the elizabeth highsmith

Count it All Joy

2012-02-11T11:10:00.000-05:00

One's in love and gonna get married, One's happy round and gonna be a new mommy, One's gonna be a mommy three times over, Two are gonna turn thirty, One's signing on the dotted line and gonna be a home owner, One went home and is heaven's new victory and this one........She's gonna party. She's calling it 2012, the year of the party and she's gonna pray for grace to count it all joy.

His Mercies New

2012-01-02T22:00:00.001-05:00

In all the new and hopes and dreams and blanks on the page may the old, old truth guide your way and fill your days. "Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed. Because His compassions they fail not. They are new every morning; Great is HIS faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23

He IS. Happy New Year

710. for last January's day's off
711. for January's creative day and brunch
712. for February's Valentine's dinner with my family
713. for March's thrill of a new home
714. for April's exciting New York adventure
715. for May's Easter party
716. for June's 30th birthday celebration
717. for July fourth with the Schwartings
718. for August's girl's movie day
719. for September full of birthday's of those I love
720. for October's span of weekend traveling fun
721. for November's shopping with Melissa and laughing with friends
722. for December's redemption and celebration
723. for year's full of countless blessings
724. for His mercy to hold us up should our feet slip
725. for His victory lived out defeating my sin
726. for the sun that fills me reminders of Him
727. for fun loving Edie pointer to the truth
728. for strings of days spent with the best and dearest friends
729. for Mama answering the phone
730. for Dad's texts
731. for quick and spicy tomato soup
732. for hot fudge gifts
733. for hot fudge to eat
734. for the heater's warmth
735. for the Lord our banner coverer of all these days
736. for those mercies always new

Whole Wheat Banana Bread

2011-12-09T01:01:00.001-05:00

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)
Ingredients
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.

Open arms

2011-12-04T11:19:00.001-05:00

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

The Answer My Friend, Is Blowing in Him

2011-11-28T14:19:00.001-05:00

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

Stretchy Pants-Thanksgiving's LBD

2011-11-24T00:00:00.001-05:00

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.

It's a Wonderful Life

2011-10-17T23:07:00.000-04:00

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

To Infinity and Beyond....

2011-10-04T00:18:00.000-04:00

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
haircuts
Kadri, the hairdresser
pizza with mom
pink pens, surprise gift from best friend
sweetest text from dad
new life

*663-683 tally straightened up

Awkward and Awesome

2011-09-29T22:52:00.000-04:00

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.

Awkward
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.

Awesome

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

I Dream of Cake

2011-09-25T20:28:00.000-04:00

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.

Forgetting

2011-09-11T18:54:00.000-04:00

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.

Labor Day

2011-09-05T23:02:00.002-04:00

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

The Mosquito's Buffet

2011-08-07T22:04:00.000-04:00

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.

The Cold

2011-08-01T21:38:00.003-04:00

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"

There's a light in the attic

2011-07-25T21:40:00.000-04:00

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

Word Problem

2011-07-17T18:51:00.000-04:00

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

Whatever

2011-06-21T22:11:00.002-04:00

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.

Great Expectations

2011-05-25T19:58:00.001-04:00

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.

More...

2011-05-02T22:36:00.000-04:00

"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.

The Princess Diaries

2011-04-28T23:50:00.000-04:00

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"

Awkward
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?

Awesome
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!

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

2011-04-21T23:24:00.000-04:00

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.

Awkward
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.

Awesome
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!

Amen,
Happy Easter, Oh and Merry Christmas.

Heads Up

2011-04-18T23:06:00.000-04:00

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

Awesome and Awkward Thursday

2011-04-14T23:34:00.001-04:00

Chock full of inspiration ripe for the picking is the field of blogs. On every row delicious fruit, particularly from the fashion bloggers who possess both charming looks, clothes galore, and cute husbands with camera skills to document their bounty. Then there's me the pickled peach with a little wrinkly skinned jealousy over their lot versus mine. However, when they successfully launch an awesome and awkward Thursday and get the masses to harvest their own good bad and ugly this tree bows down. I am linking up with the make you sick she's so dad-bloomin cute Syd from The Daybook blog with my very first Awkward and Awesome Thursday in which I recap time in the awkward and in the awesome. Shall we?

Awkward
1. Taking photos of yourself and never posting them on your blog cause you're lazy
2. Posting photos of yourself in winter attire when it's clearly spring
3. These photos: I am eleven trapped in a twenty year olds body

4. Buying undergarments from a male employee who proceeds to discourse with you on said unmentionables
5. Dropping your bottle cap in the movie theater
6. Being told you have the most beautiful eyes outside the theater from a half pint dude with a fro
Dude, didn't even look at my eyes it was just a one liner and I laughed and said thanks, cause I didn't wanna get punked.
7. Misplacing your ticket in line for the Empire State building and feeling heat rising from the masses waiting behind you.
8. Asking directions from a man on the subway who proceeds to tell you to get off and take the number eight with him. Ummm, No.

Awesome
1. New York
2. New York
3. New Yorkers! I table talked some New Yorkers to the point I almost asked to try their pizza.
4. Food: I love to eat, don't you? I hate we have to get full.
5. The smell of brownies.
6. It's my blog and I can post pictures from January if I wanna, that's awesome.
7. You, You're awesome. I know it.

And awkward, but that's besides the point. We've all earned that badge.

*mmmm next go round I'm gonna be more awesome than awkward-is that possible? Prolly not. Hugs and kisses, but those are only for my mama and anyone who looks like George Clooney.

what i wore: awesomely awkward: sweater: banana republic, jeans: h&m, boots: were made for walking aka, vingtage smintage.

The Lady of the House

2011-04-04T22:59:00.001-04:00

These were her walls, corners, door ways. They built it from the ground up, detail upon detail. I wish these walls could talk and tell me what she baked for dinner, or what she scrubbed her floors with, the sound her feet made as she walked her floors. Her floral print wall paper with it's pale blues and dusty roses, her powder blue carpets and dark cabinets, they were stylish. What must she think, this women whose dream home has been my house, of my daydreams of the changes I'd render if it were mine? Just like that we are dated, out of style. It's colloquial but it's truth, time marches on, slowly steadily never wavering. And as we lie silent in our graves others walk our paths, they take our steps, turn our corners and pass through our door ways. I'll never know her but she has been my reminder this life, my life, is but dust, a vapor in the wind.

Flowers from her yard-Words stitched eight months ago when I first moved into her house.

528. for her flowers
529. for her house my home for eight months
530. for a new home (i moved)
531. for april 4th a day with all the birthdays
532. for the reminder to re-member the power of thanks

Do these shoes make my feet look old? And other minutiae

2011-04-01T23:30:00.002-04:00

Since Edie used the word minutiae I've been vying for my own opportunity to induct the little gem of a word into my vocabulary-so here we are numbered minutiae:

1. I moved
2. I love it!
3. I'm going to New York
4. I can't wait

5. I bought these shoes for $6 doll-ah's at the local Tar-get

6. I need to know if they're campaigning for grandma status?
7. I wore them all day
8. I didn't get a blister

9. I think cheap shoes might be my thing
10. I miss my best friend like a chump on a diet misses cake
11. I'll tell you how I know life isn't fair my best friend is two hours away from me in a college town, that i don't even like. And she up and got herself a mister. Now she may never come home. We were suppose to marry twin brothers and be neighbors in matching bungalows and have children together. I'd have a Jack and she'd have Jill and they'd get married. And our friendship would take over the world. Alas it doesn't work that way, Jesus is not Santa. I know, I've tried. But he's still good, He gave me a best friend.
12. I miss my best friend

13. I may or may not have worn a rendition of this outfit back in 1990 something
14. I may or may not have worn a shirt that was five sizes too big for me
15. I may or may not have worn jeans that were three inches too short
16. I may or may not have matched my bff
17. I may or may not have incriminating photos
18. I have finally all these years later made peace with denim on denim
19. I found my yogurt today to be better than usual
20. I buy plain but lucked up and accidentally bought french vanilla
21. I like it
22. I bought some new orange lipstick, it's Revlon
23. I know it's chock full of parabens and is probably going to rot my lips off but at least if they do fall off they'll be pretty.
24. I'll be back
25. I hope with something of more substance than this
26. I'm going to New York, Ack

So are the shoes presentable and is denim on denim the new acid wash?

What I Wore: working, errands, banana bread baking and missing my best friend so much it hurts.

Blouse: Gap, Jeans: Express, Shoes: Target

Dream

2011-03-06T21:12:00.000-05:00

Daydream believer rings true in my ears. Still all these years later I can travel back to the dreams I spun in the day. Families I made where they went, what they ate, their tragedies and triumphs. Presently I'm in the midst of a love affair with Roy Orbison's Dream. I'd like to climb up in the computer and float on a cloud and listen to Roy on repeat, over and over. "Dream that's the thing to do."

There are days when the to do list looms daunting with it's endless check boxes and lines of "do's" and I look at it paralyzed. It's as though I'm stalemated anchored to a desire to just be and sail aimlessly on a sea of daydreams.

Steam from the coffee cup warmed my face as I read lines on the computer and it struck me as odd those moments when we realize we are very much alive. Life is a gift. "I gave you life so that you could live it." Favorite line from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Jesus came that we might have life, abundant life. We get to live, we get to dream. And we the redeemed, forever alive we'll live, dream fulfilled. We are alive to live, to dream. Are you a daydreamer? Please say yes. And lets scale to castles in the sky and swim all day in the frothy blue sea.

Hungry and Full

2011-02-28T22:07:00.000-05:00

Tonight I ate broccoli of my own free will and it was good. It's etched in my brain the day the green tasted good. As I swallowed surprise that broccoli I liked pride rose fierce, "I'll never tell um." I double crossed, stomped and firmly declared I'd never, ever, ever like broccoli. Sheepishly the truth came out, "I like broccoli." Family called it right, I'd learn to like it twenty plus years later.

Tonight is Monday and I often type out numbers tallying the thanks. It is easy the plating of dessert and the licking of the spoon. Flowers parading at driveways end are happy and cheery and easy comes the thanks. Yet, to double dip a triple scoop of ice cream when the world begs hungry seems shameful, prideful, arrogant, flaunting, even. Yet, I am learning slowly, learning that thanks, true thanks, Christ fueled thanks is in every morsel, in every bite.

Giving thanks in all, even in the starved and famished seems a more impossible plight than broccoli sliding down content. On this Monday night my plate is empty and honest truth is I fear what will be dished for me to eat. Or worse, how do I help myself to a double portion of dessert, when the world howls hungry? And I don't know. Life is always serving up portions and how often not fair ones.

Broccoli remnants on the plate distraught with disgust, sometimes mercy came and they would eat it for me. Grateful for His grace to do what I cannot and even more that He's patient as I learn to say thanks for all.

1,000 gifts the book is naked, raw honesty and beautiful. It's Ann Voskamp's story of learning thanks. The candy shop thanks and the bitter root thanks. It's climbed best-seller high and rightly so, because her word's lift high to the only one who can teach us to live empty and hungry, yet full. Read it.

528. for this post
529. for broccoli
530. for the impossible becoming thanks
531. for the Great I am covering all I am not
532. for Him who IS

The Dance of the Tulips

2011-02-23T19:36:00.000-05:00

Tulips dance when no ones watching
They hike up their skirt
and waltz the flirt
They shimmy and shake
and merry make
They dip and spin
and go it again
Try and catch um and you'll only find um still
For tulips only dance when no ones watching
Come round once more and their bow will tell the tale:
They twist and twirl
and give it a whirl
They dance content
until they're spent
And then you know it's true

Tulips dance when no ones watching

Sermon on the Morning

2011-02-21T23:25:00.001-05:00

When Spirit takes flight to the pulpit of ancient verse He always preaches the sermon best. Message Sunday morn Psalm 77, and who is this Asaph? And don't we sound the same, overwhelmed, troubled, complaining. My heart breaths wonder he asks them too? The hard whys, and the hefty accusations. We shake our fists and preach our own sermons mad, questioning our God. I imagine Asaph's motives behind his exasperated demands and overwhelming puzzles were less wrought with self than mine.

But that isn't the point for I identify with Asaph in the bowing of my head when memory pours in and floods the doubt. My head bobbles wonder at the remembrance of who are God is. God of then and God of now. Gracious God who yields memory for our good in the lines of holy Word and in the lines of Spirit written on the heart. Remembrance of Him has the power to vanquish the haunting hollows of our souls riddled with broken memories. Eyes read Asaph's words penned by Spirit and I heartily echo amen, amen and amen. For our God is greater and our God is stronger, our God is redeemer, our God is seer and our God is deliverer. Our God makes ways in the wilderness and with fury holds back the waters and bids us part on solid ground.

