Summer Bliss: Planning To Make the Most of Simple Pleasures

Two years ago, I made a summer dream list. This included all the things I wanted to do with the kids over the summer. Chock full of fun places to visits and activities, this was sure to be a hit. You want to know how many we actually did? One that year. One the next. 

My overachiever tendencies lead me to make grand plans that never come to fruition. There is no joy in that. This summer, the summer in my Year of Empty, I am throwing caution to the wind and we are planning not.one.thing with the kids. Not one. The Hubs and I have a few plans of our own that are pre-booked, like Edel for me (yay!) and an event with Fr. Barron in Grand Rapids later in the week for us both. 

When it comes to keeping these kids occupied, this year less is more. Growing up in Iowa with a dad who didn't get summers off, we never made a list of activities to conquer. I had a reading list of my own creation, perhaps in conjunction with some school district initiative, but more likely just due to my bookworm genes. Other than that, we played in the field behind our house filled with dandelions. We rode our bikes down the street. We walked to Ev's and got ice cream. We ran back and forth from each other's houses playing whatever it was we felt like playing. We ran through the sprinklers in our yards and went to the pool on our side of town. We helped with planting in the garden and ate our weight in corn (hey - it was Iowa) and grilled food. We may have held a lemonade stand. Someone's family surely had a garage sale. When I was older, I may have hung out at the library (see bookworm reference). It was lazy and fun and filled with simple joys. 

A big adventure was the annual excursion to the Iowa State Fair, the king of all state fairs. Funnel cakes, meat on a steak, outdoor concerts, and riding the cable cars could easily fill a day or two! Our family almost always planned some type of family vacation to somewhere new and adventurous, and probably educational. Whether it was Washington, DC via Boston, or South Dakota, or Colorado, summer vacations were part of our tradition.

Aside from the family vacation, which always required a TripTik and AAA intervention, there was no planning out long and involved lists. There were no daily trips to here, there, and everywhere. We took the days as they came, and enjoyed them as they got longer and longer. We found joy right in our own backyards. 

I realize that life is different now. We don't live in a neighborhood at this point where our kids will be running down the street. While we are getting to know our neighbors, our relationships are nothing like those of our parents and their neighbors. The world is just a little different in our neck of the woods. (Now my mom's neighborhood? That's the stuff our memories are made of - she's got neighborhood gold!)

However different life may be, there is still something to be said of capturing the bliss of a simple, warm summer day. This summer, instead of the long list of things to conquer, I am focusing on less planning and more living. I want my children to have experiences that teach them (and remind me) to find joy in the simple things in life. Here are a few things I hope will help me stay focused on the simple.

The Nature Box/Jar: While we haven't made them yet, the kids were wide-eyed with excitement when I suggested we create a box or jar for them to collect things from nature this summer. This was, of course, created in a moment of hurriedly trying to find a way for them to stop taking the rocks out of our rock bed around the patio. Nonetheless, I sense this may be a huge hit. The beauty? It is so simple! You can make it fancier if you want to craft up some jars or boxes, but my goal is to 1) obtain a receptacle and 2) let them at it to decorate. Nature walks, beach trips, park visits, backyard shenanigans...all opportunities to pick something to put in the nature box. Something that is not alive or decaying that is. 

Exploring Local: If we are looking for things to do, there is plenty of local fun to be had. Join a local Facebook group, subscribe to your library email list, check out the Parks & Rec in the area - surely you too have more than ample opportunities to explore the land around you. Here we have concerts in the park, library story hours, farmers markets, parades and festivals, and so much more throughout the summer without even leaving our little suburb. Cast the net just a bit wider and even more fun awaits. There is no need to plan anything out. If we are feeling stir-crazy, I can easily tap into some of these resources and find us somewhere nearby to go...and pass along an invite to local friends. No need for involved play dates, though of course for some things a little notice is good. I want the kids to explore with as much whimsy as possible and capture the joy of childhood in its fullest. 

Being, Not Doing: Here is a novel concept for me. It may be fun to just stay at home! I'm sure we will hear the endless litany of "what can we DO?" from the older one...and maybe her mama. There are always things to do around the house, but to just be together - sit, talk, dream, create - that is precious time that goes far too quickly. There will be no formal projects, nothing probably terribly Pinterest worthy, but I want to make messes, to paint, to play in the dirt (and then subsequently hose down the children in the yard...or not). To just be with them without having to pack up a bag and get in and out of the car, make multiple bathroom trips, spend money - to laugh and squeal and giggle and sing - that sounds like a better plan than a summer plan to me. Sure, it will likely be coupled with some screaming and whining, but someone just get mama a drink, okay?

