The Memory Keeper's Daughter: Mini Review
Sunday
The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards is an engaging story that kept me turning the pages. No simple answers, no neatly drawn up plot, this book held me close to each character, all exquisitely drawn. At times I wanted to shake one; other times I cried for another (and tears are so rare when I read). The power of love, secrets, and shame are all wrapped up in this haunting story about a family in crisis.
After the Leaves Fall: Mini Review
After the Leaves Fall by debut novelist Nicole Baart is a haunting, stunningly-written novel about lost love, desire, and the beauty of God’s simple redemption of one life. I cherished her sentences, applauded the storyline, and left the book sad that I couldn’t read on. This is one of those books that stays with you.
6209
That's how many days I've been married! Yesterday it was 17 years! To celebrate, I'm posting an old sonnet I wrote my husband...
The years we've journeyed through joy's wilderness
Have brought us to a place we dared not see
From evergreens and clouds that never rest
To flattened lands where sun beats down on tree
It's odd to think that such a place so dry
Would sprout in marriage from the loamy earth
An oak whose entwined branches kiss the sky
A testimony of God's blessed mirth
Now unfamiliar roads we hesitate
By clinging hand to hand, we find new hope
In vista's new, God's grace does resonate
By weaving He in us a three-strand rope
Afraid, we do not see love's twisting trail
Enfolding hearts to His, we will prevail
Have brought us to a place we dared not see
From evergreens and clouds that never rest
To flattened lands where sun beats down on tree
It's odd to think that such a place so dry
Would sprout in marriage from the loamy earth
An oak whose entwined branches kiss the sky
A testimony of God's blessed mirth
Now unfamiliar roads we hesitate
By clinging hand to hand, we find new hope
In vista's new, God's grace does resonate
By weaving He in us a three-strand rope
Afraid, we do not see love's twisting trail
Enfolding hearts to His, we will prevail
Priorities
Friday
Every year, I ask the Lord to help me concentrate on what He wants me to do or be for the year. Last year He gave me three B words: Bless, Beloved, and Beseech. This year it's:
- Prayer
- Patrick
- Putting others first
Prayer continues to be something I'm developing and learning to exercise more and more. This year I'd like to step up my prayers for friends and family in tangible, meaningful ways. I know Jesus will show me what to do. To be honest, I'm really excited to see what He will ask of me. Prayer will also be important as our family seriously considers going to Ghana on a short term mission trip this summer. We'd like to go to the village where the well Aidan has helped pay for has been dug. The church there has invited him to be a part of the dedication. All this will take a lot of faith and prayer to get us there.
Patrick, in case you don't know, is my husband. I love him dearly. Tomorrow marks 17 years of marriage. I believe Jesus is asking me to make my relationship with Patrick a priority. I also look forward to seeing how God will unfold our relationship this year.
Putting others first is His call to servanthood. Sitting behind a desk all day is great fun when it involves writing, but it's not necessarily great for the growth of my soul. Counting others as more important than me does my soul good, and I look forward to finding more ways to consider the needs of others.
How about you? What is God whispering over your life today? This year? Are you living in hushed anticipation of His voice? I hope so.
Merry Christmas Eve: Sophie's Birthday and a Great Review
Monday
The best part of today is fifteen years ago, I went into labor with my first child. Imagine being named MARY on Christmas Eve and being in the labor and delivery unit. (I thought briefly of renaming Patrick, Joseph. Good thing we didn't name Sophie, Jesusette or something). Out she popped into the world, crying and looking absolutely perfect. Today Sophie is a sweet teenager on the verge of getting her learner's permit. Hard to believe.
This morning I was browsing around today and found this nice review of Authentic Parenting:
a great book. December 22, 2007 •
Authentic Parenting in a Postmodern Culture
I very nearly didn’t buy this book… but it was so well recommended. The ‘postmodern’ in the title put me off. Just because I didn’t want a “flee the evil culture” book, or… I don’t know… a myriad of thoughts. I don’t think the postmodern trends are a bad thing. Its just a different paradigm. A modern paradigm isn’t any more biblical than a postmodern paradigm.
So I was pleasantly surprised, when I picked up this book. It gave a short postmodern paradigm explanation. Wasn’t afraid to point out the obviously GOOD aspects of this shift in thinking. And gave IDEAS (not a how to 1.2.3.) on how to prepare ourselves and our children for now and later as they are grown.
I figure a parenting book is good when it leaves you longing for a heart more like Christ’s, for a more selfless life and attitude, and a desire to seek God fervently for wisdom regarding your own children.
It has lots of neat ideas for family time that I hadn’t heard before. And the author (Mary E. DeMuth) is so REFRESHINGLY on honest about her own failings and journey.
So there you go. If you would like to read a book that won’t tell you how to do the parenting thing, I highly recommend this one.