When the memory and life shadows dance in the dark larger than life there is light to hold on, For, "Who is so great a God as our God? You are the God who does wonders.."

Adding up thanks numbers for the memory

509. for pink roses full of bloom in green vase
510. for lone bird resting on the power line
511. for wind on walk
512. for malley's valentine mug holding coffee hot
513. for steam off hot milk
514. for a blanket wrapped snug
515. for the security of my mama's love
516. for egg and cheese dinner english muffin
517. for sprite in a glass jar
518. for red straws
519. for daffodils springing back to life at work
520. for pink tree blooming back in neighbor's yard
521. for 1,000 gifts the book
522. for Him who trains the memory
523. for God who stretches my heart
524. for this hymn
525. for sweet, sweet time sharing hearts with Traci
526. for holding baby girl, Claire
527. for history etched honest in His holy Word

What's Your Favorite?

2011-02-14T22:12:00.004-05:00

Bare feet would bounce on the black tarp, jumping higher and higher as we volleyed back and forth, "what's your favorite?" What's your favorite ice cream? What's your favorite fruit? Long the time has passed since these soles have trampoline jumped, but still how I love the naming of favorites. What's your favorite? I love it, my silly little detailed mind snatches my friends and family's favorites and files them neat in my noggins own dossier of "what's your favorite?" Those favorites are the clothes of the who, the why and the what making us each marvelously unique and sometimes the binds that tie us similar. Wouldn't I wax odd if I mailed out a survey querying favorites, color? candy? food? hymn? verse? song? memory? story? movie? It's the game that never ends.

Sunday morn and the words filled the screen and He filled my heart and our voices filled the air. On Christ the solid rock I stand, singing while heart clapped and mind reeled, "this one, pick this one!" This hymn inked with the whelm of solid abundant truth, I think it's my favorite. Perhaps, until Sunday comes again. What's your favorite? A hymn, a song any ole favorite will do.

Learning gratitude in the naming of thanks....

477. for multitudes of thanks swirling and waiting for the taking
478. for a kind email in response to a mass email goof up telling me "it's ok, we all make mistakes"
479. for the Spirit's planting melodies and bringing songs to remembrance in my heart
480. for memories
481. for mail trucks
482. for the vastness of the sky
483. for abundant sunshine
484. for valentine balloons colored happy
485. for being done
486. for hope again and again
487. for Valentine's pizza party with sweet family
488. for Valentine's gifts
489. for Valentine's tulips
490. for Mom who knows the favorites
491. for the sound of Cameron's voice
492. for Kimberly's comments
493. for Leanne's cards
494. for happy post office mail days
495. for favorites a plenty
496. for english muffin pizzas
497. for tastes that taste like home
498. for waking up to the smell of coffee
499. for growth
500. for books
501. for reading
502. for Malley Cat and how she loves
503. for street corner conversations with John
504. for the voice that tells the truth when the words lie
505. for the knowing of the voice
506. for words
507. for He who binds and mends and holds it all together
508. for the solid rock, Christ, our only hope

Half way there and not even close for thanks never end and favorites are gifts ready for the naming of the thanks.

What I Wore: Winter Day

2011-02-06T21:31:00.000-05:00

An oddity struck me a few weeks back, I haven't minded winter much this year. Oddity multiplied in the fierceness of this year's winter. It's the bleak and barren and bone chill and presence of dormant death that typically turns my heart cold to winter. Seeing myself and the Father speak through the seasons has thawed my heart and I see truth in the confines of winter.

To everything there is a season and aren't we always changing and never staying the same? When leaves fall and the earth is stripped and cold hugs and paralyzes the air, we seek shelter. We cover and hunker down, we stop and wait and change the routine.

It's in me the stripping, the raw nakedness and sometimes past mistakes freeze thick around my heart. And I wonder if we're souls cemented by the stain and sin of death like sheets of unending ice? Grace melts like sun on snow and He reminds me the redeemed are fused not in the changing fickleness of the heart's seasons but in the unchanging never ending mercy. His mercies are new every morning holding these days and these seasons together.

Winter and I, we're making peace for he's only passing through and ushering in spring. All this dying brimming with opportunity for life, renewed.

What I wore last Sunday, on a winter day masquerading as spring.

"Life is Beauty Full"

2011-01-24T22:00:00.000-05:00

Sunday's gone and Monday's come and before we know it, they'll come round again. Weekends are for feeling full, lounging and lagging, enjoying and considering the lilies and counting with Ann...

466. for pretty food on Saturdays

467. for bamboo needles stitching up gray

468. for $0.10 magazines and Martha's creativity

469. for a God who makes beauty and sunlight warmth

470. for dinner

471. for m&m's to color the world sweet

472. for cold walks on afternoons and shadows to say hi

473. for watching sky meet day as sun climbs through the window on sunday

474. for key lime cupcakes pretty and good

475. for donuts and coffee

476. for quiet times and the living Word

Weekend's gone and I remind myself these other days, they're for living too. These days go round and thanks spins beauty.

What I Wore: Third Time's the Charm

2011-01-23T22:29:00.001-05:00

Bought her three times, because I keep finding her cheaper and cheaper on the target rack. I don't know if I should be commended for being frugal or chastised for wasting time. The shoes are part of the great shoe binge of twenty-eleven, so the dresses final ten-dollah all mine price tag consoles my inner Ben Franklin. A penny saved is a penny earned, though Benny might roll his eyes at the whole fiasco of women and shopping.

Speaking of which I didn't properly introduce you to "snow white." You met her under duress, here she is in the light of day with a much more jovial version of her owner. Aside from "big red" I've only had one other "real" chair for nearly four years. She was dubious at first but I think they're going to get along just fine.

Scouts honor I do actually engage in other activities besides' shopping, such as bestowing names on all the inanimate gizmos and gadgets that find their way home with me. And I read, A LOT, can't you tell? Now, please come over and we'll name the dress and eat ice cream. Is there a dorks anonymous?

What I Wore: Dress: Target, Cardigan: Jcrew, Shoes: DSW (Liz Claiborne), Tights: Banana Republic, Belt: Gap, Coat (my favorite)

Chili "Can" Do

2011-01-20T22:17:00.000-05:00

Last night I came a pauper, baring my poorness and begging for mercy. Tonight I shall feed you. You might should prefer the groveling. For I'm not a butcher, a baker nor a candlestick maker and I blame my mother. "I taught you how to read you can figure out how to cook," she said.

My favorite kitchen utensil is my ice cream scoop, the microwave my ally and dinner at your house? Hello, I love you. But alas I do like to eat and can't support a seven day a week sushi habit. So I cheat and I make things up,or I blow air kisses to the few, the proud, the brave who just throw it all in one bowl and call it done. Let's eat.

I give you Chili Can Do, which I prefer you say with a French accent. French? chili? in the same sentence, are you scared? I made this up on a very frugal whim to pare down the cupboard. And with every can that I opened and dash that I dashed my pride grew till I was sure Betty Crocker would be asking around for my number. Snicker, but it wasn't deplorable, so last night I consoled myself with it's resurrection. And this time I wrote it down, here you be Elizabeth's Great Gas-by. Hehe, I have brothers!

This is can heavy as preservatives are friendly and forgiving. It's sans meat, because browning beef makes me all willy nilly and I think the sizzle sounds like cows mooing.

Rinse yo beans, any ole beans ya got's and or likes. I am a label snob, I made the generic can hide. I feel awful.

Chop some veggies and make yo mama proud. I find sauteing the tar out of veggies is some how rewarding

Throw in what else ya got wait impatiently, take a taste test and burn your tongue.

As love covers a multitude of sins, I give you sour cream, cilantro and cheese. Dish it up and call me if you need counseling.

The un-laboriously, blabber, rambling free recipe

2 Cans Black Beans
1 Can Kidney Beans
1 Can Great Northern Beans
1 Can Diced Tomatoes
1 Can Tomato Sauce
1 Can Chicken Broth
1 Can (small) whole kernel corn
Carrots, Onion, Bell Pepper chopped (maybe a cup and a half)
Garlic, Salt, Pepper
2 T Chili Powder
1 T Cumin
Dash of red pepper flakes

Saute the veggies in garlic, rinse and drain your beans, toss it all in. Simmer for 1 and 1/2 hours.
You can do it! Or laugh at those play at cook.

What I Wore: Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This...

2011-01-19T23:22:00.000-05:00

On day's like this I oft wonder "why do I have to be the stressed out worried one, why can't I be the cute Irish guy who sings. " Ever sent an email to the wrong person? Ever sent one to a hundred plus umpteen wrong persons? Ever "feel you become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's Box of all the secret hateful parts -- your arrogance, your spite, your condescension -- has sprung open. Someone provokes you, and instead of just smiling and moving on, you zing them. Hello, it's Mr. Nasty. I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about." But if you do if you've ever had one of those day's, equal parts of personal goof-ups, mishaps, stress, and let downs. Well, you've got a friend in me. You know how in monopoly you receive get out of jail free cards? I think we should get, I'm having a mediocre, bad day, pardon my grumpiness cards. Cause there's nothing like trying to stuff disgruntled under the guise of fake smiles. Need a card? Take one.

I had no intention of photographing what I wore, I just felt a bad day deserves documentation that it's ok, they're allowed, they happen. And they end. Amen

What I Wore Slow and Lazy

2011-01-16T22:21:00.000-05:00

Today was lazy and restful without an ounce of guilt. Don't you love when a day dawns slow and you match it's pace? Type A by nature, today I think I was a Q, for Q-ute of course. Gag me, cheesy jokes. A lounging day a lull to the usual go, I'll take it and with a thank you, please. Only a knock at the door from George Clooney might have roused my slowness. I wouldn't even show you these pictures if I hadn't gotten dressed at four and feel I should at least have something to show for the effort. Though my starbucks date might be more exciting.

What I wore slow day
Cardigan: Jcrew, Top & Jeans: Gap, Boots: Old as the hills, Pearls: Granjanies, Starbucks: Yummy

459. for pale pink
460. for pearls with a pretty clasp
461. for americano
462. for dad's starbuck's gift card
463. for catching up on sleep
464. for cameras
465. for a slow day

Showers of blessing

2011-01-10T23:28:00.000-05:00

Thoughts run ocean deep, a well of contemplation I haven't a clue how to channel. So tonight I will not swim, I will float. Like rain that falls are His gifts that flood the earth with innumerable goodness. Impossible to grasp them all, pausing to feel and count the drops....
These numbers but a glass of water from the depths of the living, roaring seas of His mercy and goodness

438. for Him who gives every good and perfect gift
439. for the power of the Holy Spirit
440. for grey yarn
441. for a funny movie
442. for sweet, blog comments that make my day
443. for the internet
444. for the grayness of this day
445. for my blue robe
446. for soft flannel sheets
447. for billowy, fluffy pillows
448. for easy dinners
449. for hot soup
450. for good hugs
451. for communion
452. for pen and paper
453. for word's to write
454. for hope that floats
455. for my day's off
456. for blessings mingled in days of sun and rain
457. for my God who sees
458. for 458 and infinitely more thanks to give

She Wrote Back

2011-01-04T23:42:00.001-05:00

If I could pick any of the blogging superstars to spend a day with it would be her, Miss E. We'd eat her mocha cupcakes, and craft away the hours spontaneously belting out ole country ballads. I'd pretend I was her fourth daughter and beg her to read to me, while I knit. She would repent over ever forsaking her gorgeous turquoise cabinets and I would pray about possibly repenting over my mild coveting, obsession of the turquoise cabinets. We'd laugh ourselves to tears and then I'd talk her into being a preacher.

It's true she had me at turquoise and I love her for those cabinets. But in truth that's only the cover page of why I join so many in celebrating Edie's birthday and holding her up in prayers. To me the above photo sums her up, she most beautifully and eloquently reaches up to grace. Her words and her life contained by keys and photos have pointed me up, up to Christ. This post is the heartbeat of my faith and this post the beacon that steered my heart back closer to Christ this Christmas.

She has hundreds of followers yet when I sent her an email, she wrote me back. She saw me, she blessed me.

Edie Wadsworth, I think your name is beautiful and I'm so glad you're Christ's and that He shines through you. Thank you for "seeing" me, for emailing me back, for appreciating my comments, for taking your valuable time to read my little ole blog. You'll never know how your gestures of kindness warmed up this little heart of mine. Happy Birthday, I O U.

