell myself, most women in the world cook- serve- eat in hot kitchens like mine, or hotter. .
I've also learned that grumbling and comparing are in my heart, on my tongue. I know- Scripture is packed with verses about contentment, but today I just need to remember the gospel, what I deserve and the great price Jesus paid with his blood, for me.
Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness (Ps 37)
. . .a very good reminder to dwell right here in my kitchen, to feed the people I love, and to be amazed by the gospel

more about grace

2011-06-17T08:56:00.000-07:00

This week I enjoyed an evening with my friend Debbie.
Amid the good talk, Debbie shared a story of how God had affected specific change in her life more than 20 years ago; then I shared how 40 years ago God displayed his grace in a similar situation in my own life.
Over coffee and 4 squares of dark chocolate, we remembered God's amazing grace - good for the soul.

Recently I read Glenda's Story, Led by Grace by Glenda Revell. Years ago I borrowed and read the book but finally decided to buy my own copy-to read again, to lend out. . .
Glenda tells her story. . .a childhood of abuse, neglect, suffering- horrifying proof of the reality of sin and of the perils of living in a broken world.
But in the preface, Glenda writes, "If this were just a story about my suffering, it would be ordinary, for suffering is as commonplace as life itself. Rather this is an account of an extraordinary Savior, who brings light out of darkness, joy out of sorrow, peace out of pain. . ."
Read Glenda's story- led by grace
This morning I read Psalm 121-The Lord is your keeper, the shade on your right hand, the sun will not smite you by day. . .the Lord will protect you from all evil; He will keep your soul.

hmm, reminds me of Glenda's story-and my story, and yours'. . .

as you like it. . .

2011-06-16T06:07:00.000-07:00

While John's in California I'm doing some extra stitching. . .
Gabrielle asked me, "How do you choose which fabrics goes where?"
"As you like it. . .that's my motto!"
My favorite part of making a baby quilt is arranging the squares. I just choose lovely fabric (these are by Moda) and play to my hearts content.
Maybe I'll deliver this one to little Florence in person next month.
We'll see. . .

boys, boys, boys (I love em)

2011-06-13T07:06:00.000-07:00

Sunday evening I was alone in my quiet house and the phone rang twice. My 3 boys were mountain biking in another city that evening. . .
Call #1: The youngest had flown over the handle bars on a downhill and his brother called me, "We think he broke his collar bone or dislocated his shoulder. . .he's okay but he doesn't have his insurance card-could you text the info?"
(then I remembered a phone call from a different boy, on a Sunday evening 5 years ago, "Mom, I crashed on my bike, remember my nice straight teeth?")
Aye, boys! I thought

Call #2: So, I hung up with my boys and answered a call from a friend, the mother of 3 boys. . .I heard her sweet voice, "I wanted to tell you about my youngest, he's 18. . ."

What do I tell her? . . .just what I remind myself-

Don't worry, trust God (nothing will happen to my boy that is outside of God's soverign control)

Share truth with him-and be humble

Listen a lot- and don't talk so much.

Pray, of course, and tell him. . .

Love him with words and deeds (notes and gifts cards are good) -love is patient, kind, not arrogant. . .bears all, believes all, hopes all. . .

Be more concerned with my own heart before God than with his.

So-I prayed with my friend, for us both,

Be anxious for nothing but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all comprehension , shall guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Phil 4:6,7)

hmmm, a quiet evening at home, I thought, and 2 good phone calls.

one about my heart-and ministry

2011-06-10T13:58:00.000-07:00

John's school year ended yesterday-sigh, and I just took him to the airport; he'll be in California for 12 days. And I'll be home in Texas. . . reading, writing, creating, cleaning, visiting, serving, drinking cold coffee, eating toast and jam (and maybe blue cheese!) When I go away, John doesn't sleep-when he goes away. . .I plan too much (and miss him).

Serving. . . lots of opportunities for me in that arena lately; I'm thankful.

However, the other day I remembered words of a wise man: ministry can be messy. . .and words of the Master,

For whoever wishes to save his life shall loose it, but whoever looses his life for my sake, he is the one who will save it. (Lk 9:24)

So, that day ministry was messy-and unfulfilling and frustrating and exhausting. . . hmmm, seems I'm content and challenged in all things noble as long as loosing my life is going my own way. . .whoever looses his life for My sake, he is the one who will save it. (And He convicts, He always does. . .)

Home again, I found an unexpected note from a new friend, and a suprise phone call from far away. . . inspite of myself, He always encourages-while John's away, I'll send a few notes, make a few calls. . . loose my life, examine my heart.

a cup and a memory

2011-06-08T06:19:00.000-07:00

On a shopping venture with my girls, I spied this lovely cup-perfect in every way. A week later with birthday money in hand, I went back to the store and bought it-a gift to self!

