Beach Blessings

We're at the beach!!!  In honor of a South Myrtle break from the norm, here's a list of special beach blessings from the week so far:

1.  Lovely weather.  An occasional brief thunderstorm, but nothing that has kept us from the beach or the pool, both of which are dearly loved by our Elder One.  The Younger One is a bit more skittish, but finally enjoyed the pool last night.  He enjoys the beach sand, but still runs away from the water!

2.  Mid-week calm.  The crowds were nuts on Monday but haven't been so bad mid-week.  And we go out early enough that we get some relaxing time before the Sun-lovers emerge. 

3.  No cooking!  Well, not much.  We cook some breakfast food and an occasional meal, but mostly we survive on sandwiches and dining out, which is such a great break for me.  I get so tired of trying to decide what's for dinner.

4.  Fried oysters!  And the price hasn't gone up yet, much to our surprise.  Eating them actually makes me a little sad, thinking about how much is being destroyed in the Gulf.  But I still love them.

5.  Fun with family.  Our yearly beach vacation is always with my family.  My very generous parents have time shares they let us use.  So each family (us, bro & fam, parents) has their own space, but also time to be together, which is pretty much the only time we're all together.  I'm sad for my kids that they don't get to grow up with their cousins the way that I was able to, but they have a blast the rare times they're together.  It's been fun to watch their sweet silliness.  It's great that all 4 of them are within a few years of each other.

6.  Rest.  We're not high-activity vacationers, so our days aren't frenetic.  Typically, we go to the beach in the morning, rest in the afternoon, get dinner and then hit the pool in the evening.  Though we're staying south of Myrtle, we never actually go into Myrtle.  Vacations with small ones are never completely relaxing, but we're also not exhausted by our week off.  It works for us.  And we get cable!  This is a particular treat.  Right now we're watching Top Chef!   I find this show fascinating, but I have to mute it occasionally when it gets too tense :). 

Our Week in Pictures

Some moments from our week:

Watercolor painting over crayon leaf rubbings:

Outside silliness:

Hanging pictures, finally! (note the tiny photo of our cute chubby babies - I'm not one who longs for the baby days, but they were pretty stinkin' adorable):

Chocolate Peanut Butter!!!  That stuff is awesome!

A really bad picture of Elder One's puppet show at the end of this week's Puppet Camp.  The show was "Save the Whale," which the animals did with a crane which threw the whale back in the ocean.  Then they all sang "We Are the Champions!"  The tiny yellow blur is Elder's puppet chick.  I know I'm biased, but she did so well!  Of course, it'll be no surprise to anyone who knows her that she's good at being dramatic.

Learning to do a flip on the bar all by herself!  It seems like just yesterday that she was completely freaked out by being upside down.  Amazing.

Going down the slide all by himself, which he seems to forget how to do periodically.  It's not like riding a bike, I guess!

Painting with popsicle sticks (which even the Little One did) and making a Nature Princess crown & necklace:

My Little Prince & Princess:

The Princess even made an art piece for the Prince - unusual generosity, but it made my heart smile.  In case you're unable to tell (!), it's a Hello Kitty obstacle course complete with bouncy house, carnival games, slide, monkey bars and Hello Kitty balloons.  Sounds fun to me!

Homemade Chocolate Peanut Butter Blueberry Banana Yogurt Popsicles.  You can throw anything you want to in those things!

And last, but definitely not least, a stack of luggage almost ready to be thrown into the van for our trip to the beach - woohoo!  Hubby has been at camp this week, and he's the packer in our family, but he left me a list, and I think I may manage to get it all together without forgetting anything crucial (though we won't know for a couple days, will we?)!

Lucky or Blessed?

I talked with one of my best friends in the whole world the other night.  I really need to do that more often - pick up the phone and call her and other friends scattered about, as I always end up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, even when we're talking about serious stuff!  It's so good to have those kinds of friends - the ones you can be completely yourself with, in all your glory and gore.  And as it takes me a long time to make those kinds of friends, most of mine are not local.  Must pick up the phone more often!

But that's not what I intended to talk about in this post.  In my conversation with the above-mentioned friend, we briefly talked about our struggle with the term "blessed."  And the idea that God is in control of everything, so we are never just lucky, always blessed.  I don't buy that.  I can't accept that my fortune makes me more or less blessed by God than someone else.  And as I am nearing the 4-year-anniversary mark for some particularly good fortune, I've been thinking about that a lot.

