Friday, December 9, 2011

Whole Wheat Banana Bread

Straight from the hip toting, baby loving, nursing mamas known as the la leche a league. What can I say I was brought forth naturally and was nourished on the mother's milk. I don't care what she says, she wanted to be a hippy. This is our bread and I promise it doesn't taste like cardboard.

Whole Wheat Banana Bread (from The Whole Foods for the Whole Family Cookbook)
1 cup bananas (mashed)
1/3 cup canola oil (can use applesauce)
1/2 cup brown sugar or honey
2 eggs
1 3/4 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup hot water
1/2 cup oats and or nuts (optional)

I add a hefty dash of vanilla and hearty helping of cinnamon because I'm a lover not a hater, though the recipe doesn't call for it.

(mix the first four ingredients; mix the dry ingredients, add oats and nuts if inclined, then alternately add the wet and dry ingredients with the hot water until blended. If you use oats you might need a little more water. Use the oats, they're yummy! bake at 325 for about an hour-makes one large loaf or 3 small ones)

I can eat a mini loaf by my loan some in two sittings and that's with great restraint. I gift this all the time and throw in some cinnamon honey butt'ah to ward off the stink eye of, "Whole Wheat Banana Bread, huh?" I use sister friend's recipe and I sing blessings over her as I eat it by the spoonful. That butt'ah and this bread are a happy wedded lot.

Bake it, Slice it, Give it, Eat it and for the love of all things healthy slather it in the butter cause I said healthy and healthy is as healthy does.

Hugs to Edie for throwing a recipe party.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Open arms

From a discounted bin and a two dollar bunch orange stretches wide beauty, open arms for all who look.  From a red couch and a girl in pajamas the word stretches wide grace, open call for all who hear.  Sons of Korah, whoever you are, He uses you to stretch wider still the wonder of it all.

Cries for restoration and ceasing of righteous anger. For the witness of mercy and the granting of salvation, they plea. What is the answer from the forgiver of wrong and the coverer of our err? Let us hear what God our Lord will speak, for He will speak peace to His people and to His saints. Let us not turn back to the folly of self but let us sons and daughters of men, like sons of Korah, turn to Him.

For "Mercy and truth have met together, righteousness and peace have kissed. Truth shall spring out of the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven. Yes, the Lord will give what is good; and our land will yield it's increase. Righteousness will go before Him, and shall make His footsteps our pathway." -Psalm 85

Our way, our truth, our life, Our Jesus who trampled out the forrest of despair, who hewed down death. His love spanned the gap and bridged us straight to life and to a walk with Him.

The work of righteousness will be peace, and the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance forever. In a loud, loud world may your ears find the quiet hope and assurance of Him and His righteousness alone. Celebrating Him at Christmastime, always and forever. Praying His peace stretches wide your heart and that His love blooms ever broader always in you.

694. for graces that fill us full
695. for gooey marshmallows scooped out by a spoon
696. for tulips that witness
697. for references remembered
698. for His joy
699. for His rich Word
700. for the way paved wide with Love.
701. for His infinite faithfulness
702. for orange, bright in His world
703. for His righteousness alone
704. for sunlight that drenches the paths in the woods
705. for the Way
706. for a beautiful, free grace filled calendar
707. for praise and it's power to lift, to part, to fill
708. for avocados green and ripe and delicious too
709. for assurance quieted in peace enough righteousness for all

Monday, November 28, 2011

The Answer My Friend, Is Blowing in Him

The top of the tree won’t light and it undoes me like a ball of yarn let loose. This undoing and with a house full of guests, I’d rather will it to work than just let it go. This undoing sometimes is at the tone of a voice or the title of a book, or a copier jam. A plethora of minute externals that can set off the internal undoing in me, often on the days I’ve drummed up the determination to keep it together. I can feel it brewing like the wind that strips the trees bare and I rush to gather back the leaves of me. I wonder if He shakes His head funny that after all these days and all these steps with Him, that I still think I can keep it all together.