And so Gabrielle was at my house one day. . ."When did you get this one?" she asked.

" I wanted to buy you the matching tea pot, but when I went back to the store, it was gone!"

hmm, I like to think about that little scenario.

The cup handle is missing, yep, broke off. . .still lovely in every way.

apply your heart to discipline. . .

2011-06-06T05:07:00.000-07:00

So, the other day I had a long phone conversation with a dear friend; she lives in another state.
We have been young and now we are old. . . between us, we've raised 15 children.
We talked about shifting rolls, about expectations and how change is almost always perceived as loss; we shared common confusion and challenge and the suprising revelation of sin--hmmm, how could it be?
And I reminded my friend that really, God has brought us to an amazing season of life-let's pursue Him with single minded devotion. . . and she agreed.
From my bookshelf I pulled down a worn copy of Spiritual Disciplines for the Christian Life by Donald Whitney-the book our women's Bible study will read for 7 weeks this summer. I cherish my old copy-the inside cover is inscribed. . . we wanted to share this book with you, praying that the Lord will deal especially bountifully with you in 1994-with love. . .

I read the introductory chapter, Spiritual Disciplines. . .for the Purpose of Godliness-I thought about my friend, about our talk.
Curious, isn't it. . .God is commited to my holiness; He will
assuredly work Christlikeness in me, yet I'm not merely to wait for holiness, I'm to pursue it! "Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy. . ." Hebrews 12:14 (the verse I've taped to my bathroom mirror)
hmm, this is a good book-the author examines the channels of God's grace: Bible intake, prayer, worship, evangelism, service, stewardship, fasting, silence and solitude, journaling and learning.
Spurgeon wrote, "I must take care above all that I cultivate communion with Christ, for though that can never be the basis of my peace-mark that-yet it will be the channel of it."

So, I wrote to my friend. . .I told her about my plan to deliberately, consistently put myself in the path of Jesus through the spiritual disciplines, that He will change me from the inside out. And I told her about my Bible intake that day, because sometimes just being accountable to another believer is spiritual exercise, don't you agree?

what we do together (I held the screwdriver)

2011-06-02T13:13:00.000-07:00

Growing up, I never remember our cars breaking down. . . I'm sure they did, but my father always sent our vehicles off to the shop for maintanance and repair.
Then I got married; during that first year of marriage my husband replaced the engine in our orange Fiat-and so goes our life for 39 years . . .
Sometimes there's a little drama, some stress, frustration-you know, car repairs can be unperdictable (all creation groans, right? even the mechanical part.)

So, we're getting ready for a big summer road trip; the VW's timing belt needed replacing.
John asked me, "This time would you like me to send the car to a shop?"
hmmm, no. . .(I thought of the money we could pour into our diesel tank rather than into the pocket of a mechanic.)
So, Monday was the day-my husband was energized.
Francis, our good friend, was right by his side the whole way, well almost- a 5 hour job turned into 12 hours. . .
I'm married to a hopeful man.
He came inside, ate 2 chocolate cookies, "I'm taking a break to pray," he said. (me too)
Then he narrated the situation-I listened. . .back on the job, he called me out to the garage, to hold the screwdriver.
That night Francis called, "How's it progressing?"
Great! Darcie held the screwdriver. . . (but really, listening helps every time)

176 verses

2011-05-31T07:17:00.000-07:00

Patricia invited me for an evening at her place last week.
And she invited Laura-we met for the first time.
There were treats-fruit, dates, hot herbal tea. . .and good conversation right from the start.
Every person's life story is unique, intriguing, don't you think? I love to listen. . .how does Gospel truth intersect here? I ask myself, because it does, always, I'm certain. . .
I've discovered that much of my life struggle has to do with the focus of my longing. . .
mmm, what if we read Psalm 119, aloud, right now? I suggested that night.
So, we collected 3 Bibles and started at the beginning. We read all 176 verses, taking turns, making observations along the way; we read for an hour. . . imagine that?

My soul languishes for your salvation. . . my eyes fail with longing for your Word. . . revive me according to Your lovingkindness, I will never forget your precepts. . .I anticipate the nightwatches that I may meditate on Your Word. . .O how I love Your law! . . .revive me, O Lord, according to your word, revive me. . .revive me. . .

Then we drank water. . .and I ate more dates.

A good evening, indeed.

what I do for a living

2011-05-27T16:39:00.000-07:00

Another cup, another story. . .
one summer I visited my sweet sister in California; we enjoyed coffee at Pete's (mmm, good coffee)- then I purchased this cup. I take it down from my cupboard and think, this one doesn't fit me- colors too bright, cup too big, handle sticks out. . . But really, I love it- blueberries on bold yellow, shiney glaze and memories with my sister. (and the lip is chipped. . .)

