linked: hope

Saturday evening I sat out in the setting sun and picked at a sea of never ending weeds. My hands were caked with dirt and the stain of green, so much so that I was surprised at how sore and tender they were the day after. In the middle of my dirty work, the neighbor's sprinklers spurted to life. Because I live in a wind tunnel, I watched the water catch wind and mist everything in my yard. Normally I do not mind this (free water) but this time it happened to water exactly where I needed to be weeding. 

So I sat and waited.

When the sprinklers finished their cycle, I looked up to witness every flower, blade, and leaf dusted with a million, glittering, circles of light. Their delicate glimmering caused me to smile. I imagined this is what pixie dust must look like...

Pulling weeds has always been a teacher for me in the area of my own personal "weed pulling". For example, pulling weeds has taught me that if I fail to pull a personal weed up by its roots, it will always grow back in the soil of my heart. (Such a hard truth, especially in the areas of hurt, anger, and bitterness.)

So here is what impressed me on this day:

As I look back at the moment, I now see that that this is what Hope looks like when I find myself in the dirty work of pulling my life's weeds. There I am, entrenched in the soil, bent over, hot from the sun,  caked with mud, wondering (and whining) if there will ever come a day when I do not have to pull weeds. (Please, don't you just wish you could pull a weed once and then never have to come back again?) In the middle of my labor and toil, suddenly Hope arrives in the form of a million points of Light. Awash with beauty, completely unexpected. It comes in the form of an answered prayer, a encouragement from a friend, a song on the radio, a miraculous provision. All simple reminders from God that I am loved, watched over, and never abandoned to the eternal dirty work of pulling weeds. This is Hope that sustains me.

I believe there is no place of dirt and darkness that Hope cannot invade. No weed-like burden that Hope cannot relieve. Yes, there is an amount of toil that we experience in this life, the pulling of weeds, or the dirtying of our hands in the messes that seem to show up like weeds. But Hope is the eternal flame that God places in our hearts to whisper to us that, though we may have earthly pain and struggles, unanswered questions, our lives are not without purpose and meaning.

We are loved.

We are loved.

We are loved.

Praying that whatever back-breaking, weed-pulling situation you find yourself in, you will, today, experience Hope in the middle of it. That you will look up and see a million points of Light dusting your situation with the promise that you are loved, watched over, and never abandoned to the eternal dirty work of pulling weeds. Praying that this will sustain you as only real Hope can.

******

Today is a link up day with two of my blogging friends, Michelle and Stacey. Michelle chose the theme for this week, which was "Hope". I have to say, this was hard. I took these pictures above without the intention of capturing "hope". It wasn't until I uploaded that they spoke to my work of "pulling weeds". I "hope" it makes sense to y'all. :)

I am eager to see how the gals interpreted this theme this week!

For Michelle's July 7th post, click here.

For Stacey's July 7th post, click here.

looking up

They spend the first part of their life constantly gazing up at the adult world above them. Dwelling in a land of giants is all they know until they outgrow us. Their bodies double in size by the time they are two. From then on they are on the long stretch of growth to double their body size again, which reaches the finish line at adulthood.

Until then, they are continually looking up to us in more ways than we care to admit. Physically, they are looking up to us as they toddle and reach for the hand we extend to them. Emotionally they are looking up to us as well. Yet we are often talking down to them, condescending in our words, because we have this need to remind them that we know better. Oh how easy is to look down from our proud height, take advantage of their small size and abuse their vantage point. 

I think the greatest thing we can do for our children (or any child) is to work hard at being worthy of their gaze upward.  Which means that we offer a hand of respect and a reassurance of their own worthiness in return. In other words, our "looking down" upon them should only be in the form of a tender smile, a loving pat on the head, a heart-felt praise.

Because it's true, sometimes we do know better. For a while. And we should act and behave as the more mature one should: with the wisdom, respect and love of someone who has earned her right to be looked up to. 

One thing I know about children is that they give of their love freely, unconditionally. They are riding on our feet, clutching our legs, chatting at us, wishing to be a part of us, wishing to be just like us. Their love knows no judgement, until they learn the ways of looking down from us. 

So in that respect, I think sometimes we have much to learn from them when we gaze down and see their open smiles, their affection, their devotion. 

