Snobbery

We've all met snobs. The people who think they are perfect, think they have the most superior minds, think they have it all together. The problem isn't really in the fact that they think they are so wonderful, the problem comes when they know that we, their lowly human relations are not perfect, neither do we have superior brains like them, and we certainly don't have it together. They are better than us, and they let us know that. We call them snobs in return.

You meet an awful lot of snobs in life. They seem to pop in every area, school, work, social interactions, goodness, I met an iced tea snob the other day in McDonalds. The sad thing is, one of the easiest places to bump into a snob? Church.  Especially a conservative church.

Yeah, church. Now I am a conservative christian. I do not believe in avoiding church because of the stigma  church people have gotten themselves. I just want to draw a little attention to the fact that, fellow church people, we are snobs. SNOBS. And we've gotta quit it.

I've been a snob, I see traces of snobbery popping up all through my past, and sadly, foreshadowed in my future. I used to think that I had it all together. I lived in the perfect family, I believed in purity, I prominently desplayed books by all the religious elite, I wore skirts at just that certain length on my leg, I never wore flashy jewelry, never watched TV, never attended a movie theater, I memorized long passages of scripture, I sang in the choir, I rigorously took notes during sermons.

Not that any of those things were inherently bad. But I was being a snob while doing them.  You see I had some warped sub-conscious idea, that all those things made me better somehow. That I was cleaner than the christian rock singing, raccoon eyed, high heel clicking teen across the room.

I was never out and out taught that. In fact I was taught that nothing that I did, made me better. My Pastor tried to explain that no outward conformity changed how God looked at us. But the people I was surrounded with? They showed me something completely different. I don't think they meant to, I think it was something they didn't even realize they were believing. But slowly and surely, I was inducted in to Christian snobbery.

Things like movies and clothing had to be perfect, before each other. If someone actually watched a modern movie, it was kept as some sort of secret. Afraid, I guess that the other's in the flock would find out, and think that we were less spiritual. We cleaned things up to look great.

Things like this were said. "Hey, you've got to hear the new CD from the ---. It has a beautiful rendition
of "In Christ Alone".  "Yes" someone would say, "but wasn't that song by a contemporary christian writer?" "Yeah, but they have cleaned it up, taken all the extra stuff out."

As if, some group could remove drums from a song and it become magically acceptable to God. Same words, same tune, just no drums.

Guys, that's snobbery. This idea that we have the corner on what's right and wrong, that we can determine how people should look, what sort of music pleases God. That we have the responsibility to keep people in line, and make sure that we are set apart Christians.

But you see, when God calls us out of the world, to be separate, He meant for it to happen in our hearts. Not just in out outward appearance, and the things we participate in.

Snobbery affects others. It drives others away. Not only will the unsaved and hurting people be forced away by your odd manner of life, and unusual clothes, they'll also flee from your condescending attitude. The sad thing, is, you probably won't even know that you have a condescending attitude.

 Snobbery hurts fellow believers as well. It makes them either be fearful of appearing wrong in your eyes (so they'll cover up anything questionable, and become snobs just like you). Or it will make them run the other direction, and you'll heave a sigh as they leave and say, "poor things, they just don't understand. I'll pray for them." and you'll honestly attribute it to their flagrant heart problems. All that is really wrong is they are scared, and scarred from  your snobbery.

Snobbery affect you too. You will slowly introvert, pulling inwards. Your efforts to keep up the front of perfection, even though something done almost entirely in your sub-conscious, will wear you out. You will stop growing, you will stagnate.  When water stagnates, millions of bacteria breed, and the water becomes dangerous and deadly. That's how you'll become. And, unless you are shaken awake, you'll never know it.

It's a big problem, it's a serious problem, and honestly it's scary. I know I'm just a 21 year old, blogger with about 4 regular readers. But, I have seen where christian snobbery can lead. And I never want to be a chrisitian snob again.

