Sunday, February 27, 2011
Your Hands - JJ Heller
while the sun is always shinny this side of the villa villekulla sometimes their are clouds in my vision, making it harder for me to see it. this song is a good reminder to brush those clouds away and dance in His perfect presence. thank you j j heller for this beautiful reminder =)
Thursday, February 24, 2011
barefoot in the snow
the snow falls quietly and blankets the brown grass, dirty fields and all that is left out in the cold. i am reminded of the Lord washing my heart clean, white as snow. suddenly the desire to step out in it is overwhelming. i am barefoot. it burns. a cold burn. i lift my foot and see my print, clean and white. just an impression of me in the white, cold, fluff. my step of faith. my walk in the spirit.
had i worn boots my impression would have been left dirty. and it wouldn't have been my impression but the boots. dirty boot prints in the snow. much like my walk before being washed by the blood. my impressions of stepping out, in myself and not in faith. each one stained with dirt. stained with sin. stained with a dirty, sin film on each and every one of them.
is my every step, through every day, a step in faith or am i more prone to wear my boots? prone to shield my feet from the cold burn. prone to shield my heart of the hurts slung around this stained world? prone to shield my bruised body so as not to accrue more wounds. prone to be quick to defend my actions and words to those who do not know where i'm coming from? to those who do not know where i'm so pleased to be heading? yes. prone to wear my boots.
i step into the snow again. this time both feet. promising to take off my boots more often, especially when i know hurtful words have a tendency to be slung. take off my boots and walk in the snow more often especially when my bruises are tender to the touch and i am near the fists that pound. take off my boots more often and duct tape my mouth closed especially when in the presence of those who will point out differences in my actions my words and thiers.
another cold burning step and i'm reminded that i am not my own and yes, i am indeed an alien, alive and living, walking amongst the dead and dying. another cold and burning step and i am reminded that it's by fire that i am refined and made new. another cold and burning step and i am noticing two pairs of young eyes staring out the window curious as to why mommy is walking out in the snow. in her bare feet.
i turn and walk back in the house. "what are you doing mommy?" a small boy with wide, wondering eyes asks. "asking the Lord to refine me. trying to step out more in faith." i kiss the top of his head and run down the hall before i'm asked the inevitable question of 'may i step in the snow too?' because i know, just know, that i will, in fact, have to encourage it.
had i worn boots my impression would have been left dirty. and it wouldn't have been my impression but the boots. dirty boot prints in the snow. much like my walk before being washed by the blood. my impressions of stepping out, in myself and not in faith. each one stained with dirt. stained with sin. stained with a dirty, sin film on each and every one of them.
is my every step, through every day, a step in faith or am i more prone to wear my boots? prone to shield my feet from the cold burn. prone to shield my heart of the hurts slung around this stained world? prone to shield my bruised body so as not to accrue more wounds. prone to be quick to defend my actions and words to those who do not know where i'm coming from? to those who do not know where i'm so pleased to be heading? yes. prone to wear my boots.
i step into the snow again. this time both feet. promising to take off my boots more often, especially when i know hurtful words have a tendency to be slung. take off my boots and walk in the snow more often especially when my bruises are tender to the touch and i am near the fists that pound. take off my boots more often and duct tape my mouth closed especially when in the presence of those who will point out differences in my actions my words and thiers.
another cold burning step and i'm reminded that i am not my own and yes, i am indeed an alien, alive and living, walking amongst the dead and dying. another cold and burning step and i am reminded that it's by fire that i am refined and made new. another cold and burning step and i am noticing two pairs of young eyes staring out the window curious as to why mommy is walking out in the snow. in her bare feet.