Last week I met Jennifer and Amy for coffee. . . each is on the brink of unexpected life changes; for a long time I've met them 1 on 1, but recently we've been a threesome.
And it's been good-just taking in their talk, their mutual exhortation, and I interject a little. . .
How can we pray for you? they ask.
So, I told them about my appointment with a new doctor, about my dislike for those forms that ask personal information . . .
What do you do? where do you work? your employer?
I use to say, "I stay home with my kids." But the kids aren't home anymore. . .maybe she thinks I play bingo, that I'm spending my children's inheritance (silly)
Heart, it doesn't matter what she thinks -remember, the fear of man brings a snare.

And that day in the new doctor's office, it wasn't so bad, really.
"So, I see here that you mentor women. . .you're a counselor then. Is that what you do for a living?"
do for a living?. . .a counselor?
No, not really-I'm a wife, a mother, my children are grown up, I meet women over coffee. . .what I do for a living? Well, I'm a Christ follower. . .
thanks for asking.

squash like candy

2011-05-25T06:05:00.000-07:00

Our friend, Ralph, recently moved into the room above our garage. I'm not totally sure how this living arrangement will work out, but one thing is clear-Ralph needs us.
So, in Ralph's evaluation, I'm an A+ cook, "Sister Darcie, even when you're not home I can smell the cooking from your kitchen . . . and I think, she's that kind of cook, even when she's not cookin it smells like cookin!"
Last week a friend gave me a pile of collard greens- I cooked and served them up. "How are the collards, Ralph?"
He tells me, "mmm, just like my sister made!"

Tatume squash, that's what I have growing in my front yard. I planted it because the picture on the seed package looks like the squash that grows in the corn fields in Mexico. Indeed, the vine ingulfs everything; I carefully lift the vine while John mows.
Yesterday I sliced and sauteed Tatume squash; after dinner I overheard Ralph on the phone,
"How does sister Darcie make squash so good?. . .her squash tastes like candy."

garlic. . . the secret is garlic.

Psalm 106. . .and grace

2011-05-23T06:49:00.000-07:00

Day after day I bump into grace. . .
God's grace confronts me in his Word, in books, in people, in circumstances, in creation. Ahh, God's grace is huge-and sometimes I'm surprised. . .

The other day I read Psalm 106-48 verses narrating Israel's rebellion and God's deliverances.

So, God's covenant people forsake Him, exchange his glory for a beast, despise the good land, grumble in their tents, forget his works, yoke themselves to Baal, eat sacrifices offered to the dead, rebel against His spirit, mingle with the nations, serve idols, shed the blood of their sons and daughters. . . their hearts are wicked verse after verse; and God gave his people into the hand of the nations- those who hated them ruled over them. . .

Then there was grace. . .
Nevertheless, He looked upon their distress, when He heard their cry; and He remembered His covenent and relented according the the greatness of His lovingkindness. He made them objects of compassion. . .
And me? Well, last week I didn't sacrifice children to idols, nor join myself to Baal, nor serve gods of other nations. . .but honestly, I've known temptation, known my human frailty, grumbled in my tent- recently!
Nevertheless, He looked upon my distress, heard my cry. . .he made me an object of his compassion. . .

worship

sweet encouragement

2011-05-19T06:24:00.000-07:00

Last week Amaleah spent the night with John and me-just one little grandaughter all to ourselves in this big house. . .so, we ran errands in the afternoon and stopped at a special shop for a little treat; then I asked Amaleah what she does with her other grandmother. . .

"Well, we have a sewing project and a cooking project. . . we always have coffee in the afternoon with a treat that she baked and saved in the freezer!"
I sighed, confessing to Amaleah that the treats I bake get eaten up fast or given away. . .I rarely think about saving and freezing for another day.
"That's okay, Gran, you are two different people!" she said.
Ah- sweet, impartiality. . . (and 8 year old wisdom)

cousins

books in my bed

2011-05-17T22:07:00.000-07:00

After breakfast one Saturday morning, I discovered this sweet group in my bed- So, I offered, "How about a read aloud, girls?"

Lately there's been a treasure of children's books at Half Price Books-most I give away, but a select few I keep in my pile-for occasions like this. . . Snowflake Bentley by Jacqueline Briggs Martin is a recent addition- "In the days when farmers worked with ox and sled and cut the dark with lantern light, there lived a boy who loved snow more than anything else in the world. . ."

So the story begins. . .Wilson Bentley, born in 1865 in Vermont, loved snow; with an old microscope, Willie caught snowflakes and studied the icy crystals-each one a small miracle! For 3 winters he tried to draw then, but they always melted. . . Willie yearned to capture the ice crystals' exquisite beauty for all to see, and one day, his parents spent their entire savings and bought their boy a camera with its own microscope. . .and the rest is history, literally. Willie told a friend, "I can't afford to miss a single snowstorm, I never know when I will find some wonderful prize." Ah, that I would examine each speck of creation with such wonder. . .
I love the story- and Mary Azarian's lovely woodcuts bring the book to life. I think I'll keep this one in my own stack for a while. (stop by for a read and some coffee)

in my house

2011-05-13T14:29:00.000-07:00

hmmm, Friday-the end of the week, obviously. . .and I've been thinking about Psalm 101.