Almost exactly four years ago, it was discovered that I have a dime-sized hole in my heart.  An Atrial Septal Defect, to be specific.  It's something I was born with, but it wasn't discovered until my ob/gyn heard a heart murmur (for the first time since I was a small child) and sent me off to a cardiologist to get it checked out.  The cardiologist (who happened to be the head of Duke cardiology - lucky?) listened to the murmur, thought there was nothing to it and almost sent me home.  But he decided to order an echo test, just in case.  And so it was discovered that I have this hole, and that even though I had no symptoms at that point, my heart had already started to deform from it.  Eventually, probably around the age of 40, I would've started to have congestive heart failure.  But instead, within a few days I was in the hospital with one of the best doctors in the world for this particular condition, having an amplatzer device placed over that hole using only a catheter (not open-heart surgery), which was a relatively new and rare procedure that's only done a few places.  And now my heart is fine, and should always be fine (at least, related to that hole).  But I still have that heart murmur.  It's completely unrelated to the hole.

Usually, when I end this story, I say something like, "I am very, very lucky...or blessed."  And if I don't add that "or blessed" at the end, the listener will often do it for me.  But I have a hard time with that.  I'm not sure I really want to use that word.  I'm afraid it implies something I don't mean.

There are many points in my hole-in-the-heart narrative at which the story could've taken a very different turn.  The first cardio could've sent me home without the echo test.  The ob/gyn could've missed the murmur (the cardio was actually surprised that she heard such a faint murmur), or decided not to refer me on.  I could've been living in an area without a top-notch hospital.  I could've been one of the many young Americans without insurance (which means I never would've even seen the cardiologist, much less had the expensive test, I'm sure).  I could've been born in a country without such advanced testing and surgical equipment.  I could've, I could've, I could've....  I wasn't, but I could've.

And for many others, their stories do take different turns than mine.  They were born in another country; they don't have insurance; they see a doctor (maybe even the same doctor) who makes a different decision on that particular day; they have no symptoms at all so there's no reason to get any test.  And so their condition is not diagnosed until there's major heart damage, if it's diagnosed at all.  Does that mean they're less blessed than me?  That God cares more for me than for them?  Or that God saved me for some particular purpose, but their purpose wasn't great enough to warrant saving? 

My holey heart cries out No, No, No!  That can't be right.  I am not more worthy or more loved.  In some ways, I am just lucky.

So where is God in all this?  It's so tricky to try to define God's work.  I don't really know exactly how God works in the world, but I believe it's more relational than puppet-master-y.  There's too much human error in the world for me to believe God's controling it all.  But I do believe God's Spirit is at work in and among us.  I believe God was nudging those doctors to make those decisions.  And nudging me to take the murmur seriously, even though the murmur turned out to be nothing.  But I also believe we could've made different decisions on those days.  We could've been distracted or worried or excited about something else and completely missed those nudges.  And my life would've turned out very differently.  But that doesn't mean God would've cared for me any less, or been less involved in my life.  I believe God would still have been nudging, hoping, pushing, working in my life to make it the best life it could possibly be.  As I believe God does for us all. 

My friend says she has a sermon written in her head about being lucky.  I hope I get to hear it someday, as I'm having a hard time coming up with good words for this struggle.  But for now, I think that rather than saying I'm "very, very lucky...or blessed,"  I'll say, "I'm very, very lucky AND blessed." 

Books, Books, Glorious Books!

I am a reader (as if the above title didn’t give that away!). I love to read, but I’m not particularly well-read. I usually read fun books – mystery novels, mostly. If God could somehow message me with the number of mystery novels I’ve read over the last few years, I’m sure I’d be shocked. Hours and hours and hours I’ve spent with these books. With an occasional non-fiction or serious lit kind of book thrown in. I’ve started 2 book clubs (at each of my last 2 churches), partly to encourage myself to read something other than a mystery novel! But I have expanded my horizons through mysteries. I’ve learned some history and experienced some cultures I’d know little or nothing about without these books. Admittedly, though, my goal in this reading is not to expand my mind. Mainly I just read them for fun.

I don’t buy books, though.  Ever.  Unusual for a reader, I know.  I just borrow them. Mostly from the library, sometimes from generous friends! 

A few years ago, just before Lent, my sweet husband innocently suggested I give up books for Lent, as Lauren Winner writes about in Girl Meets God. I was horrendously offended! While I’m not quite as addicted to them as Winner was, books are often my lifeline. At that time, Our Girl was small, I was struggling with this little creature who was so different than I expected, and I was often home alone. Books helped me maintain my sanity, and the idea of giving them up induced a panicky feeling. When my own life was too overwhelming, or too boring, or just too ordinary, I escaped into another world. It wasn’t usually a world I wanted to live in, just a world it was fun to visit in my mind.