Do you have plans for the summer? What would your blissful summer look like this year? Let me know in the comments.

As always, let's make it a plan to get out there and love the world like Jesus while we are finding joy in life's simple pleasures!

This post is linked up with the Blessed Is She #BISSisterhood
series on Finding Joy. Visit Blessed Is She to read more!

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{From Holy Cow to Holy Spirit} Knocking on Heaven's Door

It was a time when neon was in, Madonna was True Blue, and the girls would gather in the basement to belt out the latest love songs. 

Cue Atlantic Starr: "Girl you are to me, all that a woman should be and I dedicate my life to you always..."

Then we would giggle as we came to the part where they sang, 

"Come with me my sweet, let's go make a family.
They will bring us joy, for always.

Ooh boy I love you so, I can't find enough ways

To let you know, but you can be sure I'm yours for always..."

because, well, you know.

If you have seen 13 Going on 30, you will know exactly what I am describing. Perhaps this is why it is in my top ten favorite movies. (I know, fluffy for a top ten, but there nonetheless.)

I don't seem to have junior
high photos at my disposal.
This was just before then.

It was deep in the heart of the 80s, and I was in junior high struggling through the adolescent rites of passage. Strange tensions grew between friends as we tried to navigate the halls in all our pre-pubescent angst. Here lay the beginnings of all the cliques that would ever be: the jocks, the nerds, the popular crowd, the band geeks, the burnouts, the washouts, and then some that just didn't fit anywhere at all. Stuck somewhere in a mix of band geek/nerd/don't belong anywhere at all, the popular crowd was where I wanted to be. Friends, boyfriends, normal teenage activity instead of hanging at home with mom and dad - it held all of the appeal, but none of the promise for a girl like me. At the end of the day, it was a good thing, but not according to a tween/teen back in the day.

This was early high school. I really don't have junior high pics at my fingertips!
We can wax philosophical about why that might be at another date and time...

I was the one they made fun of because not only was I a nerd, but I was different. I was the one the boy asked to slow-dance with at our junior high dance, but only as a dare/joke from his friends, which I found out not too long after. I was the one the boys flirted with just for a laugh. I was the one who they started embarrassing rumors about just to see what I would say. I was the one whose invitations were rarely answered for any parties. I had my small group of friends* and we struggled our way through. Some broke out of the nerd camp and figured out the fashion of the day and the right things to do and say. I wasn't one of them. Without having a reference to the rites of passage in this culture, my parents couldn't help me navigate them with much more than reassurances that "this too shall pass" and "there is a bigger world out there." Both were right, but not of much solace on a tear-stained pillow.

My already wanting-to-belong heart just ached all the more. 

Enter Mandy. Mandy lived a couple houses down the street. Her family had moved into the neighborhood a few years before. They were Baptists, and had a large family by our neighborhood standards (though still small potatoes considering my own extended family). With six children, Mandy's family was full of life. I remember her talking about Daddy Date Nights and Family Game Nights. Though she was a couple years younger than me, and I was many degrees nerdier than her, we would occasionally hang out, especially on those summer days when there wasn't much else going on. It was through Mandy that I would invite Jesus into my life. 

As time has gone by, I don't recall the specific details of when my first encounter with Christ came about. I'm fairly certain I was about 13, and I am guessing it was one of those late summer afternoons. I do remember sitting on Mandy's deck in the shade, probably drinking Kool-Aid or Iced Tea and talking about nothing too important. In the middle of all of that, I remember Mandy asking me if I knew about Jesus and if I had ever considered letting Him into my life. 

I confess I don't recall my answer about knowing Jesus. My guess is that I mumbled something about celebrating Christmas (though in our family it had nothing to do with Jesus beyond Linus's monologue in the Charlie Brown Christmas Special) and knowing people go to church. Mandy explained how Jesus takes our care and our worries from us. There were no long theological arguments - we were 12 or 13. It was simply her sure knowledge that life is just better with Jesus in it. 

