Sunday, December 26, 2010

For Edie

It was late and I drove home. Roads I know, miles crossed again and again. Only the road I traveled led to a new familiar, to a knew home. I ached for it, the left hand turn, west on 16 the turns that would take me back. Back to my barn, back to my old home. I wanted my drive way, my light switch, my door way, every wall, every angle that I knew so well. Only it was gone, never again to be home to me. The well of want broke my heart and tears spilled down my cheeks. I drove on to my new home. To my home that smells, that is old and is mostly unwanted. I dreaded the last turn, the turn into my drive way. How often in the last few days I inched up it's long gravel wishing for all I was worth that it didn't have to be, that I didn't have to go up and live in that house. That I didn't have to climb it's stairs, turn it's key, be it's tenant. Yet in that moment in that dark hour, I knew it had to be. For when you can't go back, you have to go up.

Words penned last summer, never posted feeling too raw. The summer I lost my barn apartment. The summer of anger, grace and redemption. Funny how hurts and pains sometimes melt like Christmas snow. My summer's hurt last night remembered, how miniscule it rallied against the knowledge of precious Edie's ashes. Unfathomable and incomprehensible these hurts of life married up against the blessed good. Edie, I wanted nothing more than to jump in my car and drive to east Tennessee and bring you a lamp and a copy of the Lutheran Prayer book, hug you good, share in tears and maybe throw a fit and few hefty, why's? Yet tangible presence pales in comparison to His ever presence. When we can't go back and when we can't even go up, He remains.  My words are small, my understanding smaller, praying our God who's not will be an ever present help in this time of trouble, sweet woman.

I will lift up my eyes to the hills—
From whence comes my help?
My help comes from the LORD,
Who made heaven and earth.
He will not allow your foot to be moved;
He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel
Shall neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD is your keeper;
The LORD is your shade at your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
Nor the moon by night.
The LORD shall preserve you from all evil;
He shall preserve your soul.
The LORD shall preserve your going out and your coming in

From this time forth, and even forevermore.

Friday, December 24, 2010

And I Wonder...

Baby Jesus born in Bethlehem, seems so far away. Christmas time when angels sing and hearts make merry and wonder stirs. I find I  wonder most why I do not wonder more. I believe and say with ease, yet softly I wonder, do I really, believe? To heart's that don't does it sound like fiction, smoke and reindeer sleighs, silly babble and cultish way? I sit coffee handed gazing at the lights and I feel it stir, holy wonder. Baby Jesus, lowly lain in a manager doesn't seem so odd nor far away when I know Immanuel, God with me. Christmas here and Jesus dwells in lowly sometimes doubting girl. Grateful on this Christmas Eve noon for Jesus, the Redeemer. Wishing you the happiest of Christmases and the hope of Him.

427. For Christmas trees
428. For cookies for breakfast
429. For hope restored
430. For His Spirit
431. For a reminder that Santa Claus theology doesn't work (if you read that post i hereby grant you one skip day from church)
432. For my Redeemer

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Bobbleheaded Sleepy Girl

Today's nourishment demanded four five cups of coffee and toothpicks for my eyes. Five hours of sleep did not go unnoticed by coworkers. "You look tired, you don't look like you feel good? "Ken, came  home yesterday and said Elizabeth doesn't look like she's feeling well." That was yesterday, pre sleep deprivation. Nothing, like being told you're looking rough when you're feeling tolerable. Nothing, like being told you're looking rough when you're feeling rough. Here's to looking ugly and scrooge-ilish Christmas well wishers.

To sleep I’d slip
If I could
I’d slip and slip
And slip some more
Until at sleep I stood
I’d sleep and sleep
And sleep some more
To sleep I’d slip
If I could
And sleep I would.

And visions of sleeping under her desk danced in her head and to all a good night

Sunday, December 12, 2010


The wind has been a howling and it is cold. What good ole Winnie would term a blustery day. Dreary, gray days seem to nod approval to a slower pace, instead of frowning upon lazy slowness I think they clap a little. Sinatra sings, mugs have been full and tree glows beauty. And I think to myself what a wonderful world at Christmas time. Lyrics stir my thoughts and I am awed once more that the soul felt it's worth, because baby came. Joy to the world a Savior is born. Grateful for words to string and thanks to give.

