A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - nobody puts baby in the corner



quirky(?)

 

I'm a mechanical pencil, Magic eraser, backspace key kinda gal. I enjoy a clean slate, the opportunity to try again, and the ability to edit.  Those writing exercises, where one types freely for five minutes, unedited, stream of thought...they're not for me.  I mull, ponder, contemplate.  I'm a (take a long) look before you leap, girl.  I like words to swirl around in my head a bit before committing them to a page.  I like the principal of thinking before speaking, though confess my children (and husband) are not always the recipient of such a disciplined tongue.  I tweak decorative items all around our home, shifting furniture an inch here, repositioning a vase there.  I cannot pass a crooked picture frame without straightening it.  If there is a spot on the counter, you'd better believe I'm going to grab a Clorox wipe (conveniently located under every sink in the house) and wipe it. I appreciate a pretty package, a well constructed bow, an added flourish.   I like the final product.  I'm intrigued with messy, but will choose neat (almost) every time. 

 

 I think often when I consider these tendencies, I spin them as negative or at best quirky.  However, lately, I cannot escape truths such as, I am made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27), am fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139: 13-14), and that I have been equipped with different kinds of gifts (1 Corinthians 12:4). 

 

I'm inspired by those that have the ability to be both articulate and passionate on the fly.  I know a few of those gems personally, and have the privilege of sharing life with one very unedited, dynamic soul.  More than ever before, I'm learning to appreciate and value the beauty and diversity that is so thoughtfully displayed in creation.  It is not by chance, but by design.  And, praise the sweet name of Jesus we are not all the same.

Today, I'm thankful for the white screen of possibility that exists {here} and the blinking cursor that patiently awaits my next train of thought.  I'm thankful for little ones that inspire me to self-examine, dig deep and ponder the ways I'm fearfully and wonderfully made, in an effort to see them (and the world around me) more thoughtfully.  I'm diggin' words expressed around the Web, BIG hearts writing openly and honestly.  I'm smitten with His creativity, and overwhelmed by His love for me.  I'm embracing wet counters and floors as the little man plays in the sink, towel ready to go.  And, I'm compelled to dance it out with the little lady, as she queues up another rockin' tune.

 



This Week

The importance of play.

 

How to be present in the midst of suffering.
 

 

 Amusing and rich in vocabulary, we read and reread.

 

Perhaps, my new favorite lip balm.

The melody I simply cannot shake.

 

 

The little man proudly displayed his many moves, completing his first gymnastics class.

 

Exercising gratitude.

 

For quiet afternoons and just before bed. (If only I could keep my eyes from shutting...)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 



On gifts, art and the Body

"Since we have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, each of us is to exercise them accordingly."

Romans 12:6a

 

 

I see Him at work, as we gather each week, a Body of believers, united in purpose, bonded in love, a small community with big hearts, ready for Kingdom work.  We have landed here, in an effort to tap into that which makes us unique - by design, by purpose.  We are a beautiful blend of gifts, sitting in one room, open to the possibility of exposure, as we dig in, discover, affirm and encourage one another. And, I sit there, always humbled, often amused.  His handiwork on display, His plans unfolding, using ordinary people do His good work.  It is quite liberating, to know that I am but a strand, in this beautiful tapestry.  I am not called to be all things, but to use the gifts I have been given in such a way as to bring glory and honor to my Maker, and serve His people. 

 

The gospel is life.  The gospel is about the Creator God, who is an artist, who is trying to communicate.  And his art is the church.  We are the artwork created in Christ Jesus to do good works. If we don't realize that fully, then the gospel itself is truncated; and art itself suffers. - Makoto Fujimura

 

(Easy) Peanut Butter Pie

My sister-in-law assured me that eating 1 1/2 slices of this particular pie (at one sitting) was OK as the recipe calls for mostly fat-free ingredients.  I trust my sister-in-law.

 

Ingredients:

 

1 cup powdered sugar

1 cup natural-style, reduced fat creamy peanut butter (such as Smuckers)

(1) 8-ounce block 1/3 reduced fat cream cheese, softened

(1) 14-ounce can fat-free sweetened condensed milk

12 ounce frozen fat free whipped topping, thawed

(2) 6-ounce reduced fat graham cracker crust

 

Combine powdered sugar, peanut butter, and cream cheese in a large bowl; beat with a mixer at medium speed until smooth.  Add milk; beat until combined.  Fold in whipped topping.  Divide mixture evenly between crusts; chill 8 hours or until set (pies will have a soft, fluffy texture). 

This Week

 

We entertained; crowding table, sharing favorite comfort foods.

 

I splurged.

 

The littlest cut several new teeth, and still managed to smile.

 

 

 

She spoke volumes...again.

 

We listened (on repeat) and grooved.

 

We survived gastroenteritis. By God's grace, and a can of Lysol, I managed to empty buckets, change linens and hold back hair symptom free.

 

Homemaking became art, as her words inspired.

 

The little lady learned the value of slow and steady, practicing the skill of editing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Art Lesson

 

Art means believing that the God who created the world with words alone creates with words still, through us - whether it be on stage to thousands or in a corner with one.

 

Art is what happens when you dare to be who you really are.

 

When we live free, we are able to give freedom.  When we live loved, we are able to give love.  When we are secure, we are able to offer security.  God reveals himself through every artist, and the artist is you.

 

from A Million Little Ways

by Emily P. Freeman