That was all it took. When Mandy asked if I would like to let him into my life, I said sure. While much of the rest of that time was a blur, I remember her instructions so very vividly. To invite Jesus into my life, to help make my life better with Him, all I needed to do was to say to Him that night, "Jesus, I want you in my life." That was it. I went home, and as I crawled into bed after another likely leisurely day, I crawled in with hope for a better tomorrow. As I lay my head down on my cool pillow, I offered those words up in earnest prayer: "Jesus, I want you in my life." I knocked on the door.

My thirteen year old self expected magic. I was seeking trumpets and fanfare and a completely transformed life. What happened next was seemingly a whole lot of nothing. My troubles were not behind me. I was not instantly popular nor did I have a greater sense of peace or belonging. Rather, it seemed that nothing at all had changed, and I continued to struggle through the ranks of high school. Over time I forgot about that night and the words I had uttered and simply moved on with life, one step at a time, each one closer to getting out of small town Iowa as fast as I could. 

It was only in retrospect that I discovered the power in my prayer that night. God knows us and our needs. His timing is perfect, not ours. At a time that was perfect for me in His sight, my knock on heaven's door would be answered. In retrospect, I have no doubt in my mind that it was that innocent and unformed prayer that led me to where I am today. I just couldn't see it in the moment.

Until next time, let's get out there and love 'em like Jesus...because life really IS better with Jesus in it. Pass along an invitation this week to someone struggling, won't you? 

*To my friends during this time: Please know how much you were/are loved and appreciated. I would hate for the moral of this story to be that I just wanted an upgrade - that isn't true. I just wanted a deeper sense of belonging, which to a young, teenage girl (well, me) was popularity. This in no way is meant to slight the friendship and fun we had.



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The Sisterhood of Motherhood: A Mary's Mantle GoFundMe Blog Tour

This week, several of my "sisters" have offered up their time and their blogs to share with you their thoughts on motherhood. These women have made me laugh, made me cry, touched my soul, and lifted my spirit time and time again. Please visit them as they join me in sharing with you the work of Mary's Mantle and their own experience of this blessed and sacred sisterhood. Here is the current line-up (check back for updates through the week!):

Monday, May 25: From Little Hands, by Maia Jarvis

Tuesday, May 26: Call Her Happy, by Jenna Hines

Wednesday, May 27: A Blog for My Mom, by Rosie Hill

Thursday, May 28: Reconciled to You, by Allison Gingras

Friday, May 29: Annery At Home, by Annie Tillberg

Think back to the moment you found out you were expecting. I know for me, it was a mixture of joy, nervousness, and excitement. Never for a moment did I question whether I would be bringing a child into the world alone. Never for a moment did I question whether our family and friends would joyously welcome our child. 

Not all women face pregnancy with the support and love of family and friends. Many women who contemplate abortion do so because they feel they have no other choice. There is no one to support them, protect them, or nurture them as they bring new life into the world. Mary’s Mantle was born from the experience of one such young woman. Young, alone, and finding herself kicked out of her family home when they found out she was pregnant, this mother had nowhere to go. Worse yet, those who tried to help her could find nowhere for her to go – there were little to no resources for her as she thought about bringing this new life into the world. Sadly, feeling she had no options and not finding anywhere to live, this young woman turned to abortion, though that was not an avenue she had initially considered at all. 

The founders of Mary’s Mantle, a Catholic residential program for homeless, pregnant women, felt that no woman should have to choose abortion because they had no place to lay their head. The doors of the metro-Detroit home opened in June of 2010. Since then, over 40 women and their children have called it home. For the first five years of the ministry, Mary’s Mantle has been renting a house for their program. This past December, they were finally able to purchase a home to call their own. Those of you who have bought homes know the peripheral costs that come along with home ownership. In order to fit the home to the needs of the residents, renovations have been underway over the past few months. Now that the move date is set, the ministry has experienced some setbacks. This is your chance to do a work of mercy and help this ministry to fully equip their new home. (We appreciate the generosity of our donors who have faithfully supplied us used furniture and items in the past. With the wear and tear the home experiences with a revolving population, it would be a huge help to begin with new items.) Enter the current GoFundMe campaign.Whether it is $5 or $500, you can be a part of the work that is done by the ministry of Mary’s Mantle. Help a homeless mother find refuge from the storm. Please consider donating today. (We have been experiencing occasional technical difficulties with the GoFundMe page. If the site is down, please go to the main donation page and reference the campaign in the comments so we can properly thank you!)