You're going to see some things around here change. I'm not going to hide anything anymore. I'm going to openly admit things, things I do because I have asked God to show me if they are wrong, and so far He hasn't. I'm sure  much of what I have changed and will change in my life will be attributed to "young Adult rebelliousness." Honestly, it's just an effort to survive, to see who God really is, without having to wear or do a certain thing to reach him. I'm not rebelling, and going for "easy-believe-ism" or "seeker friendly" Christianity, I'm just trying to get away from all of the extra.

>Yes, I do have TV.  Yes, I do watch it.
> Yes, I do  wear short skirt, jeans, high heels, jewelry, sparkly makeup, and fingernail polish, and Yes, I do follow some fashion trends.
> Yes, I do have the internet.
> Yes, I do listen to Contemporary Christian Music. And yes, after my Dad passed away, I found more comfort in those songs than in the old hymns.
> Yes, I will occasionally go to the movie theater.
> Yes, I do read books that are not in the Christian Genre.
> Yes, I do know a few pop songs.

And yes, I refuse to be a snob anymore. I'm not the greatest person out there. I fall into sin repeatedly.  I admit that. You know, I have to admit that until God shattered my snobbish outlook on life. I never really saw myself as someone who was that sinful, or someone who really needed saving. It wasn't until the facade was stripped down, that I saw who I really am, a sinful wretch, naked before God. But someone who He loves, someone whose name is written in His very hand. I cannot begin to tell you, the immense joy and relief I have experienced as I let God take away everything that distinctively pointed me out as a hyper - conservative Christian.

I've probably ruffled a lot of feathers. I'll probably lose some followers. That's okay, I've already lost a lot of friends through this already. It's been quite the journey, but I'm not stopping, I'm going to let God strip away everything He wants to.

So, to wrap this up here is a song that paints a pretty good picture of Christian snobbery, and of the introverted people they unintentionally become.

But really, "What if there is a bigger picture, what if I'm missing out, what if there's a greater purpose I could be living right now, outside my own little world?"

Christian snobs, are well intentioned I think. In fact, I believe they don't even know that they are becoming introverted. They think that it's their job to hold onto others, to keep them in the dress code, and outline that they've created. They think that they are doing what is right, being safe. But God doesn't ask for safe. He asks us to live for Him, and for Him only, no dress code, no outline for life. He want's all of our attention, all of our love.  He want's us to reach others, not force them away.

Seeking only Him in my fallible human way,
Amanda

And you guys thought I was bad...

See?  I'm not the only one who makes up book-affiliated words. :) Now try and tell me that you don't want a T - shirt with that on it.


I've been being a librocubicularist quite a bit these past two weeks. Somewhere, within some friendly handshake, I received a horrid bit of bacteria. Said horrid bacteria, drained every bit of life out of me and left me coughing and sneezing my way through almost 2 entire weeks.

It was awful.

So, wrapped in my sweatshirt, armed with many books, and a pantry full of vegetable broth and Ramen noodles, I buckled down and tried to get better. It took several complicated crimes on my favorite mystery show, 2 audiobooks, 39 cups of tea, a can of paint, multiple episodes of Dr. Who, one furry cat, and precisely one and a half boxes of Cheez-its.

(Yes, Cheez-its are required when you are sick.)

But I am better now, and ready to attack life head on. :)

I'll be back very soon.  Stay well, and take time to be a librocubicularist today.

:)
Fine Print:  Above image and word is not mine. Much applause to the brilliant genius who created this word. :)

Fireflies

When I was little there was one night every summer that I would eagerly look forwards to. I never knew when it would come, or what I would be doing when it came.  I just knew that once it started to happen the most magical night of all would be there, waiting for me. And, every year, sometime in June the night would open up.

Without any warning, a sparkle of yellow light would catch my eye, and then another, and another. As night would deepen there would be a great mist of yellow sparkles rising up from the grass. As they go higher their ranks would break and a million tiny fireflies would flash their tiny lights.  Making the sky look like the stars were dancing, and reminding me of the falling sparks of a firework. 