This morning I was browsing around today and found this nice review of Authentic Parenting:
a great book. December 22, 2007 •
Authentic Parenting in a Postmodern Culture
I very nearly didn’t buy this book… but it was so well recommended. The ‘postmodern’ in the title put me off. Just because I didn’t want a “flee the evil culture” book, or… I don’t know… a myriad of thoughts. I don’t think the postmodern trends are a bad thing. Its just a different paradigm. A modern paradigm isn’t any more biblical than a postmodern paradigm.
So I was pleasantly surprised, when I picked up this book. It gave a short postmodern paradigm explanation. Wasn’t afraid to point out the obviously GOOD aspects of this shift in thinking. And gave IDEAS (not a how to 1.2.3.) on how to prepare ourselves and our children for now and later as they are grown.
I figure a parenting book is good when it leaves you longing for a heart more like Christ’s, for a more selfless life and attitude, and a desire to seek God fervently for wisdom regarding your own children.
It has lots of neat ideas for family time that I hadn’t heard before. And the author (Mary E. DeMuth) is so REFRESHINGLY on honest about her own failings and journey.
So there you go. If you would like to read a book that won’t tell you how to do the parenting thing, I highly recommend this one.
A Reading Guide for those who Struggle
Wednesday
D. Gudger asked if I had a catalog of articles about my difficulties in France. I didn't, but now I do, at least the first year. I'll compile the second year later. If you're going through a rough time, here are some of my raw yet redemptive posts. I pray they're a blessing to you:
- Undulation Reformation
- Tears and Jeers
- My Treasure Thou Art
- Velveteen Savior
- Praxis
- Grace in a Red Kitchenaide
- New Year's Diminution
- Ain't No River
- Great Big God, Greater Works
- Language of Miss Understanding
- What Heaven Will Be Like
- Jesus Experienced More
- Narnia Near
- Deadheaded Christianity
- Our Heroic Children
- Failed Opportunities
- It's been Nearly a Year Now
One Year Ago Today
Tuesday
It caught me off guard, the date.
It's December 18th. The day we came home from France.
One year ago today, we plodded off an airplane, fluffy cat in tow. We made our way down the long escalator to baggage claim. Friends greeted us with signs. I kept it all together, smiling, exhausted, until I saw the praying man. I barely knew him, but I knew him to be one who sincerely followed Jesus and dirtied his knees in prayer. When I looked into his eyes, I couldn't keep the tears back. His Jesusy eyes saw my grief. He knew.
Today I'm a bit of a mess, remembering. How kind everyone was. How our little temporary home had been decorated for Christmas, complete with tree. How folks lent us cars, took us to dinner, prayed for us.
The scar that is France is raw today. So much heartache there. So many lessons. Trials heaped upon heap in such a pile I felt suffocated most of the time. If you had told me what we would've gone through, I would never have had the courage to go. I would've crawled back into bed, humming praise songs.
But we did go through the gauntlet. In every possible way. Though I feel terribly sad that we didn't stay there the rest of our lives, and guilty too, I am thankful that my children are in love with Jesus. And I am too. Patrick also. I never thought I could endure such stuff, but Jesus gave me wings when I felt like digging holes.
Was it a victorious homecoming? Not really. More like a marathoner crawling past the finish line, fully spent. But I thank Jesus from the deepest part of my tired heart that He pulled me across. And He gave people to cheer us forward.
A year ago today, we came to Texas from France. We all left parts of ourselves back there, I'm sure. And the me who was me then is not the me today. I'm worldworn, more cynical. I'm still so tired. But I still love Jesus with a desperate passion I didn't know before I left American soil. Why?
Because He held me.
He shaped me.
He listened.
He walked me through the valley of the shadow.
He became my best friend.
He sustained me.
He wept with me.
He bore the weight of my grief, particularly concerning my children.
He upheld me.
He became home, my safe place.
Back in America one year, I still see Him as I did then: the great Rescuer. The Bearer of harsh words. The Healer.
Patrick and I came down that exact escalator two days ago. We waited at the same baggage claim. How much life changes in a year. I don't know if I'll ever be the same having gone to France and come home early. I'm not stronger. If anything I'm terribly weak and needy and insecure as a result. But I see Jesus clearer now. Understand His strength because of my frailty.
And for that, it's all been worth it.
It's December 18th. The day we came home from France.
One year ago today, we plodded off an airplane, fluffy cat in tow. We made our way down the long escalator to baggage claim. Friends greeted us with signs. I kept it all together, smiling, exhausted, until I saw the praying man. I barely knew him, but I knew him to be one who sincerely followed Jesus and dirtied his knees in prayer. When I looked into his eyes, I couldn't keep the tears back. His Jesusy eyes saw my grief. He knew.
Today I'm a bit of a mess, remembering. How kind everyone was. How our little temporary home had been decorated for Christmas, complete with tree. How folks lent us cars, took us to dinner, prayed for us.
