a bit of history · friends and loved ones

He who finds a wife…

I’m here, at the end of a week.  Today, on this lovely Friday, I’ve been looking back to a special day over 13 years ago.  I know I already wrote a whole blog post about my wedding day, and the blessing of being married to Michael.

But, I could not resist sharing these photos with you, in celebration.

Proverbs 18:22 says, “He who finds a wife finds a good thing, And obtains favor from the Lord.”  – I realize this Scripture makes it sound like Michael sure was fortunate to marry me… But, really, I feel like I am the one who is blessed.  I can’t even really put into words what its like to know that I’m married to just the right man – the one who God led to search for and find me!

Love is in the air around here as I reminisce…

Me with my niece, Maggie.

Me, with my groom.

Waiting, with Diet Coke in hand.  I am my father’s daughter after all.

Mom and Dad both walked me down the aisle

One of my favorite shots from the ceremony.

Mr. and Mrs. Michael Day!

Thanks for taking this trip down memory lane with me!  And remember – hug and kiss the ones you love today!  You are blessed if you are  loved and have someone to love.

Happy Friday!

friends and loved ones

how to trust…

…that’s what I’m learning.  I’m the wife of a man who works in the corporate world as a consultant.  But recently, I find myself in this strange, strange world.  Its a place of complete uneasiness and self insufficiency.  I have no idea what to do with myself other than say, “Yes, honey.”   and “What can I do for you?  What do you need?” “Can I get you some water?”  “Don’t you want to come down from there and hire someone to do this?”  (Okay, I haven’t actually asked him the last question.)

Truthfully, I cringe.  I cringe a lot.

Every time I hear the saw blade circle, every time I watch Michael climb the ladder to heights unknown, I close my eyes and breathe a prayer for safety and protection.  and miracles.  “Please don’t let my husband get hurt.”  That’s what I find myself saying every time he gets outside working on the project.

Is that the brush of angel’s wings I hear in my backyard?

In my head I know that God is in the business of being the protector and the healer, so we are in good hands, right?

Of course, of course.

But, when it comes time to actually do the trusting – I feel myself faltering just a bit.  Today I’ve realized there is a stark contrast to what has been my emotional reality and where my heart needs to be. I have to let these things go on so that I’ll learn to trust more.  I mean, if all my husband does is ride to work each day and sit at a desk, sure that takes a little bit of trust.  However, watching him work on his workshop doing things like: hanging from the roof, standing at the edge of the peak, or leaning way too far away from the ladder while balancing at a height that is unmentionable – all of this takes new levels of trust for me.

I MUST trust in this truth : God himself has come down from on high to this earth in order that He can keep us in His hands.  And is there a better place to be, than inside His care?  No.  Today I feel this answer more keenly than I ever have before.   I am so grateful for this lesson in trust, no matter how uncomfortable it is.

Especially since I have a son, who appears to follow in his daddy’s footsteps.  No fear.  at all. *sigh*  I’m destined to keep learning how to trust, more and more.

friends and loved ones

the best way to celebrate…

It was Michael’s birthday today.  And, while I did not get photos of all of the shenanigans and goings-on here at our house, this is how my hubby, a newly-turned-37-year-old, thought he should celebrate…

Chase a dream….

and get closer to catching it.

hang out with a new, best friend,

and some other special people too.

Put out a few fires,

but not before making a wish or two.

and indulge.  a lot.

Happy Birthday, Michael!  I’m so glad for the years we’ve shared so far- and I can’t wait to see what the coming year holds for us!

a bit of history · friends and loved ones · in my kitchen

fresh, warm bread

Its one of my very favorite things. I love, love, love home made bread – especially my grandmother’s. I come from a long line of bread bakers who know how to make an incredible loaf of bread. MMMMMmmmmm – If I close my eyes, I can smell its aroma and I can almost taste it. Nothing is like it.