These days, I think I could survive 40 days without books (after all, I could read blogs instead! – though that might defeat the Lenten purpose). And maybe someday I will give up books for Lent, or at least mystery novels. But surprisingly, my goal for this summer is to read more, not less. More non-fiction among the mysteries. I currently have Blue Like Jazz and Blood Brothers on my nightstand in my “To-Read” pile. I also need to find To Kill a Mockingbird for book club, but I’m finding it hard to pick that one up since I’ve read it before (even though I was only 18 when I read it, and I’m sure it’ll be a different experience reading it this time). I’m waiting for a Barbara Kingsolver book to be available at the library, and it seems like I’ve got one more book at home somewhere that I’m forgetting. If I’m not careful, I’m going to overwhelm myself! I love that I can go online and request books from the library so I don’t even need to find them on the shelf (which is difficult with small ones).

I’m currently reading Brian McLaren’s A New Kind of Christianity. I read in another blog that it started strong and ended strong but kind of bogged down in the middle, which I would say has been my experience as well. There are some bits that I’ve really had to slog through, as I’m out of the habit of reading theology. But I’m very thankful I picked it up (I’m almost finished). I appreciate McLaren’s generosity of spirit and theology. I heard him speak once, and he seems like a genuinely kind man. I’m grateful for this particular book as it provides me with a vocabulary for explaining much of what I believe about God, Jesus, the Bible, etc. I’ve never been good at debating. I can memorize facts and words for a test, but I don’t hold onto them in my head very well, and sometimes I have a hard time verbalizing what I believe. Particularly when the foundation is a bit different than people often expect for a Baptist minister’s wife. But McLaren explains it all pretty well (in 259 pages), or at least gives me a good place to start, and this is one book I almost wish I had bought rather than borrowed!

I'm always looking for new books to read, so please let me know if you have any suggestions.  Fiction or non-fiction.  About the only thing I won't read is horror or something completely depressing, particularly if the depressing book is fiction - I don't want to escape into a world that just makes me cry.  Other than that, I'm wide open (or at least trying to be)!

A Crafty Father's Day

This past week, my Elder Child and I actually did a couple of the art projects on my list. And they led perfectly into some Father’s Day gifts! Was this advance-planning on my part? Or just a divine gift? Perhaps a little of both, as I never plan too far ahead, but I do try to plan a little.

Our first project involved making wrapping paper! If you have ever received a gift from me at any time other than Christmas, it was probably wrapped in solid green paper (the only generic Christmas paper we have) or butcher paper the elder child has drawn on. You may think, “Ah, how crafty.” But really it’s just lack of advance planning. I NEVER have non-Christmas paper in the house. And I never remember this fact until the hour before we’re supposed to leave for the birthday party. So when I found this idea for making wrapping paper here (look in the comments section for the idea of using this art technique for wrapping paper), I pounced on it! Here’s what we did.

First, cover a large piece of cardboard with shaving cream. You could also use a big pan or even just your table – any flat surface will do. Just smear, smear, smear that shaving cream – this is incredibly therapeutic. I encourage you to join in with your kid! Then drop some liquid watercolor paint in the shaving cream and smear around again. The Elder One used a popsicle stick to smear the paint:

When it’s smeary enough for you (but not so smeary that it’s become a brown-grey blob), place a piece of large fingerpaint paper on the shaving cream. Now mash, mash, mash that paper down (also therapeutic). Lift up, and voila – smeary paper. Here’s the hardest part – scrape off the shaving cream. I first tried using a spatula, but it didn’t work well. I finally just used a paper towel.

The finished paper looked like this: 

And the finished present looked like this: 

We were pleased with our first attempt at making wrapping paper ahead of time!

Inside of that present was another arty project – this time done with both kids. The Younger Child is often leery of messy art, but this one even he was able to do (for a moment at least). Here are the kiddoes with their Dad and the modern masterpieces they made for him to hang on his office wall:

(Full disclosure: I actually did the splatter painting on the Younger’s masterpiece – it looked a little mushroom-cloudy beforehand, though sweet hubby says it looks like a tree. Even my art-interpretation leans toward worrying/pessimism – argh!  And does Daddy look a little tired here on Father's Day morning?  Too bad the kiddoes won't ever give us the sleeping-in present!).