Until I was forced into bed, I would chase them, catching them in my hands, and  watching as their lights would distinguish in the captivity. Slowly I'd pull my hands away, and as they firefly took off, watch his tiny light flash and glow.

What makes a firefly glow? Why does he choose to only sparkle in the night?  What is the purpose for his light? I never could understand, but I knew that watching the fireflies I understood a very simple truth.

Night is dark, very dark in the summer. The firefly is just a tiny little insect, a very insignificant bug during the day.  Alone, his light is not very strong. Yet, when joined together, a thousand fireflies can bring light and comfort in the dark night.

This world is big and dark and scary. It seems that the sun shines so seldom here. I feel so small and insignificant against it's heavy darkness. Yet, when I join together with a thousand other small insignificant creatures. We can bring light and comfort into the darkness.

The firefly must choose to light the sky. He must fly up out of the protecting grass and lend his light. A light that he did not create, but a light that was given to him for just one purpose, to sparkle in the darkness.

I must choose to rise up out of my safe hiding spot. I must choose to use the light granted me for what it was meant for, a small sparkle in the darkness. It's my choice, but it's also my highest calling, and the only place where I will find happiness.

Follow the fireflies!


Fine Print: Images not mine but are from Pinterest .com

Books and Boxes

Fellow bookworms, I have done the nearly impossible. I have boxed all of my books up. Enshrouded in cardboard, secured with heavy duty tape. They now stand stacked in the corner of my room. I miss them already.

I love to study bookshelves. If you would happen to invite me to your home, you would catch me surveying your shelves. You can learn a lot about someone by scanning their bookshelves. Personality traits that would probably have taken years to discover, literally jump from the pages of their books.

I've never taken the time to step back and analyze my own shelves. Not until I started to pack all my beloved treasures.

There was the collection of tiny miniature vintage books. Many of them as old as 1860-70's. Most of them created as rewards for children in Sunday School. One of them still bearing a note from the teacher, imploring "Henry to read and not forget while enjoying the stories to see the lessons inside. "

There were the tattered children's fiction books. Many with math problems worked on the flyleaf. A few with notes from Father's, Mother's and best friends.

A history of English literature, written in 1910 comes off the shelf next. Inside, in a neat feminine hand are notes, questions, and ideas for writing assignments. I don't know who G.V. was, but I believe she and I are kindred spirits.

Next I pull out a beautifully bound, Sermons by D.L.Moody. In original edition, with lovely silver leaf lettering. But it wasn't it's age, or it's innate beauty that makes me love this book. It's the bullet hole in the corner. The story behind it, I'll never know,  I can only imagine.

Classics come off one by one. Ugly books with dearly loved stories, and tea stains to show their love. There is a handful of writing help, their new covers contrasting to all the vintage books. Several of my old journals go into the box. Scraps of notepaper flutter as I open several books.

My original edition Elsie Dinsmore's are packed with care, their embossed pansies (which Finley begged the publishers to put on the books) still lovely even after their long life.

There are books on screenwriting. Books on how to grow corn and beans. Craft books, decorating books, an English/French dictionary. A brand new girls devotional books side by side with a cookbook well over 100 years old.

The last box is packed and taped shut. Every box holding the evidence of who I am, and what I love.

What do your bookshelves say about you?

Fine Print: Image not mine.

Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day. Pink hearts, chocolate, candle-light dinners, X's and O's.

I'm single, yet, I love Valentine's day. I like what it stands for, a yearly reminder to love the one God has given you. I love looking forwards to the day when I can give my man a big hunk of chocolate wrapped in bright pink polka-dot foil. I love thinking about the love of Christ.  A love that will never let me go.

