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A Day for Simple Gifts

My weekend started Thursday evening rather than Friday evening.  I loved this.  If I could work a 32 week and get paid for 40, I’d be a happy camper.  Of course then I’d long for a 24 hour week with the pay of 40, and so on.

Thursday night we went to see The Civil Wars.  They’ve been on my Before 40 list since its creation.  This was our first time seeing them.  They didn’t disappoint.  Every expectation I may have had, was met and exceeded.  The only down side is the venue is standing only.  I spent the whole of their portion of the concert unsticking my shoes from the floor where adult beverages had been spilled.  I honestly cannot wait to see them again.

Friday I spent some quiet moments at a coffee shop enjoying a banana chocolate chip walnut scone and a raspberry mocha.  I think Jesus touched that scone because it was heavenly.  Not dry like most US scones.

Sunday I was little Miss Suzy Homemaker.  Chocolate Chip cookies.  Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies (same dough just added oats to part of it).  Shawn’s scrambled eggs for the week.  Enchilada casserole.  Banana bread also sounded good, but I really don’t need another baked good on the counter.

These random thoughts remind me I have so much to be grateful for.  Little things.  Big things.

0070  Chocolate chip cookies
0071  Chocolate chips straight out of the bag
0072  Distrails
0073  Daffodils
0074  Marbled skies
0075  Secret Messages that come in cookies
0076  A rose from my beloved
0077  Hearing a song that is most dear to my heart live
0078  Hope framed with wishing, trusting, & expecting
0079  Words dancing in my head.

Now it’s YOUR turn.  Give me at least one thing you consider a gift from over the weekend.

I am failing as a giverawayer…Without further ado….the winners of Elora’s eBook are Kristi and Nicole.  I will email you your books today. :)

Hope: Courage Required

I’m learning that hope requires courage.

To step off of the shore into the temperamental ocean of hope is daunting.  We never know what awaits us.

If we’ve been disappointed in the expectations of hope, it’s a scary thing knowing that disappointment may crash over us again.

But there is great reward when we take up courage.  If we don’t take courage and allow our hearts to stay far back from the seam of the ocean meeting the shore, we will never move forward.  We will miss so much.

Does this make hope easier, knowing that if we don’t dare to do so we will miss out?  Sadly, no.  If we’ve been hurt, no amount of feel good sayings makes the trusting in hope an easy task.

But I’m learning.

Learning to pick up my sword and give my mightiest roar as I take slow steps into hope.  A friend reminds me often that baby steps are okay, and I’m grateful for the encouragement these words offer.  This same friend calls me Braveheart.  Instilling deep within me that I have the strength to breach the waves.

So, I’m reminding myself to take courage, to take heart.  I’m learning that it will make this journey to learning to hope again easier to endure.

When Beauty Pursues You

We are pursued by beauty.  It’s in the world around us from the snow capped Andes in Peru to the wondrous sea life that calls the Great Barrier Reef its home.  A beautiful world hand crafted by a beautiful God.  There is also beauty within us, a beauty breathed life from dust, by the same beautiful God.

But often times we miss it.  We focus too much on what is wrong to appreciate what is beautiful – a fallen/broken world and the magnificent grace of her Creator.

More often than not we miss the beauty within ourselves.  We see our flaws [both physical and not] and believe the lies that these labels tell us.

My dear friend, Elora, has published her first eBook – When Beauty Pursues You.

In it she shares short essays on her struggle with an eating disorder, and the journey over the last year to where she’s come to today.  She shares her struggle to accept that there is beauty within her and allow it to overwhelm her.

In Elora’s own words:

this is for the girls who feel damaged and used and forgotten. it’s a manifesto, in the middle of my brokenness, for those who feel like they’ll never measure up against standards set for them.

Whether we’ve struggled with being over weight or too skinny, too blonde or too redheaded, abused, broken or simply just living this exhausting human life, there is beauty in you.

She {Beauty} wants you to know this and to live this.

I’m giving away two copies today of When Beauty Pursues You.  I believe this message that Elora has penned needs to be repeated over and over again.  To ourselves, our sisters, our wives, our best friends, and our daughters.

To enter, leave a comment below.  Please feel free to share a time when beauty has pursued you.  I will announce the winners on Friday, January 27th.

Painted Skies

The sky glowed pink the other morning.  So bright, I could see the intensity though the privacy clouded bathroom window, and through the seams between plush burgundy drapes.

Breath giving life to a new day.

Grace draped across clouded skies.

A new morning with new mercies after a day when giving up seemed easier than pursuing intentionality.

