Rest (Write 31 Days - Day 11)

Rest. Ironic, isn’t it, that this word comes on a Sunday – “the day of rest”? Sometimes this day is anything but restful! The rushing to get showered and dressed and get kids dressed, the rushing through breakfast and brushing teeth. Then time to put on shoes and somehow 1 shoe from each pair is missing!! Rush to search for a matching pair of shoes and finally head out the door, hoping we’ve remembered everything (including the baby)! Then it’s to church and rush to get kids settled in nursery and settled in the pew hoping for a few minutes rest before the service starts. The preaching is my favourite part – for many reason – but one reason is because we can just rest! We can sit back quietly (undisturbed if the children cooperate) and listen and rest! It really is a beautiful time. Because when the gospel is preached then that rest also becomes resting in the knowledge of Christ’s sacrifice for us!

Often the rest of the day, at least after we’ve had lunch, can become more restful. That is, until it’s time to leave for the evening service – then it’s a near repeat of the morning. J My rest comes in the evening. The quiet of the house and children settle to sleep. A cough here and there from girls still getting over colds. A whispered prayer for their safety through the night.  The evening is restful when I can sit down in my craft room listening to the quiet sounds of the house – Darran doing his thing, the girls sleeping. The 2 oldest are right above me and I hear when one rolls over to get more comfortable or the other one drops a book on the floor and then there’s that cough again. They are resting near peacefully and my heart can rest with them.

Sometimes I’m so weary. Not just physically tired but really weary: physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually – the whole shebang. Then I need a different kind of rest. I need to hide from the world, close the door on everything around me. I need quiet. I need something that will draw me close to God again – reading His word, prayer, and then something creative whether writing, painting, sewing. Something to let the weariness drain. That rest is the most wholesome rest I can imagine in this world.

Ready (Write 31 Days - Day 10)

The following is a work of fiction, the beginning of a short story (or maybe one day a novel?), inspired simply by the word "ready" which is our word for today's Write 31 Days, five minute free writing. It doesn't have a title, I don't even know where it's going or if it will go anywhere. I just wrote for 5 minutes. This is the first time that my 5 minute free writing took the form of a story (and that a story is the first thing that popped into my head). It was interesting to do my writing this way today. :)  Feel free to suggest a title!

Now, without further ado, ...

I thought I was ready.  I thought that it would be ok. I’d walk in, see her and things would be normal, not quite the way they used to be but still normal. One could always hope, right?

But I wasn’t ready for this. For the hatred that emanated from her. The sneer that marred her once beautiful face. It’s not my fault that I walked away from that accident with hardly any injury. It’s not my fault that I’ve been able to move on with life and have a child while she’s been given news that she will never have children of her own! I wasn’t the one driving!! Holding my little baby, I can understand how heartbroken she must be that she won’t ever be able to hold one of her own. But why does she have to hate me for something I have no control over?

I wasn’t looking forward to this gathering. It’s been a year and a half since the accident, since I saw her last as they lifted her broken body from behind that steering wheel. The truck that hit us – it came out of nowhere, blew through a light and rammed into her door.  We weren’t ready for that (who ever is?). She wasn’t ready for her life to change so dramatically.

It’s been that long since we saw each other and I’ve tried to see her earlier but she’d have nothing to do with me. Now she has no choice, we have no choice. It’s our best friend’s wedding. Can’t she put on a happy face for our friend?

I wasn’t ready to see her reaction to me. I wasn’t ready to feel her anger so strongly. Is it guilt that’s making me feel this apprehension? Guilt that I was barely hurt, that my life continued along a path I’d hoped for, almost planned for, while her’s came to a crashing halt? Maybe.

And could it be that her hurt, her anger, her apparent hatred towards me is simply because she wasn’t yet ready to see me?

Can I trust you? (Write 31 Days - Day 9, Five Minute Friday)

Day 9 of Write 21 Days is a day late. I had intended to write yet last night but the time got away from me and I ended up Skyping with my brother. :) This day is also part of Five Minute Friday.

Trust

Of the words that could describe how people relate to each other, I think that trust is the most difficult to accomplish. You can like (or dislike) someone quite easily. Even love can come pretty easily. Honour/respect is easily given (and easily proven to be deserved). But trust? It takes a lot of time and a lot of proving before I can trust someone. I find it easier to trust God than people. This, I hear, is unusual. But God has proven Himself over and over again that He is trustworthy. And people hurt people. It’s not even the physical hurt that’s the worst. It’s the emotional, mental, spiritual hurt that’s worst. I’ve been hurt too many times. People can be jerks. There are many people I like but few I trust. Trust requires me to be vulnerable, to let my guard down. But fear keeps me from doing that – “what if they hurt me too?” There are many people I like and I feel as though I should be able to trust them. But I just can’t bring myself to put down my guard. Trustworthiness needs to be proven but for it to be proven you need to give them something to prove themselves in! A vicious cycle. How do I let people prove that they are trustworthy? How do I learn to trust again?

I seem to have this 6^th sense, for lack of a better term, this gut feeling, this instinct that’s been proven time and time again. There are people that I meet that I just get this strong feeling (instinct) that they are NOT trustworthy. It’s always been proven true. I’ve learned to trust my instinct (in these situations and in others that have nothing to do with trust). I’ve seen others trust these people (and I want to warn them! … and sometimes I do) and they ALWAYS end up hurt. So I trust that instinct. But often with people I meet, I don’t get that feeling. Meaning, these people should be people I can trust. But, I just can’t let myself open up, or let down my guard with them! Why not?! How can I learn to trust again? And why should everyone have to prove themselves? People will hurt other people, not always intentionally. And I need to allow for unintentional hurt and still call a person trustworthy. Is this inability to trust standing in the way of potentially great friendships? Trust is hard. I want to learn to trust again.