437. For Edie

What I Wore Shameless

2011-01-02T20:21:00.000-05:00

Discipline that was one of my twenty-eleven words, I just need you to know that. Also I tripped letting December out the door and fell straight into the doldrums, so I'm working a self-inflicted twelve step recovery program, know that. One of those steps is retail therapy, know it cause I owned it. I was the hunter on the prowl, the caffeine junkie in need of coffee, the girl with the crazed eyes that spun shoes, shoes, shoes. I forgot who Dave Ramsey was, I didn't indulge in the usual forty minute debate, texting photos for advice. I contemplated for twenty-seconds what to do, then it hit me, RUN straight for the check out. I did it, I was shameless.

Frivolous, unnecessary, self-indulgent shoe binge. I'll own the shame but truth be had, this is how I really feel.....(yes, I rock the nerdy when I'm celebrating, those are the happy fists)

Score! Lady's gotta a new pair of shoes, or five depending on who's counting!

What I wore shamelessly shoe shopping:

turtleneck: Old Navy, jeans: The Loft, heels: DSW (Bandolino), scarf: knit by a dear friend, ring: Granjanies, bracelet: Premier Jewelry, coat: Banana Republic

Well, I think I'll take my little temperate self and go eat popcorn and ice cream for dinner. My conscience would like to add I paid cash and saved $225 and I rarely to, never do that.

The Washing

2011-01-01T15:07:00.002-05:00

Rain falls pounding out sound, washing earth on this New Year's day. Coffee brews and scents this house strong, calling me come and pour. Couch and blankets wait with pen and paper to reflect, another year passed and a new one just begun. Poetically apropos these rain drops falling on New Year's day. Washing the world of last year's dirt, preparing winter barren for spring again. I need His washing, His cleansing not just on New Year's but on every day I live and move and breath. This year stretches new and sun and rain will fill it's days. Comforted knowing the rainmaker, the sun riser will cover them all. Happy New Year

not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit
Titus 3:5

433. for coffee to drink
434. for thoughts to think
435. for Him who washes all things new
436. for a God who's near

For Edie

2010-12-26T16:29:00.000-05:00

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.

And I Wonder...

2010-12-24T12:27:00.000-05:00

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

Bobbleheaded Sleepy Girl

2010-12-22T17:23:00.001-05:00

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

Brrrrrrrrrr..........

2010-12-12T20:09:00.000-05:00

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

What I Wore Today

2010-12-06T00:23:00.000-05:00

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)

What I Wore On A Sunday

2010-12-02T19:39:00.000-05:00

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

The Count

2010-12-01T20:06:00.000-05:00

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

Memory and Truth

2010-11-21T18:20:00.000-05:00

My memory searched for them, words to a chorus learned on a mission trip. They evaded me for most of the day. I even thought I'd found them and hummed along the wrong words until out on a walk words came rushing home. As the sky stretched out endless blue, fading day, I played these words again. "All that I need is you, Jesus, All that I need is you, from early in the morning till late at night all that I need is you." Such a simple song how could my memory forget? But it does and that I live. Wanting so very many things from pretty frocks, to love, to triumph over all that falls short, all these things I want when He is all that I need. I have Christ, I have life. I have redemption, I have hope, I have His ever presence. Sometimes it seems so silly, so trite, to say He's all we need. But it is true and it's truth has found me time after time. My prayer at the end of this Sunday is that His truth will find you too. And together we'll sing, "All that I need is you, Jesus, All that I need is you, from early in the morning till late at night all that I need is you."

381. for Him finding me
382. for His loving me, who wants so much
383. for having all that I need.

All My Hope and Stay

2010-11-18T18:49:00.001-05:00

Sunday had me a bit wobbly processing the morning’s message, wondering again at being a believer. Am I getting it right? Am I walking it straight? So often not, But my shaky, clumsy feet found their footing once again as guitars strummed and voices raised. "On Christ the solid rock I stand all other ground is sinking sand." May your feet rest on His unchanging grace.

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

Refrain:
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

359. for hymns with a message
360. for music's power
361. for tea bags with strings
362. for a quick three minute drive to work
363. for my friend John
364. for the warmth of a hot mug in my hands
365. for lists
366. for company
367. for homemade soup
368. for fresh baked pumpkin bread
369. for coffee creamers
370. for Edie
371. for makeup
372. for pony tails
373. for my space heater at work
374. for the warmth of sheets, and comforters
375. for the approaching Christmas season
376. for days off for Thanksgiving approaching
377. for the huge orange tree in my front yard
378. for the sound of a flock of birds swooping by
379. for being dressed in His righteousness alone
380. for the anchor of Christ's mercy and grace

Prayers and Photos

2010-11-14T16:50:00.000-05:00

She sunbathed out on her back deck with a pale yellow sheet. Grab a towel from the mother, don a bathing suit and the 1980 something giant yellow headphones and I was there, on the drive way mimicking the grown up neighbor next door, thinking "we are cool." I was four. And now I'm older and I drag a table and a beat up old digital camera out into the yard. And somewhere on picture one too many, I think to myself, "we are not cool."

I need a husband with mad photography skills to come take my pictures. One like Kendi has, she's cool ubberly, utterly cool and hilarious. I adore her blog. Back to mourning, If you're praying for me a husband, pray harder, pray he can take a decent picture, or convenience me I'm beautiful in mismatched sweats. Amen

What I wore to church (last week), shopping and lounging about barnes and noble. For the record I bought a big fat whopping nuttin. Fine, I bought a little food, a girl has to live.

Blazer: Target, Turtlneck: banana republic, jeans: H&M, Boots: Vintage, necklace, via my granjanie, bracelets, gift (kate spade)

353. for my cowgirl boots
354. for getting the comfy chair at barnes and noble
355. for silly blog features to document your duds
356. for strangers compliments
357. for the ability to read magazines for free
358. for sundays

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...

2010-11-09T17:17:00.000-05:00

People will read your blog; people you know will read your blog and quite possibly not tell you. I'll save my rant on the "not letting you know" for another day, you're welcome. If anyone is out there thinking, "why golly, this is the vainest thing she's ever done" you're wrong. 99 % sure I've taken stock of every mirror I've ever come in contact with, I'm sure that trumps taking pictures of myself and letting the world see them. Mirror, Mirror on the Wall means I must look at them all, it's grafted into my DNA. I'm pulling a famous Elizabeth tangent. Want to know what I wore? Thought so

I've gone and done it two weeks in a row, waited until Sunday, what I deem the end of the week, to remember, "Hey, I said I'd document one getup a week."

Getup it is, cause I'm always running late and the past two outfits have been get up and GO! Have I mentioned my affinity for cheesiness? Afraid so

Let's call this one Sunday's thoughtless frocks. What I wore churching it and movie-going it, Amen and pass the plate, mama wants a new pair of shoes.

Shirt: banana republic, jeans: j crew, belt: gap (yellow? i know, don't judge she's the only lady up for the challenge) necklace: thrifted, boots: vintage, vanity: free

Tune in later in the week for more vain on Sunday...

Unmovable Grace

2010-11-08T18:06:00.002-05:00

Saved by grace, amazing grace, though, I confess I'm not always amazed by it. Sunday's message was on my Savior's crucifixtion, His great suffering. I wonder that my heart doesn't move more, stir more. Sometimes it moves more than others. My heart occasionally responds with emotion and other times with simple knowledge, knowing that His grace is unfathomable. Grateful that His grace isn't measured by my measly gratitude or earned by my merits. Firmly planted in the cement of His grace only to be moved to heaven where gratefulness will finely be full.
"Oh, bless our God, you peoples! And make the voice of His praise to be heard. Who keeps our soul among the living, and does not allow our feet to be moved..." Psalm 66:8-9

330. For leaves falling from trees
331. For falls pretty changing leaves
332. For getting out of a meeting 45 minutes early
333. For rice and beans
334. For finishing a big task
335. For wild flowers in the median
336. For peanut butter m&ms
337. For tea at work
338. For red shoes coming in the mail
339. For opportunities to cross things off my yearly list of pursuits
340. For scripture speaking to my situation
341. For macaroni and cheese
342. For knitting
343. For Saturdays to myself
344. For a $0.52 ice cream cone
345. For an apple pie for $0.54
346. For getting to sit with a friend in church
347. For a pastor who his careful to proclaim 'by grace alone'
348. For an extra hour
349. For the light being back in the mornings
350. For glimpsing day light as I wake again
351. For restful, full nights of sleep
352. For feet that cannot be moved from His grace

What I Wore-Take Two

2010-10-31T19:28:00.000-04:00

This week has almost made a liar out of me. Nonetheless, here's what I wore weekending it. Last weekend that is. A two hour drive with a best friend and a promise of a black berry milk shake at the end of it make for a giddy Elizabeth. I was Christmas Eve little girl kind of excited and the weekend didn't disappoint. Lazying, Laughing, Talking, Eating, Visiting, it was that kind of good. Best friend weekends are well, the best.

outfit one: cardigan and shirt: j crew, jeans: the loft, shoes: old navy, necklace: vintage via my granjanie, bag: liz claiborne i love my bag, i'm naming my bag, i think he's male yes I know he's quite the metro)

outfit two: blazer: gap, shirt: old navy, jeans: j crew, necklace :vintage via my granjanie
(shoes: gift from India, where sizes are guesses and lefts and rights are not. they are an experiment in modern day foot binding, my big toes were screaming for a divorce)

outfit three: this is simply to show you the best friend. She truly is the best, the end

Three Hundred and Twenty Nine...

2010-10-25T19:55:00.001-04:00

305. For orange roses washed in the sun

306. For leaves on the ground walking to the mailbox
307. For the reflection of autumn leaves and sun on the water
308. For gorgeous drives in the country
309. For dairy cows happily eating in pastures
310. For rows of uniform trees in orchards
311. For the brillant setting sun out in the country
312. For a sunset accompanying the last leg of the journey
313. For being served tea on a Sunday afternoon

314. For baby clothes for a $4 bargain

315. For simple craft projects

316. For baked goods and treats to give away

317. For sugar cubes
318. For rich desserts and rich conversation
319. For playing dress up
320. For fellowship
321. For warm, welcoming hospitality
322. For apple tart
323. For good hugs
324. For the golden setting sun on the neighbors brilliant orange tree
325. For walks among the changing leaves
326. For a friend's praise
327. For dinner and a movie at the end of the day
328. For happy daises in recycled glass jars

329. For a God who gives

What I Wore

2010-10-20T19:04:00.009-04:00

I arrived into the world at noon, clearly even as a wee babe, I had my priorities in order. I'm a sleeper, I enjoy my sleep. This only proves detrimental every live long morning. Weekly, I tell myself I'll plan my outfits ahead, Ha. Weekly I do a mad dash throw on clothes pre-five minutes to take off. Lately, I've been snubbing my wardrobe. I think the stink eye has much a do with my mayday mornings.

This is an attempt to document my fashion choices and to motivate better dressing through a weekly, "what I wore" feature. This is a one outfit a week endeavor, my vanity cannot stand up to daily documentation. I enjoy a good fashion blog and I gotta hand it to um, it's a a lot of work. Self photography ain't easy, for me no photography is. This could potentially not be hacked, nonetheless here you go, my first installment...In which I attempt to balance out vanity with apples. I only regret I did not immortalize my corn dog with a photo opt.

Blouse: Gap, Jeans: J Crew, Purse: DSW (subject of much shunning due to her "size") Boots: Vintage via an antique store. (i put in new inserts, lysoled them, and may or may not have laid hands on them to nix any heebie jeebie germs)

*There is an actual, factual, fantastical What I Wore blog, clearly making this a non-original thought. Go forth and be cute or at least dream about it....

Oh, Baby.....

2010-10-14T18:29:00.004-04:00

She is having a baby, any day now.

She has a baby, cuter than pie.

She wants a baby, something fierce. (She should also fix her hair and work out her scrawny brawny arms)

Since she can't have baby, she gets by on a little help from her friends.

She is so thankful for her friends and their babies, and for friends who help throw sweet soirees for little pink buntings.

We had a tea party baby shower for our sweet baby girl, Claire.

It rained buckets so the pictures are inadequate, for it was the sweetest little shin dig. Everyone was kind and happy and there were babies and really precious mamas. And chocolate cake, what more can you ask for?

Except maybe some gifts for our girl.

I copy cated the talent of Ashley Ann and made the girl a bag and little fruit of the womb onesies. Claire's mama updated her facebook status with progress of the little sweet pea, "traci's baby is the size of a grape..."

The onesies will grow with the girl.

Claire baby, we had fun getting ready for you. Please come meet us soon and be good to your mommy on the way here. We love you.

304. for babies

Fall-A-la-la-Live for Today...

