Winter
SPRING
with much more to come in 2010 . . .
Winter Nesting
I have a little secret.
I took the whole week off from work, just to be at home.
Just me, baby, my kitty, and a hot mug of half-caf.
Today, life feels wonderful.
The ground is snow-covered but the sun is shining brilliantly.
On the agenda for the week: NURSERY.
I am making his crib bedding and all of my fabrics have arrived so I am ready to start sewing. The palette: cream, soft sagey green, soft baby blue. I even found the perfect chandelier for a great price. I can't wait to share this truly inspiring space! I may even do my first video tour for you friends.
Here is an entirely unrelated but exceedingly gorgeous photo of Rachel Ashwell's breakfast room. Between the coffee, the sunshine, the 10 hours I slept last night, and the beauty of Ms. Ashwell's abode, I'm sufficiently motivated to take on the nursery (and the day).
An entire week of stay-cation= probably the last time I will ever have this kind of alone time in the next 18 years=the best Christmas present ever.
Hope the sun is shining where you are . . .
Breath of Heaven
The first Christmas that my husband and I were married, we sent out Christmas cards with a picture of an angel flying above Baby Jesus in the manger, placing a kiss on his precious baby cheek. The inscription read:
Tiny Breath of Heaven, How We Love You So.
I love the concept of the Christ Child as a breath of heaven: the sacred, breath of life that is sweet, gentle and renewing. Much is written this time of year about experiencing the "true meaning of the Christmas season." The phrase borders on being a tired cliche-the heart of the matter is a different story.
This Advent season, God has reminded me repeatedly that it was through the coming of Christ, as a tiny baby, that God clothed himself in humanity and experienced the trials and triumphs and challenges of human existence. It is because God so loved the world that he sent his only Son; not only to die but to LIVE. So that whatever trial, whatever emotion, whatever challenge we face, we may rest assured: He understands.
sourceAnd we are not alone.
Scripture teaches us that God is timeless. Therefore Christ's walk 2,000 years ago is as real today as it was so long ago. He has not forgotten. I think He knows the way that a blister feels on tired feet, what salty tears taste like, the weight of disappointment, the bitterness of betrayal.
My eyes this Advent are upon the anniversary of the coming of the Lord to share in my human existence. I would invite you to close your eyes, and think of the heaviest burden you carry, and then feel the true miracle of Christmas; that the One who loves you more than you can possibly imagine, was born to earth to understand your walk, to empathize, and to reconcile you to God the Father. To be your Savior.
Oh tiny Breath of Heaven, how we love you so.
Peace and Blessings this Christmas season.
Fireplace Mantel Update
Guess what I worked on this weekend with my best friend?
Still very much a work in progress, but it has come along way from the "before," which consisted of four hundred layers of dirt followed by four layers of different colors of (probably lead) paint:
Next up: a new mirror and some glass mosaic tile, as well as adhering it to the wall, finally.
**Don't worry, I promise I was not around any chemicals, paint stripper, or lead paint dust during this project. That is why I call him Mr. Marvelous! ;)**
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Labels:
Our "New Old" House
Labels:
Our "New Old" House
Homeless Man in my Dumpster
There is a homeless man living in my dumpster.
It isn't really my dumpster. It belongs to my boss and sits in our office parking lot. Nevertheless, for the past week, a man has been living in that dumpster.
You hear about that kind of thing often enough-homeless people on the street, people living, literally, in garbage.
It is cold out. Really truly cold-mid teens (Fahrenheit) and a brisk wind has been blowing all week with intermittent bits of Christmas snow.
If I was living in an episode of a one hour t.v. drama, I would invite the man home, give him a hot shower and warm meal and he would be all better by the time the credits rolled. Funny thing though about real life-it doesn't work that way. In real life, you can actually feel how cold it is standing by that dumpster. And I can hear him moving about in there when I walk past-it isn't a safe picture behind a screen. It is real.
My office is right next to the largest homeless shelter in the city. And yet this man has chosen the dumpster. The shelter will let in anyone who is not visibly intoxicated or noticeably under the influence of drugs. And because the great majority of homeless persons are mentally ill, the 50 yards between that dumpster and the warm shelter might be an incomprehensible distance. I don't know.
I just. don't. know.
When I was a little girl, I thought my daddy knew everything there was to know. No one had a better daddy. In my mind, he had all the answers, could solve all the puzzles, understood all the explanations. I distinctly remember times when growing up he would say to me, "I just don't know, Erin. I don't have all the answers." I actually got this response a lot-it had to be drilled into me that he truly didn't have all the answers. I was not quick to accept.
I now know that I was looking to the wrong father when searching for ALL the answers. My heavenly father knows. He knows everything about that man in the dumpster. Funny thing is that I can ask him WHY all day long and rarely, to be honest with you, do I hear him answer me.
Scripture tells us that we aren't meant to understand-that God's ways are not our ways and that we aren't meant to saddle ourselves with the heavy yoke of the unknown. And you know what? That is hard! I just want one of my daddies to explain to me: death, cancer, drugs, the lost. Because today it is Christmas-time and it is frigid cold and I hear a human being rolling around on top of discarded papers and food remnants every time I enter or leave my building. I want to know where his parents are; where are his friends? Where are you, Lord?