And last night the same sky glowed a pale golden pink.  I wished that the houses would disappear and that I could behold this sight unencumbered.

A promise painted by a masterful hand, that hope does arise.

0060 Pink glowing mornings
0061 Snuggles for even a few minutes
0062 18 Compassion kids sponsored
0063 Challenging, encouraging words from a friend
0064 Peppermint scented body wash & lavender/peppermint conditioner
0065 Yellow flowers in the median
0066 Friends who unknowingly miraculously speak into your life
0067 Salted caramel hot cocoa
0068 Free lunch
0069 Creating my first art journal page

What are you counting among your gifts today & this week?

Hope: Tired of Settling

“I’m so tired losing my hope. I’m so tired of sleeping. I’m so tired of forgetting to trust. I’m so tired of settling.”

My sister-in-law, Nina, penned these words and as I listened to the song the other day and they gripped me.

As strange as it sounds, giving up hope is difficult.  A heart’s natural tendency is to hope.  So when we force it not to, it goes all or nothing.

As much as I don’t want to give into the vulnerability that hope calls for and reality’s whispers of disappointment, I am tired of not hoping, of not trusting.

Kick starting our hearts to hope again, to trust again isn’t an easy task.  And frankly I’m not sure how it happens.

All I know as I listen again to her words, is that something needs to change.  Whatever intentionality needs to happen for my heart and my mind to begin hoping again.

Do you have any recommendations for kick starting hope?
Do you think that hope is something that just happens, or is it like trust in that it is a slow growing process?

Where We Belong

I’ve always struggled with belonging.

The tall girl, with habits that pushed me outside the circles of popular and even the not popular.  I was a social plague.  Think Eric Harris & Dylan Klebold, without the mass murder of course.

The desire to belong and feeling like I didn’t quite belong has never left (does it ever).  I’ve spent my life waiting for the hammer to fall.  When you spend your childhood as the social outcast – as the pity case – as the object of humoring teachers, principals, & parents, you becoming an adult who expects the same things will happen at 36 as they did at 6.

So, I second guess everyone’s intentions with me.  I expect with every invitation, every welcoming in, that I will be played the fool.

I recall a friend’s bridal shower that was a costume party.  I was so afraid to dress up because I fully expected that I was the only one who received an invite saying to dress up and everyone else was just coming normal.  I expected to be made a fool.

I put of walls of defense 10 miles wide around my heart.  And those closest to me still have 5 miles of defense between my heart and theirs.  I’ve been hurt……I seriously don’t want to be ever again.

So this belonging without being met and those who accept me [with my walls] because they have their own they’re learning to scale & break down, is difficult for me to grasp.

When you don’t have a history of belonging, trusting your heart & your emotions & yourself to another is daunting.

It’s a quest in vulnerability.

We aren’t meant to walk alone.  We only do because pride, jealousy, & bitterness work their way in between hearts.

When we fight to keep these barriers from between us we commune well.  We belong, right where we’re at and right where need it.

The Gift of Mail Call

Saturday was a good mail day.  We’d checked it after a morning movie/lunch date and only one piece of junk mail had littered the cold, dark box.

So imagine my glee when I decided to check it a second time late that night after grocery shopping to find sweet words from women I’ve never met in person, that touched my heart to its most deepest core.  Love tucked into an envelope with sprinkles of extra love (confetti).

I literally jumped up & down numerous amounts of times in the street.

And photos.  Square photos that hold secret messages to my soul.  I’m learning to journal.  Learning to put the hidden words of my heart onto paper.  Learning that putting them on paper allows me to deal with them more easily.

So these photos, will work their way into my journal.  With words written in silver and messages of hope.  And these words from these brave warrior women, also tucked into these pages.

I think about these women and their kind words to me, and about these pictures and what they mean to me………and I count them among my gifts.

0050 Dancing in the rain & jumping in puddles barefoot.
0051 Sweet, encouraging words from my fellow rebels.
0052 Red leather bound journal & what I’m learning by writing in it.
0053 Secret messages in pictures.
0054 Waking up to rain.
0055 Finding red skinny pants that fit.
0056 Sunset on the Pacific.
0057 DisneyLand with my beloved.
0058 Beach treasures.
0059 Starbucks Via on a bad coffee day.

Moving Forward

I’ve heard it said that if you’re dealing with writer’s block, the best thing you can do is just write.

I’m not quite sure if I have writer’s block or the fact that I’m processing a lot personally, but I feel the need to put this practice into place in my life.