2010-10-12T19:41:00.002-04:00

Fall and I are getting along swimmingly. It is much in part to his flirting with summer, they've heated things back up into the 80's. God bless his heart. I'm standing by the man though, I honored him in my choice of ice cream, just call us pumpkin. When he dipped into the nightly 40's and daily low 70's I tempered my whinning with tea. I'm changing my name to something British. I had to bust out the British accent last week when I went a little crazy upon finding the tea's on sale. Four boxes isn't too much, when comes lunch time and you realize you've gulped down six cups. My co-workers think I have kidney disease.

Farmer's market Saturday sorta had me contemplating decorating for fall, sorta. If it happens I refuse for it to look overly fall-esque. Spring would be jealous. Speaking of the fall folige decor what in sams name are the warty pumpkins about? I had to refrain from belting out, "Excuse me Sir, your pumpkin has warts, you paid for that?" Fall weirdo's! Sorry I'll shut up if you give me s'mores.

Pondering starting a What I Wore feature on here, my vanity wants an outlet. We'll see.

For now, I'll mind my manners and count up some thankful fors...

285. for hot tea
286. for warm robes
287. for farmer markets on saturdays
288. for warm soup
289. for biscuits and jam
290. for the feeling right before turning off the light and closing your eyes
291. for fresh flowers
292. for candy corn
293. for my mama's apple cake, wow mama good!
294. for my sister's homemade granola
295. for a dollar hard back copy of the giving tree
296. for matinee's on Sundays
297. for baby girl clothes
298. for chili
299. for old friends
300. for a nearby house's blowup fall decor
301. for toasted marshmallows
302. for abundant and pretty goldenrod along the roads
303. for God's beautiful creation

Today...

2010-09-30T18:20:00.000-04:00

I do believe I could give 1,000 thanks for sun and sky and McDonalds ice cream cones and mean them all. Today's ice cream tasted colder and the last of the pink flowers are hanging on by one. The leaves are turning and the season's changed. For once I will not wrinkle up my nose at fall. While I'll miss the warmth, longer days and bright colors, I am calling a truce with Mr. Fall. I hold up my mug and kindly ask that Mr Fall fill it up. Preferably with hot cocoa and marshmallows, though I've recently become quite a fan of the chi latte. Oh the possibilities.......Happy fall to the fall lovers, may your cup run over.

Thanks from Today, Thursday

273. for the rainbow on the way to work
274. for my biscuit from Mr. James
275. for the brilliant blue and fluffy clouded sky
276. for my ice cream cone
277. for the smoky fire pit smell being washed out of my hair
278. for the memory of last night's s'mores and friends
279. for a friend's changing my light bulbs and moving a shelf
280. for sushi for dinner
281. for my upcoming walk
282. for coffee and quiet time
283. for netflix in my mail box
284. for Jesus, always with me

The dreamweaver

2010-09-29T17:27:00.000-04:00

Tears trickling down my checks woke me up last week. Was I being chased, robbed, murdered, were the people I love in jeopardy? Were there monsters or aliens? Nope, nada. Then what made me cry in my sleep? I was told I was ugly. It was some sort of beauty contest. We were all in the same burgundy and black tuellish dress, should of known then I was in for a nightmare. A Tyra Bank's sort of doppelganger, only most inferior, had the nerve to kick me out second. Stunned and confused to her proclamation that I had wonky eyebrows, I asked for an explanation. She informed me if she told me everything that was wrong with me I wouldn't like her very much. Very much? Excuse me ma'm, you just wrecked my dream, shamed my eyebrows and broke my heart you're bating a whopping zero. Wench, I hope whoever she is woke up with a zit the size of Rushmore. Wicked women of a dream crusher needs to get back to her day job.

After the obligatory eyebrow consultation and consoling of my spirit, I realized how absurd the dream was. A line from the Holiday flashed in my memory, "You should be the leading lady of your own life..." And your dreams, I'd like to click my heels and get a do-over, to the tune of "Here She Is Miss America", roses and a crown and the wave.

Wrote the above last week, I am now happy to report I got my do-over. I made out with Sawyer from Lost. It was some desert island dream and the only tragic part was it ended. I woke up smiling. Once I was wide awake I felt quite smug and offered a take that Miz T-Bird, apparently wonky eye brows rise to the level as well.

And the beat goes on...

2010-09-26T19:56:00.000-04:00

A rainy Sunday that stretches out forever, calm, slow day. Lingering over coffee with your best friend and lazing on the couch and being pleasantly surprised upon a time check that it's only 2:30 in the afternoon. The washing of the rain, the steady drops pounding the pavement, grey sky, cooler air, hot tea and watching it pour giving thanks on this, the day the Lord has made....

247. for the warmth of the first few seconds in a sunbaked car
248. for cool air blowing from the air condition
249. for morning sunlight pouring out of my bedroom doorway
250. for a yellow leaf on the ground
251. for a walk with my mom
252. for the brilliance of the sun
253. for the sun's effect on my soul
254. for sunday afternoon ice cream cones
255. for the sound of gravel under my feet
256. for bluebell pistachio almond ice cream
257. for dinners with your best friend
258. for Miss Pat
259. for pajamas and a clean face at the end of the day
260. for the psalms
261. for the full moon
262. for Friday coming again
263. for short waits in restaurants
264. for bar-b-q-chicken
265. for sweet corn bread with butter pecan butter
266. for the gift of a free washing machine
267. for reading all afternoon from the comfort of my red couch
268. for coffee with real cream
269. for birthday celebrations of those you love
270. for the sound of the rain
271. for trips to the grocery store in my yellow rain slicker
272. for knowing Jesus loves me

Eyes Wide Shut

2010-09-08T19:20:00.000-04:00

Strolling down sidewalks, coffee in hand, peering in unopened storefront windows, I thought how nice it is that one day a week life is aloud to wake slower. Mark 13, morning's message a reminder that Jesus calls us to be awake, to look for Him.

And as sleepy eyes though wide awake walked on Sunday morning, I pondered what it means to be awake with Christ. These eyes they know it well, sleep walking, slumbering through the days. Yet, Christ He awakens, He stirs, He opens eyes again and again. "Awake my soul and sing of Him who died for me" a lone line from a hymn making melody in my heart. "Come thou fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy grace." Awakening with acknowledgement of His goodness...

219. for the ribbon bookmark in my Bible
220. for the sixth season of Lost being out on dvd
221. for a freshly made bed
222. for a movie with my mom and sisters
223. for twirling in skirts
224. for blankets in the yard and reading

225. for cooler days
226. for long weekends
227. for a bush of pink flowers viewed while driving
228. for an ice cream cone and downtown stroll
229. for hymns, two favorites, sung at Sunday's service
230. for brief moments with friends at crosswalks
231. for bbq sandwiches

232. for lemon ice box pie

233. for laughing with a friend
234. for shoe shopping, even when you get nothing
235. for starbucks breakfast bought with a gift card

236. for window shopping before stores open
237. for my yellow dress
238. for a turquoise clutch
239. for my etsy rings
240. for lunch with my dad
241. for driving in a convertible
242. for a long walk
243. for homemade pudding popsicles
244. for pink gladiolus

245. for summer's end
246. for Him who wakes my soul to sing

A Blustery Day

2010-08-29T15:39:00.003-04:00

Rustling the leaves, blowing my pages, whirring background noise of my morning. Afternoon walk and I heard it loud, the wonder of the wind. Simultaneously I was aware of the wind, i heard it's sound, i watched it ripple across water and sway the trees, blades of grass danced at it's power and i felt it cool on my face, chilling my arms. And I marveled once more at the power of God to move. And my heart wondered how soul can live with wind reduced to scientific terms and reasonable effect. Beyond reason, soulfully comforting, this God of mine, heart stirrer, wind maker.

He said to me, "Prophesy to the breath. Prophesy, son of man. Tell the breath, 'God, the Master, says, Come from the four winds. Come, breath. Breathe on these slain bodies. Breathe life!'"

Ezekiel 37:9, The Message

The Wind
I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
-Robert Louis Stevenson

Thanks By Number

2010-08-23T21:43:00.000-04:00

193. for refreshing weekends
194. for crunching pinecones on walks
195. for Kyung a publix employee, who always smiles and willingly makes me the sushi i like
196. for kroger's managers special reduced flowers
197. for $1.30 tulips
198. for black licorice and all it's familiar family memories
199. for movie theaters on sunday afternoons all by your lonesome
200. for movies that make you teary eyed in the best way
201. for the sound of little girls talking
202. for the thrill of real mail
203. for kind words
204. for saturday morning donuts
205. for this song
206. for this blog
207. for church girl, who always points me to the one most needed.
208. for a good sermon
209. for a reminder that over and over Christ is the answer
210. for encouraging scriptures
211. for 70 page spiral bound notebooks
212. for coral toenails
213. for a thorough well done pedicure
214. for gold bangle bracelets
215. for my current read
216. for my Savior
217. for last night's moon on my walk
218. for today's sunset on my drive home

Back to the Drawing Board...

2010-08-20T22:52:00.000-04:00

Early on in first grade I created quite the conundrum for my teacher. I'm still not exactly sure what went wrong but it did involve little squares and glue. My squares were all glued together, not spread out on the paper in some appropriate order, I think. All I know is I got it wrong and my teacher let me know in no uncertain terms. I was mortified.

A friend quoted a friend's defining a book I've been reading as, "Oh, yes that one, it's rather paint by number." I loved it. Give us three points, a poem and surely it'll equal something akin to our best life now. Sorry Joel, it’s too easy. Yet, step by step formulas don’t always work. Cookie cutters really only work best for cookies, huh.

I have a point, at least we’ll hope so. For pert near three weeks I have had high aspirations of linking up to the 1000 gifts site. I was going to fess up to church girl that I was in, and I was even going to brand myself with the communities graphic. All on Monday cause that’s when a wide majority of them start adding up their gratitude. Really what better time to log some thanks than after the respite that is the weekend? Yet three Monday’s have past and my weekend thanks are getting fuzzy.

So I’m just going to be thankful on Friday. Because really at the end of the day I believe the overarching goal is to just be thankful. Pretty sure you can’t mess up the canvas of gratitude. And after all I’m sort of fond of coloring outside of the lines.

thankful....
168. for the sound of thunder
169. for cozy blankets and comfy couches
170. for mornings on my porch
171. for my white dishes
172. for the view when i open the front door
173. for captivating sky
174. for visits with granjanie and pizza with mom
175. for clean clothes that smell like heaven
176. for clean clothes washed by your mom because you don't have a washing machine
177. for saturdays that magically seem forever
178. for saturdays that finally end
179. for burgers and fries good to the last bite
180. for a downtown outdoor movie and a friend
181. for glowing pregnant mamas
182. for holding a cuddly baby
183. for pale pink tulips in a white pitcher
184. for sweet baby showers
185. for someone telling me i'm beautiful
186. for humming birds
187. for butterflies
188. for pink flowers outside my window
189. for waking up to streams of morning sunlight
190. for knowing He counts my tears
191. for knowing He hears me
192. for knowing all the times i feel so small, so, inadequate, He is so big, so sufficient.

Evening Walks

2010-08-17T21:40:00.000-04:00

I walk late in the day. I feel the smoldering heat of Georgia summer. I crunch gravel. I notice sky, wide open blue, brilliant streaks of orange hues. Occasionally the sky completly captivates me, other times it's just there hovering over my walk. Sometimes it's a mix of sky blue, cloud white and dark grey.

I listen. Hearing kids laughing in yards, playing in pools, lawnmowers whir, cars drive pass me. I see endless fields, yellow flowers, cows grazing in pastures. I normally think, and pray, but not always. I wrestle, I walk long, I walk short, I walk mad, I walk sad, I walk happy. I breathe and sometimes stop and drink it in, the breeze, the creation and the ability to just be as feet move one in front of the other.

Evening walks remind me that I am alive, that I live.

My solace, my salvation is in knowing I walk with the one, who knows where I'm going, the one who gave me this life that I walk. Believers or non believers this truth rings eternal, "In Him we live and move and have our being." -Acts 17:28

She Quit Christianity

2010-08-09T22:21:00.002-04:00

She writes of vampires, and many know her name. And she packed her bags and walked away, quit this thing called Christianity. Some may applaud and usher her across the street. Perhaps others will preach or pray or cry foul to her claims that this thing called Christianity is filled with hate. Can we be a Christian but somehow divorce Christianity? Objections may be offered eloquently, intelligently, condescendingly, systematically or in a myriad of other ways.

But what do I, what do I a member of this thing called Christianity, what do I say? I say I've questioned and wondered if it's all a farce. One word, a multi faceted word upon which institutions have been established. Where thoughts have been wrought and truths hammered. Degrees delivered and wars fought. Denominations rendered and tears and lives shed. Debating, fighting, judging. Is it grace or is it works or is it both? Do we pick Him or does He pick us? Is it wrong and right or grace and mercy? Is it love or is it justice? Is it quite and reverent or loud and alive?

And I think of other faiths how seventy virgins and holy underwear sound ludicrous and absurd. And I think of my faith how to say God came to earth lived a perfect life died and rose again to pay for my sins and that He lives and is alive and forgives and dwells within my heart. How this must too sound silly, contrived to those who do not know Him, to those who do not believe.

Is there hate in Christianity, yes. And is there hate on interstate 75 and in the check out line at Walmart? In the left and in the right wings, is there hate? There is hate in a thousand places and sometimes in my own heart.

And is this hate we love to hate always wrong? Is it wrong to hate a gay but right to hate a child molester? And the age old question whispers soft, whispers loud, "How can you say your God is love but sends people to hell?" How does this big God offer only one way?"

These are questions that have and will be wrestled. I look at these questions and I look at our answers and I look at my life and and I look at this world. And while I do not fully understand or comprehend this thing called Christianity, this I know, this I answer, It must be bigger than you. It must be bigger than your ability to win an argument. It must be a solid truth not built solely on logic and reason. A truth a love so big that at the end of the day you cannot walk away. Because this God, this God who loves you so much who is the answer, will not let you walk away.

I have wandered and I have strayed a thousand times, but He brings me back every time. To the place where I know that I need Him to breath life into these dead bones. To the place where I know that I have been bought with a price and that I am His.

And I don't think the world needs my Christ simply because they are bad and He is good. Or because there is hate and He is love, but because He is life and we are dead, we need Him.

Oh Ann Rice, who will never read these musings, you and I, we need Him. That is my answer, we need Him.

These Feet Were Made For Talking....

2010-07-29T21:29:00.004-04:00

I was hit on the other night while walking. Don't be impressed, the cat call was from little boy teeny boppers in heat and unfortunately with wheels. The only response I could drum up that wouldn't shame the baptist union of which I am employed was, "I'm not impressed by your hormones." I resorted to a cold shoulder and a swift glare. I don't think it'll happen again. I haven't washed clothes in over three weeks. And it only goes down hill from this point. The sock drawer is down to wool or lifesaver multi stripes? For good measure if you find yourself walking in neon green shorts, high water feet sweltering socks and the shirt you wore to work, for the first time in a month you'll meet folks on the road.

I'd love to stick around and further enlighten you to random tidbits and confessions from my life such as I ate an entire bell pepper yesterday and I still haven't rescued any plates from the cardboard. Things like

80 % of my belongings are still wherever they landed on moving day. Or I could tell you I'm finally admitting I have a Tom Hanks crush. Joe Fox settles it, I love Tom. But I am not going to tell you any of that, because I'm going to go eat ice cream and watch Seinfeld.

And to all a good night. Please click here if you want the minutes of your life back you just wasted reading this rousing round of rambling non-essentials. Don't worry I'll be here all week. No I won't, I'll be eating ice cream and thinking about Tom.

Seriously-I'm Finished
Count Your Blessings

162. for sweet readers who actually read my gibberish
163. for warm oatmeal with fresh peaches
164. for green bell peppers
165. for tomorrow being Friday
166. for white horses
167. for second chances

Little Girls are Made Of...

2010-07-25T13:21:00.000-04:00

Katie, at the pencil box posed the question of inner ten year olds. She was wondering what her younger self must think of what life had become. She wondered if others too thought of the younger versions of themselves. Yes, Katie, Yes I do.

And sometimes when my inner ten year old wants to know where my husband, kids, convertible and life time guarantee of happiness are, I find the best thing to do is take her to the park.

Let her swing.

And then buy her an ice cream cone and tell her to shut up and come back when she's twenty nine.

editors note: if you go to the park by yourself in the middle of the day and also take pictures of yourself, you will have the park to yourself. To anyone who might have been at the park, i pinky promise on the Bible i'm not a baby snatcher or a creep, just a mildly depressed twenty nine year old.

153. For days at the park
154. For swings
155. For ice cream shops
156. For blogs
157. For impromptu visits with friends
158. For railroad tracks
159. For walks through downtowns
160. For clutches
161. For joy in the simple things

Bye Bye Birdie

2010-07-20T23:49:00.003-04:00

My sense of humor is a funny sort of thing. I appreciate a good funny, haha, hehe. Bravo to the puns, cheers to the witty. My brain will make the ascent, acknowledging someone or something's humor but my laugh doesn't always follow. For whatever reason I don't laugh that easily. So when I do get a good belly laugh it makes my day. The trouble is the things that bring out the laugh in me are normally so very ironic. For instance some guy flipped me off tonight, gave me the finger, and yelled real loud, I assume in hopes I was a lip reader. Poor guy, I'm not. Even poorer poor guy, it struck me as hilarious. Silly road rage struck me as laugh out loud funny. We were at a red light so my can't stop laughing was very apparent. I don't think he found it funny. I should write him a letter...

Dear Poor Guy,

I'm sorry I sorta cut you off. I'm sorry you didn't interpret my this is the sorry hand, I know I don't drive too well. But I'm not sorry I made you flipping mad. I needed a good life, thank you.

P.S. 1990 called they want their perm back. Now that wasn't nice, I know.
Heehhheee Haahhha I mean, have a nice day.

Sincerely,
Girl Who Ticked You Off

150. For a good laugh
151. For a good reminder anger really affects you most
152. For forgiveness

Top of the Morning

2010-07-18T21:13:00.000-04:00

I've lived here for over two weeks and only this morning scrounging up my breakfast did I realize I didn't know where my plates were. I've survived two weeks without a plate. One can indeed survive off of ice cream novelties, fruit, publix sushi and the occasional carrot. This girl is proof. Oh you poor little male suitors, I hope you can cook or at least like honey nut cheerios.

It was a grey morning, hazy, cloudy, overcast, breezy, it matched my mood perfectly. I love when that happens, when the air, and the sky and all that makes up weather magically mirror your state of being. To me it's natures way of saying I know, I understand, I feel you.

My morning was good. It was restful, calm, pensive and thinky. My new house has a screened in porch, I think it's my favorite.

This morning I sat out there for hours until it was humid, hot and sticky. I ate my breakfast, drank my coffee, wrote long overdue thank you notes, wrote in my prayer journal, read my Bible, and thought and thought some more.

Thanks from my today, my Sunday...

130. for sleeping in
131. for quiet days
132. for fresh cherries
133. for whipped cream
134. for shopping with gift cards
135. for a new purplish, pinkish swim suit
136. for screened in porches
137. for white coffee mugs
138. for blogs
139. for apple eating while walking through a deserted down town, your down town with your post office.
140. for singing along to old school country ballads
141. for children and parents shopping in stores
142. for mommies asking their little girls opinions, "this one or that one?"
143. for a glimpse of the highway
144. for shampooed hair
145. for shaved legs
146. for a spritz of perfume
147. for things that smell pretty
148. for things that don't smell pretty to remind you to be thankful for things that do
149. for His mercy that is new every morning.

The Toilet Bowl

2010-07-15T19:21:00.000-04:00

Where have you been Billy Boy, Billy Boy? Where have you been charming Billy? If you both know and appreciate the remaining lyrics we can be BFFs.

“I thought you went to feed the hogs and done got it!” A phrase my surrogate family taught me to use in times of prolonged absence. I have not been to feed the hogs but I do believe I done got it, by all things ugly. "I feel like I slept with the devil last night" is a term I give to days washed in the blood of humanity. Only this time it wasn’t a day it was days. I was about to be the devil’s common in law wife and bear his evil spawn, which I would aptly name rotten, selfish, angry, and spoiled.

I’ve got issues. So does the new man in my life.

Scout’s honor he’s male, no self-respecting women would allow herself to get in his predicament. Trust me the booger is clean. He’s been bleached, scrubbed, chemically treated and he's bore witness to umpteen other cleaners.

He reminds me of me as a Christian. I am clean only because of God’s grace, yet to sit awhile with me is to know I don’t always act clean. I bear the stains of humanity. And that at&t knows very well. My only hope is a new toilet, I think I understand the great white throne a little better. I find myself longing a bit more for the day when the fight over this flesh and bone is done. And until then I rest in knowing He views me as clean, because Christ and only Christ has made me so.

So that’s where I’ve been, Billy Boy. Acting like Satan’s mistress to At&t, moving boxes, living without internet, stomping feet, throwing fits. Cleaning toilets, being human and remembering I’m Christ’s not Satan’s. And on that I’ll put the seat down and flush this thing with some thanks.

120. For toilets
121. For the ability to be honest before God
122. For friends who don't judge your anger
123. For friends who let you wallow for a bit
124. For mom's who love you anyways
125. For drumsticks and klondikes in my freezer
126. For having the world wide web back up and running
127. For brothers who join your blog
128. For Titus 3:5
"not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us through the washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Spirit."
129. For forgiveness

Overload

2010-07-01T00:00:00.002-04:00

Just finished a bowl of ice cream. I sat on the couch staring at the boxes that have taken over my residence pondering the appropriateness of my ice cream choice for the week. Overload, Breyers Overload. I am a subconscious frozen foods genius. Moving week equals overload. Overload of boxes, overload of stuff, overload of to do's, overload of emotions. My emotional tank is usually rather full throw in a move and I think I need a life jacket.

Even if you're a girl who prides herself on living her life somewhat clutter free and who habitually purges junk, when you move you'll look at your things and think one thing: Overload. Do we really need all of our gadgets and gizmos, and thingamabobs? Suppose so since all of mine are hiding under cardboard and tape. It does something to you to see part of your world reduced to a pile of boxes ready for the next step.

Leaving the barn apartment in two days for a big ole house. A big ole house I've never even been in, sight unseen. But I'll take it knowing it must be better than some potential rentals I viewed. Just think second hand smoke induced lung cancer, STD's and me as the star of the next lifetime movie. Jesus saved me from my over dramatization and has provided a house for me to move to and that's a blessing. A huge blessing. Which leads me to my final overload. Praise when I stop and take the time to count blessings not gripes I always find myself overloaded by His mercy.

Two women looked through prison walls
One Saw Mud
The Other Saw Stars.

No doubt by default I'm neck deep in mud but by His grace learning to notice the stars. Giving thanks...

105. For friends who get you boxes
106. For a mom who brings you boxes
107. For a mom who packs your boxes
108. For a mom who hugs you and says it will be ok
109. For hot pink fat bats
110. For water
111. For black sharpie markers
112. For hot showers
113. For people who pray for you
114. For people who are willing to help you move
115. For people who care about you
116. For people who let you live in their houses
117. For His ever presence
118. For His abundant grace
119. For His faithfulness to me an overloaded stinker

Greetings

2010-06-22T07:05:00.010-04:00

To any of you sweet, sweet, brave souls who may have ventured over from life in grace, God bless you. For you will need it. Had I of known, a measly comment would have been "posted" to Miz Edie's blog, I'd have used better grammar, and minded my comas a little more devoutly. And had I known she was sending over new life, I'd have made you party favors and brownies, but alas you've caught me in a bit of a funk.

That smells a bit desperate, and sounds a tad bit frustrated, and looks a bit like this

So my apologies, and my welcome. I think I used to be funnier, or life used to be funnier. And I'm pretty sure I air lifted that line right off someone's movie, or maybe it's a real quote? Who knows. All of that rambling to say welcome, come as you are. For I definitely come as I am.

I think Shel says it best....

If you are a dreamer, come in,

If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,

A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer..

If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire

For we have some flax-golden talkes to spin.

Come in!

Please come back, after all I owe you a brownie.

Open Mic Night....

2010-06-21T19:45:00.003-04:00

Tap, Tap, Static, Static, Is this thing On? Can you hear me?
June,
June,
Hey June, it's me your best girl. We've been bff since the 11th when you waxed wonderfully spring and welcomed me into the world. Remember? Huh, Huh, do you? Are you lost in January, has February taken you captive? Do I need to come rescue you, should I bring popsicles, lip gloss, and bare feet?

June, you and I, we used to have fun. You know the drill, party all month breeze in on the laurels of spring and splash out on the thrill of summer. But this, this June honey, you're giving me anxiety.

June, dear, pal, friend.........what's going on?

A disappointing date
A car in the shop
A house with broken, fickle air conditioning
A heat wave in the 90's toying with the 100's
A $766 and some chump change doctor's bill
A crazy, mad, mysterious twenty-ten back rash

And, And yes June, there's more I'm a rolling stone, without a home. I'm getting the boot.