Like a faint breeze catches a strand of my hair a thought catches in me that I do the world a disservice when I try to keep it all together. For the truth is I am undone like a leaf in the whipping wind. Beauty is in the leaf yet it pales to the beauty of the one who sets it all in motion. The one who is the Creator, the one who never changes yet who is the changer, the one who establishes the seasons of our earth and the seasons of us, beauty is Him. He is our portrait of the invisible God and from Him and for Him and to Him are all things and He is the one who holds it all together.

In a world full of to do and to be all He asks is that you and I just be His.  Let it fly, be undone and just hold onto Him and rest in the truth that it’s He that holds onto me and holds to you.

Praising the Savior, the Alpha, the Omega, the beginning and the end and the completer of the work all to the one who sends the numbers higher each one closer to Him.

685. For the richness of the gospel in Colossians
13 And you, being dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He has made alive together with Him, having forgiven you all trespasses, 14 having wiped out the handwriting of requirements that was against us, which was contrary to us. And He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross. 15 Having disarmed principalities and powers, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in it. -Colossians 2:13-15

686. For orange clementines pretty in their clear bowl
687. For a heater and a sweet note from my neighbors above
688. For mornings when the time moves slow
689. For morning company of prayers and the word
690. For furniture rearranging
691. For the tree all decorated and redeemed
692. For peach hazy sun glowing in the cold air driving home
692. For Christ the eternal Redeemer
693. For Christ our hope

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Stretchy Pants-Thanksgiving's LBD

I understood the concept of a style icon before I understood the word concept. My first memories involve mimicking my neighbor and tapping it out plastic high heel style up and down the driveway.  It's possible I watched Full House for Becky's clothes. It's unclear if there was ever a notebook of drawings of knock offs of her outfits. It was 1990, okay! Time heals all wrongs and now it's Audrey and Katherine and Princess Di and Jackie O, Oh and Kendi. The girl with the killer wit and spot on succinct, humor and mad style. 

When I discovered her blog I did what any kid raised on puffed sleeves, side pony's and double socks would do, I alerted my bff of the new kid on the block. I made peace with Old Navy and went and bought this shirt. And then I ordered her famous red shoes......and quickly discovered I ain't no Kendi. I wore them once and them shoes ain't made for walking on these narrow feet. Like I needed the motorized scooter just to buy milk walking impairment.

My Kendi Reds have mourned in lonely exile for over a year, finally I pulled them out of the closet and cried like powder blue eye shadow going out of style at the prospect of letting them go. After a stylish walk in the most hideous stretchy pants I own, work shirt, stocking cap and laundry strung over my shoulder, genius struck......them babies fit with socks.

"What?" 'no?' Oh, you just wait and see, my style is going to catch like bad grammar in the heart of dixie. Watch out kids, there's a new style icon in town. And I don't wanna brag, but that perpetual pursed lip pout, stellar. Happy Thanksgiving, better wear your stretchy pants.

Monday, October 17, 2011

It's a Wonderful Life

That the Creator of the Universe still breaths life in the hidden secret of the womb weaving and knitting, fashioning and working one more tiny wonder, is of all things most hopeful. And of all things most joyful is the birth of one such babe to the heart of your friend. She's perfect like a baby doll and a happy little thing. Born on a Saturday giving birth to new parents, who are growing in grace and growing in love as she is growing in life. Met her on a Sunday one year ago today. Sweet little girl, my cup runs over thinking of you.  

A birthday prayer for your sweet family of three

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love,  may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us
Ephesians 3:14-20

Kissed with His image, fed by His love I give thanks for the gift of life, the gift of you. Happy Birthday, Claire girl.

You simply must go here and swoon over the stunning pictures of beautiful Claire and her mommy and daddy. 
thankful # 684

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

To Infinity and Beyond....

Chalk dust on babies pants, laughter over pie, golden jewelry, mason jars of water, movies together, and breakfast bowls of yogurt, these are the things that make up the moments that make up our days. It's tears making spaghetti, subtracting lies and adding truth. It's birthday cake divided for the taking home. It's love multiplied and hugs times a trillion that equal the sum that equal our lives.  No numbers here tonight, for my count is off and the tally of my numbers askew yet one or twenty a thousand or two the whole is always correct, when our answer is thanks. He gives and so we count to infinity and beyond till all we are is praise.