I read it on Monday, but the verses keep coming back to me-it's that way with the Spirit and God's Word.

And God probes me here:

"I will give heed to the blameless way. . .I will walk within my house in the integrity of my heart".

My heart is a private place. . .and so is my house.

I live in my heart and no one sees (but God).

10 people use to live in my houses, but now it's just John and me-I walk within my house and no one sees (but God).

So. . .all week I've been thinking, praying, and talking with women about God's call and my commitment (how commited am I, really?) to integrity in the post private places- (do I slander my neighbor secretly in my heart? verse 5)

And I think. . . it's here that you and I answer the question: today how do I bring God the most glory?

radishes with butter

2011-05-11T06:04:00.000-07:00

The other day I pulled these lovely red globes from my friend's radish patch.
I thought of Malachai, my sweet grandson. . .he likes radishes too.
And he's having a birthday!
"Gran, can we have whole radishes dipped in butter like they do in France!"
Okay, okay, my boy- imagining that you were in Texas for your birthday. . . I would prepare a large bowl of radishes just for you and me-with butter on the side, like they do in France.
(Believe me, nobody else in Texas eats radishes with butter.)

then we'd eat cake!

half-finished

2011-05-09T06:05:00.000-07:00

This week I'm working to finish up all that is not . . .so, I added a little collar here-mmmm, not a perfect collar, but I doubt she'll notice. . .the sweet grandaughter we're expecting in July.
And next the buttons-maybe wooden or pewter?
And there's more unfinished stuff around here. . .yarn and fabric, reading and writing, sorting and sending; for me there's delight in the process aswell as the product-I love the feeling of a home in process-
(I think I wrote a post about that, once!)
But honestly- half-finished seems to be the theme around here these days.
I'm working on it. . .
Mostly, though, I don't want half-finished relationships.
Today-how can I bring God the most glory?

So, this week I'll make some phone calls, send some notes, set up some belated coffee dates, arrange some visits. . . and love the people in my life, wholeheartedly, until the end.

. . . a worthy pursuit

thirsty. . .

2011-05-04T08:16:00.000-07:00

Aye, we need rain! The winds blow warm, the nights are hot. . .and it's spring.
My garden beds are green- I've been hose watering, but all around the earth is burnt and cracked. This afternoon John held the hose and I watched cardinals, finches, doves, mockingbirds in my front yard dipping water from the hose junction- a bright cardinal lifted his neck, bubbling down water. In south Texas all creation thirsts.

So, this morning our neighbor came for breakfast-a kind man, he grows and sells beautiful plants; his soul is parched-here, drink living water, water without cost . . .

As for Me? Keep thirsting, drinking-always. . .

O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. (Psalm 63:1)

conversation and meditation

2011-04-30T09:03:00.000-07:00

I have a collection of cups, each with a story. . .
Once Rachel and Abigail rode a tandem along the ocean, roamed a quaint coastal town, wandered into a shop with Italian pottery and purchased this lovely mug for me!
Now after 7 years, the rim reveals chips - and each time I choose this one, I think of my girls on a sister outing together. . .nice.
And this week I met a friend for coffee. We talked about God's call to obey, "If you love me, you will obey me," calls our good King.
And obedience is hard, but worth it. . . because God's glory is worth it.
I read Jesus' words to my friend,
If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily, and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life shall lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake, he is the one who will save it. (Lk 9:23-24)

Then I went home. . . I pulled down my Italian cup with the chipped rim and I made a cup of Earl Grey-just for me. And I thought a lot about the words of Jesus, just for me.

whoever wishes to save his life shall loose it, whoever looses his life for my sake will save it.
mmmm, what specific ways have I been trying to "save my life" rather than lose it?
Curious, isn't it. . .how those words of Jesus were just for me.

words in a broken world. . .

2011-04-27T05:47:00.000-07:00

Last week Diana and I spent a day translating a bridal shower devotional-over breakfast, lunch, and coffee, we reminded each other, Communication is more complex than just translated words!
Girls night out-mmm, how do I translate that to avoid sounding like. . .well, you know.
Endurance- more than patience. . .maybe a combination of words?

"Careful, Darcie, here the meaning is different in Spanish. . .this reference we leave out, okay?" Ah, friend, I'm thankful for you!
And the Gospel translates, no matter the language, the power and the truth translate!

It was a good day, a worthy pursuit with a friend. . .but even a faithful translation can be misunderstood, you know.
And so it is even when we speak the same language, right? No matter my sincerity, no matter how exact my words, there's no guarantee, and sometimes I'll be misunderstood. . . such is life in a world broken by sin.