They do not even know how much they can teach us. We realize this when we learn to stoop down from our high vantage point, look at their example, look up to them. 

*******

My Picture Inspiration assignment this week was to capture a photo from above, from a birds-eye view. If you know me, you know I love me a good birds-eye view. This one was easy as Bean straddled my shoes and hugged my legs and offered up her sweet sweet smiles. 

one image: perfect enough

They were waiting for me to set up my camera on my makeshift tripod that consisted of one bunched up, sandy sweatshirt. I was planning on joining them via the self timer function but the light was almost gone and so I was trying to fiddle with the exposure because of all that back light.

I snapped this one as a tester and it wound up being my favorite...

Camera facts:
Canon 5D Mark II
24-70 2.8 lens
ISO 800
Shutter speed 640
Aperture 2.8

What I love about it: the fact that my eye goes straight to Bean's and then travels down the line to the Kid. It is a sliver of a family moment caught on a California beach on a warm spring evening as the sun is dipping below the horizon.

What I wish I would have done better: adjust my position to get the narrow plane of focus to include Bean's face. As it is, she and the others, are just a smidge behind it.

I still love it. I am going to frame it.

My friend sent me a link to an article about a photograph that had just been auctioned off at Christie's for over three million dollars. It was the highest price every paid for a photograph in an auction.
Here's the link to an article about it. Come back and tell me what you think. It's nothing I would ever take, put in frame, or hang on my wall. :) But someone liked it enough to fork out millions for it.

Here is what I know for sure:
Some things require perfection, like brain surgery, rocket launches, and the building of an atomic bomb. Anything less than perfection would be disaster.
But, if you love a photograph that you have taken, it is perfect enough. Even if your photos are not published, bought, or auctioned off.

Zach Arias, a well known photographer, once said, that you may be one of the top ten photographers in the world and no one even knows it. In other words, the perfection standard by which someone becomes a "top ten" photographer is left up to the subjective eye of those who create those "top ten" lists. Throw in a good amount of exposure, marketing, and luck and that will up your chances at making it to the top as well...and then one day maybe being fought over in an auction.

I say, passionately create like you already are one of those undiscovered top ten, and you will be perfect enough.

mystery

Yesterday I ventured outside to tackle my Picture Inspiration assignment, which was to capture "mystery". I had little time, little energy, and little excitement but I set out anyway. So picture me wandering the park in my post work pj's, with my camera in hand, praying hard for something to catch my eye.  After fifteen minutes of finding nothing I looked up into the new spring growth on the trees and found my mystery! (Cue mysterious music.)  I spotted this mysterious issue, that you see in the above photo, plaguing a handful of trees. At first I did not notice it because the trees were swaying in a lushness of green, but hidden among the perfect leaves were a handful of these rotted, polka-dotted ones.

I am always curious about such things as I am the type of person who likes to get to the core of a problem. So as I inspected the oddly spotted leaves I knew that they were: one, expressing the symptoms of some mysterious illness that worked somewhere deep in their unseen internal life forces.  Or two, the victim of an unseen mysterious pest. And because I am not an arborist, the reason for their spotted appearance was indeed, a real mystery to me.

Okay, so I am a bit geeky about nature and how it mimics life so I immediately thought about how we often do not recognize our own disease (emotional, mental, physical) until it manifests itself in the spotted leaves and fruit of our lives. Then I thought about how too often we try to deal with our external symptoms in a vain attempt to heal (or cover up) the real problem.

Sometimes we can be so dense. I can be so dense.
Honestly, I think some of us are walking this planet in stupid awe (or maybe denial) over the spotted leaves we find sprouting from our limbs. For some, it ain't no mystery to those who linger under our shade. They are not fooled by the lush sway of green surrounding the ugly leaves and can spot our problems before we can. And then there are those of us who spend all of our energy trying to control the symptoms in ourselves and others without ever getting to the root of the problem. A total waste of energy, by the way.

I have always been a firm believer in the root bares the fruit. The external display of our leaves is merely an outworking of what lies in the soil and roots of our lives. You can do your best to orchestrate a magical display of smoke and mirrors, deflection techniques, etc. But eventually whatever it is will continue to eat away at your health like a small unseen, mysterious pest...

...Until you are vulnerable enough to go see an arborist who can sort out the mystery and look you in the face and suggest a course of action that will get you healed from the inside out.