Just a fraction of the portion He gives....
Thankful for...

celebrations of life
party planning
brown paper presents tied up with string
sharing fun
living life together
babies that sing happy birthday
sprinklers that fly in the early morning sun
the sun that always moves me
quiet times that bring me near
Christ who draws us near
hearts woven together
encouragement that pours like water from a faucet
reading in bed
pillows hemming me in
morning light
Kadri, the hairdresser
pizza with mom
pink pens, surprise gift from best friend
sweetest text from dad
new life

*663-683 tally straightened up

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Awkward and Awesome

Has been fo-evah-since an awkward and awesome Thursday, huh? Let's fix that, shall we. Seeing how it's nice and fall out I figure I'll show you my summer duds.

1. All the emails I get informing me people are following me on pinterest. I haven't pinned the first cotton pickin th'ang.
2. Men who are married with three children yet who do not feel the need to wear a wedding ring. Any future Mr. of mine who feels likewise, well, that's fine that's his prerogative. I can respect that and brand an M in his forehead whilst he sleeps.
3. The spelling of sherbet-you know the orange and lime stuff. I'm at a crossroads I think I've spent my entire life pronouncing the word incorrectly. Sher-Bet??? How bout some sher-burt. Tell me it ain't so Burt Reynolds, Bert and Ernie? Malapropism much? See I am smart, I know that word.
4. A neighboring churches church signs. The latest: "good fences make good neighbors" I can live another minute-how inspiring.
5. Spelling the bosses name "Pastor Church" rather than Chuck-when he informed me I followed up the "Oops, quite sorry" with, "It could have been so much better. "Pastor Chunk, Pastor Chump." 'Hey, now here's an idea let's get a church sign.'
6. Personal favorite work typo, "About the snakes snacks for the youth ski trip"
7. I've prided myself on the years I spent without the vanity of TV. How the mighty have fallen. How many new shows am I watching? I'll never tell. It's more than four but less than six. I'm hooked.

1. Remnants of sidewalk art by toddlers
2. Bosses who laugh along with you at certain guffaws
3. Free cable with your rent
4. Posting summer photos in the fall-it'll never get old
5. Poor quality photos that come without the first bloomin bug-a-bite.
6. Pecan pie, banana bread, and leftover chocolate birthday cake it's been a good week to work for the Baptists.
7. My red couch, I love him like Don Draper.

Wearing: Gap tank, Old Navy Skirt, DSW Dr. Scholl's sandals, Gifted jewelry 

Sunday, September 25, 2011

I Dream of Cake

I'm not going to tell you I've eaten three pieces of cake or that I took an afternoon nap like it was my personal world mission, I'm just going to tell you today is my best friend's birthday and I know how to party. Happy birthday, best friend. Happy Sunday, world.

Sunday, September 11, 2011


Preacher tells the story of almost forgetting his wife's birthday. I forget his middle name, he's my brother, I should know it but I forget it. It's sitting on the counter and I'm driving to athens, the water bottle I forget it too. Even now, typing here I'm wondering did I pay that bill? Money's not the problem it's just did I remember? All these forgotten things and countless more and they'll just keep adding up. Creature of habit, creature of forgetting. We remember because we forget.

Ten years ago doesn't seem so far away when today we remember where we were, who we were with and how we felt the day the unfathomable became history. I was in class and remember dragging the tv in us all transfixed to the horror, leaving early, driving home the scary unknown silent in the car but loud in my ears. We'll all remember.

I see the pictures and read the posts and I am most chagrined by not what I remember but by what I forget. Do we remember when we forgot? Probably not and we probably won't remember when we forget again. I forget the sacrifice, I forget the lives lost, I forget the turmoil and I forget the gospel too.

The gospel, I forget to preach it daily to myself. The truth that we are all creatures of our God and King, maimed and wounded trampling through this life. I forget my only hope is Him and I forget His great sacrifice that made me His. And I forget to pass it on, that the cross is arms wide open. A love that bids us come. Come ye sinners, poor and needy, weak and wounded sick and sore, Come ye thirsty, come ye weary-heavy laden, Jesus ready stands to save you....