The mothers who come to reside at Mary’s Mantle come from all walks of life. Some are recovering addicts, some are recovering from the scars of past abortion, some have been prostitutes, some have been in pornography, some have been victims of domestic violence, some come from the churches in our neighborhoods, most have damaged relationships with their families, and all have been broken by abuse, whether emotional or physical. The time they spend in residence is designed to heal and restore them. While our staff work with them to address the causes and symptoms of their homelessness (job training, housing searches, education, therapy, etc.), the greatest work done is to teach them about the love of God, help them to begin healing, and provide an example of how to be faithful mothers so they can break the cycle of abuse. 

While you won’t find me quoting Hillary Clinton often, she was absolutely right when she said many moons ago that it takes a village to raise a child. There have been so many lessons of motherhood, (some learned reluctantly, some offered unsolicited) that have come from the community of women and mothers in my life, whether down the street or across the world. This "sisterhood of motherhood" helps to get us through the days, which can sometimes be long. Just knowing that we are not alone in our struggles, that there are women who have walked (and survived) the journey before us, can be a great consolation. Having someone to turn to that can affirm that we aren't crazy when we are struggling, that our children are normal when they're not model citizens, that we are in fact not failing can be a balm to the soul. Mary's Mantle is in the business of creating this sisterhood in the name of Christ under the mantle of our Blessed Mother. 

Again, please consider contributing to our GoFundMe Campaign or making a donation today. These faces thank you!


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Through the Looking Glass

The first time I learned I was fat was when I was six. That's right, six. We were in a fitting room, and my mother noticed that I was "getting a belly." Six. With a belly. 

The next memory I have of learning what my body should look like was in middle school. I had gone to India over the summer, and while I was there, I got amoebic dysentery. Nothing helps you drop some weight like a few amoebas. When I came back to dance class that fall, the instructor noticed how much weight I had lost. She suggested I keep doing what I was because I was looking great. I was eleven. Recovering from amoebic dysentery.

Admittedly, I was never on the svelte and lean side. I did have a little bit of a belly, a helping of meat on my thighs, and well, this baby has always had back. If I could remember back to my birth, I hear that the nurses even commented on my round little bottom. Being a bit of a girlish tomboy early on, I never paid much attention. I loved to wear dresses and run around in the dirt. I went fishing and danced. 

One day, I learned that I wasn't built like the other girls. I wasn't as pretty as the other girls. In dance and in sports, I was never encouraged, since I didn't have the ideal body type or the perfect stamina. I found my niche with a small group of friends as we walked through those awkward teenage years together. We compared the size of our thighs, the style of our hair, our womanly developments, and bemoaned our lack of dating prospects. In that time, I learned to hate my body because I had learned I was ugly and undesirable. Nerdy was not the new cool just yet. 

If I were thinner, if my hair feathered perfectly, if I didn't have a unibrow... If, if, if. My weight fluctuated as I went through puberty, went to college, dieted and failed, exercised and gave up, dated and didn't. My body would be my best friend one day and my worst enemy the next. My size often reflected my psyche. I learned to comfort myself with food and alcohol. My waistline grew as I struggled with depression, with anxiety, with the normal trials of a late teen and twenty-something.

My thirty-something self wants to strangle my teenage/twenty-something self. I was not fat (most of the time). I look back and see that I was beautiful (most of the time). Surely I was awkward, but no more so than any other girl coming of age in the late 80s and early 90s. (Fashion industry - what did you do to us?) I wonder now, how can I save my children (and especially my daughter) from these battles? 

As I continue to let the grace and mercy of Jesus wash over me and heal me, I am quicker to remind myself of the truth. Certainly, I need to care for myself. While I still soothe myself with food and beverage from time to time, I am quicker to recognize what I am doing and stop. While I still have days when I see no beauty in me at all, I am quicker to remember that I am created in the image and likeness of God, and God doesn't make ugly things. My imperfections, and there are many, are stories of my life. Those extra pounds came from joyous celebrations, hard struggles, and playing home to two little children. Those scars and stretch marks came from offering myself as a vessel to bring those beautiful new lives into this world. Even the scars from my recent surgery tell a story. The tired eyes tell the story of a woman who is learning how to live every moment and love ever harder. The thinning and greying hair share the stress of motherhood and learning to let go control. Sure, I would love to let go of some of that, but if I don't it is still all part of the beautiful story of my life. 