i turn and walk back in the house. "what are you doing mommy?" a small boy with wide, wondering eyes asks. "asking the Lord to refine me. trying to step out more in faith." i kiss the top of his head and run down the hall before i'm asked the inevitable question of 'may i step in the snow too?' because i know, just know, that i will, in fact, have to encourage it.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
His little onion
fifteen years ago today, my mom was welcomed into the heavens by the hands of Jesus. her battle was over. her eternal life had begun. their was, in my heart, a relief of her ending pain and suffering. a rejoicing in her home going. i have been able to tell her story through my eyes, dry. "how strange that you can reflect with no tears." are words i have been told and have heard behind my back. strange. yes. no tears. no time. nope. their was high school to finish. then trade school, work, work, work, classes at the community college and more work, and more work, and more work. no time. nope. happy go lucky and too busy to cry. to think. to feel her loss. until suddenly, it all stopped.
i was married, pregnant and sick. nauseous was an understatement. head in the toilet always. hormones at a maximum capacity of low. i was not glowing. i was not the jovial pregnant women who wanted to let every single stranger touch her growing belly, or answer the question "how far along are you?" while standing in line for groceries. often wordy. easily talkative. in my chest was the weight of the world and my throat held captive the words that i didn't even know existed. silence. nothing.
after having our first child, a boy, their was this sense of newness. beginnings. my chance to do this my way with the guidance of the Most High. that baby boy is what i poured myself into. then came pregnancy number two. the same thing happened. i was sick. nauseous was an understatement. head in the toilet always. hormones at a maximum capacity of low. i was not glowing. i was not jovial. i was worse this go round because i then had guilt for not being able to be the mommy to baby number one that i was used to being. the he was used to me being.
she was born. very grey with a tight cord around her neck but she was would be fine. a girl. a beautiful girl. a chance to teach this wee one all the fun little lady like things that i had been taught by my mommy. again my world crumbled. another reminder of all that she isn't here to witness. isn't here to help me with. all the more that i will have to do alone. still, i push on. no time for tears, i now have two babies to bringing up. my way, with the guidance of the Most High.
He reminds me of my nick name. as a child my mommy called me her "little onion in the petunia patch". said ever-so endearingly, i thought nothing of it, until i was a teenager. i would then cringe at it's sound. her little onion? another, more beloved nickname, bestowed upon me by my mommy was gracie. i felt better about this one.
her little onion. i've often given this nickname more thought as i have grown. i was, in fact, inconveniently born into a previously dissolving marriage, only days after my half brother was born to a women who was thought to be my moms best friend. now that is quite the onion in the petunia patch. i have no idea if one has any relationship to the other, but i've often wondered. that said,i never went with a lack of love, we were, in fact, the cuddliest of all families, professing our love for one another often.
her little onion. with all these layers of sadness, frustration, anger, loneliness. i am currently sitting in the hands of the Most High. Creator of all the is seen and unseen. i have decided to hand these layers to Him. one layer at a time. it is time. better late then never. i will let Him peel me. much like when i peel an onion, the tears will surely flow, though i know He will catch each and every one of them. examine them through and through and keep them in jars on the selves of His store house. He will peel me down to someone else. create me anew. "If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" - 2 Corinthians 5:17 whatever will i be when He is through? i cannot even imagine. i know it will be good. better then what i have done with me. perhaps a little less pungent in smell? prayerfully, with the a sweeter fragrance? one that is sweet like His. so now, i am His little onion.
i was married, pregnant and sick. nauseous was an understatement. head in the toilet always. hormones at a maximum capacity of low. i was not glowing. i was not the jovial pregnant women who wanted to let every single stranger touch her growing belly, or answer the question "how far along are you?" while standing in line for groceries. often wordy. easily talkative. in my chest was the weight of the world and my throat held captive the words that i didn't even know existed. silence. nothing.
after having our first child, a boy, their was this sense of newness. beginnings. my chance to do this my way with the guidance of the Most High. that baby boy is what i poured myself into. then came pregnancy number two. the same thing happened. i was sick. nauseous was an understatement. head in the toilet always. hormones at a maximum capacity of low. i was not glowing. i was not jovial. i was worse this go round because i then had guilt for not being able to be the mommy to baby number one that i was used to being. the he was used to me being.
she was born. very grey with a tight cord around her neck but she was would be fine. a girl. a beautiful girl. a chance to teach this wee one all the fun little lady like things that i had been taught by my mommy. again my world crumbled. another reminder of all that she isn't here to witness. isn't here to help me with. all the more that i will have to do alone. still, i push on. no time for tears, i now have two babies to bringing up. my way, with the guidance of the Most High.