On a day set aside to remember evil unleashed and those who beat it back, I am grateful for remembering the power of the gospel that conquers the greatest evil. Thankful for this post that pointed my prone to wander heart back to His streams of mercy never ceasing.

He is a God who never forgets, that our sins are as far as the east is from the west a chasm spanned by a Savior's sacrifice. His love reaches to the heavens, His faithfulness to the skies, His righteousness is like the mighty mountains. His mercy never runs dry. He is my refuge, He is my strength. And He never forgets.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Labor Day

A day that curls up like a nap on the couch and wakes slow is my kind of day. A day where the sun goes to nap and droplets bead on the window pane and the soft pitter patter sounds all day. A day wrapped in gray and flooded with showers of blessings.

636. for starbucks coffee spills that make me smile and keep me humble
637. for my yellow rain jacket
638. for a sour cream donut
639. for helpful employees
640. for birthday present wrapped pretty
641. for new reads
642. for movies
643. for orange juice
644. for sushi
645. for peanut butter m&ms
646. for watercolors
647 for writing prayers
648. for scripture memory
649. for pajamas for most of the day
650. for the return of the internet
651 for rainy days
652. for time off
653. for the gift of being able to do as I please
654. for phones that ring
655. for falling rain
656. for silence
657. for ceiling fans that whir
658. for a magazine read cover to cover in one sitting
659. for my new favorite salad
660. for hot tea
661. for sugar in tea
662. for this day, that He has made

Sunday, August 7, 2011

The Mosquito's Buffet

The Teddy Bear's Picnic, certainly you must know of it, a favorite story from childhood, highly recommended. What about The Mosquito's Buffet, heard of it? I pray not. I unfortunately am presently very well read in it. My last little mosquito tale was like Murder She Wrote this sequel was more akin to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. 30 some odd bites in a span of minutes and that ain't the half of it. I feed my best friend to um too. All so you could know I wore orange high heels, a ruffly black dress and a turquoise necklace. If I never post another what i wore feature for as long as we all shall leave, you'll know why. And if you get curious just know I look an awful lot like a giant whelp of a mosquito bite. My friend aptly gave title to the Mosquito's Buffet. End of the story? If you go out in the woods today, turn and run like hades back home.

Like the final page turn of a really good book is the closing of the weekend. Glad you read it but sad to see it go. Leaving bits of your heart and happy lined memories in the binding.

This weekend ends with chapters of  $0.49 fountain cokes, polka dots and cheap cheeseburgers, pink toes and roses, red box movies, orange sherbet, farmers market jaunts and church and brunch best friend Sunday dates, and the biggest gulp of the giantest coke I've ever drank, laughing at afternoon movies and dishing up frozen yogurt and happy banter. While that sentence reads like an English teacher's worst nightmare, the content did not. A +, Mr. Weekend, A + well written, my friend, well written.  Though on an editor's note, ditch the mosquitos, brother. Ditch um!

Sweet friends, wishing you week's that read like the weekend and day's full of happy.

Monday, August 1, 2011

The Cold

Left work late, have a stuffy nose and the remnants of Mr. Nasty summer cold 2011, my back muscles tell on the anxiety I let creep into my mind over a silly can't be controlled item, i've got the gripes a mile long.  Litany of grievances, petty annoyances they come easy like a runny nose drip. It's been many a moon since I've entertained a cold. Hot tea, cough drops, plenty of fluids, and sleep, blessed sleep beat the ailing symptoms back. Prayer journals, quiet time, His word, evening walks, and lists of thanks held by the force of a magnet on the fridge they beat back the ailing symptoms of ingratitude.

Grateful for a Savior who bids us come all snotty nosed and let's us blow out our complaints. Grateful for a Savior who comforts, a Savior who heals. A Savior who is our hope, not our health, not our thanks for a Savior who just is and unmeasurable grace that runs longer than miles of complaints.

Thanks from the fridge list, grace multiplies....