In hindsight, I know my mother didn't mean any harm. She has struggled with her own image ever since I can remember, and still does. She wanted her daughter to be different. I understand. I have learned from this, though, that my baggage can be inadvertently passed on to my children. I want to lighten that load. This culture will undoubtedly attack them, so I want be as certain as I can that I don't add to it. 

We make a conscious effort to tell our children they are beautiful just as they are. We remind them that God has created them wonderfully. When they are older, I hope we can instill in them a confidence that while their bodies will shift and change with the sands of time, their beauty is something that lies deeper within. I hope they will know themselves as beautiful in the eyes of their greatest Lover and not be obsessed with their dating life or lack thereof. (They won't be dating until they're 30, so we have plenty of time.) I pray that our children will be the people who will affirm what is beautiful in others because they know what is beautiful about themselves...and that it is okay to look different from everyone else. When they gaze through the looking glass, my hope for them is that they see the eternal truth about who they are and not a fleeting glance at the lies told by the vogue of the day. 

The battle isn't over - when it starts at six and lingers for decades, it takes a little time. I am staging a coup on those whispers that try to fix my gaze on the lies about what is lacking. I want my children to remember me as comfortable in my own skin so that they can confidently own theirs. When I can look confidently in the mirror and see beyond the seeming faults staring back at me, I can better shift my focus to what is beautiful about the rest of the world too. The greatest gift I can give my children is to show them, not tell them, how to love better, beginning with our own selves, so to be vessels of grace and mercy for the world. 

Until next time, let's get out there and love 'em like Jesus, my beautiful friends!

Visit the Blessed Is She Sisterhood Link-Up this week to read other women share their thoughts on beauty and body image.

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{SQT} On the Descent of the Holy Spirit and Free Image Downloads

The Easter season has been crawling along to this great crescendo which is the Feast of Pentecost. The first outpouring of the Holy Spirit with tongues as of fire, fire enough to turn the awkward, cowardly, sometimes foolish Peter into an explosive preacher, witness, and leader of the earthly church. Here are seven verses of Scripture that exemplify the power, beauty, and gift the Holy Spirit continues to be to us until the end of time. Plus...they are free printables/downloads (just right-click to save) - enjoy!

{ONE}

{TWO}

{THREE}

{FOUR}

{FIVE}

{SIX}

{SEVEN}

For more Quick Takes, visit This Ain't The Lyceum!

Come, Holy Spirit! Help us get out there and love 'em all like Jesus!

PS - Don't forget! There is still time to join the May Sketch-Along. I can't wait to see all your inspired creations!


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Five Favorites: Get Ready for Pentecost!

The Spirit is coming! The Spirit is coming! Who's ready for Pentecost? Here are five songs to get you in the spirit for the coming of the Spirit. (Go ahead. Groan.)

{ONE}

Holy Spirit, Francesca Battestelli

Holy Spirit, You are welcome here

Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere

Your glory, God, is what our hearts long for

To be overcome by Your presence, Lord

{TWO}

Burning in My Soul, Matt Maher

Whoa, hear the sound from Heaven

Whoa, a mighty rushing wind

Whoa, we're calling for revival

God let Your fire fall again

It's burning in my soul...

{THREE}

Soul on Fire, Third Day

God, I'm running for Your heart

I'm running for Your heart

Till I am a soul on fire

I wanna be

Till I am a soul on fire

Till I am a soul on fire

{FOUR}

Consuming Fire, Third Day

Set this place on fire

Send Your spirit, Saviour

Rescue form the mire

Show your servant favor

Yesterday was the day that I was alone

Now I'm in the presence of Almighty God

{FIVE}
Spirit of the Living God, Phil Wickham

Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me

Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me

Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me

Hope this helps get you in the mood for the firefall of Pentecost. (Do you have any favorites I missed?)

Come, Holy Spirit, come!! Now, let's get out there and love 'em like Jesus!

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7 Valuable Life Lessons: Virtues of an Imperfect Mother

A couple of weeks ago, I went to a different parish than I normally attend. It was one of those weeks where the Hubs and I split Masses due to work and other events, so I was flying solo. While it is nice to be able to focus on the Mass without five trips to the bathroom and a few more to the water fountain, when your mind is used to wandering with a toddler, it finds other places to wander even if the trip back to Jesus is faster flying solo.

This particular week, I noticed at this parish how nicely dressed the families were. Crisp, clean fabrics, flowing dresses, girls with their hair braided and not flying astray...this was in sharp contrast to our family's slightly disheveled children with shirts coming untucked and hair flying in a million directions.