The scar that is France is raw today. So much heartache there. So many lessons. Trials heaped upon heap in such a pile I felt suffocated most of the time. If you had told me what we would've gone through, I would never have had the courage to go. I would've crawled back into bed, humming praise songs.
But we did go through the gauntlet. In every possible way. Though I feel terribly sad that we didn't stay there the rest of our lives, and guilty too, I am thankful that my children are in love with Jesus. And I am too. Patrick also. I never thought I could endure such stuff, but Jesus gave me wings when I felt like digging holes.
Was it a victorious homecoming? Not really. More like a marathoner crawling past the finish line, fully spent. But I thank Jesus from the deepest part of my tired heart that He pulled me across. And He gave people to cheer us forward.
A year ago today, we came to Texas from France. We all left parts of ourselves back there, I'm sure. And the me who was me then is not the me today. I'm worldworn, more cynical. I'm still so tired. But I still love Jesus with a desperate passion I didn't know before I left American soil. Why?
Because He held me.
He shaped me.
He listened.
He walked me through the valley of the shadow.
He became my best friend.
He sustained me.
He wept with me.
He bore the weight of my grief, particularly concerning my children.
He upheld me.
He became home, my safe place.
Back in America one year, I still see Him as I did then: the great Rescuer. The Bearer of harsh words. The Healer.
Patrick and I came down that exact escalator two days ago. We waited at the same baggage claim. How much life changes in a year. I don't know if I'll ever be the same having gone to France and come home early. I'm not stronger. If anything I'm terribly weak and needy and insecure as a result. But I see Jesus clearer now. Understand His strength because of my frailty.
And for that, it's all been worth it.
Win 150 Conversation Starters!
Monday
Want to connect with your kids every single day, but don’t know how? Why not start a conversational revolution tonight? Straight to your inbox, ready to print and cut out, you’ll receive 150 life-delving questions to ask your kids around the dinner table. Think it’s too corny? Click here to read a sample. Cost is $5 bucks and you can order it here.
Here’s how we use them: Each child takes a turn drawing a question (one per night). He/she reads the question and answers it, then we all answer after. So, one question, five answers. I’m sure they could be used many different ways. Mine are cut up and placed in a lidded box on our dining room table.
But, hey, five bucks is a lot of money this time of year, isn't it? Why not get them for free! I'll give away five free sets (in PDF form) to the most creative commenters who come up with the most interesting table conversation question. So put those thinking hats on and create a question that'll stun and amuse me. (Example: If you could be a giant insect capable of taking over the world, what would you be? And what would you do once you took over the world? Make peace? Give away food?)
I'll announce the winners December 20th. Comment away!!!
Here’s how we use them: Each child takes a turn drawing a question (one per night). He/she reads the question and answers it, then we all answer after. So, one question, five answers. I’m sure they could be used many different ways. Mine are cut up and placed in a lidded box on our dining room table.
But, hey, five bucks is a lot of money this time of year, isn't it? Why not get them for free! I'll give away five free sets (in PDF form) to the most creative commenters who come up with the most interesting table conversation question. So put those thinking hats on and create a question that'll stun and amuse me. (Example: If you could be a giant insect capable of taking over the world, what would you be? And what would you do once you took over the world? Make peace? Give away food?)
I'll announce the winners December 20th. Comment away!!!
Happy 17th Anniversary!
We celebrated 17 years in Crested Butte, Colorado. Here are some pics.
Icicle anyone?
Truly they'll have a white Christmas!
Crested Butte
The scene from the top.
I may be smiling, only because my smile has frozen to my face. Negative six degrees will do that to a person.
Rugged mountain guy.
Here we are! Seventeen years of marriage.
Icicle anyone?
Truly they'll have a white Christmas!
Crested Butte
The scene from the top.
I may be smiling, only because my smile has frozen to my face. Negative six degrees will do that to a person.
Rugged mountain guy.
Here we are! Seventeen years of marriage. 5 Tips to Slow Down and Simplify the Holidays
With Christmas fast approaching, a dirge of dread seeps into me, though “Jingle Bells” haunts my local supermarket. I ask myself questions you probably ask yourself:
Will I run ragged this holiday season?
Will I spend too much?
Will I miss out on important moments with my kids in my busyness?
Will I battle regret after it’s all said and done?
There’s got to be a better way to shepherd my family through the holidays—to be able to slow down enough to enjoy each other and not get caught up in the rat race of preparation and money-frenzied spending. Here are five easy ways:
Dashing Through the Web
Last year, we moved from France to the United States in mid-December. What saved me hours and hours of work and shopping and preparation was ordering presents off the Internet. The kids loved their gifts, and I loved the freedom online shopping allowed me as I busied myself with moving details.
In an Open Minded Way
Simplifying the holidays comes down to our ability to rethink them in an open-minded, level headed way. Ask yourself and your family these questions, and dare to answer them honestly:
· Do we really need to buy a present for each of the people we bought for last year?
· What would happen if we chose to fast media for the month of December?
· Will it be a good use of my time to write all my Christmas cards?
· What would it look like if I limited my cooking and baking?
· What would our holidays feel like if we spent more time at home, less time in programs, pageants or shopping?
· If we could design the perfect day of celebrating the holidays, what would it look like?
· What three activities would we really miss if we didn’t do them? Can we choose to pare down everything in favor of these three activities?
· How can we donate our time, talent or treasures this Christmas in a way that brings our family together?
O’er the Fields We Go
One of the great losses families have experienced over the last several years is a connection with the outdoors. We’ve cocooned ourselves from the natural world. This holiday season, instead of staking claim to a mall or a discount big box store, find adventure outside. Take walks in holiday-themed neighborhoods. Go ice skating. Sing Christmas carols to your neighbors. Hike through a nature trail. Feed the ducks at a local lake. You’ll not only gain much needed, stress-busting exercise, but you’ll also bond as a family as you experience God’s creation together.
Laughing all the Way
The holidays can be a convoluted, painful time, with expectations aplenty and reminders of the past. For the sake of your kids, dare to create new memories on the shoulders of painful ones. Rent funny holiday movies. Play games. Construct a puzzle together. Play charades with another family. Determine to spend less money and more time. Give yourself permission to relax. Choose to see December as a Sabbath month instead of a hectic one, realizing family closeness and laughter often comes in unplanned moments.
Making Spirits Bright
Helping others during the holidays is a great way to simplify and slow down your pace. It helps focus you and your family on the needs of others. A really cool option is to click on www.worldvision.org. Go to their gift catalog page. Here you and your family can mutually decide how you’d love to bless the needy this Christmas. Give a goat to a needy village. Send funds to dig a well for a village with no water source. Supply lunch for school children. This is one way to give a gift that will actually be used, and will help your children see the needs beyond their front door.
Simplifying the holidays is doable. Dare to take back your holidays this year. You’ll gain time, energy, fellowship, and peace—all things a family desperately needs this time of year.
A Christmas Letter of Sorts
Wednesday
Here is the Christmas Letter We Never Sent:
2007 was a year of transition for the DeMuth family as we settled into our life back in America. We've seen Jesus do amazing things in the lives of our children as they've made the transition.
Sophie (almost 15) loves Jesus with all her heart. She's chosen terrific friends. She's published her very first article in our church's glossy magazine (it's very nice) and got lots of compliments. It was about the journey she had leading her atheist friend to Jesus in France. She has a heart to reach all sorts of people in an inviting, natural way. She writes, "To this day, I continue to believe what Jesus is doing in Amber is a miracle. Practically an atheist before, this lonesome girl searched for Christ and found Him. And, for some amazing reason, God chose me to bring her to Him."
Aidan is eleven and five foot seven wearing a men's 10 1/2 shoe. He's in the sixth grade. He decided to run for treasurer because he felt strongly that becoming treasurer meant he could raise money for wells in Africa. Unfortunately he didn't win. When I tried to console him by telling him stories of my own lost elections, he said, "Mom, you don't understand. It's not that I didn't win. It's that God has burned in me a desire to dig wells in Africa and He won't let me stop thinking about it." I talked to our mission's pastor about this. He's agreed to set up a fund for Aidan's youth bible fellowship specifically to dig a well in Ghana. We've been blessed to hear from the pastor in Ghana who has invited Aidan and the family to come out in the summer to dedicate the well. Aidan saves his money to send it there, and I've been able to give some from the proceeds of my writing.
Julia is nine years old. She had the hardest time in France, where her personality shriveled and she cried far too many times to count. It's been amazing to see her blossom here. She has one million friends. Boys call her on the phone (uh oh), and she loves life. What an amazing transformation! We thank God for doing that.
I've been going full force with writing. I'm writing a three-book series for Zondervan called the Defiance, TX series. And I just finished a spiritual memoir for them as well. The Lord provided in amazing ways this year. Feeling frustrated at my sales, I had the opportunity to be mentored by a marketing person who has really helped me find my life's message. I never believed working through marketing issues would bring about personal revival in my heart, but it has. I'm so thankful.
I continue to look for ways to minister through the written word and through speaking, but lately have sensed God's longer and wider call to prayer. I've seen some amazing things happen (God gets ALL the glory) when I've prayed for folks. Huge breakthroughs. Surprises galore. I'm humbled. And I can't help but think that this is truly the ministry God is preparing me for-not that I'll stop writing, but that this one is a quiet, behind-the-scenes ministry I'm so thrilled to be a part of.
We are settled in a home in a suburb of Dallas, thankful for a church that loves us and prays for us. We just got a dog, a beautiful golden retriever we've named Pippin. (See picture above). We've discovered our fluffy white cat has anger issues, so we're weathering the canine/feline wars right now. My husband continues to manage a vascular lab for UT Southwestern in Dallas, has a "fun" commute, and plays soccer to blow off steam.
That's it for the DeMuth family in 2007. It's been nearly a year since we landed back in Texas, living a month in the corner of a barn (very fun, really!). When we straggled into the little apartment, friends had blessed us by erecting a Christmas tree, fully supplying our pantry. We had beds, a couch, a table, and not much of anything else. We understood two things: homelessness (in terms of having no permanent home at the time; we had no keys) and the stark beauty of Jesus coming to us in a manger. How interesting that we lived a few hops away from horse mangers last Christmas, the very scene where Jesus broke through to our dusty world. It's a Christmas I won't forget, among goats, kittens, dogs, horses and cows. And each other.
May Jesus bless your 2008 in like manner, with surprising answers to prayer, the togetherness of family, and the hope of His coming.
Christmas 2000
I sat in front of the tree watching my children scamper around the pile of wrapping paper. My husband looked at me funny and handed me a present. "Merry Christmas," he said, a Santa-like twinkle in his eye.
I pulled away the paper, wondering what his look meant. He knew I loved surprises. Was this one?
I took the lid from the box and looked inside. Two passports, ours. Two airplane tickets. A brochure with the Eiffel Tower preening on its cover. "Tomorrow," he said.
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow we fly to Paris. Happy anniversary!"
I hugged him, laughter dancing in the air. The children danced. I nearly cried.
Though I usually didn't enjoy having an anniversary around Christmas, this one (our tenth) made it all worthwhile. We spent a week in Paris, walking the cold streets, falling in love with France. We shopped, ate, stayed in an amazing hotel, went to museums, celebrated the new year. We toasted our marriage and dreamed of the future.
This surprise anniversary trip paved the way for our missionary departure to Southern France four years later, an adventure that started with me unwrapping a Christmas present from the man who vowed to love me the rest of my life.
I pulled away the paper, wondering what his look meant. He knew I loved surprises. Was this one?
I took the lid from the box and looked inside. Two passports, ours. Two airplane tickets. A brochure with the Eiffel Tower preening on its cover. "Tomorrow," he said.
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow we fly to Paris. Happy anniversary!"
I hugged him, laughter dancing in the air. The children danced. I nearly cried.
Though I usually didn't enjoy having an anniversary around Christmas, this one (our tenth) made it all worthwhile. We spent a week in Paris, walking the cold streets, falling in love with France. We shopped, ate, stayed in an amazing hotel, went to museums, celebrated the new year. We toasted our marriage and dreamed of the future.
This surprise anniversary trip paved the way for our missionary departure to Southern France four years later, an adventure that started with me unwrapping a Christmas present from the man who vowed to love me the rest of my life.
Great Place for Advent Reflection
Visit here for daily advent readings. Right now they're talking about rest. Ahhhhhhh.
Subtlety
It's the word God keeps whispering to me the past several months. And it's something my soul is stretched by. I'm the out there girl, saying it all, holding back nothing.
When I sing, it's loud.
When I bang on the piano or play the guitar, it's resounding.
Last night as I listened to my daughter's choir concert, a memory flashed me. Of me being tutored by my voice coach in high school. He'd put a hand on my shoulder, tell me to focus, to restrain my voice. My problem was a strong break between my chest and head tones--so strong I fancied myself only an alto, and would shy away from those breaking notes, G or A, depending on the day.
He taught me that I could nullify the break in my voice if I quieted down.
I still sing loud. Still break at G or A. Thick headed me!
Then I remembered my piano teacher in college (don't get any wild ideas. I'm no pianist...this was beginning piano). I'd treat every series of notes as a crescendo, pounding the poor piano to death. My teacher, an aging Jewish man who spoke with reverence and beauty, told me to relax, to breathe. "Breathe Mary. Slow down. Life's not about getting to the end of the piece. Enjoy playing it. Don't rush." He saw into my character even then, spoke wisdom into me, but I resisted.
Surely life couldn't be about subtlety? Mustn't it always be shouted? Proclaimed? Told boldly? Painted with red and black and blue and yellow?
In the quiet of my home on the grayest of Texas days, I see the wisdom in both my music teachers. The world may listen to shouters, but they are changed by those who whisper. Who sweetly coerce. The stories that cling to soul are those unfolded gently, like a grandmother unfolds her daughter's christening gown. Layer upon subtle layer is the stuff we are made of. To believe otherwise is to cheapen our worth.
Just for a moment, I'd love to hear my teachers' voices cautioning me to slow down, to quiet my voice, to listen to the rhythm of life beating its hushed drum. I'd like to think I'd stop and listen. And actually heed this time.
Subtlety doesn't weave its way through me, I know. But that doesn't mean God can't weave those threads through my outlandish soul. I have a feeling that will take some doing. That I'll need to quiet myself and really listen.
And then let it be done all whispery and sweet.
When I sing, it's loud.
When I bang on the piano or play the guitar, it's resounding.
Last night as I listened to my daughter's choir concert, a memory flashed me. Of me being tutored by my voice coach in high school. He'd put a hand on my shoulder, tell me to focus, to restrain my voice. My problem was a strong break between my chest and head tones--so strong I fancied myself only an alto, and would shy away from those breaking notes, G or A, depending on the day.
He taught me that I could nullify the break in my voice if I quieted down.
I still sing loud. Still break at G or A. Thick headed me!
Then I remembered my piano teacher in college (don't get any wild ideas. I'm no pianist...this was beginning piano). I'd treat every series of notes as a crescendo, pounding the poor piano to death. My teacher, an aging Jewish man who spoke with reverence and beauty, told me to relax, to breathe. "Breathe Mary. Slow down. Life's not about getting to the end of the piece. Enjoy playing it. Don't rush." He saw into my character even then, spoke wisdom into me, but I resisted.
Surely life couldn't be about subtlety? Mustn't it always be shouted? Proclaimed? Told boldly? Painted with red and black and blue and yellow?
In the quiet of my home on the grayest of Texas days, I see the wisdom in both my music teachers. The world may listen to shouters, but they are changed by those who whisper. Who sweetly coerce. The stories that cling to soul are those unfolded gently, like a grandmother unfolds her daughter's christening gown. Layer upon subtle layer is the stuff we are made of. To believe otherwise is to cheapen our worth.
Just for a moment, I'd love to hear my teachers' voices cautioning me to slow down, to quiet my voice, to listen to the rhythm of life beating its hushed drum. I'd like to think I'd stop and listen. And actually heed this time.
Subtlety doesn't weave its way through me, I know. But that doesn't mean God can't weave those threads through my outlandish soul. I have a feeling that will take some doing. That I'll need to quiet myself and really listen.
And then let it be done all whispery and sweet.
Little Curiosity: Earmark
Tuesday
Today I wondered where the term earmark came from. NPR was talking about congress earmarking funds. It was earmark this, earmark that. Suddenly the word sounded ridiculous repeated. So I looked up its origin. Drumroll please:
Earmark is a the term that dates to the 16th century, originally referring to cuts or marks in the ears of cattle and sheep made to show ownership.
Maybe if congressfolk had to cut their ears every time they spent our money, we'd shrink that deficit!
Earmark is a the term that dates to the 16th century, originally referring to cuts or marks in the ears of cattle and sheep made to show ownership.
Maybe if congressfolk had to cut their ears every time they spent our money, we'd shrink that deficit!
Bonhoeffer Rocks!
Monday
I read this quote by Dietrich Bonhoeffer today:
"The only way to overcome evil is to let it run itself to a standstill because it does not find the resistance it is looking for. Resistance merely creates further evil and adds fuel to the flame. But when evil meets no opposition and encounters no obstacle but only patient endurance, its sting is drawn, and at last it meets an opponent which is more than its match." The Cost of Discipleship, p. 157-158.
I wonder how many wars, personal and political, could have been prevented by this simple advice.
"The only way to overcome evil is to let it run itself to a standstill because it does not find the resistance it is looking for. Resistance merely creates further evil and adds fuel to the flame. But when evil meets no opposition and encounters no obstacle but only patient endurance, its sting is drawn, and at last it meets an opponent which is more than its match." The Cost of Discipleship, p. 157-158.
I wonder how many wars, personal and political, could have been prevented by this simple advice.
Party, Pippin, Party, Ponies
Sophie had her fifteenth birthday party: a photo scavenger hunt that took nearly two hours to complete. So much fun! Here's the gang of great kids. They did a great job!
While they were away, Patrick picked up their Christmas present (from us and Patrick's parents). Here is Pippin! Isn't he sweet? He is sitting next to me as I type. Yep, he has a terribly long tongue! All the kids SCREAMED joy when they met him.
We went to our friend Dave and Rae's annual Christmas party. We had a lovely time.
Last night we went on a carriage ride through our neighborhood. It was COLD, but we had so much fun.
Yep, Julia was chilled.
The lights of our neighborhood.
I'm getting old
Wednesday
I write this from my office, my back and neck in vice gripping tightness, realizing just how old I feel. Remember those days when you bounded out of bed, a song on your lips? (I'm picturing the princess in Enchanted right now, summoning New York vermin with her overly-high, sugary voice). I can summon my cat, but she runs away when I sing.
Those days of bounding and leaping are over. Now I creak and groan like an old Chevy. The lines around my eyes deepen (I convince myself it's from all that laughing) while I STILL get acne! WHAT IS THAT ALL ABOUT? Zits AND wrinkles? Come on!
My metabolism, formerly known as Zippy the Wonder Burner, is now affectionately called Ralph the Lounge Lizard. I can eat seven almonds and they'll morph into extra hips. Whatever!
My feet are longer. At least there's that. I can win long feet contests if I have to.
And I can still run a few miles, huffing, yes, but getting somewhere nonetheless. In that arena, I have more endurance than any of my nubile children. So there's that.
And the cool thing: my soul feels wiser. I'm less panicky (though when I'm lost, I still completely freak out). I rest more. I have a deeper longing for prayer, particularly when I have the privilege to pray for someone else.
And as the sun shines through my office window, highlighting my age, I still smile, creasing my eye lines all the more, because, really, the truth is: Jesus is so good. He's just so good. And I'll spend a lifetime feasting on that. And a lifetime more.
Those days of bounding and leaping are over. Now I creak and groan like an old Chevy. The lines around my eyes deepen (I convince myself it's from all that laughing) while I STILL get acne! WHAT IS THAT ALL ABOUT? Zits AND wrinkles? Come on!
My metabolism, formerly known as Zippy the Wonder Burner, is now affectionately called Ralph the Lounge Lizard. I can eat seven almonds and they'll morph into extra hips. Whatever!
My feet are longer. At least there's that. I can win long feet contests if I have to.
And I can still run a few miles, huffing, yes, but getting somewhere nonetheless. In that arena, I have more endurance than any of my nubile children. So there's that.
And the cool thing: my soul feels wiser. I'm less panicky (though when I'm lost, I still completely freak out). I rest more. I have a deeper longing for prayer, particularly when I have the privilege to pray for someone else.
And as the sun shines through my office window, highlighting my age, I still smile, creasing my eye lines all the more, because, really, the truth is: Jesus is so good. He's just so good. And I'll spend a lifetime feasting on that. And a lifetime more.
One Smooth Stone
One Smooth Stone by Marcia Laycock
Walter Wellesley Smith once said, "Writing is easy. All you have to do is sit down at a keyboard and open a vein." Not all writing is that intense, but Marcia Lee Laycock admits that it's not easy. "You do make yourself vulnerable in some ways," she says, "and once it's out there, you can't take it back, but you just have to take a deep breath and go for it."
Laycock believes the key to being successful is to just keep writing. "You can't wait for inspiration to strike," she says, "you have to be disciplined and write on a regular schedule, even when you don't feel like it. That's the only way to get it done."
Mrs. Laycock, a pastor's wife now living in Central Alberta, Canada, has proven that her system works. Her third book, One Smooth Stone, won the Best New Canadian Christian Author Award in 2006 and was published by Castle Quay Books in September of this year. (Distributed by Augsburg Fortress Books). It has been garnering rave reviews and Marcia is pleased that readers have shared how the book has made a difference in their lives. "That's what it's all about," Laycock states. "That's why I write."
One Smooth Stone is classed as a contemporary novel with strong elements of suspense, wrapped in a story about a young man named Alex Donnelly who is trying to hide from his past, the police, and from God. He runs north to the Yukon where he succeeds for a time, until a lawyer shows up on his doorstep to tell him he has inherited a sum of money. Alex is skeptical - being raised as a foster child did not lead him to believe anyone would give him
money. But to find the details he must return to his birthplace. Nervous about contact with the police, Alex is haunted by the ghosts of his past and then discovers a disturbing truth about his mother. Angry and hurt he runs back to the Yukon and tries to hide even deeper in the wilderness. But God has another plan for his life.
A reviewer wrote - "Laycock's own experience of living in the Yukon no doubt helped in her depiction of Yukon life, which is not only plausible but colorful. The barren landscape, peopled with more than its share of social misfits who then face the challenge of surviving some of the cruelest conditions on earth, feels completely believable. As well, the stark, isolation sets off the rugged strength of the characters and fits this story well. I was glued to the story to the last page. The chain of events feels natural, and trouble heaped upon trouble keeps the pace brisk. The tight plot is enhanced by Laycock's efficient story-telling style. Her prose isn't
showy and doesn't get in the way of the story's spell. All in all, the trim (252 page) One Smooth Stone would make a perfect stuffer for a Christmas stocking and a lively winter companion on a blowy night."
You can view a trailer and read an excerpt of the book on Laycock's website, www.vinemarc.com The book is available through any Christian book store or contact the author through her website.
Walter Wellesley Smith once said, "Writing is easy. All you have to do is sit down at a keyboard and open a vein." Not all writing is that intense, but Marcia Lee Laycock admits that it's not easy. "You do make yourself vulnerable in some ways," she says, "and once it's out there, you can't take it back, but you just have to take a deep breath and go for it."