The Elder One and I also collaborated in making some wall-hangings for Pops and Paw-Paw.  The Elder one drew pictures on white fabric with fabric markers, and then I sewed them with onto some more fabric and backing for a simple hanging.  But I forgot to take pictures before we gave them away!

I am very grateful for three wonderful fathers in my life:  my own great dad, my sweet husband-who-is-a-great-dad, and my great father-in-law.  My kids and I are multiply blessed to have such "bright" men in our lives!

Dark Chocolate

I found a blog today called A Preacher Musing, and one of the things he writes on his About Me page is:

"I believe the verse about tasting and knowing that God is good refers to dark chocolate."

Love it!

My Sweet One

I posted some pictures of our Elder Child last week, but none of the Younger One, which is an oversight I will now remedy. Here’s our Beautiful Boy:

He is definitely one of the brightest spots of my life. I still gaze in awe at him, and thank God for this great gift. He’s so very different from his sister. While “Sissy” (his name for her) is a wildly out-going, extremely independent, always on-the-go kind of child, our Buddy-O (my name for him) is quiet in public, happy to play on his own occasionally, and more eager to please. People who never see him at home sometimes think he hardly talks. But at home he talks all the time! And what he says continually amazes me.

Since Sissy struggled for much of her preschool years with communication and sensory issues, I am often surprised by how much Buddy-O can do, and how much more fun these preschool years are with him. Now, don’t get me wrong. He’s still a 2-year-old. He can be stubborn and whiney and knows how to throw a fit. And as for Sissy, I love her with every fiber of my being. But I worried and worried and worried about her and about whether I was the best mother for her. I don’t worry so much about him. Even when he shows some signs of small sensory issues (like refusing to get into a pool or freaking out about food on his hands), I don’t worry so much about it. I’m sure part of that is that he’s the second child, and Sissy definitely broke us in well! But part of it is that he’s just easier. For now, anyway. Maybe someday that will change.

Being a parent is hard, with any child, but Buddy-O came along at a time when I needed to be reminded that being a parent is also a lot of fun – with both kids. So many smiles. So much laughter! It’s easy to get bogged down in the daily routine and small (and big) disappointments of life, but my kids each remind me that life can also be a bright adventure full of exciting new experiences and joys. My Sweet One and My Bright One:

A Vision of Church

My favorite workday is Thursday, the day when I am usually the only one in the office for a chunk of time. The day when I can listen to whatever I want without worrying about bothering those around me. The day I usually listen to God Complex Radio. But last week, there was no new episode of GCR, so instead I listened to a Dr. Sam Wells sermon.

Dr. Wells is the Dean of Duke Chapel. As many of you know, I went to Duke as an undergrad. Those were the Will Willimon days. But a few years ago, I got to tag along when my boss interviewed Dr. Wells for his TV show. Dr. Wells had just been installed as the new Dean, and since that day I have periodically read manuscripts of Dr. Wells’s sermons. Only recently, though, have I started listening to them. Even better! After all, he’s got a British accent!

Yesterday I listened to his Pentecost sermon. Pentecost was a few weeks ago, but I missed the service at my own church because it was my day for nursery duty. I think I picked the Pentecost sermon because I was looking for something hopeful. Something exciting and new. I’ve been feeling a little down lately; in a bad funk, frankly. We’ve passed the one-year mark in our new home, and I’ve been questioning my place in this community. But Pentecost, that original Pentecost, was an amazing day of new beginnings and a new kind of community. Seemed like a good place for me to start.

In his sermon, Dr. Wells speaks of the church as “One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic” (from the Nicene Creed). That’s the ideal church, anyway. We all know it doesn’t live up to the ideal. It has it’s all-too-brief moments of oneness, holiness, diversity and mission. But rarely all at once. And all too often the Church seems to be just the opposite of those noble attributes. And yet, it has a hold on me.

Here is where the sermon really grabbed me: Dr. Wells quotes from Rose Macaulay’s semi-autobiographical novel The Towers of Trebizond. I’ve never read this novel, but it apparently traces the story of Laurie, who is traveling in the Middle East and struggling with her vision of the church. And in the novel Laurie has a dream in which the city of Trebizond is transformed into the kingdom of God, and she says:

At the secret heart of the city and the legend and the glory in which I was caught and held, there was some pattern that I could not unravel, some hard core that I could not make my own, and, seeing the pattern and the hard core enshrined within the walls, I turned back from the city and stood outside it, expelled in mortal grief. (200-201)

Since hearing those words, I’ve been entranced by that picture: “…the glory in which I was caught and held, there was some pattern that I could not unravel…[and I] stood outside it….”