I know from experience, that there are some things in life that are meant to be left a mystery. The source of your well-being, or ill-being is not one of them.

And that my friends, is my pep talk for today. All this from a little walk across the street with my camera, a curious eye, and a pluck of a few leaves.

Now off to google "yellow spotted tree leaves". This is one mystery I'd like to solve.

freckles and eyelashes

Photos I took a long time ago and never shared, but recently found while cleaning out photo files...

Every time I look at this photo I pause to wonder (and envy) over those freckles and eye lashes. To me, the uniqueness of how we are made, the attention to detail, the one-of-a-kindness we all possess is a testimony to the creative genius of God.

I just want to put my arms on her shoulders (like her mother does), look her in the eyes, and plant these words upon her heart:

You are so beautifully unique! 
There is no one like you. 
You are crazy cool, here for a reason, endowed with purposeful gifts.
And do not let anybody ever disrespect that truth about you. 
You hear me?!
You are worthy of love.


Makes me wonder what would happen if we spoke those words more often to the children around us? What kind of generation would we raise up to take our place?

A crazy cool, gifted, purposeful generation of adults who believe in their unique place in this world--who would not have to waste their adult life compensating for what we did not give to them. 

That's what kind of generation we would raise up.

Amen.

(Ok, getting off my soap box. Off to clean out more photo files.) 

patience, taking turns, and the whole love thing

While she was on the hammock, he was waiting patiently for his turn. (He is such a gentleman.) They even made a little game of it to make the time pass more swiftly. Life is so much more enjoyable when we take turns, share, and wait patiently, right? I mean this is what we teach our children, though it is much harder to practice in real life.

Because as adults we think it is easier to insist on sharing a stupid toy or hammock because we think those things are so small and inconsequential. Yet as adults we forget to enter their childlike brains, the brains that place a high value on toys, ownership, and going first. Instead, we insist on them behaving with the emotional maturity of an adult. But when they do we are pleasantly surprised and humbled by their example.

Our words come floating back to us when we find ourselves having to share our freeway lane, our front row parking spot, our place in line, our dessert. Or when we are struggling to wait for our turn to speak, make our point, defend our rights, exist in the same space with someone who believes differently than we do.

I know not every situation is as easy as taking turns on a hammock. But maybe we would experience living a with a bit more joy if we could practice like it was?

Hmmmm...I shoulda mentioned this to the guy who drove by our car real slow on Easter morning and flipped us off when we accidentally got in his way. Actually, he flipped off my kids in the back seat, looked my son in the eyes and uttered some curse words all while giving him the bird. I was a little glad he was not going into the church parking lot because that would have been slightly awkward. Happy Easter!

Anyways, it was a good talking point with our kids. How some people are so consumed with selfishness that it breeds anger and hate, which breeds more selfishness. I think that guy needed a hammock moment, or some love, or maybe some grace.

See how rewarding it is when you practice leaning into the practice of patience? When you let go of needing to be first? When sharing is love? When extending grace is more of a sweet drink for your own soul than it is for the receiver...

I know I am going to be eating these words this week while my kids are home on spring break. I will let ya'll know how it went come Sunday. :)

in her peaceful ocean of green

Not sure if this is true in your parts of the world, but Spring here always bursts open almost over night. I am always so amazed how one day I will drive by a field and see nothing but dirt and tiny sprouts, and the next day I will notice that spring has rushed in and announced herself with a knee-high ocean of green. It makes for beautiful pictures...

On this evening we were walking back to our car when I suggested to Bean that she go wade into the grass and find a place to make her nest. She was just settling into her little peaceful cocoon when she heard someone mention the possibility of there being some snakes also making nests in the sea of green. The thought of meeting even a small intruder shattered her nesting moment.

(Below: Can you see her wheels spinning? Really? There might be snakes in here too?)

I know I have written about this before (a lot!), but I have been thinking much about "peace" lately. Like how fragile mine is. How with one flicker of a thought about the possibilities of what "may happen" in my near or distant future, I am up and running off in a restless anxiety. Funny how those little voices can set off an alarm of worry that show me just how shallow my roots of peace extend.

I was riding in the car yesterday thinking about this all and I head myself say...
Tracey, how big can those "snakes" really be? Are they even there? Or are they just phantoms of my worry,  looming large in my imagination? 
And have I really made my God that small, that I believe even he cannot deal with those supposed "snakes"?