610. for 3 elephants on a baby changing table at Target
611. for Traci's card
612. for Traci's offer to talk
613. for the reminder to give thanks
614. for the cupcake bag
615. for the ice cream shirt
616. for mom to vent to
617. for Jesus who doesn't leave
618. for Jesus who loves me anyways
619. for this too shall pass
620. for a red carnation in an aqua mason jar
621. for His mercy endures forever
622. for He will perfect that which concerns me
623. for the Howell family gorgeous photos
624. for Ivy's greeting
625. for perspective, it's not all about me
626. for morning sunlight in the apartment
627. for old journals
628. for sunning
629. for almonds
630. for pink
631. for Laura
632. for feeling better!!!
633. for decorating cupcakes
634. for a hopeful message
635. for Christus Victor "Christ our Victor"

Monday, July 25, 2011

There's a light in the attic

Dusk is setting outside the window and only the remnants of the light of day fill up the bedroom. The bright pastels of the bedroom spread give way to night, it's pensive wonder strikes me and so I sit right down. There we sit me and the room and the whole back yard just waiting on dark. There's a mystery in that darkness and a sudden sadness that my sweet day has come to pass. I sigh thinking about tomorrow and the work week that stretches long. Light whispers, "I'll be back tomorrow." There is truth in the beginning and in the ending of each day a simile in the making. Life is a myriad of light and darkness, sun and rain beginnings and endings and always repeating. And comforts always had when Here comes the sun bringing with it His mercies new and faithfulness great. Each and every morning.

Scrawled on paper scraps tucked in my wallet, scribbled in endings of my prayers by pen, spoken in airs of prayers and hanging on my fridge they number higher these 1,000 thanks. Night lights for the moments that are dim, rays of light that remind me heaven's over the horizon and life is good. Been too long since I've turned the light on here, shining thanks on gifts He gives...

584. for the way the bed at the end of the day fits just like a hug
585. for Barnes and Noble Sunday with Beth
586. for these thanks from a list in my wallet...
587. for pink nail polish on my desk
588. for the shape of the Essie nail polish bottle
589. for watermelon picture
590. for a flower from Mr. Jake
591. for gardenia's delightful smell
592. for Ecclesiastes hope
593. for my green stripped bracelet
594. for a flower in a vase
595. for hope
596. for a pink to do list
597. for a rolo mcflurry
598. for a best friend lunch date
599. for purple pens
600. for the smell of peppermint tea
601. for purple, blue sky
602. for driving to moms
603. for balloons on mailboxes
604. for rosebushes
605. for a birthday package from Miz LED
606. for glassy, ocean, like sky
607. for the faithfulness of the sun
608. for light in the dark
609. for Him who is the greatest Light

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Word Problem

If Elizabeth sits outside for 9.3 minutes and eats 7 cherries, 9 almonds, 3 celery sticks and 1 bowl of yogurt with 30 blueberries how many bug bites will Elizabeth get? Answer, EIGHT.

Was I a word problem whiz? Yes, Yes, I was. Liar, Liar, pants on fire. Want some Sunday summer advise? If you go outside to eat your snack, keep your pants on.

What I wore today: T-shirt gap, pants banana republic, shoes DSW old foggy shoes aka Dr. Scholl's, bracelets here, there and yon

Tuesday, June 21, 2011


I've told myself if I go wash the dishes I can eat ice cream, even though I already had pudding. This could be why my pants didn't fit this morning. Nonetheless in an attempt to skirt the dishes, "howdy one and all." Turned thirty and to date haven't self-combusted. No water works, save the sprinkle of tears at Bridesmaids. But I think it was because I laughed until my jaw ached and my tear ducts felt left out.

Thirty hasn't curbed my penchant for shopping or shoes. Perhaps altered it though, I went shoe shopping and came home with Dr. Scholl's. Feel crazy good is stamped on the box and the box don't lie.

Well the birthday cake has run dry, vacation is over and it's back to the daily grind. All thirty years of me with the grandma shoes and snug trousers. Whatever. Philippians was my buddy who ushered me into thirty. When I lament and moan he rolls his eyes and says, "whatever." Brother knows what he's talking about when I apply his truth it's like a magic potion that sweetens up even the bitter.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Off to tackle the dishes.