Because though I am a member of one church and work for another, though I have an M.Div. degree and sometimes dream about working as a minister again someday, though I read a lot about Church (big C) and church (little c) in blogs and books and articles, I often feel like I’m standing on the outside looking in. Like there’s some puzzle I can’t quite figure out. Wondering, sometimes, why this beautiful dream church continues to speak to me when I often feel so disconnected from the actual church. Wondering why I continue to hope for the ideal, for the church which ushers in the kingdom of God, when I’m more likely to be dismayed by pettiness, apathy, silliness, insularity, even hurtfulness.

Hopeful and dismayed. That seems to sum up my relationship with the church. I know some people have a much more positive relationship with the church. Of you, I’m a bit jealous. And I know others have a much more negative relationship with the church. To you, I’m so sorry for the hurt we have caused.

I still say “we” in the previous sentence. Even though there are days, weeks (months?) when I would like to quit the church, it holds me still, even on the edges. Why is this? Is it only because my husband is a minister and it would be rather embarrassing for him if I quit? Is it because I spent so much time and money on getting a degree that is supposed to be used in a church? Is it because I’ve spent so much of my life in church that I just can’t fathom a break from it?

Yes, partly, I suspect all those things are true. Partly, but not wholly.

For, in the words of Laurie again:

[The church] grew so far, almost at once, from anything which can have been intended, and became so blood-stained and persecuting and cruel and war-like and made small and trivial things so important, and tried to exclude everything not done in a certain way and by certain people, and stamped out heresies with such cruelty and rage. And this failure of the Christian Church, of every branch of it in every country, is one of the saddest things that has happened in all the world. But it is what happens when a magnificent idea has to be worked out by human beings who do not understand much of it but interpret it in their own way and think they are guided by God, whom they have not yet grasped. And yet they had grasped something….(195-96)

And so I stay in this broken church because I, too, grasp something. Something of the brightness of a “one, holy, catholic, apostolic” community. Something of the beauty that God intended, marred though it is by human frailty. When I am overwhelmed by the failure of myself and of this community, I still grasp for it. Sometimes I grasp with only a weak, half-hearted reach, and sometimes with a clawing, determined lunge. I may not always know why this bright vision of church has a hold on me, but for now, I can’t let it go. For now, bright hope wins over dark dismay. Because when the church gets it right, it truly is bright.

Letting Laurie have the last word: “It is a wonderful and most extraordinary pageant of contradictions, and I, at least, want to be inside it.”

A Cool, Crafty Mom?

Some time back, I discovered the world of crafty mother blogs (“crafty” as in making stuff, not as in wily like a fox). If you haven’t discovered this world yet, let me tell you, there are lots of moms out there documenting the amazing things they’re doing with and for their families and homes. Things that involve food, art, crafts, gardening, decorating, sewing, caring for the earth and each other, etc. A couple of the more famous (and published) crafty moms that I check out are SouleMama and Angry Chicken. And, of course, there’s the uber-famous Pioneer Woman. My personal favorite for practical application to my own life is probably Artful Parent.

I love checking out these blogs, which I do almost every day. I love looking at their beautiful pictures and reading their sweet and witty posts. I love imagining how I could incorporate some of their crafty genius into our own home. And occasionally, I actually try! But sometimes (often), I am intimidated by how cool and productive these other moms are.

I just don’t measure up. While I occasionally do projects with my kids or work on something for our home, it’s only occasionally. I have a list of art activities to try with the kids that is still just that – a list. My house is generally a wreck, and while I’m trying to help us to clean and eat ethically and sustainably as much as possible, there’s much room for improvement. It took me a month or more to make one set of pretty simple curtains. How in the world do these crafty moms get so much done?!?

I have to remind myself that for a lot of these moms, that’s their job. I don’t have that luxury – working outside the home is a necessity for me. A sometimes life-giving, sometimes mind-numbing, but always essential necessity. So I just don’t have as much time to do cool things at home or with my family. But I suspect that even if I were able to be a stay-at-home mom, I still wouldn’t be that productive. I’m just not that driven. And it bugs me.