There are times in your life, when you sense the Father's love for you in a way you never have before. The little phrase "Jesus loves me",  never crosses your brain carelessly. And when that realization of the immensity of God's love for teeny tiny, pathetically worm like, little old you settles upon you, life will be changed forever.

It's so simple, yet so very complex. God loves us.

He has since the foundations of the earth were formed. He will when the foundations of the earth fall into dust.

God loves us.

"I will sing of the steadfast love of the LORD forever..." Psalm 89:1



There is a poem that is very dear to me. It was written upon the wall of a cell in an insane asylum. We don't know who the man was who wrote it. But, living where he did, with his mind continually tortured, his life was no doubt far worse than anything we could imagine. He was at the lowest spot anyone could be in life. Yet, though no doubt insane and incapable of logical reasoning, he understood the glorious love of God. He had discovered it's height and depth and weight.




These are the words he wrote.

 " Could we with ink the ocean fill and were the sky of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill and every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry,
Nor could the scroll contain the whole the stretched from sky to sky."  

May we all continue to discover the deep, deep love of Christ,  until we lose ourselves in wonder.

New Year Multitudes

Multitudes of Blessings ....

I've missed documenting them here these past few weeks. Did you know that when you forget to remember the small blessings in life, your view of life gets crooked? Slowly it begins to seem as if your world is nothing but black clouds and frigid winds.

I forget to see the little rifts of sunlight shining behind the clouds, the rainbows in the rain.

This week: 

New year fresh, bright, new. 


Thick snowflakes lazily dropping to the ground. 


Birds flocking to feast at our bird feeders. 


Family times.


Last of the Christmas carols dying away. 


New journal to fill.


Winter starlight.


Ping Pong games with siblings. 


Falling asleep to quiet music.


New books with stiff spines. 


Crafting while listening to audio books. 


Discovering this month's book. (Coming soon! ) 


Don't forget to look for the blessings!
Amanda

Fine Print: Images not mine. Linking up with Anne Voskamp and her Multitudes for Mondays.

 

2011

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...."

Could anybody else sum up their year this way?

For the past two days my google reader has been choked with post, everyone summing up their year. Giving statistics, their 30 favorite things, and the best of anything and everything of 2011.

My year? It was rough. Harder than probably anything I've ever faced. But it was also good. Because I have a big God. A God who can heal and help and hold when your entire world crumbles.

My stats? Let's see. There are to date 17 of ya'll who have been brave enough to push that follow button. :) Thank you.  There has been quite a number of you who are still lurking in the shadows.Thank you for sticking around, reading, and commenting.

Wanna hear a story?

We went hiking today. On a dirt trail. A trail that had been recently rained upon and was, literally, a mud path. The steepness of the path, made our slogging difficult. Most of the time we were forced to stay off the path. Sticking to the slippery but safer, leaf covered, forest floor. It was scary, and an adventure but we all loved it.

Anyhow, I slid and slipped along about half way before I discovered a thick, straight branch obsructing my path.  I grabbed it eagerly, well actually more like the drowning man and the straw. And, with the help of my trusty stick, I made it down as far as my family dared to journey. All the way I leaned on my stick. Stuck  hard into the mud, it held me steady, saving me from several slides. Without it, I would have been muddy, and perhaps hurt.

 I had to lean on that stick. I couldn't make it across that trail by myself and still keep my footing. I had to lean, to allow myself to trust in a rugged tree branch.

There is another fad going around this year. It consists of choosing one word, just one, to live by in the new year. As we reached the top of that hill I knew what my word was.

Lean

Just Lean.

I could struggle, slip and crawl through this next year. Trying to do it alone, and getting nothing but dirt and bruises to show for it. Or I could lean. Allow God to hold me. And   trust Him, He won't let me fall.

The path will still be hard. But I have a strong God to cling to. I don't have to go it alone in 2012. All I have to do is Lean.

A very happy New Year to you all. May you each have a year of growth in your knowledge of our great and glorious God.