Other times, I wonder what the parents whose children sit through Mass are doing differently. Our brood is an active one, and it can become a little disheartening to see other families sitting calmly through Mass while we take yet one more walk around the gathering area. The old nature vs. nurture questions start cropping up. Is it our parenting that makes them incapable of sitting quietly, or is it just in the their genetic makeup (which is still our doing)? The truth is that it is likely a little of both.

Photo credit: Rubina Mukerjea Roshan

While I can work to change and grow as a parent, it is unlikely that I will change into someone I am not. The same goes for our children. If we spend so much time focusing on what we want to change, we miss out on the beauty there is in the current moment. We are who we are, and there is grace in that.

It is true that through all of this, I want to learn to love better, more selflessly. At the same time, who I am right now is who God has trusted with these children, imperfections and all. Motherhood has been a struggle, no doubt. It is stripping bare all my false selves to reveal the true state of my soul, which is often uglier than I thought. To hit a brick wall over and over has been dizzying, especially for a woman who has been an overachiever for much of her life. In that dizziness, I can start to think there is someone better out there for my children. That is a lie, though, isn't it? There is no better mama for my children than me. There is no better mother for your children than you.

In fact, in my many foibles and failures, God may just be teaching my children and I something about Himself. There is so much grace that is revealed in our weakness. Here are just a few ways in which our faceplants and utter failures are teaching our children (and us) some wonderful lessons on the nature of being human and needing redemption.

{ONE} 

The True Nature of Love

Love is messy and hard. It is rarely all butterflies and rainbows and poetry and chocolate. The sweetness comes after the sweat. Love is work, not just platitudes. Love is a whole slew of "I'm sorry" and "let's try again" and "I forgive you"s. Love is dying to yourself for the good of another, and death is painful. There is beauty and sweetness and peace and fulfillment. It just comes with a lot of blood, sweat, and tears sometimes. 

{TWO} 

The True Face of Joy

Joy isn't about being on Cloud 9 forever and always. In fact, joy and sorrow are most times two sides of the same coin. Joy comes from being able to swim through the tears and the sorrows and the frustration to come out on the other end with a sure knowledge that all shall be well. It is trusting that the victory has been won, so we can rejoice in that when everything else starts falling apart. 

{THREE} 

Grace Abounds in Failure

Failure is not death. Sin does not win. One thing that I am certain my own shortcomings can teach my children is that they should not fear failure. It can be embarrassing for certain, but in that moment God's grace is already hard at work making something good from it. Of course, as St. Paul reminds us, this doesn't mean that we should try to fail or sin. Certainly we aspire to succeed, to put a little extra into the ordinary. However, if things don't work out, if we stumble, there is grace enough to pick us up and keep us going if we let it. We can be schools of grace for one another in our failures at home. 

{FOUR} 

Mercy is Always New

There is always a new dawn after a dark night. We all make mistakes. Just as God's mercy is never-ending, ours can be too. Somehow we find a way to start again, over and over and over and over. We wipe the slate clean for our children as they learn and grow and rebel and yell...sometimes right alongside us. Our errors and failings give us a chance to experience (and extend) that mercy.

{FIVE} 

There is Strength in Humility

It is okay to admit when you are wrong and that you don't always have the answers. It is okay to ask for help. It is good to know and admit your weaknesses. It is in them that Christ is able to give you strength. When we are less than perfect, it is such a rich opportunity to show our children how to be confident in the face of their shortcomings. We teach them that our worth doesn't come from being perfect by any definition. We are worthy because we are created in the image and likeness of God - nothing else. 

{SIX} 

Endurance Wins the Race

Until our dying day, we continue to have the opportunity to get it more right than the day before. Some days we will fall flat on our faces, but we dust ourselves off and keep on trying. What a fantastic lesson for our children to take with them. There is nothing so big that it can make Him turn away from us - nothing. If we keep on trying, if we keep running (or walking, or crawling) to Him, there is no bellyflop, wipeout, nosedive - nada - that will separate us from the love of God. Even if it the tiniest little step, you just have to keep going. 