I am so human it's not even funny. I wonder how many beautiful, plentiful fields of peace have I forfeited for the game of playing about with the imagined worries of my mind?

(long thoughtful pause....)

Or perhaps knowing peace is more than just trying to emotionally shake myself into a place of of being worry-free. Maybe it is about trusting that even if those "snakes" do intrude upon my life in a very real and scary way, I will get through it. I believe God is big enough to give me the strength to do and be what I need to travel through it. (At least this is what I say. I will never really get to practice what I preach unless I go through it, right?)

I think I am finally understanding that, for me, my peace is not dependent upon my circumstances, but rather upon where I place my trust. 

And if I trust he is big enough to take care of me no matter what may come my way, then a beautiful, peaceful smile is the punctuation mark to the end of my heartfelt conclusion. 

I really want to exude this kind of beauty from knowing that kind of peace, even though it might take me a life time of practice. 

But I am workin' on it.
Thanks for letting me process. :)
Happy Monday.
T

reflection

As her mother I want her to know what it means to be your own best friend, to be comfortable in your skin, to love yourself with a sober judgement that knows your infinite value and endless worth. 

I want her to know now all these truths that I am only just discovering for myself.

But as parent I am painfully aware, as I watch my children grow, that in some ways they are just mini reflections of myself. A mirror reflecting back to me all the beauty and the flaws of my own emotional landscape. What a discovery to see myself reflected back to me in their words and emotions. Foolishly I think that I am so adept at covering up my shortcomings but the truth is that I cannot give what I do not have. 

So I am personally working on that which I want for her: to be a friend to myself, to be comfortable in my own skin, to emotionally connect with the truth of my infinite value in a God who loves me.

I am doing this because when she sees herself in a reflection, I want her to see herself smiling back.

It has been a crazy week of commitments and catching up and letting go. My Picture Inspiration prompt this week was to capture a reflection. (Fun for me since I'm a bit geeky about reflections like I am about leading lines.) Bean and I hunted for one this afternoon and we found it in our backdoor window. Just please ignore the dirt. :) I thought about reflecting on the meaning of the smudged reflections but then realized that I was too tired to do so and then it would all be rambling. Like I said, it's been a long week but I wanted to get my weekly assignment up. Off to bed!

paradox

Sometimes I find myself wrestling with life's paradoxes. No matter how hard I try, my mind cannot hold two completely opposite, yet true realities. 

Like how I can feel so painfully small, a drop of life against the expanse of the universe, yet I hold infinite value in the hands of purposeful God.

....Or how I am but a vapor, here and gone in a blink, yet my touch and influence ripples throughout generations whether I want it to or not.

...And how I can feel so alone as I trek across my life's landscape. How I am settling with the weight that the journey is mine alone and it is up to me to make decisions, listen, and get about the work of living.

Yet others are right ahead of me, and right behind me, making this trek too.

But even greater is the other truth that I am not alone. 

The God of the universe, who created me and time, walks with me...this significant, and valued drop of life. 

Can you tell these thoughts are all very weighty on my heart this Monday morning? 

motif

There are times in my life when happiness seems to be elusive. Struggle as I might to rise above my circumstances, I feel as if it is something only reserved for those who have good jobs, a nice house, a healthy family, and "enough" money. Although at first you may deny that you struggle as I do, deep down I think we all honestly do struggle with the belief that happiness is something to be obtained when all the other things in our lives "fall into place". I know I am always embarrassed to admit this, but my emotions always reveal the truth as to what I believe.

It is my motif...a pattern in my thinking that I have prayerfully been addressing these last few years. (Perhaps you can relate?)

I spend so much time dreaming, sometimes chasing, after that elusive happiness, that I fail to recognize that it has always been near and available to me because it is not dependent upon my circumstances. It is dependent on my choice to find it in the things that circumstances cannot take from me: the love of my family, the laughter of my children, meaningful friendships, the gifts of creativity, the unconditional love of a God who values me as important and worthwhile.

Its just that sometimes I am caught in that warped pattern of thinking, too preoccupied with "life", to see what I have been missing.

******

Week two of mindfulness comes from the weekly Picture Inspiration theme: motif. A motif is a distinctive and reoccurring form as in a design, as in a painting, or on wallpaper.