404. for slow days
405. for heat
406. for pretty christmas presents
407. for gingerbread cupcakes
408. for hot coffee
409. for prayer journals
410. for Christmas time
411. for my "rat pack" Christmas cd
412. for snow flakes
413. for Christmas music
414. for salted carmel hot chocolate
415. for the Gaddy's spectacular Christmas lights
416. for the tour of homes
417. for friends who understand
418. for babies
419. for today
420. for Hope
421. for Christmas lights on my street
422. for a Christmas card in the mail
423. for gray yarn
424. for lentil soup
425. for hot fudge sundaes
426. for His birth

Monday, December 6, 2010

What I Wore Today

Low and behold we have documentation of what I wore in real time. I have an a sundry of reasons why. We'll start with I just finished No Country For Old Men, and there's no way I have the courage for sleep yet. Then there's the fact I frankly am not thrilled with the day's duds. Getting out the door was of the utmost concern. I picked this here number out and donned it in under 5 minutes flat. Yes, I am talented. Moving on to the more positive reasons, it is Christmas and I thought you might want to see my new Christmas banner. Who are we kidding, I wanted to show her off. Her name is Hope, isn't she beautiful? Mad props to my friend Melissa who generously shares her Cricut with me. Final reason, I felt the need to rub in the fact I have blue shag and you don't. My apologies for the mediocre photos I had coffee and strudel and catching up on the royals to attend to.

William, Kate seems like a very nice girl therefore, I will forgive you for picking her over me. Colin, you are without excuse call me, pronto.

What I wore to today: (ok for about an eighth of the day, i save myself for the finer things in life hello, sweats you are my bff of the day)

Sweater: Lizzard Thicket (local boutique) Jeans: H&M, Boots: Liz Claiborne back before she sold herself to J.C.Penney, sell out, bracelet, my mother's closet many moons ago, necklace thrifted, ring, north georgia shindig (also known as a craft sale, hoopala)

Thursday, December 2, 2010

What I Wore On A Sunday

If as a little girl you were vehemently opposed to velcro tennis shoes, you will probably grow up to wear red high heels, even if you think your feet will fall off, probably. Several hours in I was questioning my ability to walk, these shoes were not made for walking just for feeling pretty. And if you ever wondered why models don't smile, their feet hurt that's why and they're hungry, probably.

What I wore To church and running errands.

Shirt: The Loft, Jeans: H&M, Belt: Gap, Bracelets: Premier Jewelry, Shoes: Urban Outfitters, Clutch: Target

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

The Count

Had you asked back in April if I thought I’d be farther along in the numbering of my thanks by now, I’d have said yes. And I would have said I’d be remiss to let thanksgiving slip by without adding to my log. While it’s taking longer than I would have estimated, I have to remind myself a number isn’t my goal, my goal is to be thankful. Whether it’s through pen on a card, or words on a page, or numbers on a blog, or thoughts in my head, or smiles on my face, the goal is that I’ll be grateful. The numbers are simply to steer me in the right direction, to remind me thanks isn’t natural, it’s intentional.

Since I’ve started tapping out numbers I’m not even sure I gripe less, or that my complaining and grouching has subsided. But this I know, thanks is powerful. It turns me around, puts me back on my feet, and binds up the wounds of living. Just a sinner saved by grace, always wanting more forgetting what I have. So I pray for eyes to see and count to remember that gratitude lifts the chains of life’s heaviness.

384. for tea at work
385. for thanksgiving weekends
386. for time with loved ones
387. for laughing
388. for "Miss" Sharon's crazy laugh
389. for pumpkin cheesecake
390. for getting out of a meeting 40 minutes early
391. for the brother that baked the turkey and a whole heap more
392. for thanksgiving dinner
393. for black friday tradition shopping with Melissa
394. for vegetarian chili
395. for a sister who gives the best compliments
396. for the first glimpse of the Christmas tree's light
397. for the glow of the lights on the tree
398. for my new snowman mug
399. for downtown Christmas decorations
400. for Christmas gift shopping
401. for these numbers
402. for His unchanging grace
403. for the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness