2019 A List Of Longing

When I close my eyes and think back on this past year I see mud on shoes from days and months of rain. Too much for our soil to take in. Heaps and heaps, rivers of rain. Storms that opened wide the skies and emptied themselves out all over our little lives.

I hear the sound of falling feet smacking the wet earth all around me. Mud splashing, mess making, sticking earth to clothes and skin and hair. Raindrops mixed with burning tears on cheeks, of heads aching and faces flushing. 

I see seedlings, green and stretching, springing up from watery earthy places seeking the sun. I see willows weeping, hanging heavy from too much growth. Branches reaching down from the desert skies so blue and pale. I see muscles expanding and spaces widening. The kind of stretching that can leave us hurt and sore and questioning.

I ache now for sun and warmth and the comforting sounds of gentle springs treading over miles of smooth stone. Of lying body onto soft grass and of sun on cheeks, warm and still. I crave the slow breath of Summer swirling lazily through trees covered in hearty, clinging leaves. Of slow shade traveling across the flat green landscapes, we walk. The sun slowly moving from one end of our earth to the other.

I’m eager for comfort. For warm spaces and cozy pillows and handmade blankets made in every color. I don’t know if 2019 will be so gentle. I hope so very much that it will be though. More than that, I pray for that for this year. Comfort Lord, please.

I won’t be so brave or so foolish as to make a list of resolutions. Every year I fail them. But I’ll make a list of things I long for just now. As I sit in the quiet of my sleeping rooms. Christmas tree lights and the sound of Ray Charles songs sung in his honor by so many different voices on the television screen.

My list is not the kind of list I’ve made before. It is the kind of list that grew from a year of so much deep work and the uncovering of what is really important and the discovery of what is not.

In no particular order, this is my list of longing for 2019.

1. Words. To read them and write them.

2. To do rather than speak about loving others well. Especially when it comes to my kids and husband.

3. To mend. To teach my children to treasure and save rather than the alternative.

4. To make and create with my hands.

5. To slow down and tackle the things that bring me joy, one at a time and finish them.

6. To sing a new song.

7. To love God with all of my heart, mind, and soul.

things i thought then

and now…
#oldposts #onmovesandnewhomes #churchfamily

new town new church
From January 25, 2016

we came to the old place a little nervously
on a dusty cold Sunday
new places and new faces always terrify me
this introvert who needs to get out of her own rooms

we entered in
there was such sincerity in the worship
faces of all places and the sunlight mingle
the pain that this joy-filled place touched inside us screams

Jesus in these hallways
Him in these rooms
shining back at us in the humble eyes that greet us
crushing the fear and doubt

we won’t be comfortable here
there will be no hiding in pews and finding quick exits
the brain says run away
everything else in us needing to stay

——————————————————————————————————————–

feels like dawn
From February 2016

Heads bowed low. The boy under my right arm. The girl next to him gently puts her hand on his shoulder- trying not to scare the shy boy that he still is. Her kindness makes me smile.

My left hand sits small inside my husband’s hand. His left hand is on the shoulder of the man in front of us.

And I think to myself, “So, this is community.” A quiet statement to myself rather than a question.

During worship, the songs are sung.

All the words are thrown into the air with abandon. I don’t even care if they sound nice. They mean too much. So much that sometimes the words explode into the air dressed in all of their meaning as a shouted whisper spat from my lips.

The song now my cry to the God whom they are meant for.

This Is Worship.

He Is King.

Our Jesus who walks so boldly and so gingerly in these isles. Slipping through us. His hand brushing against this man’s back and that woman’s shoulder. His finger there on that heart, just there in that mind. Changing people. Growing them. Healing them. Loving them.

It is here then when the burdens begin to loosen. They slip from my shoulders like great boulders and I feel the full weight of them leave me. I am weightless. Weightless I say!

Great heaving sighs burst from my lungs. I am free. And all of this sudden freedom feels like dawn. The light from the sun slipping over the horizon and all of the darkness dissipates.

Who said this burden was mine to carry?! What do I even call it? This belief that I must do all. Be all. Never fail. Do better. Hold it all together. Juggle all the balls in the air and never be less than. That I am worthless.

Less than what?! Less than whom?!  Under what lies have I been living!?

But here there is freedom. I feel His love and I am embracing it! It IS for me! I exclaim. It IS for me this perfect, Holy, all-consuming, gift of love. Gift. Because-of-His-Grace-Love!!! My soul is shouting now.

The music plays on. The people sing. My heart remembering something forgotten. There is the red carpet beneath my shoes. Sunlight drifting in. White walls staring. Cars driving past. Dust settling. Heartbeats beating. Trees as still as stones and I AM LOVED by the King of everything. We all are.

Yes. We. Are.

wait

in the line to pick up kids after school
cars moving slowly
seventeen drivers not letting me in
kids on benches and beneath the trees wait
i feel my insides stir and boil

in the check out aisle at the grocery store
slow beeps and long conversations
for the child to find her way to peace when she is upset and on the verge of meltdown
for the child to find the strength to go and look for the shoe that keeps us from leaving the house on time
my impatience does flips inside me

for the man to make the decision that i am biting at the bit to have settled
for the details of the new thing to be laid out on paper and solidly in place
for the winds to lift and turn and flip all my plans upside down
for the peace that i have chosen to be felt
i search for determination somewhere deep

waiting is hard
sometimes it is just life
sometimes it feels like too much
every time it is uncomfortable
i scream for help with my unbelief

more room for patience being made in my small places
i am pushed out on all sides
my capacity to leap stretching into new places
my ability to believe pulled further than it has yet been
grace growing in small hands

waiting is hard but Father is faithful
where i lack, He lacks not at all
my plan is good but His is better
i cling to Him
His right hand upholds me

Long-ish term projects and words {yarnalong}

The ladies from our church and other friends are reading a book together this season rather than doing a Bible study. I love the idea and am looking forward to the time we will all spend together. The book is One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voscamp. I’ve read it before -a few years back- and it wrecked me, in a good way. I hadn’t expected it to really hurt me so badly the second time around but it seems that it just might. When I read this weeks chapter there were tears that I hadn’t anticipated and so many things copied down, things that moved me. Below are just a few…

“But these aren’t things you need to say anyways. Like all beliefs, you simply live them.” pg. 15

“”If I’m ruthlessly honest, I may have said yes to God, yes to Christianity, but really, I have lived the no.” pg. 16

“The singular tear that slips down his cheek carves something out of me.” pg. 19

“And I see it. At least a bit more. When we find ourselves groping along, famished for more, we can choose.” pg. 21

“…our own emptiness, might actually become places to see. To see through to God. That that which tears open our soul, those holes that splatter our sight, might actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave. Maybe so. But how?” pg. 22

But, I reckon I’ll keep ya posted. As it happens I am also reading (more like dabbling) in this one, this one and(at night when the house is quiet devouring) this one it is also my resource of the week! Adoption is a blessing but the road can be hard. We need good resources and community so yeah.
You. Are. Welcome. 😉

Projects made of yarn should go into Yarn Along posts yes? So, I started a sock yarn blanket. Yes. I. Did. Truth be told, it is one of three. The others are pretty but long-neglected and they rest so nicely in beautiful bags on shelves or in baskets. Its okay, someday they will see light and receive attention again. This one was meant to be my book-club-blanket meaning it was meant to be worked up when actually at said book club meetings but it is completely addicting and as it turns out, the only project that I want to work on.

Never mind that though, one mustn’t squelch the creative heart. This particular sock yarn blanket is different than my other ones in that it is not a knitted blanket but rather -I broke out the old crochet hook- and had to look up how to crochet- to do it. I used this recipe to start it as I needed a reminder of how to do it. It has been something like 8 years since I crocheted this kind of blanket. I do love it though and would recommend anyone else to start one.

I’m calling this my February Yarn Along post even if it is early, so I’ve linked it with Ginny. If you like to see what others are making and reading- have a look-see when you get a chance.

Blessing and peace~
Tina

Feb 6, 2018

I’ve added some progress pics below. I do enjoy this project and am afraid if I work on anything else it will join the other sock yarn blankets… but I do need to make some things to raise funds for my Summer Mission Trip so… We. Will. See. 😬😭😂