When I found this wall of happy faces over the weekend I was delighted to find a motif that spoke to me on many levels. It captured the basic idea of a motif (the reoccurring happy faces) but it also encapsulated a mental motif, a pattern of thinking that I know I am not alone in struggling with--this truth that happiness is something we often miss because we believe it is to be obtained through things or circumstances. Our repetitive mental motif (which breeds debilitating emotions) needs some serious divine intervention, and some personal effort, in choosing to renew our way of thinking if we are ever to experience the contentedness for which we long. I wanted to photograph someone walking by this wall o'happiness to illustrate this struggle.

winter

Dear Winter,

Here is what I know about you:

 You always seem to last longer than you really do.

I know your ways...
I feel your touch upon my skin and your spirit within my bones.

I always resist you, but now I have learned to embrace you because it just

seems easier than wasting my energy longing for anything else.

I always forget that I have to adjust to the little amount of light you give to me.

You shroud the world in blankets of black and white and grey,
reducing color to a memory.

I grow tired of you. And I grow tired of talking about how tired I am of you.

I know there is life sleeping under your surface, waiting to spring forth in perfect timing.

And you always seem to test my faith in Spring, my belief that you are just a season.

Only a season.

(Sometimes a very long season.)

But then I am amazed when you actually do subside and Spring blooms true.

Spring always blooms true.

learning to ride

My two children are now eleven and eight. They are well mannered, well adjusted, sweet and loving kids that I love more than words can hold.  

Why then, am I still surprised when I feel as if I am still helping them ride without training wheels?

No, you cannot have a second bowl of ice cream. You'll barf.

No you cannot light a fire in the back yard.

Of course there are holes in your socks, you wear them outside.

No, you cannot have three pieces of bubble gum in your mouth at one time.

Please don't use the toilet paper for a craft project while you are doing your business in there. 

When you stink, that's a good excuse for a shower.

Of course you have to brush your teeth before bed.

No, I will not clean up that mess you made, the one you promised you would clean up.

Is it too difficult to throw the gum wrapper away, the one that is sitting on the counter right above the garbage?

Your future girl/boyfriend might not appreciate you eating with your mouth open.

Please also take time to swallow your food before shoveling another bite.

For Pete's sake, have a little salad with your Ranch dressing.

We do not put our dirty bare feet on people's pillows. It's just simple bediquette.

When we are in Target, people do not enjoy watching you pester each other.

No you cannot have dessert after breakfast.

Midnight is not an acceptable school night bed time.

When you have a big test at school the next morning, asking me to help you study while you are on your way to bed is not "thinking ahead".

Contrary to your belief, money does not grow on trees.

A sweatshirt might be appropriate in this winter, stormy weather. 

Yes, flushing the toilet after you use it is the appropriate next step.

Yep, when you wear your new shoes in the mud and rain they will get....muddy and wet.

Eating a burrito with red hot sauce while wearing your white karate uniform is probably not a good idea.

Barbie's hair will not grow back when you cut it.

No, you will not find a Playstation 3 on ebay for $1.

I'm sorry sweetie, Marshmallow Land does not exist.

Most adults do not enjoy their children's whining so I do not know why you think we do.

Let me tell you one more time why interrupting is annoying. 

If you see someone, like your mom, on the phone, this is not the time to pester your sibling.

When someone is using the bathroom, we leave him or her alone.

Though I jest, I know this is my work as a parent, to guide them into adulthood.  I work hard not to project my adult sensibilities upon them as if they should already know this stuff. Even though sometimes I am flabbergasted that they do not always seem to get the obvious,  I have had to catch myself a million and one times to not berate them for their lack of common sense. It is a daily practice in exercising mature love and patience.

Yes, sometimes I feel as if I am still in the process of shedding my own training wheels all the while trying to assist my children with removing theirs.

(Though I promise I will not bug you if you are using the toilet.)

nature

 
Anybody else feel like the world was off its axis this week? Snow storms, below-freezing temps. Egypt in scary turmoil. It was all I heard talk of on my AM radio this week. Reminders that...

We are forever at the mercy of Nature's whims.
And sometimes we are at the mercy of our insatiable, restless human Nature.

I feel like the world is in labor pains, the two Nature's smack in the middle of some crazy contractions. All of it makes me long for a heavenly home.