So, I'll keep working at it, pursuing clarity. . . remembering the Savior, who communicated perfectly-yet was misunderstood.
Lord, create in me a humble, teachable heart.

dear aunts and uncles. . .

2011-04-22T07:04:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning these children came for breakfast-7 sweet cousins, imagine that? So, we snapped a few pictures, then the food. . .
We ate and talked, and the littlest boy, the one with the roundest blue eyes, ate his blueberries. . .well, a few blueberries inside, lots on the floor and table, but really-mostly he sat on his blueberries.

Buddie, look at you! exclaimed one uncle.
then the aunts and uncles converged-mopping, wiping, scrubbing (the little shorts will never be the same).
-good thing a boy has aunts and uncles around when his mother is busy serving everybody and his grandmother is just standing there, amused. . .

just this. . .

2011-04-20T06:02:00.000-07:00

Today I reviewed Colossians 1: 1-24.

So, I've been rumminating a bit. . .when life seems confusing-crushing,
Heart, remember just this:

He has delivered me from the domain of darkness and transferred me to the kindgom of his beloved Son, in whom I have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. (vs13-14)

And that's enough. . .

love listens

2011-04-18T07:41:00.000-07:00

I hear her mother say,

Selma, love listens. . .and listening works hard to understand the words-

hmmm, that's good, and good for me now. . .remember: love listens.

sometimes I forget the hard work part; sometimes I resist. . . (and sometimes I just talk.)

And one night as I tucked her into bed . . . Gran, I'm gong to take my bed to Mexico City and when you come to visit me, you can sleep in my bed.

nice, sweet girl.

about waiting. . .

2011-04-11T07:34:00.000-07:00

Last week Dian and I wandered the museum grounds.

I wonder about this girl. . ."Ah, Til we have Faces," said my literary friend. I like an artist to give some context to his piece, like a label-

this girl only has a name, Victoria-and her story?

hmm, a girl made of stainless steel- I like her neck, the curve of her mouth, her round, smooth hair.

And I think she is waiting. . .

This week I"ve been thinking, reading, praying about waiting. So, waiting is a kin to being caught in the middle of something- caught in the middle. . . hmm, I was meant to live for something bigger than myself, bigger than my relationsships, situations, locations; I'm part of God's kingdom, and while I wait, He's crafting me. . .

Wait for the Lord, be strong and let your heart take courage, wait for the Lord! (Ps 27:14)

"There are times when waiting is painful, impossible. . .but we wait because the world is carefully administered by the one Person who is ultimate in power, ulitmate in authority, ultimate in wisdom, ultimate in love. I am being asked to wait by One I can trust." (Paul Tripp)

And I can rest. . .He's doing good in me, even though at this moment it feels as if I have been caught in the middle.

thankful for grace.

chair project. . .and a visit

2011-04-07T06:01:00.000-07:00

I inherited 6 lovely oak chairs from a friend. ( they match my floors!)

I'll replace the seat covers-John advises that a few need regluing, but really, they're okay, I say. . .

I plan to replace one bench at my dining room table with chairs-easier seating for some.

One afternoon last week my neighbor, Nieves, came by for a visit. Nieves works long days in a meat packing plant, in refrigeration- it"s been months since her last visit. I offered her one of my new chairs, a nice one with arms. We shared life for more than an hour- family, photos, flower seeds.

creak. . .creak. . .(Aye-every time she shifted in my lovely chair).

"No te mortifices" (don't worry), she said. . .and again.

And I did worry about it. After Nieves left, John got out the gorilla glue.

something knitted

2011-04-04T05:33:00.000-07:00

I'm blocking this little shrug-for Selma. Her mother suggested white or navy blue. I'm hoping it fits our sweet 3 year old-if not, there are plenty of little girls in my life, and I'll try again for Selma, knitting the same pattern with bigger needles.

And a button-it still needs one button!

I love this pattern- it's quick, easy: "Knitting Pure & Simple"-Little Girl's Shrug.

parsley, sage, rosemary, and. . .

2011-04-01T07:14:00.000-07:00

One day this week I met an old friend- we strolled the grounds of the art museum and ate lunch at Twin Sisters-a favorite spot, crowded, noisey. . .

"I like the hum!" said my friend.

So there amid the buzz, we ate soup-talked, encouraged, challenged. . .until there was no longer any buzz in that place. My old friend-really, she's not old, but our friendship has been long, and we're growing older. . . nice, I think. from my yard in the morning, I cut her a bouquet-Parsley, Sage, Rosemary. . .sorry, no Thyme!

"How appropriate," she said, "Always so little time!"

some 5 year old wisdom

2011-03-30T05:19:00.000-07:00

One evening last week John and I were grandparent babysitters. Julia talked-and when it came time for the bedtime chat. . .