Whatever, the ICE CREAM!

May your bowl runneth over. 

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Great Expectations

Naked and screaming we slide into this world. Breath fills the lungs and we howl it out our first cry. What is it in that moment we feel?  Why do none of us remember? Science makes sense of the mystery and labels it answers but a part of me thinks those startled infant moments are the very first accusing question of life. "Is this it?"

With blankets they cover us and sooth us with milk and quiet us with locked eye and mother love. Until we cry again. Linked in to the circle of life, a cycle of cries and covering, quieting.

In a little over two weeks my life will once more come full-circle and the day of my birth will be remembered. Thirty, I'll be thirty. Inside out is how I come. It's normally easy for me to peel back the layers and lay bare my soul. Though sometimes even my honest hungry soul stands startled at truth. All these numbers later and I am still the babe naked and screaming questioning life, questioning God, "Is this it?"

Spiritually speaking I cover, I quiet my selfishness with attempts at gratitude, I grasp at the truth my life could be so much worse. I compare and come up with the better end of the stick. Until the thanks and self will slip around my feet and I'm raw before my God.

A normal Tuesday happy phone call to a friend recently un-did me. A river of tears sweep me away. Tears flowing down I looked baffled at the mirror a reflection of the girl I said I wouldn't be. I'd turn thirty with eloquence, gracious, grateful. Mirrors hold no secrets they show us what is. As I stared my tears in the eye this question rose in my spirit, "How do you really feel?"

Broken, disappointed and angry that life at thirty is far from my girlhood dreams is how I really feel. I want to be loved, chosen. I want a baby to hold. Gray strands are daily plucked as the crow's feet stare back at me.  I live in a basement and my car is old. My arms are flabby. And that is only the surface of my insecurities.

People say expect little, give much, but what I can't figure out is how to expect little and still remain hopeful?  Should I raise my hand at the roll call for hard to please I know others would nod approval. It's a trait I wish I could cast off like dirty shoes but it's a magnetic force that attaches to me over and over.

As hard as I am to please I am equally eager to please. I work hard at pleasing others, but even then I let them down. And myself, I let her down too.

What is the answer? Is there any hope? Jail cells, grave yards, hospital wards and a thousand other small hurts and crushed spirits tell on life. Life isn't fair echos from the preschool halls.

Great expectations dashed again and again. Selfishness fuels my questions, feeds my disappointment why type it here? Isn't that un-Christian? One of the greatest comforts of my walk with Him is knowing He has no great expectations for me. He expects me to fumble, fail, and rail fits. That is why He gave us Christ. To trample our trespasses and breath life into our dead souls incapable of being satisfied, incapable of succeeding.

When I'm in a million pieces from disappointments from others, from myself I remember who holds them all together and I take heart. He, Christ is the way, the truth and the LIFE. He breathes life back into counting thanks the locking eye with one we are dependent on, the one who joys in us.

This memory plays often on my mind's reel. The day is done and so am I the car is parked and I'm disheartened again. Weighted head sunk to the steering wheel and "All I wanna do is cry." The radio croons, "Some sweet day we'll be together, yes we will, yes we will."

There is hope, there is life in Him now, there is life everlasting and it will beat in your heart the promise to be fullfilled. One day I'll breath my last and slide right out of this world, clothed and home.

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. C.S. Lewis

Quote read in Desire, A life changing read for me-I highly recommend it.

Monday, May 2, 2011


"Do not trust your memory; it is a net full of holes; the most beautiful prizes slip through it."
- Georges Duhamel

Find those words so true when i finger type the thanks i've written on the invisible mind's list they've faded, smudged when I dig to recall. There is a goodness found in turning thanks into history, a record for my mind whose memory slips right quick. "The eyes of man, 'the eyes of mine' are never satisfied," so I seek to wash them and fill their blind spots with thanks to remember.

