Where I've Been

Where I've been:  An in-part explanation.

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Faith Which Banks on Him

Listening hard, seeking the sometimes seemingly elusive voice and will of the Lord- these practices, perhaps have been an ongoing discipline for me this last year.  And so when I read Oswald Chambers this morning on Spiritual Confusion, I am struck.

He speaks of "The shrouding of His friendship" referencing Luke 11:5-8.  Then asks, "When God looks completely shrouded, will you hang on in confidence in Him?...Will He find the faith which banks on Him in spite of the confusion?"

These questions beg reply.  Will, I, when answered only with His silence, continue to trust, refuse to lean on my own understanding? Refuse to be moved, waiting instead on His timing no matter how slow, how shrouded His face, His replies seem to me?

Faith, I am learning, requires persistence. So, may I not cease to ask, believing, rather, that an answer will come as I continue to knock.

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The Writing Process

I have wanted everything as a writer and a woman, but most of all a world changed utterly by my revelations.
-Dorothy Allison

Oh, the writing process.  The bad thing about deciding you’re a writer, is that you actually have to write.

My blog writing process seems to be quite different from any other writing process in my life. In fact, my writing processes vary as my writing projects vary.  I read, recently, a writer share that she couldn’t work on more than one writing project at a time. I get that.  It’s easier to focus on wherever the flow is currently headed. But that’s not always possible.  And each process or project is necessary in its own way.  I write for school, I write for work, I’m working on my novel (which still is sometimes hard to actually say.  I always feel like I’m in a movie scene of a dinner party and that’s a line I’m supposed to deliver,  embarrassedly) and I blog.
Blogging, by far, is the hardest. Because I can’t hide behind a character.  Because I can’t employ the formality required in an essay.  Because there’s not a deadline.  Because it’s just me here, talking to you and I don’t know you or even if there really is a you. Because a lot of times, hitting post feels like publishing my journal.

The flow is different, too.  If I stay away too long, it’s hard to return.  If I have an idea and I don’t start writing about it immediately, chances are, that idea is either going to be gone by the time I’m poised at keyboard or I will have talked myself out of it. Because it’s just pure me here and I try not to have an agenda.  I don’t want to preach or teach.  I have no stockpile of lessons to share.  I don’t consider myself an expert on any one thing.  I don’t want to convince anyone of anything.  I just like to write.  And sometimes, I get to believing that maybe, just maybe, God wants to use my words to touch others.  So I come here to ‘practice’ and to share.  And the hope is that maybe, whatever’s on my heart or mind that day, might also be on someone else’s.  And if I can share the grace or the hope I’ve found, or if I can just be another voice saying, it’s okay to be human.  It’s okay to not be an expert, to not be Molly Homemaker, to not be called to preaching or teaching, to say I’m just trying to make it through the day myself. 

Whatever.  I’m just sharing me.  With words.  Because that’s what I do. 
And a lot of the time, this writing is for me.  It’s honesty and healing.  Where I sort and seek and find.  And so in that, it is similar to my other writing.  The more I do it, the more I learn about myself and the more it comes- the ideas, the inspiration, the renewing.  And when I’m willing to be here, frustrated or scared to share something but I do it anyway, it’s amazing to realize that I’ve been met.  And no matter what happens after I hit post, the process within me has already occurred.


I am certain I will continue to have the same boldness to speak freely that I always have. I will let God use my life to bring more honor to Christ. Philippians1:20 ERV

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At Mama Kat's

The Author of Peace

I know I've shared (maybe, a million times) that I'm not the most excellent housekeeper.  Which is odd because I feel like I do spend a lot of time cleaning.  I'd like to think of this as just some strange phenomenon, perplexing but having nothing to do with lack of skill.

Whatever it is, I just can't get a handle on it.  I work one room while the rest are being systematically destroyed.  We did a thorough spring cleaning and I swear, it wasn't two weeks before the results were undetectable.

When we moved into this house a year ago, it seemed plenty big enough.  Now, not so much. And I haven't done a ton of shopping. It's weird.

When I close my eyes to picture a home that's a sanctuary, I envision white, fluffy carpet, white couches, vast space and a spot for everything - nothing left out.  This is a far cry from the clutter that actually 'decorates' my home.  I like the idea that organized clutter comes with creativity, although I'm not sure that my clutter is actually all that organized.

I read something this morning that suggested perhaps outward clutter is a subconscious means of isolating - keeping others away.  I can see this, though I'd never thought of it.  I can tend to isolate. I like my own space, time alone and definitely am not a woman who enjoys surprise visits.  My mom was also this way.
She would want to cancel visits with friends, worrying the house was too messy, even though it really wasn't.

So, while I'm not a hoarder by any means, I do have my fair share of unwanted mess.  That I can't quite figure out what to do with. And last week a husband's friend stopped in to drop something off for me. I met him in the driveway.  He asked if I wanted our kids to play together.  I told him, Sure, send yours in.  Go run some errands. Well, that's not what he meant. And I kind of suspected that.  So, I reluctantly let him in, warning him that the house was disastrous.  He asked me why.  In that blunt, male way.  So, I stammered out the true excuse that I use my morning to work on homework and blog, that the kids sort of run a bit wild during that time.

 But maybe, I need a better system. Maybe, I need to think a little more about keeping a home that's inviting, that can handle a surprise visit.  Suggestions?

Solitude is good.  Time spent quietly in prayer and worship and introspection is necessary. But if there's the chance, that without knowing it, I've settled into habits that not only allow me to keep people away but also block my mind from really, truly experiencing that emptiness required for God to enter, then I need to at least look at it.

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It's not necessarily fun to look at stuff like this.  It may, however, be necessary.

Playing with Words and Pinterest

So, so busy with this new schedule that I don't have down pat yet and I can't quite understand why so many moms get excited for school to start. I've been a little frantic with the commute, the lunches, homework, just the whole playing by someone else's rules.  I've been the manager of my own time for so long that I feel like the adjustment might be a little harder on me than the kids.

I feel like I've been running around all week with hardly a minute to breathe.  My house shows it.

So, I'm here.  To breathe. To slow.   To find that space where I can sort the jumbled, crazy thoughts and just get down in words some semblance of sense.

And, also, how can I not blog when there's wordcandy to play with





and Pin-terpretation!

How fun is this stuff?  Seriously, I wish I had come up with it.

Maybe I should be finishing dinner but I'm looking at my dominant colors on Pinterest to see what they say about me.   Across the (literal) board, my colors are neutral and soft. That means I'm an introvert. No surprise, there.  But my Art board  contains more vivid hues than my Dream House board.  Maybe, I'm bolder in my creative life than my real life. My Want board has pops of bright color throughout and my Wow board seems to calm down as I scroll up.  What could that mean?

Like I really need more of an excuse to go on Pinterest.  But maybe, just maybe this is brilliant.  This idea that looking at our boards, could reveal more about ourselves than we might have thought.

I could probably do this for a few more hours but alas, the kids are hungry.


You should get the book.  It's pretty cool.
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Every time

Well, today was the first day of school for the two older kids.  Confession:  I cried a little  I've homeschooled for four years so dropping them off with complete strangers aka teachers was strange, to say the least.

I remember, in Jefferson, dropping True off for his first day of preschool. He was four and Annika, only one.  I put Annika in the carseat, her hand outstretched toward her brother, crying, "Du!"  I felt a little like that today.  I walked them each to their class and noticed that I seemed to be the only parent sort-of standing around, just observing.  It was hard to say good-bye. They on the other hand were pretty excited.  So we shall see.

It's been interesting to note the reactions I've gotten from different people when telling them that I had decided to put the kids back in school.  The homeschoolers say something like, "Ohhh...okay.  Well, that will be nice."  And I know they're thinking it will not be nice.  The non homeschoolers, however, have all responded with elation, as though they've been waiting for the day I would come to my senses and do what 'normal' people do.  That's a post, though, for another time.

So.... it's much quieter around the house today.  And funny that though I long for less noise, the relative silence does seem deafening.  I do miss them.   But on the bright side, I've had a great day with the little ones.  We did our first day of kindergarten, here.  And it was a success.  They are working on an art project as I write. I think they've loved soaking up so much mommy-time.

All in all, it looks like God knows what He's doing.

I was so afraid a few short months ago, anticipating this coming time.  My sponsor advised that I somehow, "get okay with the worst-case scenario."  Having to put my kids in school was definitely on that list of awful things to come,things I didn't feel like I could live with, let alone be okay with.  But now that it's said and done, it doesn't look like it's going to be so bad.  The school has a lot to offer and seems like it's going to be a great environment for them, and even the fact that my five year old won't start until next year seems to be part of the "plan".  The plan where everything is just as it should be.  I still get to homeschool. But teaching only kindergarten won't take up much of my day, freeing me to work.  Another thing I've been afraid of.

So many life changes.  So much time spent worrying and obsessing and turns out that God has it covered.  Every. Single. Time.

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The only thing that matters

"I care less and less what people think."

This line from an Ani Difranco song has stuck with me for years.  And the sentiment continues to actualize.  I don't think I mean it in quite as an arrogant of a way as it sounds.  In fact, I think that as we age, we should embrace a philosophy at least similar to this.  We have to grow out of that intense self-consciousness adopted somewhere in junior high. We have to grow into ourselves.

Part of this contemplation arises as I find myself  increasingly leaving the Christian 'box'.  I can no longer write or speak from a place of conformity or necessarily, to what I think the good Christians want to hear.  And yet, I also cannot be vague about the power of the gospel. It's a bit of a conundrum because who then is my audience?

There is so much more depth to Christianity than Christians want to confront.  And as a Christian faced with the failure of a marriage, I have to be honest enough to admit what God is showing me - that, in fact, He is still with me. And this merciful reality speaks so emphatically to my heart that I can't be quiet about the love I am receiving in spite of all that is transpiring.

So I was driving and thinking about all this, listening to worship music and suddenly I was overcome with the knowledge of why "I am not ashamed of the gospel

 because it is the ONLY thing that has the power to save"

 I know that I have been saved.  I know that He is here- with me.  He has used my pain to bless me with the experience of his presence and his comfort.

 Only when you are a sinner in need of this saving can you really appreciate this.  Yes, we're all sinners but how many of us know it?  Know it in the way that causes you to fall in love with Jesus. Knows it like the adulteress who Jesus saved from a stoning?  The knowing, is what finally, causes me to say, "He is mine".  Jesus is mine.  How then can I not talk about Him?

"For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God."

1 Corinthians 1:18 NKJV

So it seems, that no matter how much my self wants to plan what I'm going to say, consider the audience question, analyze what type of 'genre' I ought to be placed in, etc, my soul which is solely Jesus' possesses a louder voice.  And in the end, the only thing that really truly matters to me is God and sharing His love.

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New Ideas in a New Year

Open my mind to new ideas.

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Happy New Year!

I woke this morning, so happy to see the sunlight streaming into my bedroom.  Sunny and warm in January; is there a better way to start a new year?   I have to say, that I'm glad to say goodbye to 2011 although it brought me home. 

Here's to new beginnings.

Deck the halls

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Deck the halls.......with poetry.

Lipstick

Submission for Ruby Tuesday

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I think I'll try it!

He is my refuge and my fortress

hh

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Sometimes it's dark. But that's only because my eyes are weak.  I'm breaking free and expecting the miracle of healing.  

I'm all over the place right now, I realize, but bear with me.  I'm desperate for change.  Desperate for God.

Love This

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