something about hanging out the laundry…

May 162012
 

There’s something about hanging out the laundry that makes it all right in my world once again.

Maybe it’s the wind in my hair.  Or the sheets flapping in the breeze.

Maybe it’s the sense of accomplishment, four baskets of clothes hung neatly on the line.  And the even greater satisfaction of a job well done when they are dried and folded, almost as neatly, right back into the same baskets.

Maybe it has something to do with the way my children are laughing and calling happily around me, the oldest hanging the socks up on her own miniature drying rack, “just like mommy.”

But more likely, it’s the way the wind reminds me of His strength. 

More often, it’s the way ever one of my three children has had to empty the entire basket of clothespins to find the perfect one to chew on. 

Sometimes, it’s the chubby hands I feel clapping in the carrier behind me when I burst forth into song.

It might even have something to do with the way my clothesline is held up by pieces of lumber that form the shape of a cross. 

There’s nothing that puts my day into perspective like getting outside to hang out the laundry.  And I know it’s because of the way the open expanse of sky above me makes all my troubles seem miniscule in comparison to our omnipotent Creator.

cell phone shot from back in 2009

identity

May 112012
 

“And when you believed in Christ, He identified you as His own…”
-Ephesians 1:13, NLT

Twenty-five years ago today, I took His identity for my own.

With the simple faith of a child, I knelt and prayed.

I gave Him my heart, my life.  I decided to follow Jesus, no turning back.

But it was only the beginning.  As I grew, my childlike faith turned to pride.  Too often I brought disgrace upon the Name of the One Who made me.

I walked through the valleys and the mountaintops of the pilgrim way.  I learned that I would never arrive, that I must never stop growing.

And now, so many years later, I pray for the maturity of that childlike faith.  That natural ease with which I daily identified myself with Him.

“Being a Christian isn’t just a 30-second prayer repeated at some point in your life. Being a Christian is the daily act of submitting to Christ. It’s an ongoing relationship, not a one time meeting.”
-Aaron Wilkinson, “There’s a Carnival on 8th Street”

Five-Minute Friday: Identity

You Are a Writer (So Start Acting Like One)

May 082012
 

you-are-a-writer-final-gold-225x300

When you stop writing for readers’ affections,
your work will affect more people.
-Jeff Goins, You Are a Writer

I’m sitting in the coffee shop.  I have 45 minutes to write, but the computer is sitting in the bag at my feet.  For the moment, my mood matches the weather outside, and I can’t even remember why I call myself a writer.  The last thing I want to do is to write words for other people to read.

That’s when I turn to Jeff Goins’ Writer’s Manifesto on my Kindle.   In 44 short pages, it reminds me not only that I love to write, but why I write.

Because it is a gift. 

If the Writer’s Manifesto reminds me that I write to honor the gift, You Are a Writer helps me to be a good steward of that gift.  In the first few chapters, Jeff expounds on his original manifesto.  But he goes deeper.  He talks about leaving a legacy.  Of becoming trapped by numbers and the search for accolades.  About falling back in love with writing.

And that sets the stage for what the rest of the book is about: the hard work of writing.  The fact that you have to work at it.  That you have to keep writing.  The fact that you can’t give up on improving your craft.  The fact that you’ll never “arrive” as a writer.

The chapter on branding alone is worth the price of the book.  The rest of it might feel like it is more about marketing than writing.

But that’s the paradox of this upside down blogging world: sometimes, being a good steward of the gift requires what feels like self-promotion.  You can do everything “right” and not get published; you can do everything “wrong” and still become a bestseller—but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do your best for Him.  If they are His words, for His service, then it can and should be for His glory, not yours.  And whether we make the bestseller list or we are read only by an audience of One, we will know that we did our best, for Him.

Jeff is not writing to a specifically Christian audience.  He doesn’t talk about praying over your writing or discerning God’s will as to the timing of your next project.  But he doesn’t have to.  His book is an aide to any writer, whether or not they claim the name of Christ.  But for those of us who do write for His glory?  You Are a Writer is an extra-special tool, because it enables us to be a better steward of the gift God has given us.

We have an opportunity.
To write words that matter, to change lives with language.
-Jeff Goins, You Are a Writer

real

May 052012
 

I’m a country girl.

Real is the dirt field my farmer plows.

Real is the paper and ink love letters we wrote to each other.

Real is the peanut butter on my children’s faces.

Real is the dark yellow yolks of the eggs our chickens lay.

But I’m a girl of the twenty-first century.

Real is the smiles from pictures we can email to grandparents hundreds of miles away.

Real is phone calls from Twitter friends in the middle of dinner.

Real is loving someone you’ve emailed but never met in person.

Real is truth, no matter if it’s pen and paper or colors on the screen.

Velveteen Rabbit Real doesn’t limit itself to touch and feel.  Velveteen Rabbit Real is about love.

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

-The Velveteen Rabbit or “How Toys Become Real” by Margery Williams

Five-Minute Friday: Real

community

Apr 282012
 

I grew up in the same little community my dad and grandpa had before me.  I went to church with the same ladies who’d babysat my dad when he was little.  We had shirttail relatives everywhere.

Moving to a new town when I got married, looking for a new church, all in a community where my husband’s family was relative strangers, was a bit of an adjustment.  Nobody knew me by who my daddy and grandpa were anymore.

But these days, I recognize more faces on the street here than I do back where I grew up.  It’s not quite as small a town, but it’s a farming community, and that makes it small enough in its own way.

My husband’s family moved here twelve years ago, I joined them almost six years ago now.  I’ve been visiting here for over a third of my life.

We have loyal customers who return each year to support our family farm. We have a church family who has been with us through my husband’s accident and the births of each of our three children.  I have made friends with other young moms in the community.  And I’ve even found some author and blogger friends nearby.

I’d have moved anywhere to be with my husband, but I’m extra thankful the Lord put us here, in this community I love calling home.

Five-Minute Friday: Community

 Older Entries