My plan right now is to post three times a week.  I feel this is an attainable goal.  Likely these posts will fall on Monday, Wednesday, & Friday.  Don’t be surprised if I sneak one in on a random Tuesday. ;-)

Mondays, I hope to begin focusing more on 1000 Gifts.  These last few months have left me breathless and I’ve taken for granted even the minute gifts in my life, not to mention the large ones.  I want to start recognizing these and being grateful for the pillowy clouds in the sky & the way I seem to sink into my bed when getting up for work is the last thing I feel like doing.

Wednesdays, I’ll focus more on what God is showing me.  Things I’m learning.  Things going on in my life.  Whether these be people or lessons associated with my One Word or just life in general.

Fridays, I plan to focus specifically on my One Word:  hope.  I did this last year with my word Grace, and Elements of Grace.  It was helpful for me to keep my word in my constant thoughts.  It helped me keep my antenna up & take note of where God was showing me where grace abides.

I don’t have a catch little title for my Friday hope series & that’s probably okay. :)

Once again, thank you for spending time here.  I count all of you in my blessings.

The Hope In Remembrance

I was making my way through late afternoon rush hour pondering Noah.  I can relate to his being stuck on a boat in the middle of an ocean.  Figuratively mind you, not literally.

Part of what has left me grasping at the threads of hope today is this feeling of being abandoned by God.

As I minded my own driving and bewared of those around me I wondered if Noah had felt abandoned by God.  God had given him a definitive time frame in which He would cause it to rain:  40 days & 40 nights.  But I wonder if during sleepless nights, rocked by crashing waves if he felt it would never end.  If during the tense moments with his wife, or the marital spats between his sons and their wives if he wondered if God had forgotten about him and in His anger towards man’s sin just left him, these seven other people, & an ark full of testy animals adrift in this forsaken water wasteland.

Surely, after the rain stopped and they simply floated and floated and floated for 10+ months still encased in Beaver Wood, he felt as though God had abandoned him.

Forgotten His promise to him.

As I had been reading this account of Noah and the flood I was stopped by four words.  Four powerful words:

But God remembered Noah.

I find hope in these words.

A hope that God hasn’t left me adrift in the ocean no matter how much it feels like it.  That in the midst of these last five and a half years of journeying to something greater that God has for me, He remembered Prudence.

He remembered the contention between husband and wife, and the tears each have shed as we walk this journey.  He remembered the confessions of sin and the begging Him to move when it seemed I could cry no more over the weariness & exhaustion.

He remembered.

This of course isn’t to say that we still aren’t making our way, and that our “ark” has rested on dry ground.  It hasn’t.  But what it does do is encourages my heart to cling to whatever hope I can.

 

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Worth 10 Cents

If you’ve been around my site for a while, you know I have a passion for India and a deep love for Compassion International.

We sponsor an 11 year old young lady in Nagpur, India.  It is because of sponsoring her that Shawn and I both have broken hearts for India’s people.  I’ve spent many sleepless nights agonizing over mind boggling data on the poverty that exists in India.  She is a hurting country longing for someone to love her.

Despite the fact that the caste system is illegal, it is still very much in effect.  My husband had a conversation with a friend recently and this talked about this.  However deprave the caste system is, it is a way of life and tradition; and heads turn as higher level caste members exercise their “right” over those who are lower.

This of course does not bode well for women.  In a country that turns a blind eye to a deprave system and the majority of her residents fight to make about a dollar a day, many turn to whatever means they can to feed their children.

For women…this often means sex slavery.

Their bodies are sold for 10 cents.  They are abused.  Yelled at.  Threatened by bodyguards employed by the pimps.

All so they can have a “better life”.

I cannot tell you how angering this is to me.  That the worth of a “good time” is literally nickle and dimed.

Missions in Action in conjunction with Compassion recently did a video highlighting this epidemic.  Nagpur, the city near where our sponsor daughter lives is the epicenter of sex slave trade.  When they filmed the video there were 200 children of sex workers in the neighborhood of the red light district, only 40 were sponsored.  Yesterday, because of the video I’ll be linking below, 10 more children were sponsored.  That is now 50 children who have the chance to learn to read & write.  To have an education and be able to get jobs that their mothers never would be able to.

I’m not asking you to sponsor.  If you do, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  I am asking you though, to watch the video and learn.  This isn’t only going on in India.  It’s happening in Africa, Thailand, all over Eastern Europe, and is rampant in the US.  Pray for these children, for the women.

Missions in Action & Compassion Video.

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