You have left me pert near homeless, dateless, car less, rashy, hot and soon to be penniless. June, I think I'm mad at you. June, I think this is grounds for a cat fight. Just so you know I'm pretty sure you're winning.

hello, hello, is this thing on?

When to hold um, When to fold um

2010-06-17T09:07:00.003-04:00

I'm going to piggy back on yesterday's "when you want something" post. The trouble with wanting is sometimes I don't know what I want. And sometimes I think that I know what I want, and then I get it and think I really should have gotten mint chocolate chip, not rocky road.

Inside out, that's how I wear my thoughts. For better or worse that's how I come. This whole year I said, "I just want to go on a date." I'd just be happy if I could go on a date.

Well I got my date and now I'd like to know how the whole refund deal works. All you married ladies, when you go to sleep tonight if you have nothing else to thank Him for, you thank him that you don't have to go on anymore dates.

You curl your hair, you put on lipstick, you maybe even lift weights and do sit ups. You tell yourself don't talk too fast and to make sure you put others first. Then you go on your date and what is it about sitting across from each other chewing food that turns us into such judges?

I've done it, dismissed a blind date because they had a double chin, ex-wife and a kid etc, etc. And I've been dismissed because I wasn't someone's type, etc. etc.

What exactly does that mean? Does it mean my lip gloss was all wrong, or my boobs are too small, or that I eat funny, or am I just plain dull?

The whole shenanigans feels an awful lot like poker, only at the end of the night you don't get to see their hand. They either ante up or fold. And that's just not how I play, I lay my cards on the table and at that point you can go on and ante up or fold.

I'd like nothing better than to chew the guy up I went on a date with, pick him a part, sweep up the pieces and put him in an envelope stamped return to sender. But I won't do that, I'm going to be just a little bigger than that.

I'll see your positives, sir and raise you a prayer that you find your "type." I'll believe that you have a better hand, than the cards you hold over dinner. And maybe I'll always be a little sorry that you didn't stay in the game long enough to see I could have been your friend.

And I'll learn my lesson, I'll pray what I really want. I want a man, who is handsome to me and who loves Jesus and I want to get married and have children. I don't just wanna go on a date. And if that makes me a 1950's idealistic biddy, so be it, go buy me a poodle skirt and if you love me throw in some pearls.

I slightly freaked about my blog when I got a "date". Thinking dear heavens, if they find this they will know I'm down right desperate. Maybe so, maybe I am, but I'm desperate for the right one, not a bunch of wrong ones.

And while I know full well I'll stay in this game of dating or courting or any other term you'd like to give it. I'm not quitting until I hit the jackpot, and I will believe that is possible because I've got an ace in the hole. And I'm pretty sure when the dealings done, He'll trump um all.

102. For Ephesians 3:20
Now unto Him who is able to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us.
103. For "I believe, help my unbelief"
104. For sometimes getting what you "want" to figure out what you really want.

When you want something

2010-06-16T10:12:00.000-04:00

To want, to want something so badly, so fiercely yet it's out of your control to make it happen. I've stared a want in the eyes the past few days. A want that surprises me with the power of its longing. It's got me thinking what it means to want. Like a women or a couple who want with every fiber of their being to have a child, but they can't. To want your mom, or your dad, or your husband, or your child, but you can't have them because they're no longer among the living. Or to want your mom or dad but they don't want you, because they left you. Wants so strong you almost crumble at the weight of them.

To want something, yet you can't have it. What do you do when that happens? Do we pity, pat around and say "there, there good child, here's a Bible verse now be content." Or, do we say,"Oh you don't really want that, just you wait and see it's not all it's cracked up to be. "

I am discontent by default, I suppose we all are. I've just started a Bible study on contentment. Isn't that how it goes, you seek growth and find yourself smack dab in the middle of your humanity.

What does it mean to be content? God taught Paul its truths. I recently memorized Philippians 4:11-13, "I am not saying this because I am in need because I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances, I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation whether hungry or well fed whether living in plenty or in want, I can do everything through him who gives me strength." I haven't memorized scripture in umpteen years, yet that one was much needed.

So here I am praying Lord, teach me to be content, memorizing verses and actually attending a Bible study yet I find myself baring the weight of wanting. A friend shed such light for me on the word content. She said it's a word so easily tossed about often to just shut us up, to tell us to be happy. Yet, it doesn't mean you are going to be happy, or completely satisfied, or without want it means you're going to bear your burden with the strength that only comes from God.

With a want so strong, so completely out of your control, I guess that's all you can do, wait. And continually shift the weight of your want over onto the strength that is Christ. And that's hard as hell, and that fact alone, is why we need Christ.

94. for psalm 27:13 & 14
I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord, in the land of the living, be of good courage wait on the Lord and he will strengthen your heart, wait I say on the Lord.
95. for a God who can handle my honesty
96. for the way my new shampoo smells
97. for days to lie on the coach thinking under the whir of the ceiling fan
98. for a God who hears
99. for a God who sees
100. for feeling pretty
101. for good outfits

5,000 Pieces

2010-06-06T12:11:00.002-04:00

Puzzle pieces would fall from the sky on the old fat gray game boy and I'd energetically arrange them into straight lines. The higher my rows of puzzle pieces in their rightful order grew, the faster the pieces fell, until eventually they took over and engulfed the screen, game over.

Lately it seems my life is a game of Tetris, puzzle pieces falling, only I can't get them in order. While I know better days must be on the horizon, and while I know there are so many, many things to give thanks for I find myself under the blaze of the puzzle pieces wanting to throw up my hands and to yell," go on, bury me. "

Homeless, that's about to be me. No more girl who lives in barn. As of last Saturday I must relocate by July 1st. I have commitment phobia, so I live in a barn apartment with no lease, because it doesn't sound as scary as legally binding, please sign here. So now I'm on the flip side of no lease. My apartment is needed for family members of my landlord who are in crisis. That's my square peg.

My round hole is my car who may or may not be trying to murder me, more likely may. As he has now attempted to "play dead" twice while I was going round about 60. He actually went one better than attempted, he straight up died and then came back to life and then died? Towed away to Mr. Mechanic who is probably at home eating steak sleeping pretty on 1,000 thread count sheets, because of the percentage of my pocket book he's had access to in the past two months.

Here I am working a puzzle I really don't want to be working, in my month. Seriously it's June my month of life, it's supposed to be June, party all month not June, the sky is falling.

Would love to tell you that I've been the poster child for Gratefulness, but it ain't so. I've been woefully singing Tom Dooley, internally judging folks, throwing pity parties and threatening to go eat worms.

The sacrifice of praise will forever be etched in my memory with my mom's retelling of witnessing a widow with five children raising her hands in praise, worshipping at the funeral of her husband. While I mope, while I wait on the completion of the puzzle, while I fail, while I get up, while I try again, I rest knowing praise is there waiting for me, to remind me that life is good amidst uncertainty and so is Christ, who sees the completed puzzle.

Plucking away at 1,000 thanks from under my little black rain cloud.
Giving thanks
74. For friends who feed you cheetos and help you make birthday party invitations
75. For creativity
76. For pretty paper
77. For a best friend
78. For june day picnics
79. For dollar flowers
80. For strawberry bread
81. For an upcoming week off
82. For my prayer journal
83. For my job
84. For my health
85. For my mom
86. For my little barn apartment
87. For sunshine
88. For rainy days
89. For pretty clothes
90. For party plans
91. For wisdom from friends
92. For days to be quiet
93. For days to be sad

Merci Beaucoup......

2010-05-28T21:35:00.000-04:00

64. for pears
65. for yellow flowers in a red plastic cup
66. for walks that smell of fresh watermelons
67. for walks with driveways filled with cars having a get together of some sort
68. for walks with the sound of babies playing outside
69. for the wide open sky streaked with bright blue and peeks of orange
70. for fields of hay and yellow flowers
71. for a sweet breeze
72. for three day weekends
73. for life

Nothing At All

2010-05-25T20:01:00.014-04:00

Isn't that how it’s supposed to go when you don’t have anything nice to say? Saying nothing at all isn’t an easy task for me. I was nicknamed motor mouth as a child. Genuineness is a character trait that I highly value and esteem. Yet, I too often cross the line between genuineness and just plain negativity. Why is it when you desire and seek to be positive that suddenly you feel besieged and engulfed by a sea of the gripes?

Oh, today I'd like to fly
Up above this flesh and bone
Up above this fallen world
Up where strivings cease
And judgments stop
Up where worries fall
And failures end
Oh, today I'd like to fly
Feebleness,
Frailty,
Fears and Foe
Pass me by,
And let me fly

As I struggled to string those words together to mirror my heart, I felt His word come back to my memory. but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary;they shall walk and not faint -Isaiah 40:31

To wait, to twist ourselves onto Him who flies, onto Him who rises above all failure. To wait, to fall off, to get back up and twist again. I find hope in knowing I'm not the only one who blows it. "Church girl" will always say it better. Her story of blowing it echoed in my bones, read it. It will humble you and refresh you. All I have to give is nothing, nothing at all. Yet, Christ redeems and renews, again and again.

57. for turquoise and red, together

58. for a fridge full of fruit and veggies

59. for a repaired sentimental necklace and it's reminder of redemption

60. for thanks even when it's a sacrifice

61. for Christ's faithfulness

62. for Come Thou Fount, always hopeful to my ears

63. for dusk

The Great I Am

2010-05-24T00:08:00.002-04:00

Blogger boy say's I'm about to hit 100 posts, because he's nerdy cool like that and likes to keep up with details. I kinda love that about him, cause I like some details. But I really think blogger boy should wear something other than orange and blue, poor boy either is color blind or hails from sweet home Alabama and all things Auburn.

I digress as I always do, I'm not here to talk of blogger boy. For as we all know this here is a blog about me, myself and I. Seeing how 100 posts, ok almost 100 posts, entails familiarity I've decided I should let you in on a few little details I've recently discovered about myself.

In honor of it being Sunday and in honor of the Great I am, I shall present these revelations in the form of I am. However, lest the theologians get a hold of this and begin intercession, I am clearly aware that there is only one Great I am. The "I am that I am", yes I found that confusing, I think it means He is everything and that He is more than enough. Period. So you don't have to pray for me unless of course you want to pray for me a husband, in which case please pray talk, dark and handsome, must love Jesus. Thank you and Amen.

I digress, again! Here we go, I am....

I am embarrassed.
I heard from the blind man. He said he's suing unless I set the record straight and tell everyone there are actually instructions with the blinds. They're hidden in the spine of the blind. So there I set the record straight. I still think the blind man is a meanie head, though. This leads to discovery number two.

I am prideful
These days the cows and horses look at me a little too knowingly for they've witnessed my sleeping habits as one bedroom window is still sans blinds. Washing my face is now a sport, I have about a 30 second window to get the job done before the water fills up the sink. Long hair, anyone? I also might start to smell, the shower handle likes to give me a near heart attack by raucously falling onto the floor. Call my land lord, you say? I fear I annoy him, so I try to limit phone calls to um, "Mr. Landlord, water is flooding the bathroom...and the like." So I live this way until I muster up enough humility to say, "Help, I need someone not just anyone."

I am a sugar-aholic
This I've always known, this I've mentioned. However, sometimes the grip it has on me surprises me. For instance, I spent the weekend with a dear friend, who is very a kin to Martha what with her baking skills and dress making and artsy-ness skills. However, dear friend is following in the paths of her husband into all things healthy. She was in the middle of a detox which means NO SUGAR. My heart started to race at the thought of several hours without a sugar fix. "Do you have any sugar, I mean I know you're not eating sugar, but do you have any sugar I can eat?" Words which may or may not have been spoken in a panic. M&Ms and gummy bears were consumed within the first twenty minutes of my arrival home, I wasn't even hungry I just needed my veins to know I am a supporter, a lover, not a hater. They said thank you and I said, "You're welcome with a trip to get an ice cream cone."

I am a solo dessert eater
Shared two desserts recently with lovely friends from high school. There is a certain code of ethics one must follow when sharing desserts, like take a little bite, put down your fork and wait and wait. You must match the pace and eat in proportion to others appetites. Lest you appear to be a little piggy, who never learned how to share in preschool. Apparently I didn't. I minded my manners over my recent dessert sharing,we even left a bite on the plate. Tears! I now know to truly enjoy desserts I must engulf them within two minutes, then I must scrape up every, single solitary crumb and lick my plate. So if we ever meet over a piece of sugary heaven, 'no I don't want to go in halfsies and are you going to finish that?'