"Gran, does God have a birthday?

"God has no beginning, no end, he's always been. . .so, sweet girl, God doesn't have a birthday!" (grandmother wisdom)

"I don't understand that," she said. (5 year old wisdom)

then-

"Gran, is Aunt Mercy a grown up?"

"hmmm-Sure, Aunt Mercy's a grown up!"

"No, I don't think so," she said. . ."Aunt Mercy is 1/2 grown up and 1/2 kid."

Aunt Mercy and Julia

bad advice-good advice

2011-03-28T09:43:00.000-07:00

Last week during our Bible study discussion, this question came up, "what are some subtle ways that a Christian woman might give anti-God advice?"

One woman shared how years ago when she was very young in the faith, she was stuggling with desire to read her Bible; an older woman advised her to read romance novels-to help her get in the mood. .

Bad advice! (not too subtle)

"Did you take the advice?" we asked.

"No- but I started reading my Bible every day- even when I didn't feel like it. And pretty soon I realized that I had to read my Bible-it's who I am, the air I breathe."

hmmm, good advice. . . (I love that advice)

Now then, I have never counseled a woman to read romance novels, honest. . .but it makes me think, How have I subtly given anti-God advice?

I've been praying-Lord, give me more discernment, more humility. . .

friday morning and blueberry buckle

2011-03-25T06:09:00.000-07:00

Sydney comes to my house Friday mornings. We work on Spanish-and we talk and eat a little . . . last Friday we ate breakfast tacos and I made blueberry buckle.
I didn't have blueberries but subtituted blackberries from my freezer, Yuumm. . .
So, this blueberry buckle is a family favorite with a nice memory-
15 years ago-or so, we spent a summer vacation with good friends attending seminary in Mississippi. My friend made Blueberry Buckle for Sunday morning breakfast.
And back in Texas I did the same-years and years of blueberry buckle for Sunday morning!

Blueberry Buckle
2 cups flour
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 tsp. salt, 2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 cup butter
3/4 cup mil
1 egg
2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries
blend first 4 ingredients; melt and cool butter, mix with milk, and egg. combine and beat 30 seconds. carefully stir in blueberries; spread batter in pan (I use a 9" round) and top with:

Crumble: 1/2 cup sugar, 1/3 cup flour, 1/2 tsp cinnamon, 1/4 cup butter; mix ingredients until cumbly. Bake @ 350 for 40-50 minutes.
I love this coffe cake because it's not too sweet and the berries are mixed all through the batter. I like to eat it with a scoop of plain yogurt on the side!
try it some time-any day of the week.

names in her head, maps in his. . .

2011-03-23T06:36:00.000-07:00

My sweet friend, Deborah, is getting married - last week I had an opportunity to give her a little encouragement.
So, I thought about the yarn in my stash-a ball of sturdy 100% wool, bold blue (like him) and a hank of lovely pale green, all cotton, organic (like her), both natural fibers- Oh, so different!
In the essentials, he and she are alike-but different, like cotton and wool. . .created uniquely-different families, lifestyles, interests, preferences. . .

Elisabeth Elliot writes, "You marry a man. . .he is likely to be bigger and louder and rougher and hungrier and dirtier than a woman expects, and she finds that bigger feet make bigger footprints, a bigger noise on the stairs. He eats far more than seems necessary. When he takes a shower his broader dimensions mean more water used and a greater surface for water to cling to and therefore she finds that the towels get much wetter. . .it is a man she married, after all, and she is lucky if he acts like a man." (Let Me Be a Woman)

" She does her husband good, not evil (not harm) all the days of her life." (Prov 31:11)
So-considering differences, could a wife do her husband evil?
mmmm. . . indeed, if she says "I do" expecting to change her husband- or if she insists, (or insinuates), that her way is the right way (differences are preferences, neither right nor wrong)- or if she compares him to another man. . . Aye, poison!

How about doing good? Considering differences . . .embrace them! I know, it's not always so simple. I have names in my head, he has maps in his head. . . what? another hand-drawn map to get me where?
I remind myself to put off irritation, to put on patience, to avoid any belittling tone or attitude (you know, names are about people-maps are just paper)-
and laughter is good. . . .
hmm, it's hard sometimes. "Lord, show me how to do my husband good all the days of our life together."
I need grace to keep doing it - day after day until the end.

they grow up. . .what to do?

2011-03-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

We're spending a few days with our north Texas family-playing, working, talking a lot . . .
I have 8 children, all grown up-
And sometimes I wonder, How do I show them love-now?
I haven't discovered a formula, a do this, don't do that manual -
Be available-that's good. . .drive the extra mile, lend a hand, listen, give cheer, pray really hard for them.
love is patient, kind, not jealous, does not brag, is not arrogant, is not rude, does not seek it's own. . .bears, endures all things. . .(1 cor 13)
I'll keep learning how to do this- and I'm grateful that they keep coming over, keep inviting us back-and keep trusting us with their children. Imagine that?

projects. . .old and new

2011-03-16T06:53:00.000-07:00

I finally finished Adalyn's quilt-Mercy chose the fabric for this one-
I love it! Spring break this week-we'll hand deliver. . .