Amanda

Fine Print: Image are not mine. And yes, I would love it if you pushed that follow button. : )

Self in the Focus

I got cranky today. Cranky because someone wasn't listening to me. She was self absorbed, self focused. 

And I was mad. 

Because she wasn't paying any attention to me. 

Couldn't she just see how self- interested she's being, I thought. Couldn't she quit being all about herself and think about me. 

She was self focused. And I wanted her to focus on me. 

I wanted what I wanted. I thought I needed attention. I wanted a listening ear. I craved for someone to notice my awesomeness for just a little while. 

Do you see the problem? 

We are trained by our sin nature, by the culture around us, by everything logical to the human mind, that we are number 1. That we deserve a long list of things. That we are the greatest, the best, the epitome of humanity. 

But we aren't. We're self deceived little humans, deserving nothing. Called as children of God to abase ourselves and love others. 

Self focus is natural, but it's a remnant of our sin nature that needs to be thrashed and tossed away. Who's with me? 

Thanksgiving

This is a day that gets zoomed by, overlooked in the rush between towards Christmas. Thanksgiving is no longer even advertised in Walmart, the focus all laying on the day after - Black Friday.

But you know, even though this day is often usurped for tinsel and glitter, there is something to remember in this holiday rush.

The reason we are thankful is because of Christmas.

Had Christ never come, bent and humbled to the lowest degree. Had He never been born in a filthy barn, surrounded by the lowest grade of society. Had He never lived a perfect life in a world of black sin. Had He never stretched Himself upon that cross, eternal-infinite God giving up His own life. Had He never stepped from the grave, alive in a place of death.

Had He never come, we would have nothing.

But because Light came into the darkness. Because Heaven came  to earth. We can rejoice.

There is so much to be grateful for. So many small things that we so often overlook. Our homes, our provision, our families, our government.

But lets not forget the big thing today.

Our God.

To whom we have complete access. To whom we no longer must cringe and keep our distance. But to whom we can freely run, into the outstretched arms waiting to welcome us, and rest, children in the arms of the heavenly Father.

God became man. So that man could see God.

 And for this we must be thankful.

Fine Print: Images not mine

Clouds...

Fog swirls, thick and grey. Damply, it draws it's cold fingers tighter around me. I strain my eyes, my body leans forwards, attempting to see the road of life before me. So many choices, so many life altering decisions, so many optional paths ahead. 

But I can see nothing but the tiny circle of road at my feet. Just enough brown earth visible for one step forward. 

I stand there fearing, impatient, and angry. Waiting for the fog to lift. Waiting for a glimpse of the road. Waiting to move forwards. 

My heart rebels, I cannot wait for the curtain's lifting. Like a little child, I fret and fume at the grey mass. 

I want to run forwards, I want to adventure and conquer for myself, I want my own way. 

But the fog lays hard and heavy. 

"Say not Child of God, that the sun is quenched beacause a cloud has hidden it. Ah no!
He is behind there brewing summer for thee:
For when he comes out again, he will have made the cloud full to drop April showers, all of them mother's of the sweet flowers. "  ~Charles Spurgeon

Never despair because of the cloud. Wait. Just wait. The cloud will lift, the rain will fall, and the path ahead will become illumined.

"Above all, when God hides His face, say not that He has forgotten you. He is only waiting a little while to make you love Him better; and when He comes you shall have joy in the Lord, and shall rejoice in joy."

 Waiting for the clouds to lift.
~Amanda

Fine Print: Images are not mine. Quote

Multitudes~ A Place of Safety

"He (God) shall cover thee with His feathers,

and under His wings shalt thou trust, 

His truth shall be thy shield and buckler."

                                            Psalm 91:4

This was my verse for today. A verse so often mindlessly quoted, and forgotten. A verse that holds worlds of sweet comfort. A promise of a safe place of love and protection. This was my multitude for today. 

Fine Print: this is number 98 in the multitudes I am chronicling on Mondays. Image is not mine. 