Yesterday I stood at the base of this tree and looked upwards into the tangle of the winter branches. There are no spring buds yet. Every year at this time I begin to watch, take daily notation of what is stirring underneath.

Sometimes I feel like winter is one long delivery room in which the punctuation of birth is preceded by bursts of budding contractions. I saw the first California Poppy blooms the other day on, of all places, a freeway exit ramp. The poppies are one of the first spring contractions here in California and I have taught my kids to wait and look for them. They are signs to me of Spring's impending birth.

So while I drive around, listening to my radio news reports, marveling at the destructive wake left by both Nature's I am also reminded that there is always new birth waiting to be found after the painful winter labor pains have passed.

That is, if we are so inclined to keep our eyes and hearts open to finding it.

nativity

A simple Christmas hello to you blogging world. Like most of you who celebrate this season, I am attempting to:

not stress-out about money and gifts and time
consume calories in moderation
enjoy my family
not buy another roll of wrapping paper
not curse the rain while my kids are home on break
remember the "reason for the season"
not be too sad over the fact that I, once again, did not mail out Christmas cards

Other than not being consumed over the above list, I have been thinking about you for a while. I have come by a few times to check in on my heart, see if there is any spark to be present here in this little corner of the universe.

There is only a quiet stillness, an affirming, empty silence.

But I am here now not only to wish you a holiday blessing, but also to thank you for your sweet emails, comments, mailed gifts, and encouragement. It feels nice to be missed. :)

My family and I are doing ok. We are hanging in there and thankful for what we do have: each other. 

In the silence of the last few months I have...

Gone to bed early.

Made soup.

Ate a lot of soup.

Prayed. So much so, that my thoughts have become prayers.

Walked, sometimes with a friend, sometimes not.

Washed dishes, folded laundry.

Worked at my kids' school.

Sent my camera to the fix-it shop. 

Cleaned some closets and drawers, tossed stuff.

Read a little. My Bible, or Coastal Living magazine. And Real Simple.

Practiced eating better.

And listened.

I have picked up my camera only a handful of times. When I do there is that empty silence of which I previously spoke. I often pick it up, snap of the lens cap, take it outside where the kids are, and wait for the rush of passion to capture the moment. Yet I am met with nothing. I go through the motions for a few minutes and then put it down. It's as if I am waiting, expecting, for the revival of what I once felt yet I am met with a "not yet". There is an odd sense of relief and a little bit of wonderment over the still present peace in my heart over the decision I made to step away, for now.

I know that often the creative portion of our heart slips into a winter of dormancy whenever toil and struggle become too much to carry. Our body slips into self preservation mode and we find ourselves only able to focus on the immediate. But a dear sweet friend reminded me in a comment from the last post that no struggle in our life is wasted. Her words were so prophetic to me and encouraging to my soul that I have included them here because I have held them to my heart.

She wrote...

"I have learned that God will never waste any level of grief or suffering. The creativity that He has blessed you with that is intended to inspire and bless and glorify Him will sit under the soil like a bulb. The beauty that will emerge from this bulb as the winter has passed! Every shade, texture and melody will resonate more beautiful than you could ever image."

I am waiting for that day. And I know that I will pick up my camera again someday soon with a different sort of passion and love, this time with greater purpose and meaning because I have prayed for it to be so.

This past Sunday we visited a church and my Bean brought this nativity scene to me when I picked her up from Sunday school. I fell in love with it--though I do find it odd that Mary is less than modest. (oh well)

Seeing my Bean's little nativity scene reminded me of the simplicity that I have been seeking to behold, not only during this time of year, but in the last few months of my life. When I strip away the clutter and distractions and focus on what is most meaningful to me, then there I find that nothing else matters. And what I once thought important is, well...not. It has been quite freeing.

Seeing her nativity scene also reminds me that God can cram a lot of heaven into such simple ordinary events. There is hope to be had in this for me. If he orchestrated a glorious collision of heaven and earth that culminated in a simple, quiet birth of the infant Christ to an ordinary teenage girl and boy, then I pray that I do not miss the fact that God can cram heaven into the most ordinary events and experiences of my own story-line. Sometimes I wish there could be a radiant star and a chorus of angels over those events to mark them as such, but alas I must trust and hope in the fact that he is able to orchestrate the ordinary to bring about the extraordinary in me.  Are not all good stories written with this formula? :)

I am off to cook dinner for my family, finish up some green cookies my daughter started, and get back to being thankful for what has been given to me. I wish for you the same prayer that has been running through my heart this season, and that is, that you will have a "hopeful Christmas and a brave new year." 