And I'm on to the next one-a quilt for baby Florence. . .

8 lovely fabrics, some with polka dots- 4 inch squares-create!

And one more. . . Josiah and Lindsey's baby girl will arrive this summer.

hmm-in Texas, New York, Tennessee- 3 dear grandaughters in a year.

Colossians-2 verses a week. . .

2011-03-14T06:51:00.000-07:00

It's been a good week-I planted tomato seedlings (and nudged aside the bluebonnets to accomodate the eggplant).
This week I'm memorizing Colossians 1: 15-18, the preeminence of Christ. . .
And one evening I visited LM -she's 92.
I love the story-in December LM misdialed her phone and my friend, Patricia, answered.
So, they talked. . .Patricia listened, prayed, and many many phone calls later. . .

"Would you come with me to visit LM? I need an older woman along."
Sure. . .
I am older-but not yet 92!
So we went. . .winding through the corridor maze at the assisted living facility, we found LM waiting in her little room, expectantly.
She told us her life story- and I thought, "as sparks fly upward, so man was born to adversity."
"See, I'm reading Genesis on my Kindle," she said
her kindle?
And later, "Do you really believe that Jesus is God??" she asked.
Oh, indeed, I do!
I spied a Bible in a pile-

All things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. And He is the head of the body, the church. . .(colossians 1: 15-18)

Then LM said, "I better read Colossians. . .if I can figure out this Kindle."
Now then- could a week be better?

And then she was 8. . .

2011-03-10T06:01:00.000-08:00

This week I'm thinking about Rachel (happy birthday!). . .in my mother's saved papers, I discovered a little treasure- Rachel, age 8, narrating a father-daughter adventure:

I went with my papa for a 3 day walk. We walked over 4 mountains and 10 rivers.

I saw lots of red mud. I asked my papa if I could put it in my pocket and show it to Mama, but Papa said, "I don't think Mama would be very impressed by red mud!"

In Nanacatlan I went to school with my friend, Flor de Coral, for one day. We stayed overnight with Pedro and Josepha, and I made another friend. Josepha is kind. Once she made me a blouse like the Totonac ladies wear.

In Zongosotla they gave me sardines for breakfast. I gave them to Papa and he ate them all. I drank the rice atole and ate the tortillas. When I got home I was tired. Papa had to carry me a little. . .

What a plucky 8 year old! (from a mother's heart, right?). . . 4 mountains and 10 rivers-

she still dislikes sardines. . .

just a card in the box

2011-03-08T04:41:00.000-08:00

My sister continues sorting boxes of keepsakes in our mother's garage-boxes of papers.
Recently she discovered a postcard addressed to me from my Nana Violet and mailed from California to Virginia in 1953. . .the find of the week!

My mother loved hand written letters, receiving-sending-saving.

And increasingly she distained electronic mail-

I kind of like it, myself. . .

But last week I sent a hand written note to an old friend here in town-

"I miss you, let's get together, I'm praying. . .call me!" I wrote (with my favorite pen)

And she did. The next day I listened to the sweet message she left on my phone,

"thanks for the note, I love the card-I can read it over and over, any time. that's nice!"

And in my mind I hear my mother's approval.

authentic blessing

2011-03-04T06:52:00.000-08:00

I grew up out west- a yankee. . .but I've lived in the South for 20 years.

hmmm. . .Texas sky is big, folks are friendly, and when God brings you to a place- well, it's always good.
Texas talk is different. . .Bless your heart gets sandwiched into all sorts of dialogue. I'm still trying to decipher the hidden meaning -

And randomly I say it (really, me ?) -bless her heart just slips out when I don't know what else to say. . .

But sometimes my heart is honestly blessed, and the words ring authentic. . .

dear girls-

for me, last Friday's prayer time was amazing-

I didn't prod (or did I?)-you shared your circumstances, but aswell the inside part-one of you even came back after everthing was shared and added a personal part, without a prompt. We laughed and cried-you yearned to love God and people.

And you took the little strips of paper and prayed the Scriptures for each other- for me.

Really girls, you bless my heart -I see grace at work .

kitchen face lift. . .

2011-02-28T13:11:00.000-08:00

This week I'm ruminating about blessings. . .like my amazing new baking drawer.

My good friend, Cameron, has been visiting.

She came from Missouri on business. . . we've had our own business going on.

you see, Cameron bravely offered to help organize my kitchen-she's really good at that.

Darcie, it's all about centers. . . okay, I believe you.

