Morning Moments

It's 5:30 am.  The sun is just starting to brighten the sky.  I can see the color of morning peeking through my bedroom curtains as I pull myself out of bed.

It is a rare moment when my house is quiet.  I tie on my sneakers, kiss my sleeping husband goodbye and head out the front door.

I'm not a runner, but I pretend to be.

I don't know what sparked me to take this up now.  I was the girl who tried to hide in the bathroom on Mile Run Day in gym class.  But here I am, a 30 year old mother of 6, getting up with the sun...to run.

I hop off the last step, breathe in the clean morning air and try to keep up a good pace.  I'm not impressed with myself.  The road feels so much longer than it looks.  But it feels good to sweat, to feel alive.

I drag myself back up the steps and sneak into that still sleeping house.  No one even noticed I was gone.  No one waiting to cheer me on.  My legs are weak and I'm out of breath, but it's a beautiful pain.

I shower and dress and start my coffee.  I wrap my hands around my mug and take a seat on the front step.  I soak in the moment.  The birdsongs are filling the air.  Dew drops are sparkling on the grass and lining a spider's web.  My Bible lays open on my knees and I pray for strength for the day.

This moment is pure peace.

I take a walk around my yard.  I look for new blooms on my plants and pull a few weeds.  I say good morning to the chickens.

My coffee mug is empty and I walk back inside just as the children are starting to stir.

Within minutes this quiet house erupts with energy.  6 little ones are recharged and calling for me.  My husband's alarm clock is screaming.  I'm making breakfast and filling bellies.

My moment is gone...but I carry the peace with me.

Linking up with Lydia!

Pulling Weeds

I was inspired by reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts to start my own list of simple blessings.  As I was reading over my list I found that I had written a particular blessing 3 separate times.

In this list full of beautiful things and treasured moments, there 3 times I had been so moved that I wrote "pulling weeds" in my thanksgiving journal.

I'm sure most gardener's would not count their weeds as a blessing.  My flowerbed is cluttered with them and they grow more abundant that anything else in my yard.

Pulling the weeds has been a huge job, but it is a gift.

I love those moments where I stand bent over my garden, face flushed and dripping in sweat from the Summer sun.  Dirt under my fingernails and between my toes.  My hands are busy picking and choosing which plants will stay and which must go.

I take out my frustrations on those weeds.  It gives me time to think, or maybe not think, if that's what I really need.

By pulling out what's not necessary I'm leaving behind only the beauty.

And there is the blessing.

My little garden is so bare.  I don't know what I am doing.
I am a complete beginner and maybe that's why I find so much joy in each new flower...it feels like a little victory, a plant that I didn't kill.

When I pull the weeds I can see all my little victories in full bloom.

Now if only I could pull all the weeds in my life.  All the ugliness that is hiding the beauty.  All the clutter that keeps me from growing.  All the lies and hurts that hide the sunshine...

God is the perfect gardener.  He doesn't get tired.  He doesn't forget to water.  He is there ever watching and waiting  to nurture me.  He has a beautiful plan for me and knows what I need to grow.  Sometimes it means pulling some weeds.

Stolen Moments

It is hard to find quiet time with God in the midst of my crazy days.  I live for stolen moments...those quiet times when I can sneak away to read my Bible or pray.  It's these moments that recharge me and calm my heart. 

I wrote this song in a stolen moment...and as I tried to record it you can hear the kids playing in the background and my toddler walking into the room...but that made it even more special.  I hope this song inspires you to find joy in your stolen moments.

God knows my favorite color

Our kitchen truly is the center of our home.  It is where we cook and eat, homeschool and make crafts.  The walls are lined with little fingerprints, spills and crayon art.

I have been wanting to paint for the last year and a half that we have lived here but it was never within our budget.  Every time I tried to save up for it, something else always came up.

It was hard to be patient and I tried to be content, but this is where I spend most of my day, every day and the stained walls were really getting to me.

A few weeks ago I was going through the stack of paint samples that I had been collecting.  I finally decided on one, "Sanctuary" by Behr, and stuck it on my fridge.  I was determined to save up for it this time, even if only with my change jar.

One morning over coffee, my sister-in-law's eyes began to sparkle, "Do you want to paint your kitchen?"  She ran up to her attic, pulled out the cans of leftover paint she had and marched over to my house. (She recently moved in next door!)

The next thing I know, she is brushing dark green color on my kitchen wall.

Her home is beautiful with rich, warm colors, but I know they are too dark for my husband's taste.  I really liked it but she suggested that we add a little white to it.  She poured her whole gallon of green paint into a bucket of white and when she stirred it, it became this beautiful and soft green; the color of rosemary.

I grabbed the paint chip off of my fridge and held it up to where she had brushed it on the wall.  It was a perfect match!  We could not have made it any closer if we had tried.

I started to cry.  Here were 3 gallons of paint, in my favorite color, just handed to me.

God gave me "Sanctuary" just to make me smile.