553. for honeysuckle scented walks
554. for wild roses and yellow weeds
555. for watching an old house be made new
556. for tree tops split that splinter my heart
557. for the community's outpouring for those whose tangible lives were stolen by the storm
558. for safety in storms
559. for big, fat, sloppy Ivy who comes to visit
560. for frozen yogurt
561. for tonight's delicious thrown together salad

562. for the royal wedding
563. for connecting with a co-worker over wedding bells
564. for pots of tea
565. for enjoying being a girl
566. for fresh food

567. for cadbury eggs
568. for Ben selling my computer-woo hoo!
569. for sleeping late
570. for decorating talking and an afternoon with Amy
571. for a best friend home for a moment
572. for cheap princess rings
573. for conversations with three year olds
574. for jaunts through the south fresh market
575. for heavy whipping cream, i could drink a pint or twelve
576. for scripture memory renewed
577. for tears to wash the eyes
578. for trees painted golden by the setting sun
579. for the sun that trails me through the morning trees driving to work
580. for whopper easter eggs
581. for family easter dinner
582. for laughing and being with family
583. for Him who gives all good gifts and all these 603 and countless more.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Princess Diaries

Can think of nothing better on the eve of the Royal Wedding than to bow to one of the crowning events of my 2010.  Princess Di, the celebration, the mecca, the wonder displayed at the Atlantic Civic center. Back in June a few of my best girls obliged me my birthday wish, the Princess Diana Exhibit. Her wedding dress and crowns were on display. It was Christmas Eve kind of happy excitement. Squealing and gushing, I could have spent a week in there, her clothes, her life. I cried.  Feel as though my life has come full circle Princess Diana's royal wedding was held the summer of the year I was born and now another. Sigh, tear, swoon, squeal. Awesome is a poor adjective for such a time as this. I prefer "fairy tail-ish"

My co-worker's three year old spent the morning with me. She built a a club-house under my desk and at one point sought my attention by pulling my skirt. When I informed her she was going to pull my skirt off she asked, "You aren't wearing panties?" I assured her I was decent and then she needed to know what color, am I that questionable?

Three year old Rylee. We talked of princesses and mothered her baby and drew a butterfly with hand stencils and I mooned over the pink crayon.  We lamented the fact we had no "no posh" nail polish to paint the town with, we consoled ourselves by discussing colors she has quite the collection. We drank "fake coffee" and forwent wearing shoes. I wanna three year old and a Prince too.

Speaking of which, that Harry I had him pegged for awkward tsk, tsk, I played the judge array, he has turned out to be a little looker. As his dashing brother has become a dead-end to me, I believe I have a new cradle crush. Harry, I am yours, all yours.

I bid you a found farewell on the eve of this grandiose event. May we all dream of fairy godmothers and handsome princes.

Peace, love and glitter.

what I wore: from the princess diaries: dress: gap (2009) clutch: dsw (2009)
more awkward and awesome here!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Awesome and Awkward Thursday-It's back...

And will last as long as the contents of leftover photos last. These bees from da Christmas Eve. Oh you know Christmas leftovers are the best. Hauling out the pie, slicing up the turkey, uncovering the casseroles. Yum! I am pathetic and I know it.

1. From the Christmas archives: having to send a text, "I'm gonna be late I'm blowing drying your present" Uh, huh never drink and pick up your gifts to walk out the door. Next year please remind me to water the tree and not my presents. Wait, don't, my tree is fake. The top to my water was open as I went in for the kill. And that's that.
2. From the Christmas archives: unwrapping a gift and returning it because you knew the other person didn't get you a gift and you didn't want it to be awkward. Is that an oxymoron?

3. We're transitioning to present day, pronouncing your community group leader's child's name wrong you say, "Ev-ie I say, "E-vie" I mentally ran a phonetics chart in my head Evvvvvvvvvvvv." Sorry, guys
4. Verbal road blocks in which I cannot pronounce a word right, not even on take five.
5. Being in the grocery store and suddenly realizing, "Hey! This isn't my buggy." Which I declared to two ole ladies, pretty sure they thought it was awkward.
6. The plumber beating you to the house and watching as you unload the bathroom cabinet. We all know what's in there.