So, we emptied my entire kitchen into the dinning room-(my husband said, Scarey!)

Over 20 years, Cameon and I have weathered a lot of life-and now my kitchen. . .

she wasn't put off by my dust and disorder-(or the 2 dried up cockroaches in the corner cupboard) and I was okay with it. . .good friends.

We worked 2 days and just about finished the job; while I was wearing down and itchy to move on, Cameron seemed energized by my kitchen challenge.

It's like this. . .I would skip lunch to write something (or talk) and my friend would skip lunch to organize something, imagine that?

mmmm, now my kitchen has a drink center. . .drop by sometime and see.

(thanks old friend)

sock yarn and baby hats

2011-02-25T14:27:00.000-08:00

I knit and give away many baby hats.
I love self patterning sock yarn- these tiny projects fit handily in any book bag.
So, I've been experimenting with needle sizes to produce a newborn size cap.
And in the end-here's the recipe that sticks:

Cast on 80 stitches on size 2 (or 1 1/2) double pointed needles.
knit in the round for 4-4 1/2 inches.
shape crown with decreases:
knit 6, knit 2 together, repeat to end of round.
knit round (and every other round)
knit 5, knit 2 together, repeat to end of round
knit round
knit 4, knit 2 together, repeat to end of round.
knit round
knit 3, knit 2 together, repeat to end of round.
knit round
knit 2, knit 2 together, repeat to end of round.
knit round
knit 1, knit 2 together, repeat to end of round.
knit 2 toether, repeat to end of round.
Cut year, leaving a 6 inch tail; using a yarn needle, thread tail through remaining stitches, pull tightly to close hole and secure.

It's always a bit of mystery how the little hat will stripe. . .I love the suprise!

strips of paper in a jar

2011-02-23T06:24:00.000-08:00

Last week Amy, Dahlia, and I met for coffee. . .

How can we share our lives-and better minister to the girls in our Friday night group?
(and all the other girls the Lord may bring our way)
hmmm, wonderful girls-I love them!

It seems we share the circumstancial parts of life, no problem. . .jobs, school, trips, money, health, people, pets-and we talk about God and the heart of the matter.

But really, I want more, more of their lives!
Paul, the apostle, prayed for those he loved, and I have in my hands his inspired words, prayers from the heart of God!

So, we have a plan (at least a start) . . Amy offered to write Scripture prayers on strips of paper to fill a jar; then Fridays we'll each pull a strip from a jar and use the words to guide our prayers, prayers beyond the circumstances, if you know what I mean?

And of course, I'm thinking about Colossians; this week I'm reviewing and memorizing Colossians 1:11-14, and praying. . .that you may be strengthened with all power according to His glorious might, with all endurance and patience with joy.
(And Lord, that's what I need today-endurance and patience with joy.)

a weekend to remember. . .and 39 years.

2011-02-20T19:55:00.000-08:00

So-my bike has been parked upstairs for about 6 months-for a variety of good reasons (yes, at our house the bikes stay inside)

"How about a bike ride?" John asked me.

It was Sunday afternoon and a bike riding sort of day in south Texas-Sure!

He did all the work-collected the stuff, loaded up the bikes, planned the route. We ended up on the new bike path through a portion of downtown, under the city-nice perspective.

And the night before. . .the symphony! Vivaldi, Beethoven, 3rd row seats at the Majestic Theater, Imagine that?
So, I'm remembering: the symphony on Saturday (he didn't fall asleep), a bike ride on Sunday (I didn't fall off)-with the same man, celebrating 39 good years.
And I'm grateful to the Giver of all good things.

about grandmothers and mittens

2011-02-17T05:39:00.000-08:00

(thumbless mittens for our wee girl up north )

Sometimes I suprise Gabrielle and the grandchildren with a weekday visit; if it's lunch time, they invite me to share their good food. Then maybe Amaleah narrates a little school work and I ask Julia, Want me to read you a book?

I like to read my favorites, but Julia has favorites too. . . the other day I was firm about my choice, The Mitten by Jan Brett.

So- Baba, the grandmother in the story, wears a crown of braids and a brightly embroidered outfit-she knits mittens for Nikki, her grandson-white mittens, and just as she suspects, one mitten is lost in the clean, white snow. . .

(Gran, you were going to knit us mittens, green for Amaleah and pink for me-you forgot, interrupts Julia. . . I read on.)

However, the woodland creatures, both tiny and huge, claim Nikki's snow white mitten, squeezing their bodies in. . . "It was pulled and bulged to many times its size. But Baba's good knitting held fast." (ahh, what a knitter!)

. . . squeezed in and cozy until the bear's colossal sneeze.

Today is my Julia's birthday. . .mmm, maybe next year there will be pink mittens (it's almost spring in Texas!)

But there's something on the sewing machine I think she'll like.

And a new book. . . for us both.