He reminds me of my nick name. as a child my mommy called me her "little onion in the petunia patch". said ever-so endearingly, i thought nothing of it, until i was a teenager. i would then cringe at it's sound. her little onion? another, more beloved nickname, bestowed upon me by my mommy was gracie. i felt better about this one.
her little onion. i've often given this nickname more thought as i have grown. i was, in fact, inconveniently born into a previously dissolving marriage, only days after my half brother was born to a women who was thought to be my moms best friend. now that is quite the onion in the petunia patch. i have no idea if one has any relationship to the other, but i've often wondered. that said,i never went with a lack of love, we were, in fact, the cuddliest of all families, professing our love for one another often.
her little onion. with all these layers of sadness, frustration, anger, loneliness. i am currently sitting in the hands of the Most High. Creator of all the is seen and unseen. i have decided to hand these layers to Him. one layer at a time. it is time. better late then never. i will let Him peel me. much like when i peel an onion, the tears will surely flow, though i know He will catch each and every one of them. examine them through and through and keep them in jars on the selves of His store house. He will peel me down to someone else. create me anew. "If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" - 2 Corinthians 5:17 whatever will i be when He is through? i cannot even imagine. i know it will be good. better then what i have done with me. perhaps a little less pungent in smell? prayerfully, with the a sweeter fragrance? one that is sweet like His. so now, i am His little onion.
Monday, February 21, 2011
dancing in His robes
it was morning. it was early. and the question after question, the request after request in my early foggy morning head, was a lot.
by noon i was breathing deeply every breath. this morning was no different then most, but for some reason i was fraying. like a fast paced scene in an action movie, pit after pit, after pit, kept zooming before my feet, and i was hopscotching through the first half of the day. those pits. dark. deep. dirty. full of snakes.
i was being followed not by one, but two precious small souls encased in earthly flesh. i did not want to disappoint the One who entrusted them to me. so in the middle of a narrow hallway, one small embodied soul on either side of me, asking and requesting at the same time, i stopped. closed my eyes, let my head fall back and reach for the heavens, "Lord!" was my cry.
the inside of my eyelids flashed and there i saw myself at the forefront of a battle. front lines. enemy snarling and foaming and beckoning me forward. one more step and it was into a pit. before i could feel any fear, He stepped to my side. white, warm garments. my rampart. "this is not your battle" says a familiar voice. "i have better plans for you today"
the pits were no more. what battle field? no front line to stand in. only white, warm robes. my hands still in the air, i danced. eyes still closed, head still dropped back, i laughed a laugh of rejoicing and thanks. twirling and twirling and twirling, i danced in may Savior's white, warm robes. for the enemy has no place here. He is my rampart.
in a cloth that moves like chiffon, layered in something like linen, glowing white like i've never before seen, i just danced. for the rest of the day. i danced in His glorious robes. questions were answered. request fulfilled. but mostly, that day was full of dancing. dancing in His robes.
by noon i was breathing deeply every breath. this morning was no different then most, but for some reason i was fraying. like a fast paced scene in an action movie, pit after pit, after pit, kept zooming before my feet, and i was hopscotching through the first half of the day. those pits. dark. deep. dirty. full of snakes.
i was being followed not by one, but two precious small souls encased in earthly flesh. i did not want to disappoint the One who entrusted them to me. so in the middle of a narrow hallway, one small embodied soul on either side of me, asking and requesting at the same time, i stopped. closed my eyes, let my head fall back and reach for the heavens, "Lord!" was my cry.