{SEVEN} 

Life is a Masterpiece if Keep Your Eye on the Big Picture

There is rarely a day that goes by without me beating myself up for something. A harsh word, not putting my phone down, not cleaning, having laundry piled up, wasting time, being ungrateful - something. As a photographer, I realized a few years ago that I needed to keep a photo journal of life moments throughout the day. (In more recent times, that journal is called Instagram.) What I have discovered is that looking back over those snippets of my days, the same days where I am berating myself for not being "more," there is so much grace and beauty and joy and wonder. In the big picture, my failures don't add up to the same majesty as the grace and joy and beauty and love and wonder and all the good things...and there are so many good things. Much like an impressionist painting, if we take too much time to examine things really close up, it will look a mess. If we step back and see how those messes come together - voila! Life is a masterpiece.

So, you see, mama? Being perfect isn't the bees knees. Why chase after a mirage when there is such richness and virtue in our real, imperfect selves? Our kids deserve nothing less than the real moms they've got - and that's the way God designed it! What is God teaching your brood through the messes of your life?

Until next time, let's get out there and love 'em like Jesus!

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{SQT} On Gifts, Rookie Mom Mistakes, The Holy Spirit, Stained Glass, and Dreams

Here's a quick glimpse of life from the past week:

From Ann Voskamp's Facebook page:

"Yeah-- There's never anything to be afraid of... all the hard gifts turn out to be good gifts.

And the good gifts all turn out to be forever gifts -- eternal gifts that nothing or nobody can ever, ever take away from you.

And all the best gifts? All turn out to be forthcoming.... The best gifts are always still up ahead, the best is always still to come."

Pro-Mom tip: Do not keep the chips within the reach of the two year old when shopping.
I am not a pro-mom.

The headline from this week could have read "Rookie School Mom Mistakes Strike Again!" Gia's Spring concert was this past Tuesday. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, I had for some reason thought it was still a week or two off. I a) failed to invite my mother to the concert until the day of, and b) didn't have a clean dress for Gia to wear (she only has a couple that fit her right now as it is). Thank goodness for Target clearance and retired mothers who don't have calendars full of packed evenings!

We finally went and saw Cinderella on Mother's Day. I cannot adequately express just how much I loved it, but here is a little recap as to why it is now in my top five favorite movies.

As I'm working on focusing the mission of the blog, I had some thoughts on how we best share Christ through our words and lives. Bottom line: no hiding in the dark!

The May Sketch-Along is now posted, and I would love to have you join me! The theme for May is the Holy Spirit. 

While it is called a "sketch-along," please feel free to use any medium of creativity - paint, photography, digital art...whatever moves your soul. There are so many rich verses of Scripture, prayers, hymns, and quotes to choose from - I know I am having trouble deciding! Here are just a smattering of my favorites:

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. Acts 1:8 (World Youth Day Sydney forevah!)

Come Holy Ghost, Creator blest, and in our hearts take up Thy rest.

Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on us.

I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit within you. Ezekiel 36:26

Breathe into me, Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. Move in me, Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. Attract my heart, Holy Spirit, that I may love only what is holy. Strengthen me, Holy Spirit, that I may defend all that is holy. Protect me, Holy Spirit, that I may always be holy. ~ Saint Augustine (This one is a little long, but still one of my favorites!)

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Thy faithful and enkindle in them the fire of Thy love.

I'm not sure if I have written this here before. If I have and you've read it...mea culpa. I was going through some old journal notes, and this struck me as being forever relevant. 

I am a holy work in progress. When I was a baby Christian and surrounded by the solitary message that God loves us (which He absolutely does) so we are all okay (which we are not), I had a very hard time with people who would say that they were unworthy of God's love, or saw themselves as somehow diminished. It wasn't until I understood the sacrifice of the Cross more deeply that I came to understand what they possibly meant. 

When you see yourself against the sacrifice of the Cross, in comparison to the glory of God, we surely fall short. We are broken and wounded and dirty. And yet...He does not leave us there. The sacrifice of the Cross isn't the end of the story. Jesus rose, and He lifts us up with Him if we reach out for His hand. Our brokenness is made beautiful. Our wounds are woven together. Our stains are turned into stained glass.

We have stains, it's true 

But when Your light shines through 

We all look like stained glass windows to You. 

Jon Guerra, Stained Glass

I had my first Edel Gathering dream last night. It must be getting close! Cate reminded me that it is less than 10 weeks away - and that was a couple weeks ago. Of course, in my dream I lost my shoes and my purse, and forgot to bring a dress for the cocktail party ... and some old guy friends from high school crashed the soiree. I wasn't there last year - I'm a little off, aren't I? 

For more Quick Takes, visit This Ain't The Lyceum!

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