1. Thirteen pounder baby Logan in the crook of my arm and his fat little cheeks. I asked to keep him. They said no.
2. My Granjanies ring-It's dreamy
3. Sweet Potatoes baking-swoony, yummy smell
4. Christmas memories
5. Girls movie night, even when you all pass out the movie was that bad
6. Oh Joy Brownies & Ice Cream
7. Easter, Easter, Easter, HE IS ALIVE!

Happy Easter, Oh and Merry Christmas.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Heads Up

Sunday my eyes opened late and my head sunk heavy and longed to burrow within the comfort and sleep all day like a cat in the rays of the sun. Muddled mind tired from a Saturday that had me gone from dark to dark begrudgingly my sleepyhead crawled out of bed. Like a bowl full of mush wishing to be the little old lady who'd hush went my mind spinning through the to do's and the should and the should nots, the gray and the black and the whites. Scenarios and time frames played to the tune of a grumpy disposition. I poured the coffee and headed for the porch Bible and journal trailing me. All the mind could think was when and how and my hair days dirty and to church or not to church loomed largest on the brain that runs like a mouse on a wheel.

And I pulled a shouldn't, according to the scholars, I laid open the Word to the Psalms and where the eyes landed I read:

1 The earth is the LORD’s, and all its fullness,
The world and those who dwell therein.
2 For He has founded it upon the seas,
And established it upon the waters.
3 Who may ascend into the hill of the LORD?
Or who may stand in His holy place?
4 He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
Who has not lifted up his soul to an idol,
Nor sworn deceitfully.
5 He shall receive blessing from the LORD,
And righteousness from the God of his salvation.
6 This is Jacob, the generation of those who seek Him, Who seek Your face.  Selah
7 Lift up your heads, O you gates!
And be lifted up, you everlasting doors!
And the King of glory shall come in.
8 Who is this King of glory?
The LORD strong and mighty,
The LORD mighty in battle.
9 Lift up your heads, O you gates!
Lift up, you everlasting doors!
And the King of glory shall come in.
10 Who is this King of glory?
The LORD of hosts,
He is the King of glory.  Selah
Psalm 24
'Lift up your head' over and over struck me as I pondered anew what was the right decision. 'Lift up your head', so I did. I flung my head back on the chair and drank in the morning sun like a soul parched from the desert. And I didn't go to church. I work for the church, I value the church and I have lived the steadiness all my life of attending church like the steadiness of brushing my teeth. Yet, sometimes the richest times I have of seeking His face are the days I attend church party of two, me and the Holy Spirit in the pew of the wide world.

In times past verse 3 and 4 have struck a chord of fear in me at the utter realization of the murkiness of my heart and the imperfections of hands dirtied by flesh.

3 Who may ascend into the hill of the LORD?
Or who may stand in His holy place?
4 He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
Who has not lifted up his soul to an idol,
Nor sworn deceitfully.

Fear that I might miss Him and watch His glory pass through unclean hands. This reading pounded down truth. Hands and hearts can only be cleansed in the lifting up of the head. We can do nothing apart from Him, He is our righteousness, He is our portion, the lifter of our heads and the washer of our hands and the purifier of our hearts. So easily I focus on my hands as though I can do anything for Him who is above all things. Lifting up my head mentally steering my mind to the knowledge of the King of Glory who dwells within and fills and washes over and over. My encouragement is when your brain bounces like rubber and your heartbeats low with fear and failure, Heads up. 

Grateful for gifts from the King of Glory

533. for cookies from Malley ever abundant
534. for a braid that holds all day and doesn't hurt 
535. for recovered $3
536. for texts trusting and asking for my prayers
537. for humbleness from my boss
538. for dinner's smell
539. for Ivy the dog, who walks with me
540. for movies with friends and swedish fish
541. for true grit, it was good
542. for a nemesis rallying positive
543. for bright sunshine
544. for wholesome food
545. for easy, yummy, chocolate chip cookies
546. for drinking in Sunday sun with a lifted head
547. for a walk to the country store for a popsicle
548. for pastel Easter eggs
549. for talking to babies
550. for fellowship with Traci
551. for a good CASA conference
552. for the lifter of my head