the inside of my eyelids flashed and there i saw myself at the forefront of a battle. front lines. enemy snarling and foaming and beckoning me forward. one more step and it was into a pit. before i could feel any fear, He stepped to my side. white, warm garments. my rampart. "this is not your battle" says a familiar voice. "i have better plans for you today"
the pits were no more. what battle field? no front line to stand in. only white, warm robes. my hands still in the air, i danced. eyes still closed, head still dropped back, i laughed a laugh of rejoicing and thanks. twirling and twirling and twirling, i danced in may Savior's white, warm robes. for the enemy has no place here. He is my rampart.
in a cloth that moves like chiffon, layered in something like linen, glowing white like i've never before seen, i just danced. for the rest of the day. i danced in His glorious robes. questions were answered. request fulfilled. but mostly, that day was full of dancing. dancing in His robes.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
this little light of mine
i am transparent. you can pretty much see right through me all the time. i wear my heart on one sleeve and on the other is my expectancy for something great. however, i am learning to expect nothing from anyone and everything of God. He is my steadfast friend, lover of my soul and true companion everywhere i go. weather i go low or high, side to side or even round and round. He is always there. my tried and true forever friend. closer then a brother. closer then a sister.
i used to say that i had tissue paper thin skin. i do not say this anymore. although at times i do. most times i just feel sorry for those who don't know how hurtful they can be. how sad to know not the beauty of loving kindness so as to share it with others...to look upon this world and not see the potential for something great in it all. it is everywhere. how great is our God! so rich in mercy and full of love for His people.
i am blunt. my tongue is a sword that must be tamed at every single second of the day. otherwise i will have to fill my mouth with loads of bubble gum. this is my defense mechanism for you. i am not mean. i try to be sure that even harsh truth is handed to you on the fluffiest belly of a previously warmed-by-a-hug teddy bear who holds a kitten. i will always tell the truth if even it's not what you want to hear. honesty is always the best policy. i wish i could say, that i won't say so, unless you ask, but that just wouldn't be true. probably, i will say so.
and so their is no searching within me. if it has its place amongst this little light of mine, you will see it. you will know it. and i will be at a ready for anything that comes my way. for i know i can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. and if am me, and i am who you see, i pray this is the sight of Christ.
i used to say that i had tissue paper thin skin. i do not say this anymore. although at times i do. most times i just feel sorry for those who don't know how hurtful they can be. how sad to know not the beauty of loving kindness so as to share it with others...to look upon this world and not see the potential for something great in it all. it is everywhere. how great is our God! so rich in mercy and full of love for His people.
i am blunt. my tongue is a sword that must be tamed at every single second of the day. otherwise i will have to fill my mouth with loads of bubble gum. this is my defense mechanism for you. i am not mean. i try to be sure that even harsh truth is handed to you on the fluffiest belly of a previously warmed-by-a-hug teddy bear who holds a kitten. i will always tell the truth if even it's not what you want to hear. honesty is always the best policy. i wish i could say, that i won't say so, unless you ask, but that just wouldn't be true. probably, i will say so.
and so their is no searching within me. if it has its place amongst this little light of mine, you will see it. you will know it. and i will be at a ready for anything that comes my way. for i know i can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. and if am me, and i am who you see, i pray this is the sight of Christ.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
the sunny side is getting an over haul...
the sunny side will be back up and running in a short amount of time, thank you for your patience while the construction is at hand :) if you are in need of a little pick me up type of story please head over to
http://www.confessionsofastayathomewifeandmother.blogspot.com/
this is where i write about my family and either how much i love and appreciate them or how crazy we are =)
http://www.confessionsofastayathomewifeandmother.blogspot.com/
this is where i write about my family and either how much i love and appreciate them or how crazy we are =)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)