November

Frosty mornings.

Bare trees.

Shadows thickening as supper ends.

November is here.

It's probably my favorite month of the year, so full of excitement, and the pure happiness of holidays.

It's the month I set aside writing time to pound out a 50,000 word document. In the hopes that, after careful revision and polishing, a book will emerge. A book all my own.

It's the month of first snow, and return to all things warm, cozy, and comforting.

It's the month of Thanksgiving. That eager time of gathering together, to laugh and play, to remember old memories and create new ones, to thank the Father for a year's-worth of blessings. To feast, rejoice, and marvel at the goodness of God.

It's the month of preparation. Mysterious noises, conspiratorial whispers, lumpy burdens, plots, patterns, purchases. All the things necessary to create those delightful Christmas-morning surprises.

It's another month to learn, read, discover. Another month to deepen the relationships of family and friends. Another month to grow closer to my Heavenly Father who loves me and holds me.

November is here with all it's multitudes of blessings. And I'm so thankful!



Fine print: #87-97 of the multitudes I am counting. Linking with Multitudes for Mondays as well as Sharing the blessings over at Accordion to Kellie. Images are not mine.

Multitudes (and a request for blogging help)

77. Dear friends who I'm thankful for just because they are dear friends, but who made my day yesterday with a gift of a case of Nehi Peach Soda. I can now reminisce over vacation while sipping the best soda in the world!  :)

78. Down filled duvets for these freezing nights.

79. Last glimpses of autumn glory.

80. Baby steps in success at learning to drive. I've survived thus far.

81. Spice. What would baking be without it.

82. Complex story coming together out of a heap of ideas and dreams.

83. Frosty mornings where everything looks glittery in the sun.

84. New authors discovered.

85. Journals.

86. Approaching holidays, the thought of which always sends a thrill of excitement through me.

87. Little sister vigorously marking her way through magazines so that we will know what she needs for Christmas. :)


Quick question for all you bloggers out there. Does anyone know how to fix the email subscription settings? Most of my email subscribers say that they never receive my posts until three or four days after it was posted. Can anyone help me with this? 

Fine print: Images not my own.

Kaleidoscope

Shards of colored glass, a battered cardboard tube, circle of transparent plastic, all so small and insignificant.

But in reality, that's all I am.

Me, the real me, holds the battered cardboard tube that is this present life. Inside it rattles the colored glass pieces that make up everyday. All those tiny, insignificant pieces and parts of my life.

I look through and see nothing but blurred and dim shapes in the darkness. He tells me to point it towards the light. For it's only by His light that I can see life properly.

I point the cardboard upwards and see it. A pattern. A beautiful mosaic made up of all the pieces of life, sparkling and brilliant.

But then He takes hold of the cardboard tube and shakes it gently. And I cry because my pattern is destroyed. But I look again, and see a new shape, a new beauty greater than the one before.

At times I forget to point the tube towards the light, and I lose sight of the beauty of the pattern.

Sometimes I pull back and pity myself. I wish I was something more than a collection of broken glass and worn out cardboard.

Sometimes I try to keep Him from shaking my life. I wildly clutch, attempting to save the pattern that I think is the most beautiful. Unwilling to wait and see what He creates.

I must be still to see the picture. I must keep myself pointed towards the light, letting it illuminate this great puzzle of life. I must allow Him to shake and move and jostle, knowing that He does all things well.

Because life's a kaleidoscope, and He's the Master artist.

Fine Print: Original idea by a dear friend, pictures not my own. 

Sharing the Simple Blessings

Simple Blessings, scattered all throughout our days. Tiny things, often hidden behind bad things.

Things we never see because we are so wrapped up in our big problems.

 Never realizing that our problems are normally the petty things, and the blessings are the big things.



It rained today. A gray, depressing, dreary rain. One of those dripping rains, that take all day long to finish when they could have finished in a 10 minute hearty down pour.

I grumbled at the rain. It was ruining all me plans. The leaves were piling up in the yard. With rain added on top they would take forever to rake up.

Not a big problem really, but just enough to get me really grumpy at the weather.

It wasn't until I actually took a good look outside that I saw what I was missing.

It wasn't only raining little tiny rain drops, it was raining leaves.

They came down swirling, and fluttering to land in a thick carpet. A carpet of reds and oranges and browns.

And then I realized what I would have missed if I had raked those leaves up today in the sun.

I would have missed one of fall's greatest blessings. The final, glorious farewell of summer. Leaves are not just dead things to be raked and burned without a thought. God made them beautiful gems, even in their death. Flaming pieces of color to brighten our dark fall days.





So there is my simple blessing for today. I can't think of anything more simple or more radiantly lovely than a fall leaf.

Fine Print: Linking up with the Sharing the Simple Blessings series from Accordion to Kellie. All 

pictures are my own. 

Pieces

They were beautiful lengths of fabric. Each one carefully patterned, colored, and woven. They were perfect, solitary and in no need of any other help.

In another basket were apples. Each one with superb red and green swirls, each one sweet and crunchy. No defects, no imperfections, perfect just like they were.

Or so they might have thought.

To the fabric came a heavy pair of scissors, slicing and chopping. Within moments the entire length of fabric was reduced to pieces. Short, awkward, triangular, wrinkled pieces. It no longer was perfect on its own. It was ruined, torn and left scattered.

To the basket came a sharp glittering knife, cutting them into small pieces. The delicately colored skin was peeled off and thrown away. All that was left was chunks of bare apple, fast turning brown as time progressed.


All that was left was pieces.

Life's like that. For a time you think you are perfect, completed, a beautiful creation. The life you live in is carefully constructed, colored, and loved. Then along comes something, sickness, death, change. And your life is torn apart. Chopped. Scattered. Sliced. Ruined.

And all that's left are pieces. Tattered shards of no use but to remind you of who you used to be.

But the story for the fabric, and the apples isn't over.

To the fabric came someone, the same someone who had held the cutting scissors. Carefully, with patience and skill, she gathered up the pieces and one by one fit them back together in new ways. From under her hands came a piece of beauty and perfection, far surpassing what the fabric had been before. An entirely new length of fabric, which all the tiny pieces joined to form.

To the apples came a chef. And slowly, and meticulously he formed and mixed and molded. And when he stepped back there, in the place of the broken pieces, was a creation of perfection. Simple, yet beautiful, an object to be enjoyed by many. Every piece of broken apple lending to the perfection of the whole.

Without the scissors the fabric could have never become a quilt. And without the knife the apples could have never become a pie.

Without pain, struggle, change, I will never become who I was meant to be. You can never become who you were meant to be. There will be times that your life may seem ruined. Times when you are left standing surrounded by the broken pieces of your life.

Just wait.

The Master Creator, He who perfectly formed all things, is at work. Carefully, gently, He will reassemble the pieces into something better, something beautiful.

Just wait and see what comes out of the pieces.

Fine Print: Picture of fabric pieces is my own, all the rest are not mine. 

Monday

Mondays are days of fresh beginnings. Days when we are called from our Sabbath rest to renew our battle in the world. They are days of adventure, new hope, and fresh energy.

No doubt Mondays are rarely fun days. They mean work. But they also mean new possibilities. Before you stretches an entire week unmarked by anything. What you will make of this week depends largely on what you will make of today.

Just a little pep talk for myself and ya'll. :)

Multitudes for Mondays:

55. Warmth. :)

56: Joyfully at Home - Jasmine Bauchum. I love this book, it has helped me greatly.

57. All five senses. Life would be so different without them.

58. School studies.

59. Little girl learning to read.

60. Tales of a Wayside Inn - (Thanks again for recommending it Eyebright! I love it!)

61. Craft projects that actually turn out.

62. Old hymns and the stories behind them.

63. Crunchy leaves.

64. Apples, just waiting to be turned into sauce.

65. Music.

What are you grateful for as this week begins? 

Fine print: None of these pictures are my own. 

Sunrise

4:00 a.m. I find myself sitting up, my body tense, adrenaline pumping. The nightmare fades away slowly from memory, and I realize that it's happened again.

I'm reading 4:00 a.m. on my alarm clock, for the fourth night in a row.

Disgusted with myself. I drop onto my pillow and try to force sleep.

Doesn't work.

I retrieve my mp3 player from the floor and adjust my pink headphones.

5:00 and the crooning of John McDermott hasn't gotten me anywhere. I shut the player off before Danny Boy comes around one more time.

The clock ticks on at a crawl. 5:05:55, 5:05:56, 5:05:57.

My mind is flooded with thoughts. Plans, aspirations, to do lists, fears, worries, hurts. Tears trace down my cheeks.

6:00 I'm standing in the kitchen with my cup of coffee. Watching something, under normal circumstances, I would never have seen.

The sunrise.

Warm, creamy, swirling away the weary darkness of night, and holding out the joy of day.

Splashes of light, painted by the Father of light. He who is light. A brief foretaste of what a life of eternal brightness will be.

It almost makes the exhaustion worth it.

The realization of a truth comes like a beam of sunlight. Someday, the long night of life will swirl away in an even more glorious brightness. Awed by the splendor, I hear my favorite verse repeating over and over in my mind.

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning"

Fine Print: The pictures are not mine. But I thank the talented photographers who captured them.

Multitudes

I know I already posted today, but I have to put down some of the things that I am so thankful for this week. Things that have made me smile, and been a blessing.

10. Friends, friends that you can just talk to and that will listen, no matter how crazy you can be.

11. Hershey's caramel syrup. It brings iced coffee to a whole new level. : )

12. Music. What would I do without music????

13. Song lyrics. Words that encourage, and lighten the load. Words that bring worship back into focus.

14. Tripping over my sister's suitcase in my office every morning. I guess she attempts to move in every night.

15. Journals.

16. Computers. They can make life so much less complicated. Other times they can only make them more so.

17. Early morning and late night times of quiet and thought.

18. My family, both close and extended.

19. abundant production from our garden.

20. Spray Paint. (For my furniture) : )

21. The Hidden Hand.

22. Comments. : ) : ) (Hint.... hint... hint)

23. Words from scripture that just seem to speak

directly to me.

Blur

Sometime my perspective gets blurry. All I can see is what I want, what I aspire to be, what I'll achieve.

My eyes become dazzled with all this world offers, it's saltwater drops of happiness. I don't see the dark clouds behind that salty rain.

Being comfortable, making money, being liked. Those are the things that are dangled before me, enticing me onward.

Possessions, amusements, and unreality calls for me to follow.

All I see are the droplets before me. I am lulled into believing that they will quench my thirst.

But salt water never will, never can quench it. It only makes me long for more.

So I follow. Deeper and deeper into self love and self gratification, without admitting that I'm worshiping me.

All I can see is the blur, everything is out of focus. I no longer see reality. I get wrapped up in chasing raindrops. I never notice the mud splashing up onto me.

Behind me, lost in the mist, stands the Water of Life. With open arms He offers all the true fulfillment, all the true happiness, all the true love I could ever need.

But my eyes are blurred. I cannot see Him.

I've got to turn, to wipe my eyes, to run as hard and as fast as I can from the slippery, tempting puddles. I've got to cling to Him, to beg Him to be my all in all . I've got to stare hard and straight into His eyes. Letting Him keep mine in focus. I must never look back at the rain.

"Jesus answered her, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked Him and He would have given you living water." - John 4:10

1John 2:16 For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.

Fine Print: Pictures are not my own. This post is part of a series of "Outtakes" snapshots from real life.