I am capable of sweating profusely
Always thought I didn't sweat. Mostly cause exercise and I aren't on speaking terms. Really I don't sweat much, unless you put my lily whiteness out in the 90 degree jaw-jaw sunshine. In that case I sweat more than a pig on the fourth of july. I apologize to all of the sweaters, it really is the pits, I felt like my whole body had wet it's pants. Today's photos are curtsey of Elizabeth goes sunbathing AKA, "Auntie Em, Auntie Em Help, Help I'm melting......"

I am a cheap skate
Still haven't cut on the air condition. If you come over I will offer you a popsicle, swim suit and a cold dip in the shower or some ice coffee, or not cause.....

I am NOT a barista.

Mmmmmm frappuccinos how difficult can they be? Clearly there are starbucks for a reason.

That's enough, I'd apologize for my wordiness but you must know by now
I am a rambler!

I will close on a sweet note

I am learning to be grateful
52. for sugar
53. for popsicles
54. for gummy bears
55. for McDonalds ice cream cones
56. for frappuccinos, howbeit the starbucks kind

Dear Darla,

2010-05-19T23:31:00.000-04:00

"I'll sell you my pickle for a nickel, how about two cents? O-tay!" I got nothing, ok, there's my measly quote but I'll spare us all from any incoherent thoughts and simply give you my two cents of the thankful variety. We'll call that a "Deal", pickle and get to it.....

38. for an Athen's "redeemed" weekend
39. for hotdogs
40. for peanut butter cookies that only call for four ingredients
41. for botanical gardens
42. for my orange dress
43. for the anticipation of my birthday
44. for the ability to sprawl out on the couch with your legs propped up and do nothing but talk on the phone
45. for the gilmore girls
46. for friend's thoughtfulness
47. for dip-n-dots
48. for giggling
49. for braves games with senior adults
50. for my bed
51. for hope

Snap, Crackle, Pop

2010-05-11T21:52:00.002-04:00

My posts of late have been long winded, feel-o-sophical tidbits. Tonight, I'll keep it short and talk of two of my favorite things:

One: My birthday, it's officially one month away. Let me know if you want gift ideas and or if you need to know what kind of cake I like. I'm kidding. No, I'm not. I like chocolate cake, and cheese cake, and cookie cake, and ice cream cake.....

Two: Inanimate Objects, I find when I have a strong affinity to said object I talk to it, or her or him whatever it has become. "I love you" is oft spoken to foods that have my heart. 'Ice cream, I'll always be your girl and love you most.' But tonight I have to tip my hat to the cereal. Never been too loyal to the cereal, until now. Wanna know my new favorite?
Him

Why you ask? Cause he says, " I love you, too"

Hallelujah, It's Raining......

2010-05-10T19:59:00.001-04:00

It's raining, the good rain, the kind of rain I like. The quite rain, that arrives at the end of the day and calls for pajamas immediately after work. The kind that makes blankets, and couches and books and a hot drink seem like the best idea you've had all day. The good rain makes you pensive in the best possible way.

This kind of rain restores my love of the rain. Unlike the rain we mentioned last go round, I call that the bad kind of rain. Which I'll let lie in my last post. We'll just move onto a weather report of my weekend which was sunny and bright with only a few drops of rain.

I had my Saturday to myself, sometime last year I named these "me days." Days when I have absolutely nowhere to go, days I can just be . My mother assures me this is not selfish, that it's healthy and a time to rest. My mother's approval of my "me days" is reason four hundred and fifty nine gazillion of why I love my mother. "Me days" take various shapes and forms and occasionally evolve into non "me days." I fully intend to incorporate "me days" into a future prenup agreement. You don't have to pray for me, I don't want anyones money, I just don't want to be cold or live with mice. And I find some time to myself makes me much less cantankerous. Now I know an entire "me day" is unrealistic for many people, so I'll throw in I believe the same effect can come from eating an ice cream cone pre dinner and swinging your worries away at a local park. Sunshine on my weekend, it was nice.

The rain drops hit taking my Granjanie back to her nursing home after our Mother's day dinner. My Granjanie has full blown dementia and can barely walk. She now lives in "wheels." The staff call her "speedy" due to how fast she gets around in her wheelchair. She also has more grace and rhythm on four wheels than I'll ever hope to have on two feet.

All that to state she needs full time twenty-four hour care. My mom visits multiple times a week and weekly takes my Grandmother to church. Last night she was confused as usual and did not want to stay at the nursing home. It was heart wrenching. I would have much preferred to be swept away by a tidal wave than to watch my Granjanie's frustration and hurt and her hurt drown my mother's heart.

It was a fresh reminder that life is not fair and oft smells like a wet dog after a muddy 'bad rain'. I do not know why I felt compelled to share that, I guess it's my personal reminder of the need to be thankful. To look for the good rain that comes right along with the bad rain.

Boy can I ramble! If you're still here, God bless you. In honor of the rain I'll drop some thanks onto my 1,000 thanks list.

24. for me days
25. for sushi
26. for whatever smelled so good on my walk
27. for sunrises
28. for good books
29. for the grace to survive self-inflicted sleep deprivation
30. for coffee
31. for a yummy scone
32. for painted toenails
33. for family that never changes despite bumps and bruises
34. for God's Word
35. for a movie that made me laugh
36. for being a girl, i'd have made an awful boy
37. for growth

That's it! Until next time, I hope you get a refreshing moment to yourself and a downpour of good rain that bring forth showers of blessings.

Rain Drops Keep Falling on My Head

2010-05-06T22:21:00.002-04:00

Last night I found a 'mouse nest' hiding in an obscure spot snickering at my watchful, hawk eye for the clean girl. While demolishing it's, and or their home, I started brewing a diatribe of a blog post. I'm sure at some point it'll show up replete with photos. We'll all need therapy once it's out there in cyber space.For now I just don't have it in me to talk about my paranoia and the thing I fear.

I rocked my inner kindergartner on New Year's day and made a list of pursuits for twenty-ten, with crayola crayons. "Study Joy" found its way up holy alley and landed on my list. I have yet to study joy, but I think joy's studying me.

I discovered recently that when I pray I use my manners and dot my prayers with words like joy and grace. Such as, "Lord, let my time in Nashville be filled with joy. Lord, help my Athens weekend be filled with love and grace." I say my prayers and then sometimes find myself asking, "did you hear me? I asked for joy." Last week I believe I got my answer, it went something like, "Baby girl, I think you mean you want an easy road full of your ideals and wishes." I replied, "I think you're right. Lord, I want an easy road and happy things that go my way kind of weekend." And that's how joy began staring me down.

I've got my suspicions that when I study joy I'll find it's a choice. You chose it, You chose to be thankful and grateful when you go to Nashville for the weekend and it floods and you lose power and have to come home a day later than you planned. And when you don't get the hotdog you asked for. I said hotdogs, not sure He heard that either. You choose joy and you find it in counting the good, you find it in giving thanks.....

16. for being holed up in a powerless house with a fantastic chef who still feeds you sans power
17. for a friend who drives you to the mall to see a Tim Gunn fashion show at the beginning of the monsoon.
18. for a baby who might just attempt your mouthful of a name
19. for speed scrabble, even when you never win
20. for belly laughs on road trips
21. for safety and protection and mercy in a crazy crisis
22. for best friends and their moms and their family who feel more like your family than your friends
23. for knowing somebody loves you

I'm not an overly grateful person, if I was to be counting 1,000 complaints we'd close shop tomorrow. Maybe once joy and I quit our stand off, I'll make her more a part of my life. Cause rain it does, sometimes it rains gumdrops and lemon drops and I get my way. It also rains mouse nests and yuck, just ask Nashville. Don't get me wrong I'm still gonna pray for gumdrops. But who knows joy just might be the umbrella to the downpour rains. I'll keep you posted. I said 1,000 thanks, right?

I Go Out Walking After Midnight....

2010-04-27T20:50:00.001-04:00

Just arrived home from a walk. My hands are numb, my cheeks are stinging and my ears are burning. So I checked with the weather man to ensure I hadn't turned into the time traveler's mistress (detour: i don't recommend The Time Traveler's Wife unless you're into insanely sappy, creepy, weak plotted flicks) The weather man assured me I hadn't morphed into the past, it is indeed April 27, 2010. All 55 degrees of her. I've reached a conclusion, spring is cheating on me with winter, tramp.

Well, that was about eleven-ish negatives how bout I round the bend and step on some thanks?

1,000 thanks continues........

10. for evening walks
11. for pretty, orangish flowers decorating a yard on said walk
12. for the tree lined air field that borders my abode
13. for the full moon shining brightly in the dusk
14. for yummy muffins my sister made me waiting to satisfy my hungry walking woman belly
15. for the reminder to be grateful

Sleep tight and here's hoping Spring will find her way back home.

The Road of A Thousand Thanks

2010-04-22T22:12:00.002-04:00

Blogging sometimes seems like the joy of driving without the worry of getting lost. This road takes you to that road which leads you on to the next. Can't even remember how I got there but a blog led to a blog with a post titled, "When You're An Affirmation Junkie." Well, say something nice and call me a pusher. Hello, my name is Elizabeth and I'm a major affirmation junkie. I made a sharp u-turn and pulled over on that blog. The premise of the article was we small, self-absorbed humans have a deep unquenchable desire to be loved. At least that's what I took. All we need is love, love, love is all we need. Sing it to me boys.

The thing is Christ loves me completely, yet I so often search for affirmation, love, in other's words in other's actions. And on some days my fellow, fleshly humans do a nice job of topping off my love tank. But the thing is they'll never overflow it. They'll never quench it. Only He can.

A holy experience that was the name of the "street" I turned down. Narcissistic girl got lost on a holy experience blog and while there she was reminded of the power of thanks.

I love posts where people list their happy things, things they're enjoying, things that make them smile and dance on the inside. I'd planned on making my own "happy things" posts. Then I got lost on "church girl's" blog. She has a real name and she's a legit writer, but I prefer church girl. Anyways church girl started this whole caravan of a "grateful community." Basically she challenges you to open your eyes and count your many blessings, name them one by one. I probably should hush and just let you go sit awhile with "church girl." After all her blog is holy and mine is ahem, narcissistic.

All that blabbering and I get to my point. I'm in, The Elizabeth Highsmith shall put down her needle laden I and count her blessings. A thousands thanks, the beginning....

1. For purple Georgia wisteria
2. For cute ole men who cut your field on a John Deer tractor
3. For babies who ask you for popsicles when they come over
4. For impromptu walks with your neighbor and their babies
5. For His sunshine that warms my spirit like far few things can
6. For His son who loves me more than I'll ever know
7. For feeling so full of life on a Saturday that I bust out in a random self made opera song
8. For bright orange old timey cars
9. For knowing when I'm wrong, I can turn around and get it right

For these and all other gifts, I give thanks.

To be continued....

Mamma Mia

2010-04-19T17:46:00.000-04:00

Here I go again wondering what kind of mama I'll be, assuming I have children. And assuming I don’t, may I have one of yours? Cause I really wanna be a mama. Anyways back to rambling. I’ve observed many a mama and I wonder what kind I’ll be.

The au naturel green mama with a heavy side of germ-aphobe? Doubtful, I’m a bad recycler, clutter gets to me, the trash can is my friend. As are the microwave and preservatives. Don’t tell Al, he'd go all gory on me. And a life without high fructose corn syrup would just be depressing.

Then there’s the ubberly, cool, fun mother, who not only can tolerate the messiest of the messy,she helps make um. Small chance, I’m too anal; I thrive on the neat and tidy. Help! I'll be a terrible mother! Nah, we’ll just have to adopt an organized chaos approach to messes.

Would I be like the Bev’s mom and make homemade biscuits in my pearls? Probably not, I’d hate to put Pillsbury out of business, that boy can make some pretty decent dough. Maybe I'll resemble Ma Wilder and pull a needle and thread? Dubious at best, when I get lost at Target and wind up in baby land my belly cries forth in desperation. Who wouldn’t want a little tarjay dressed tyke?

I’m not seriously naïve enough to think mothers can truly be classified. They’re each one of kind, even if they hover under certain stereotypical umbrellas.

I’ll most likely be the unpredictable smorgasbord of a mama. With a little of this and a dash of that, Like I’d probably feed my kids red # 40 with a little high fructose corn syrup and organic vegetables. One thing I will do is educate my children on the horrors of bleach. If they come within forty feet of it, I will teach them to yell, “Bleach is the child of Satan and he ruined my mama’s favorite britches!” That’s really all I wanted to tell you, Bleach bad, babies good.

P.S. I wanna baby, did I mention that? And that I will read them books and hug them a lot?

P.P.S. I love my mama, she’s great

P.P.P.S. I have a problem with P.S. I feel they are essential to all posts.

To Put It Blindly......