Hope and Bravery. The birth of the Christ child reminds me that I can experience both no matter where my story takes me.

xoxo

Tracey

baby's got her pink shoes...and then some

There was a time in my life, pre-marriage, that I would have easily sacrificed my weekly food budget money for a pair of unnecessary shoes. 

Food? Who needs food? 

So it is no surprise that during that time in my life I had a closet full of shoes, and I was a few pounds lighter. JK. I never starved myself. I just weighed less because my younger-something metabolism was lightening fast, unlike it is today. (But that's another discussion.)

But it's true about the closet full of shoes. It was just so hard not to buy them. How could I go home without them? And it did not help to have a roommate or two that also loved to buy shoes. (Yes, let's blame it on them. Bad bad influences!)

Then I was hit with a dose of reality.

After I married, stopped working after my second born, our budget grew much tighter. Like uncomfortably tighter. Suddenly the "clothing" budget line item amount grew smaller and it had to be spread among three other people. Baby needed new socks, hubby needed new work shirts, and the twenty dollars I had left had to be spent on a badly needed, totally necessary, new bra, or something boring like that. (My thought has always been, that unless I was Madonna, my bra would be seen by no one outside of my home so why would I want to spend my money on a bra?!)  Somehow I knew that it would not be appropriate if my family all showed up to the dinner table to find only rice and beans while I sat happily donning my new red flats...or caramel suede boots...or black patent pumps.

Yes, unnecessary shoes became totally...unnecessary.  

I grieved a little bit. 

A lot.

And then a strange thing happened: after awhile (like several years) of not having a lot of money to spend willy-nilly on the unnecessaries, I found I did not want what I thought I wanted. Moreover, I even found that I did not need what I thought I needed. And we're talkin' more than just shoes.

In fact, it was a little disconcerting to uncover the things that fueled my overwhelming "wants". I found that "wanting" something is fueled by a loaded mixture of discontent, grudging admiration for something someone else has, or a belief that to have that something will scratch and itch that is insatiably itchy.

Going without is sometimes the best medicine. 

To tell you the truth, it was a bit freeing. 

I began to understand what it felt like to live a more simple life.

But to be honest...once in a while I walk through a shoe department and spy a pair of totally unnecessary shoes and think about what it would be like to purchase them. I find I do not have the same craving as I once did, which is nice, but I wonder if I would feel differently if I suddenly had a lot of money?

For I never want my cravings to expand to the size of my wallet. I actually fear this happening should I ever win the lottery.

So, if I ever do win the lottery I give you permission to remind me of this. Not that I believe we are to not enjoy the blessings that are given to us, I just don't ever want to be ruled by the cravings to have the unnecessaries. You know what I mean?

Again, feel free to smack me upside the head if you hear that I've won the lottery and then you see me walking around in a pair of totally unnecessary shoes.

(The ones that Lady Gaga wears through the airport come to my mind.)

scenes from a block party: try, try, and try again

He was one of the million kids running around barefoot, in his swimsuit, face stained with watermelon. As all sorts of wheeled vehicles, bikes, scooters, motorized tractors, paraded up and down the street the kids reveled in their freedom to play in the street. One of the best features of a block party, for sure, is to be no longer confined to the boundary of the sidewalks.

As I watched the kids run wild I caught this little man testing out the big banana-sized skateboard. His feet struggled to find sure footing and a comfortable balance but he was enjoying the test ride. It was something new. (I am sure it had something to do with the fact that it had wheels.)

Here's what I loved...
 

I loved his attraction to the newness.

I loved his determination to master the newly needed skill.
I loved witnessing the joy of his success.

As I watched him, I prayed for a heart that would be equally as eager to tackle the 

newness of opportunities that were on my own personal street. 

Because it is only by trying something new that you discover if you want to continue trying.

Isn't this what self discovery is all about?

Thanks little man on the banana board for showing me how it's done.

Try and fail, but don't fail to try.
Stephen Kaggwa