But in some unfathomable way both natured and nurtured, this is who I am. I plan a little, but not too much. I clean and cook a little, but not too much. I create and play, but not too much. I read – a lot. I wish I were more productive, and I will continue to challenge myself to use time more wisely (which includes resting and playing wisely), but I’m also seeing the brightness in my make-up. I don’t stress about a clean house, perfect meals, well-planned family activities. I can choose when and where to use my own minimal crafty talents. I rest. And this is the biggest challenge to myself – to rest well, without the guilt. To actually re-charge.

Because when I do accomplish something, I love it! Even when it’s very simple, like these curtains that took me so long to make:

The quality of my photos isn't great, but the curtains are a light yellow with brighter trim.  The walls are a light yellowy green (thanks to my productive husband!).  Their bright cheeriness makes me smile when I walk into the dining room.

And I love that My Bright One can have a craft free-for-all in that same dining room, without any plan or structure. Like yesterday, when she made these:

She made 2 bracelets, an anklet and a back belt (?) that says “Litning Star” on it. I told her she looked fancy. She said, “No, I look cool!” Maybe she can be cool for both of us!

My Bright One

My Girl’s name means “Bright.” That makes me smile! She has certainly brought much brightness to my life. And now My Bright One is finishing her first year of school – Oh My!

A year ago at this time, we were living with my in-laws, waiting for our NC house closing, desperately looking for a house here, and worrying, worrying, worrying about what we should do with our Bright One when school started. At least, I was worrying. I think my husband was taking it all in stride a bit better than me!

Our girl has an end-of-the-summer birthday and had struggled through her preschool years with Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD). General wisdom seemed to demand that we keep her out of public school for one more year. But we were new here and we didn’t know where to put her in preschool that would be appropriate for her needs. Her SPD is helped by daily structure, and academically she was ready for Kindergarten. But emotionally and socially and developmentally? I just wasn’t sure. And I worried and I worried.

But all for naught! Every preschool year, we had gone through weeks and weeks of difficult transition, but from the very first day, our Bright One has thrived in Kindergarten. We are much indebted to her wonderful teacher, Mrs. B., who encouraged her and loved her and cared for her in all her sweet & sassiness. Our Bright One skips merrily off to the bus stop each morning and jumps off the bus with a big smile on her face every afternoon. What a beautiful gift!

While I expect I will never completely rid myself of my worrying instincts, perhaps remembering this year will help me to be a little more like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field (and my name means “Lily” – hah!).

Here is My Bright One on her first day of Kindergarten:

And here she is during her last week!

To Blog or Not to Blog...

That has been the question for many months now. I thought I had decided against it. After all, I’m not particularly insightful or witty. I don’t have any particular skill. And while I’m not exactly a technophobe, neither am I enthralled with technology. Generally, I only learn that which I deem to be necessary, and let’s face it, a personal blog for a rather ordinary individual is hardly necessary! So just figuring out how to do it was a big hurdle for me to jump (even though, yes, it is pretty easy!).

Then I read this by Bruce Reyes-Chow, and I decided to jump.

Reyes-Chow approaches blogging as a spiritual discipline – that’s a challenging and surprisingly inviting idea to me. I say "surprisingly" because writing is something I usually avoid, and typically I am more comfortable outside of community than inside of it. I am not in any real position of leadership (except, possibly, as a mom, and sometimes I’m not sure who’s leading who in that relationship!), and speaking up is not something I do easily. I’m much more likely to be a blog lurker than a commenter.   Heck, I agonize over even the simplest facebook updates.  Finding the right words can be difficult for me.

So why should I blog? Because sometimes I do actually have something to say. I was reminded of this when given the chance to speak for a few minutes during worship on Mother’s Day. I think I had forgotten that there might be someone other than my husband, parents and close friends who might care about what I say. At the very least, blogging gives me an outlet for the words that tumble around in my head, whether anyone else pays attention to them or not (and the “starting a blog” advice I read suggests I should assume no one will pay attention!).

So why should I blog? Because writing something out helps ME to pay attention. My life is pretty ordinary – I go to work, I cook, I sometimes clean, I spend time with children, I hopefully spend time with my husband, I go to church, I watch TV, I occasionally sew, I sleep. It’s easy to roll with the day-to-day flow without paying much attention to the gift that God has given me – my own life and the life that teems all around me.

So I’m hoping that blogging will be a spiritual discipline for me – a way to notice and reflect. A way to connect with far-off friends and family though a little more than facebook status updates. A way to document a bit of life for my kids. Maybe even a way to connect with online community. But mostly I decided to attempt this blog thing as a reminder to myself to pay attention to this bright life.