2010-04-13T21:22:00.001-04:00

Dear Blind Man,

I find it admirable that you care about the children so much as to include a protection disclaimer and warning in the packaging of your blinds. Kudos for even putting it in spanish. I applaud your little nifty device to ensure the babies are protected. I second the horror a child's harming would be from a blind mishap. I just have one little suggestion. If you give a girl without a husband, boyfriend or power tools a set of blinds sans instructions replete with 49 hundred screws, you're gonna need yourself a new warning pamphlet!

Cause I fear the ladies might poke their eyes out with those screws, or choke on the mysterious plastic parts and that would be the best case scenario. Worst case, well those cords are long you know. Why don't you just bless their little hearts and throw in some instructions?

Yours Truly,
Drooling in Broad Daylight

editor's note: happy elizabeth who doesn't rant on books and stomp on blind instructions will return after this brief word from grumpy, gritchy, gripey elizabeth.

I See the "Bad" Moon Rising- - - - - I See Trouble On The Way

2010-04-10T12:05:00.002-04:00

The sun is shining brightly today and I can't be happier. I survived, barely. Of what do I reference? The phenomenon that is Twilight. Let's just pause and sink our teeth into the fact that if you're a Twilight fan, you might want to run and hide, in the dark of course. I mean it, go admire some pasty skin, or drink in someone's fresh breath, go be clutzy and call yourself cute. Seriously, if you are a Twilight lover and I know some of you are, you have been warned. And I would deeply mourn a bloggy divorce over what I'm about to write. Don't let it happen, please go dream of Eddie.

Here it is my review. Just for fun I'll throw in the fact that it took me months, months, to finish it. And that's only because I'm a firm beliver in finishing what you start. Enough, I know.

The review:
"Twilight reads like the journal of a lovesick middleschooler who gotta a little blood on the pages because she enjoys picking her scabs and watching them bleed."

I am aware that Miz Myers sits atop the best seller list eating twilight candy bars and snickering at the likes of me and all other doomsayers. All the while counting her dollars and freaky followers, I mean fans. Nonetheless, I'd rather prick my finger and listen to the blood drops than to take another bite.

So does she become a vampire or what? Read it, I know right!

Sincerely,
The critic or cynic, whichever you prefer

For Better or Worse

2010-04-06T17:38:00.003-04:00

Big Money, that’s my car, he didn’t get his name until we’d been together for quite some time. He doesn’t like me. He says we have a marriage of convenience and that I’m driving him crazy. Whatever, I think he’s sensitive about his age spots, too much time in the sun. And he’s embarrassed about his seat being ripped. I tell him to quit being so metro on me, it’s not attractive and to take his age like a man.

Then he starts in on how I ignore him and how I refuse to do anything about our relationship until things just blow up. Typically, I just pat him and say 'there, there, ole boy, I hear you' and ask him to please cut the lights off and turn down the racket. Sometimes it works like a charm. Not this time, I’ve known for a few weeks he was onto me. I could tell he quit listening to me. It got bad, he was threatening suicide. So I took him in for counseling in hopes they could calm him down and talk him off the ledge. That therapy business isn’t cheap, guess it’s what I get for marrying an old man. Men! Can’t live with them can’t live without them. I’m beginning to understand why people just trade theirs in for a new one. Not me though, I’m a stand by your man kind of girl. Until Death do us part. He's worried this means I'm trying to kill him. I think he heard about some old flames.

Clearly he fell in love with me for my stellar fashion sense........

Where the Pretty Things Are...

2010-03-28T15:12:00.002-04:00

Pretty things, I like them. I always have. I'm a girlie girl through and through. Beautiful, pretty things sing to me. As a little girl I'd day dream about growing up and wearing make up and buying the most wonderful, fashionable clothes. I dreamed of pretty babies dressed in pretty frocks and a handsome husband to ooh and awe of over us and to tell us how pretty we are. My favorite part of yearbooks, were the pictures of the grown up girls arrayed in puff sleeves, big bows and turquoise. I dreamed in pretty and I still do.

Still want a handsome husband, and babies to dress. I still think about a white house with a big front porch and black shutters and a red door. Buying pretty clothes and dressing up is as wonderful as I imagined, if not more.

While I enjoy looking pretty, I don't always act pretty. You don't have to look farther than the evening news or morning paper to know that life isn't pretty, that sometimes it's down right ugly. How do we fight the ugliness that is humanity? We can stab it with character training, or pierce it with charities, punch it with good will, or jab it with self-help books. We can turn our backs and say it ain't so. We can do any number of things, maybe even win a round or two. But it will rear its ugly head again.

I was reminded in this morning's sermon of life's best beauty remedy.To go to the cross of Christ, where Jesus paid it all. Where sinner's plunged beneath the blood of Jesus lose all their guilty stains. Where ugliness can meet beauty. My pastor's message hammered in the fact that, "It is finished." We can add absolutely nothing to the grace of Christ. I don't think there is anything more beautiful than being able to freely admit, "I am ugly," only to have Christ vanquish it and replace it with His beauty.

As a Christian I so easily find myself trying to add to the cross, trying to act pretty in my own power. You'd think I'd know by now my righteousness is as filthy rags. My efforts will always burn up into a pile of ashes, until I take them to Christ and He exchanges them for beauty.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I can rest in peace knowing when God looks at me He sees the beauty that is Christ. Nothing will ever be able to quench my thirst for pretty like He can. I like pretty things, especially when they're free. Christ, He's where the pretty things are.

Walking on Sunshine

2010-03-25T19:17:00.002-04:00

Did you ever have your baby shoes dipped in gold or brass? A few of my siblings and I did back when it was in vogue. I always found it oddly fascinating. Wonder how my Mother would feel about being dipped in gold? Cause she's the stuff angel's wings are made from. Now, of course she's not perfect, the lovely little broad forbid me to get a perm back in 1980 something. Howbeit, she brushed up enough side ponies for me that I can forgive those few minor grievances and still crown her angel-esque with a sash of sainthood.

Mom is known in the local Target, as in she has friends. Friends that know I'm Lisa's daughter and ask about my mom. Mama knows their names, their children's names, their worries and woes and their happy moments. The lady could make friends down at the ant farm. She loves some people, probably why she has so many babies. In honesty, I find her gregarious nature a little annoying at times. I've wanted to plead, "Must we be political, can't we just buy our toilet paper and go?" I once quipped to one of our target friends, "Oh, you know Mom always the talker." The lady replied, "Everyone in this store knows your mom, she's so friendly and easy to talk to." That remark struck me, as to what a testimony it was to who my Mom is.

Mom frequents the local nursing home where my Granjanie is a resident. She visits often and has adopted many of the other residents. One resident, Bill Hastings, is a town celebrity. He has hydrocephalus, yet his memory classifies him as a savant. Give him a name and he can spout out their phone number, a sports team and he'll tell you the entirety of their stats. Pretty sure the man has the phone book memorized, literally.

The past two years, Bill has joined us for Christmas. He calls my mother tells her what time he wants to come, what he wants for dinner and when he wants to go home. Mom willingly complies. Hamburgers, mashed potatoes, vanilla ice cream and diet coke are bound to show up on the menu, even if we're eating seafood or breakfast. Bill's mother was my mom's elementary teacher and she's never forgotten her kindness.

Christmas night the phone rang, it was Bill calling to tell my mom, "Tell Da Kids, Three Hundred, Sixty-Four more days we do it again." I hear those words whenever it's the twenty-fifth of the month.

When I think of Bill and the countdown to Christmas, I think of my Mom and her genuine, heartfelt friendship and interest in others. She leaves some pretty big shoes to fill, yet I need to do better at following in those footsteps. Cause I'm about 90 % positive they're lined in gold.

A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver-Proverbs 25:11

A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold-Proverbs 22:1

The Rolling Stones...

2010-03-22T22:53:00.001-04:00

John Denver's Some Days are Diamonds (Some Days are Stone) song has always resonated with me. Today was a day of stone. A down in the trenches, lost and alone in the mines kind of day. My car of many odd years wants a divorce. I am a volunteer child advocate and today was a court day. And that often finds me staring at the back side of humanity, the ugliness, the despair, the selfishness of we humans. And somedays I hit rock bottom of my own depravity. "Sometimes the hard times won't leave us alone." Some days I make the day stone by simply being stubborn, obstinate and refusing to see the beauty of a diamond in the rough. Yet, to me the beauty is a day can go from a stone to a diamond by a little refocusing. You can hit happy by finding the left over hummus in the fridge which leads you to the forgotten olives. Or with an email devotional that reminds you of the importance of pressing on in your prayers. "Put on the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." It really does work. I'm going to go sit on my stone of a day and count my blessings.

If I were a proverb today I'd be,"If you've lost your happy, raid the fridge." Ok, that's probably why I didn't make the cut.

Spring Forward

2010-03-22T07:57:00.000-04:00

I have this theory that your favorite season has much to do with the season you were born into. For me, my theory proves true. Spring is my BFF. I am learning to respect all of the seasons. Seeing how there is a time and season for everything. Winter, well I tolerate him like the annoying uncle who reeks of cigar smoke, but tells wickedly funny jokes, so you don't all together disown him. But you think about it. Fall, I'm learning to like him. He's sorta like your brother who you fought many battles with, but grow up and realize he's not so bad and you really even like him. Spring though is pure joy, like a best friend and a mama's arms. She's just goodness. And well summer, I love him like a man. He's hot and sometimes you don't understand him, but despite his fickle ways you always want him to come a calling.

The weather has gone all bipolar on me. Cold, rainy and windy, what an oxymoron to a spring day. However, I must commend her on the way she arrived. Classy, it was just pure classy, sunny and 70's, that's my girl. I welcomed her back and drank her up, right down to the last rays of her light. I hope your first day of spring was as glorious as mine which was filled with....
Donuts

Orange Pushups

Yellow flowers

A Picnic

A Best Friend
And An Evening Walk

Happy Spring! May it be filled with all of your favorite things.

Corned Beef With A Side Of Cheese..

2010-03-17T19:03:00.002-04:00

I feel compelled to eat a bowl of lucky charms today, but as luck would have it I’m charmless. I guess I’ll just obey the health gurus and eat my greens instead.

Five to seven servings a day, right? And now I will leave you with a Saint Pattie's day blessing,“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all, Amen.” I kid, I kid. That’s the Christmas blessing. Here’s The Blessing!

May your rainbows be golden
May your pinches be none
May your charms be lucky
May your leprechauns be jolly
May your clovers be four
May your blessings be more…….

And that sweet friends, is what Irish for you!

P.S. A good male Irish accent makes me heart melt like a popsicle on a hot summer day.

Go Fish

2010-03-11T23:55:00.001-05:00

I’m channeling my inner Oscar the Grouch. Can you tell me how to get, how to get to pleasant street? Because I’m going the wrong way down a one way street called grumpy road. If you’ll pull over, I’ll tell you how I got here. Games……….As in last night I took a risk and played a game. Boy, talk about trouble. Games bring back my memory of PE. Pretty much all PE related games were dodge ball to me, thus I was typically picked last. Operation I don’t like games, that’s my life.

Last night I lost pretty miserably at speed scrabble, which of course made me feel sorry for myself. I go to war with my ego during games. I just can’t get it through my cranium that it’s only a game. I know I should look at games as trivial pursuits. But I don’t , I score my worth by the hand I play. What’s my deal! Get a clue, self. Build a bridge and get over it. I feel like a rooky Old Maid, who went and lost her marbles. And that my friends is how the dice rolls, and how I lost my pride. Let me know if you've scene it. Biggest loser, spoilsport I know, king me.

P.S I don't hate all games, I can play some pretty mean Candy land.

Say Cheese...........

2010-03-04T17:56:00.001-05:00

The only thing better than cheese is a cheesy joke. The radio man cut the cheese today with this one, "Today is March 4th a date with a message: Stop Procrastinating and March 4th to your dreams!" Buwahhhhhhhhh. I smell a winner! What a cheese whiz. As for dreams, I dream of dinner......

Lettuce March 4th eat, drink and be cheesy!

"The Word-Smith"

2010-03-02T19:04:00.006-05:00

I like big words and I cannot lie
When a new word walks in my itty bitty brain
My heart starts to race
I like words!

The incredible, readable, words. I'm particularly partial to words that are fun to say like onomonopia and indubitably and gobbledygook. Mostly I just like the fancy, schmancy, words that make me appear smarter than I truly am. "She had a gargantuan, mammoth vocabulary" may it be said of me. Really I prefer "humongous" but I aim to impress.

I recently decided to include the word "wanton" into my vocab. Here goes I'm "wanton" spring to get here real bad.

So that's the word, Smith. Wink, Wink.