The Purple Caterpillar (Write 31 Days - Day 8)

So I've been drawing a blank all day thinking about our word for today: purple. What on earth could I write? All that was running through my head was the pome "The Purple Cow" by Gelett Burgess and his later response to his own poem. So, this evening my 5 year old, Annalise, and I were driving around to do some shopping and I asked her what she thought of purple. And she told me she loves purple because purple is the colour of the sunset and when the sun shines on the purple you see a rainbow of purples in the sunset and it's beautiful. She went on to say that if you get to see the purple sunset in the mountains, it makes the mountains look purple and that's also very beautiful. Then she said, "what about a purple caterpillar?!" And that kind of stuck (but the purple sunset too), so this one is for her (and I even quickly scribbled out a picture to go with it for her)! :)  One of my quickest written poems (5 minutes) and most enjoyable to write. :) Annalise is in bed now so I will have to show her the poem and picture in the morning when she wakes. But I think she'll like them both. :)

The Purple Caterpillar

Purple, fuzzy caterpillar,

prancing through the grass

Stops to sniff a dandelion

            with just a touch of sass.

She whistles to the lady bird

            sings low with the beetle

laughs along with Dragon fly

            and giggles with the weevil.

As the evening sun hangs low

            she hums a quiet tune,

gazing at the purple sky,

            as she slips in her cocoon.

Love is ... (Write 31 Days - Day 7)

Love is hugs and kisses.

Love is wiping noses and cleaning up vomit – and remembering the sick girl cuddles.

Love is cleaning bums and clothes – and praying over the girls that own them.

Love is cooking dinner – and praying blessings over your family.

Love is cleaning up … again – and listening to the echoes of laughter, and sometimes, shouts and tears, that fill the walls of this house.

Love is folding laundry – and remembering the reasons they got dirty, the active imaginations of girls growing.

Love is wiping down the bathroom – and remembering the long journeys of potting training (and dreading the future potty training for the one still in diapers).

Love is hugs and kisses – for sweet girls that grow too fast, just wanting to hold them young a second longer.

And older photo (last Christmas) but a perfect picture of love. :)

Possible (Write 31 Days - Day 6)

Day 6 of Write 31 Days. I'm tired + it's late = not my favourite writing. I don't even know if it makes sense (totally didn't even read back on it as then I'd probably want to edit the whole thing and that's against the rules of the whole free writing thing). :)  Here's my writing on today's word: possible.

START

Possible

What a hope filled word! Possible! It just opens a whole word of doors, right? Just think of all the possibilities that come from getting an education – something even as simple as learning to read! Or in impoverished countries, for example the video that’s currently making it’s way around Facebook – an impoverished young man in Africa, born deaf, unable to communicate. Then in comes another African man who communicates in sign language and teaches the deaf people in the area! Suddenly the possibilities for this young man have increased dramatically! Simply from learning to “speak”! Beautiful!

I like looking for possibilities in little things. Just tonight, after a rather exhausting day, I went thrift store shopping – needing to find things for Halloween costumes and a birthday party. But while I was browsing for those items, I was looking for possibilities – possibilities to use my creativity. I need to use my hands for something creative again! Perhaps a canvas that can be remade into something beautiful? Plenty of possibilities, just not the right one. Then I found a pillowcase. A beautiful vintage pillowcase. And I saw what was possible, it’s potential (to use a synonym). This pillowcase, with a bit of tweaking, will make a beautiful pillowcase dress for a little girl! And really, most people probably pass it by thinking, “what would I want with someone’s old, used pillowcase?” But that’s the beauty of seeing the possible, seeing something that can be but isn’t yet. Anything is possible if you just open your eyes to see!

STOP

Home (Write 31 Days - Day 5)

Day 5 of Write 31 Days. It's a little bit late today - busy day. But it is here! :) Five minutes of free writing.  Today's word is home.

START

Home

Home. What a warm and inviting word! A place where love grows (and multiplies ;) ). A place of hope, comfort, security, joy. If you’d hear someone describe a place as one of “hope, comfort, security, joy” you’d expect to find a place that’s calm, neat, orderly. Right? Not my home. :) It abounds in joy, so my joyful children leave their play things all over the place (certainly not tidy!). It abounds in hope, so we have a lot of inspiring things to look at and read, and words of hope to give each other when we’re sad or frightened. It abounds in comfort, so there a lots of hugs and kisses and warm, cozy blankets. It abounds in security, so we have locks on the doors and our own burglar defence system: My Little Ponies left in front of the doors and at the bottom of stairs! lol Seriously though, how do you really identify the things that represent abstract ideas/feelings that you know are there in the home but so difficult to pin down?  Our home is full (but always has room for more). The voices of 3 children echo through the halls. Echoes of laughter, anger, music, joy. Home is a place of love, a place I love.

I used to feel like home was where I moved from when I was a little girl (Southern Alberta) and part of me still really feels at home there. Then home was a more central part of Alberta (Edmonton area). I enjoyed my life there (most of the time).  Then home became Chilliwack, BC. I had put down good roots there but those were somewhat destroyed and I moved again. This time to Winnipeg, MB. I never thought this would be home. I just thought it would be a place to live until I found a better home. But I put down good, strong roots here (even though I didn’t expect it). A job that was so fulfilling, and then meeting my husband. :) And then we had kids – 3 beautiful girls! And these roots? Well, these are here to stay. Home.

STOP