There is a particular ‘bread’ moment that I remember… we were having a light dinner at my grandma and grandpa Brubacher’s house. As we sat around the dining room table there was soup in a large terrine, and there was all kinds of meats and cheeses and condiments to make sandwiches. Now for some this would not be exciting, but there in the center of the table was a platter with slices of fresh bread for the eating. You may not believe it, but I can still taste that sandwich – especially the bread. So soft, so flavorful…

unforgettable…

Not long ago at our family reunion my aunt and a few cousins were talking bread recipes and methods. As I sat listening I realized how much I would really like to make my own bread. I’ve been thinking about starting for months. But, alas, making good bread takes time, energy and a lot of practice. All of which are reasonable expectations if you want delicious bread, except for someone with a baby. Recently that baby turned one and I’m thinking I may have time to dig in very soon.

There is another ‘bread’ memory from the dinner table at my grandparent’s home. At every meal before we began eating, God’s word was opened. My grandpa would read a portion of God’s word and maybe a reading from “The Daily Bread” – or from another subscription… It didn’ t really matter – This was fresh bread from Heaven, a delectable tidbit from the Heavenly Father. So sweet and tender…

life changing…

And now it is my turn. I’ve ordered the school books for Em and Isaac this year. I’ve been praying and planning. My ideas are coming to fruition; the calendar is beginning to fill up with page numbers and basic goals for the year. But I’ve come to realize this : its nothing without the fresh bread. I’m not talking about the kind you eat for your tummy’s benefit- I’m talking about the kind you consume for your Heart – God’s word.

Its not that I didn’t plan a Bible curriculum. No, I did that. However I have been reminded of the reality that it has to be more than that. I must serve up fresh words from the Heavenly Father on a daily basis – it has to be the center of our educational feast. Without it everything else we learn is worthless. But when it is at the heart of our learning, everything else makes sense. So enlightening, so life-giving…

Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.

I may not get to start out with making fresh bread for our meals quite yet. But, I will be serving it up at the dining room table this year. Its my heart’s desire that every subject will have a fresh, warm side of God’s word and that our lives will be nourished on a daily basis by Him.

friends and loved ones · who knows?

On Potty Seats and Training Pants…

 

I originally wrote this blog entry several years ago, while  potty training this sweet boy, Isaac – who, by the way actually is potty trained now!  🙂  But, I needed this reminder today…

There comes a time in a mother’s life when she expects all of her hard work to come to fruition. Its a specific point where her success or failure is measured.

Where does every mother of a preschooler come to feel this pressure? The very understanding that this is a matter of life and death? In the bathroom, that’s where. I am that mother, with that sense of urgency this morning. Unfortunately, my son does not share that sense with me.

To my children, I’ve become that woman who runs around the house, slightly frazzled, constantly asking, “Do you need to go potty?” My sweet little boy, who never answers yes, is taken to the bathroom religiously on the hour. Sometimes we make it in time. Sometimes we don’t. And, as we change his pants, because invariably we have at least one accident in one form or another on a daily basis, he says things to me like, “I wuv you mommy, I hug you.” or, “I tell you next time mommy. tomorrow I poo poo on the potty.”

If you are a mother of a son in elementary school, I know what you are going to tell me. You are going to say that one day the light bulb will come on and he will just start doing what he needs to do. While that is encouraging – it is not enough for the moment. There are days when I feel confident that my son will need pull ups for his dorm room in college. I assure you I cannot afford pull ups into the next decade.

So far this morning we have been to the potty three times. My son has managed to make it without any accidents. And he has promised me each time that he plans to poo poo on the potty later today, but it is still asleep. (please don’t ask me what that means, because I don’t know) However, he also tells me that Larry the Cucumber poo poos on the potty and does not have accidents in his pull up. I am not encouraged.

But, just now as we finished up and washed hands, he hugged me and I kissed him on the forehead. And I had a moment. I briefly, but distinctly heard the heavenly father say, “Why don’t you talk to me about this?”

Surely the God of the universe is not interested in my son’s potty training habits.

But I am reminded that actually, He is. Or maybe he is interested in the general well being of our household. Whichever the case I feel confident He wants me to talk to Him about it. And not just about this, but about all of it.

It seems that He gave me these Scripture verses from Romans 12 this morning to encourage me in my very particular situation. Its sandwiched in the middle of a chapter about being a servant. How ironic, as I learn again how to be a servant on this journey with my son.

Romans 12 : 11-12 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.

He cares about the small stuff – and the big stuff, like potty training. He gives me a new word to help me through each day, even each minute. And today I needed to know that He cares. Its grace for this very moment, even as the timer rings. Its time to take someone to the potty.

md

(one of my favorites, originally written February 10, 2010)

friends and loved ones

Reflections from the Beach pt. 1

Isaac (and Papa), braving the waves last year.  (2011)

(originally written June 5, 2010)

My little family and I have been at the beach this week on vacation. Its been quite an excursion, I assure you. Even with three children to keep track of, I have had quite a bit of time to ponder a lot of things. Sand, ocean waves, bright sunshine – all have been medicine for my soul this week.

One of my keenest memories from the trip, I have locked away for the long term. My sweet boy, Isaac and I were out in the waves as the ocean rolled in. There are few things that are more fun than jumping the waves – we were holding on tightly to each other and giggling.

In fact, our giggling bubbled up into peels of laughter. As his little hands gripped my shoulders, I’d jump up and then we would let the waters wash us to shore, all the while just chortling. What a time we had. I’ve promised myself I won’t ever forget it!

After, as we dried off in the sunshine, I thought of this song from my childhood:

What a wonderful change in my life has been wrought,
since Jesus came into my heart,
I have life in my soul for so long I had sought,
since Jesus came into my heart!

Since Jesus came into my heart,
since Jesus came into my heart,
floods of joy o’er my soul
like the sea billows roll,
Since Jesus came into my heart!”

This song really means something so different to me tonight. As the sea billows rolled, Isaac and I experienced such Joy! Is this the kind of joy the song was talking about? Are we meant to have Joy that brews in the belly, rupturing into fountains of laughter?

Yes! Yes! and Yes! Often I look to Jesus as healer, comforter – pleading for Him to bring aid in my sorrows and trials. But I do not expect relief to come in that form of true, uninhibited Joy! Sometimes I take myself so seriously that I attempt to keep the waves at bay.

Knowing Jesus, his forgiveness and his salvation, brings joy – the kind that begins in the tips of my toes, flooding my heart and soul, rising all the way to the top of my head.

Psalm 71:23
My lips will shout for joy
when I sing praise to you—
I, whom you have redeemed.

Dear Lord,
Let me live in the joy of your salvation! Let others see that joy bubbling over in my life so that they might know you too.

friends and loved ones

one tiny word makes all the difference

Here is a Scripture that I learned when I was a child.  I’ve known these words for close to 30 years:

from Proverbs 3:
5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding;  In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths.

Today I’ve been struggling to trust.  Its over something remarkably small.  Tomorrow my sweet husband is probably going to have a small procedure done on his hand to remove a piece of glass that was left behind after a car accident that happened to us 10 years ago now.

That means that all day today I have made it my responsibility to obsess about every possible thing that could go wrong.  After all, what in the world would we do if….?

Because he has guitar playing, guitar making hands. Hands that enjoy working outside.  Hands that hold our children.  Hands that hold mine.    Hands that we all NEED.

My breath catches in my throat, I can’t swallow, and tears burn…

But, it was while I had a moment alone this evening after a day of self imposed worry,  I heard Him say to me, “Trust.”  And with that one word, the Scripture above posed front and center in my mind.  I whispered the words out loud, “Trust in the Lord with ALL…”  and I stopped short.

ALL.

not most.

not some.

ALL.

“Oh Heavenly Father, why is this so hard?   and it isn’t even my hand…”

and He said, again, “Trust.”

Because He is working in all of it, every bit and piece of my life. Whether it is pain or healing, glory or despair- He is using it all.  And it is His plan that is best, not mine.  I just wish He wouldn’t hit so close to home.   But, He knows  just how to get right to the heart of the matter.  Lipservice and head knowledge mean absolutely nothing if I don’t fully trust Him – with ALL of my heart.

Tomorrow brings a new journey of trust… Thank you Heavenly Father for walking this road with me, and for being a God that I can fully trust with my whole heart.  amen.

friends and loved ones · who knows?

the golden door…

If you were to travel down one of the short streets in Middle Valley, you would come across a house, the first house on the right to be exact.  And there you would see a small split foyer home with a newly painted bright yellow front door.  My front door.  We finished the project a few weeks ago, but I still find myself staring at it.  No one’s front door in this neighborhood is as pretty as mine, that’s what I tell myself.

Truthfully, we recently made the decision to stay here at our house, and do some things to really make it our own, rather than moving.  Our split foyer needed some curb appeal; the door was just the first effort towards making the outside more visually pleasing and inviting, maybe even hospitable.

Well, I’ve been thinking about the door.  I have been ever since we began considering changing it.  Scripture pictures Jesus knocking at a door, patiently waiting for those who are not yet believers to acknowledge Him.  He is no respecter of doors, beautiful or otherwise.  He died and rose again for all,  not just the folks who have pretty golden doors.

More to the point,  I’m challenged to really believe that He offers forgiveness to everyone here, in my neighborhood.  Everyone. Not just the loveliest ones.  Its so easy to believe that He’s forgiven me, because I have solid moral values and I’m taking good care of my family and I home school and my house is (fairly) clean – and the list goes on and on…  Here, in my part of town, not everyone lives this same way.

There’s the house a street or two over with really tall grass and a maroon front door that is dirty and looks like it may fall off the hinges any day.  Another house where there were gun shots a few weeks ago; that door is dark blue and had the glass broken out for a while.  And another home where there appears to be stuff piled everywhere, so much so that is billowing out from their garage, into the driveway.  I can’t even tell what the color of their door is.   Its easy for me to dismiss these in their un-lovely state.

But Jesus, He knocks at every door with the promises of forgiveness and everlasting life.  He stands at the door, because to Him,  ALL doors are golden:

20 Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.  (from Revelation 3)

What if every time I catch myself admiring my own door,  I remember to gaze at the doors of the homes nearby the way Jesus does?  No distinctions, only  seeing with His eyes of love and praying with a heart for His redeeming work to be done.

Heavenly Father, As you continue the work in our hearts, will you make us a part of your plan to draw others to yourself? Please take our golden door and use it as you see fit; we long to be hospitable and inviting, even loving to those around us.  Help me to remember that every door is a golden one.   amen.

friends and loved ones

loaves and fish…

my precious ones…

It was just this afternoon that I sat down with my two younger children to read a story.  I love story time with them, especially if we’re going to read from one of my favorite books: The Jesus Storybook Bible.

Mackenzie usually will run for “her” Bible and bring it to me for us to share.  Normally everyone loves to hear a story or two, and I tend to leave them begging for more.  Today was different…

We had not been able to get the wiggles out earlier in the day.  No one could share the page turning responsibilities.  Neither child could be quiet to save their life – and they were unable to sit still at all.  Normally, they snuggle up close, sharing my lap…  Unfortunately story time turned into a shouting and wrestling match and I heard myself yelling above the frey, SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET SO I CAN READ THIS STORY ABOUT JESUS!

Nice. It was NOT one of my finer moments as a mother, I assure you.

In fear and trembling, they sat quietly as I read the story to them of how Jesus fed thousands with just five loaves and two fish.  And there, at the end of the passage, there were words that moved my heart.  It was as if someone had penned them with me in mind. Let me share them with you:

Well, Jesus did many miracles like this.  Things people thought couldn’t happen, that weren’t natural.  But it was the most natural thing in all the world.  It’s what God had been doing from the beginning, of course.  Taking the nothing and making it everything.  Taking the emptiness and filling it up.  Taking the darkness and making it light.

This is how God works in my heart, through words simple enough for a child.  As I read these thoughts out loud, with the same lips that had just spewed frustration and impatience all over my children, I realized something important.  Only a God who can take nothing and make it something, who takes dark and makes it light, and who can feed 5,000 is going to be able to change my heart.  He is the only one who can continue this work of patience-growing…  taking my frustration and turning it to understanding and love…

It seems the work in my heart is so unnatural.  And it is.  He is the only one who can remove the sin and grow His fruit…  It feels like it is as monumental and miraculous as feeding 5,000 with such a tiny amount of food.  But there is hope for my heart;  He is THE MOST capable  God.

Heavenly Father, Will you take this heart and do the unusual and unlikely?  Fill me with your love to overflowing. Help me learn in these moments how to let your love and your goodness erupt and remove this ugly selfishness and impatience.  Please, take the darkness and make it light. amen.

a bit of history · friends and loved ones

The Dance of Unspeakable Joy…

(my sweet girl, light on her feet!)

In the spring of 1993, I was a senior in high school. I was preparing to graduate. But graduation was the farthest thing from my mind. As spring came into full bloom and May drew closer, there was one thing and one thing only that I was thinking about and that was Prom. And I, I was a Baptist pastor’s daughter.

In case you don’t know what that means, I’ll tell you: most Baptists don’t dance. I had a very tall hurdle in front of me. I wanted to go to the prom so badly that I begged, I pleaded, and I bargained with my dad. Finally he acquiesced. I could go to the prom, on one condition: I had to lay low… I was absolutely not to make a big deal of this. We didn’t want the deacons finding out, right?

On the evening of the dance, I donned a beautiful bright pink taffeta dress, I hopped into my date’s freshly washed shiny red Toyota and we were off to have fun and be as inconspicuous as possible. And oh, did we have fun!

I didn’t realize until the following morning that I had been unsuccessful with the “inconspicuous” part of the plan. There on the very front page of my hometown’s Sunday morning newspaper was a picture of me, arm in arm with my date, large as life in our fancy prom duds, our names in the caption box below.

So much for incognito…

Twenty years later, I can laugh about the story with my parents. Sort of.  But, I still feel the details of the story like it was yesterday; my face flushes several shades of bright red and my pulse races to new heights.

Back then I was so nervous to see my dad’s reaction! I wanted to hide the Sunday paper, but that was futile since I was sure that all of the deacons got the Sunday paper. There was one thing that had been impressed on me long before that day, but now it was stuck permanently to me like glue : dancing is wrong. Except, its not. At least, that’s what I’ve learned since then.

Actually, it was only a few weeks ago that I realized just how right dancing can be.

My children and I were sitting at the breakfast table, getting ready to start our school day. The atmosphere was a bit heavy because of a few things going on in our family; a sick friend was in genuine need, an uncle of mine had passed away recently, and of course there were all of the other frustrations and plain old junk that happens. We were life-less while we sat munching our cereal, completely weighed down by it all.

Instead of beginning our day with the usual memory work that goes with our home school curriculum, I decided to put on our CD of Scripture songs by Seeds Family Worship. We started bee-bopping at the table, singing along. Songs from Matthew and Jeremiah and Isaiah, were ringing out with truths we needed to hear like, “Ask and it will be given to you,” and “Call to me and I’ll answer,” and “Do not fear for I am with you.”

We’d heard these tunes before, but they were new that morning. And then something indescribable happened. There was this unexpected, blissful freedom lifting us right out of our seats and propelling our bodies into movement. Singing along was just not enough.  Before I knew it we were up dancing and giggling and jumping right out of our sorrows.

Now, I’m sure we looked funny. As you can imagine, I am not a dancer in a groovy, “Oooh! That girl’s got moves,” kind of way. But, we were moved by the exciting truths from God’s Word – and when that happened, there was such a release of joy right in our living room!

Should I be surprised? In Ecclesiastes, it says there is a time for mourning, but also for dancing. Psalm 30 talks about how HE is able to turn our mourning into dancing. It makes so much sense to me as I think about it now: when I begin to meditate on the power of His promises, the burdens are lifted and my feet really do become light.

I’m so thankful for a Heavenly Father who inspires new dance moves at a moment’s notice, just when I need to “get moving” with a new attitude! The life He gives really does turn sadness into a dance of unspeakable joy!