Laycock believes the key to being successful is to just keep writing. "You can't wait for inspiration to strike," she says, "you have to be disciplined and write on a regular schedule, even when you don't feel like it. That's the only way to get it done."
Mrs. Laycock, a pastor's wife now living in Central Alberta, Canada, has proven that her system works. Her third book, One Smooth Stone, won the Best New Canadian Christian Author Award in 2006 and was published by Castle Quay Books in September of this year. (Distributed by Augsburg Fortress Books). It has been garnering rave reviews and Marcia is pleased that readers have shared how the book has made a difference in their lives. "That's what it's all about," Laycock states. "That's why I write."
One Smooth Stone is classed as a contemporary novel with strong elements of suspense, wrapped in a story about a young man named Alex Donnelly who is trying to hide from his past, the police, and from God. He runs north to the Yukon where he succeeds for a time, until a lawyer shows up on his doorstep to tell him he has inherited a sum of money. Alex is skeptical - being raised as a foster child did not lead him to believe anyone would give him
money. But to find the details he must return to his birthplace. Nervous about contact with the police, Alex is haunted by the ghosts of his past and then discovers a disturbing truth about his mother. Angry and hurt he runs back to the Yukon and tries to hide even deeper in the wilderness. But God has another plan for his life.
A reviewer wrote - "Laycock's own experience of living in the Yukon no doubt helped in her depiction of Yukon life, which is not only plausible but colorful. The barren landscape, peopled with more than its share of social misfits who then face the challenge of surviving some of the cruelest conditions on earth, feels completely believable. As well, the stark, isolation sets off the rugged strength of the characters and fits this story well. I was glued to the story to the last page. The chain of events feels natural, and trouble heaped upon trouble keeps the pace brisk. The tight plot is enhanced by Laycock's efficient story-telling style. Her prose isn't
showy and doesn't get in the way of the story's spell. All in all, the trim (252 page) One Smooth Stone would make a perfect stuffer for a Christmas stocking and a lively winter companion on a blowy night."
You can view a trailer and read an excerpt of the book on Laycock's website, www.vinemarc.com The book is available through any Christian book store or contact the author through her website.
How to Deepen Our Stories
Tuesday
Hey! I wrote a post over at Novel Journey yesterday. I would really love your opinion about it. I ruminate about how a novelist can deepen her stories and I propose a new kind of fiction track. You can read the post here.
Read D'Ann's Segment
Monday
My dear writing friend D'Ann Mateer has taken part in a serial Christmas story. You can read each entry daily here. D'Ann's contribution is December 5th.
Need a laugh? Need Advent meditations? Drama Scripts?
Announcing a New & Funny & Practical Website by my friends Troy and Heather Cady. We first met the Cadys at Christian Associates International Staff Conference. They are missionaries in Madrid. If you're up on current monetary trends, the dollar is terribly weak these days which has taken a huge toll on missionaries in Europe. Troy and Heather decided to be proactive by starting a hilarious and practical blog.
They write: "Stop by and visit to read our unique take on life. Humor and quirkiness abound, but there is some serious stuff as well! We'd love to know what you think, so leave us a comment!"
It's called He Said, She Said
Troy and Heather, who have a hilarious marriage full of lots-o-love and jokery, write often about their specific takes on things. Consider this snippet about sushi:
Heather: I honestly don’t have anything very witty or funny to say about sushi. Because I take my sushi very, very seriously.
Troy: Eating sushi is my wife’s way of begging the gods to strike her down with salmonella poisoning.
But wait!
That's not all folks!
In addition to their witty marriage writing (and they are both terrific writers), Troy and Heather have some amazing products to sell:
They write: "Stop by and visit to read our unique take on life. Humor and quirkiness abound, but there is some serious stuff as well! We'd love to know what you think, so leave us a comment!"
It's called He Said, She Said
Troy and Heather, who have a hilarious marriage full of lots-o-love and jokery, write often about their specific takes on things. Consider this snippet about sushi:
Heather: I honestly don’t have anything very witty or funny to say about sushi. Because I take my sushi very, very seriously.
Troy: Eating sushi is my wife’s way of begging the gods to strike her down with salmonella poisoning.
But wait!
That's not all folks!
In addition to their witty marriage writing (and they are both terrific writers), Troy and Heather have some amazing products to sell:
- Advent started on Sunday. Looking for some readings to make the season meaningful? Troy has written a whole series (available for purchase) See samples here. If you're one of the first five people to leave a comment on that post, we'll send you a copy of the series free!
- If you'd like to do a dramatic monologue at church, Troy, who is a master storyteller, has written some AMAZING pieces. At five dollars a pop, these pieces are well worth the investment.
I hope you'll earmark their site, because, truly, you're in for a writing treat (along with some great humor writing). Enjoy!
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