awake

I watched her with her children today.

The gentle voice. The soft instruction.

She didn’t try to moderate disagreements from where she was at the kitchen counter; she didn’t wait until she was finished mixing the corn bread to explain their error.

Swiftly, silently she was there dealing with the offender.

She wasn’t so engrossed in her work that she could turn a deaf ear to the upset voices; she wasn’t more intent on her task than on her children.

She was awake and attentive to the constant need for instruction.

I listened in her home today.

Peaceful. Playful. Quiet. Happy.

We swapped ideas about teaching reading and sharing. We discussed titles and concepts of parenting books and methods.

She’s not perfect, and neither are they.

But what struck me most was what she didn’t say, the tone that wasn’t in her voice.

What I heard was the loving, patient way she spoke to each one of putting her sister first.

What they saw was that she put them first.

^{Five-Minute Friday: awake}

fifteen years

Sep 302011

pictures of us on that day, superimposed onto a picture of the geyser by which we met Fifteen years ago today, I met my very best friend.

No, we didn’t talk that day—we were young and shy, just days past our thirteenth birthdays.

But we listened to our parents as we all walked those boardwalks through Yellowstone—away from the Riverside Geyser where we met, towards Old Faithful itself.

We all thrilled at the kindred bond we felt. Little knowing it was but the beginning.

Yes, my romantic imagination wandered a bit. I wondered. Could he be the one?

But I was only thirteen. I couldn’t know how God would use this boy to mold me, to pray for me, to make me feel valued and special.

I couldn’t guess how he would make me love Country music and fill my mailbox with Hallmark cards. I had no idea what adorable kids we would have.

I didn’t know that on that day, September 30, 1996, I had met my very best friend.

Happy “anniversary,” my love!

Pictures:
Us, cropped out of family pictures from that day, and put over a picture of the geyser by which we met.
Us, celebrating our birthdays together this year.

Five-Minute Friday Prompt: of friends

Growing older makes it hard to say goodbye.

hands (photo by my sister Jessica)

They are two years old and three years old. And it’s only hard to say goodbye because they don’t understand time or why people have to live so far away or how long it is until Christmas.

He and I are getting oh-so-close to thirty. And it’s awfully hard to say goodbye because we watch the younger ones growing older and the older ones growing older and we know that each goodbye might be the last—for any of us.

heads (photo by my sister Jessica)

They grow older each time I see them, there on either side of eighty. And it’s awfully hard to say goodbye because their steps are a little slower and their hearing a little harder, while age has given them wisdom and His nearness has given them patience.

Growing older makes it so hard to say goodbye. Because each moment is as normal as it has always been. And yet each moment is so precious because it might never come again.

hearts (photo by me)

{linking up with Five-Minute Friday and Just Write because sometimes Fridays become Tuesdays quite quickly and because the two go so well together that I just wrote—for just about five minutes—on the prompt “growing”…}

I Love My Aprons

Sep 172011

I’m so glad you dropped by my kitchen!

Let’s pour a cup of tea and swap apron stories for a bit, shall we?

I’ll cut a slice of homemade bread and get out the raspberry freezer jam.

And then, if dinner-time’s a-comin’, I’ll tie on an apron and you can keep me company while I cook.

Sound good?

~Gret

“Don’t take off your apron, whatever you do, it’s peculiarly becoming.”

-Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, page 204

laundry and leaves

Summer is almost over. I feel it in the crisp, cool mornings that make us pull out the sweaters and hoodies. I see it in the red-tinged leaves of our Maple tree.

The summer I dreaded, anticipating the craziness of a summer schedule with three little ones under three. The same summer in which I was showered with company and help and merciful rest and naps. Tears come to my eyes as I look back on this summer and realize that He was faithful.

I didn’t get everything done that I’d planned. My sister wasn’t here for every day and week and month of it. But it was a productive, growth-filled summer.

My aunt often reminds me of what dear old “Grandma” Cloud would always tell her:

The days are long, but the years are short.

And as summer draws to a close, I realize that the days may be long, but the seasons are short.

And in each season, He remains faithful.

red maple 1

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
-“Be Still My Soul” by Katharina A. von Schlegel, verse 1

red maple 2

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.
-“Be Still My Soul” by Katharina A. von Schlegel, verse 5

red maple 3

awake

fifteen years

goodbyes & growing older

I Love My Aprons

seasons

Letters to Share

Favorite Post Cards

Tech Tips

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