As I walk by the dumpster, my unborn son kicks from within and I am sure that God knitted together the very being of the homeless man as He is knitting together my precious son. Do I understand the suffering that created the chasm between these two children of God? No. And I have been wrestling with this all week.
Then, last night on my drive home from work, I heard Him answer. Not in the way I might have chosen and I sure wish I could have climbed in his lap and hugged him close the way I can with my daddy here on earth-you know, to ask follow-up questions and prod for an explanation that makes sense to me, here and now, with my incomplete understanding.
And yet, there He spoke. In the words of a song that He inspired, in the words of a song He knew I would hear before the musician recorded one note on paper: some say there is no hope at all but His love is strong. In a world that would drown out His sound of hope, it will be the voice that leads us home.
Did you catch that?
HOME.
On and On, by Chase:
(click above to listen to the video on Youtube)
Some say we need a miracle
Some say there is no hope at all
But I know your love is strong, it goes on and on and on and on
Rise up when it gets us down
It'll be the voice in a blaring crowd
Because we know your love will lead us home
It goes on and on and on and on
Walk in hope and wear your faith like a shield, friends. Some say there is no hope at all, but we know better.
His love will lead us home.
It isn't really my dumpster. It belongs to my boss and sits in our office parking lot. Nevertheless, for the past week, a man has been living in that dumpster.
You hear about that kind of thing often enough-homeless people on the street, people living, literally, in garbage.
It is cold out. Really truly cold-mid teens (Fahrenheit) and a brisk wind has been blowing all week with intermittent bits of Christmas snow.
If I was living in an episode of a one hour t.v. drama, I would invite the man home, give him a hot shower and warm meal and he would be all better by the time the credits rolled. Funny thing though about real life-it doesn't work that way. In real life, you can actually feel how cold it is standing by that dumpster. And I can hear him moving about in there when I walk past-it isn't a safe picture behind a screen. It is real.
My office is right next to the largest homeless shelter in the city. And yet this man has chosen the dumpster. The shelter will let in anyone who is not visibly intoxicated or noticeably under the influence of drugs. And because the great majority of homeless persons are mentally ill, the 50 yards between that dumpster and the warm shelter might be an incomprehensible distance. I don't know.
I just. don't. know.
When I was a little girl, I thought my daddy knew everything there was to know. No one had a better daddy. In my mind, he had all the answers, could solve all the puzzles, understood all the explanations. I distinctly remember times when growing up he would say to me, "I just don't know, Erin. I don't have all the answers." I actually got this response a lot-it had to be drilled into me that he truly didn't have all the answers. I was not quick to accept.
I now know that I was looking to the wrong father when searching for ALL the answers. My heavenly father knows. He knows everything about that man in the dumpster. Funny thing is that I can ask him WHY all day long and rarely, to be honest with you, do I hear him answer me.
Scripture tells us that we aren't meant to understand-that God's ways are not our ways and that we aren't meant to saddle ourselves with the heavy yoke of the unknown. And you know what? That is hard! I just want one of my daddies to explain to me: death, cancer, drugs, the lost. Because today it is Christmas-time and it is frigid cold and I hear a human being rolling around on top of discarded papers and food remnants every time I enter or leave my building. I want to know where his parents are; where are his friends? Where are you, Lord?
As I walk by the dumpster, my unborn son kicks from within and I am sure that God knitted together the very being of the homeless man as He is knitting together my precious son. Do I understand the suffering that created the chasm between these two children of God? No. And I have been wrestling with this all week.
Then, last night on my drive home from work, I heard Him answer. Not in the way I might have chosen and I sure wish I could have climbed in his lap and hugged him close the way I can with my daddy here on earth-you know, to ask follow-up questions and prod for an explanation that makes sense to me, here and now, with my incomplete understanding.
And yet, there He spoke. In the words of a song that He inspired, in the words of a song He knew I would hear before the musician recorded one note on paper: some say there is no hope at all but His love is strong. In a world that would drown out His sound of hope, it will be the voice that leads us home.
Did you catch that?
HOME.
On and On, by Chase:
(click above to listen to the video on Youtube)
Some say we need a miracle
Some say there is no hope at all
But I know your love is strong, it goes on and on and on and on
Rise up when it gets us down
It'll be the voice in a blaring crowd
Because we know your love will lead us home
It goes on and on and on and on
* * * * *
Walk in hope and wear your faith like a shield, friends. Some say there is no hope at all, but we know better.
His love will lead us home.
19
comments
Labels:
love the Lord your God
Labels:
love the Lord your God
True Blue Christmas
After catching a glimpse of this incredibly intoxicating number, I have decided that a blue Christmas may not be so bad after all.
Frankly, a girl can never have enough frills. I bet this dress is so spectacular in real life that you could even wear ballet slippers with it and forgo the heels!
Which of course would make it just perfect for things like ironing, vacuuming, and changing diapers.
Dreaming of a White Christmas?
Me too. Especially the kind of white that comes by way of crystal hardware and carrera marble countertops.
And claw foot tubs.You gettin' this Santa?
Glass lamps and white textured linens
White beaded board
and white wainscoting on the ceiling
tufted headboard, I adore you
white shelves and china
And finally my favorite bed of all time.
If you know where to locate this bed, for pity's sake, email me :) :)
That's all for now. Take it away, Bing.
All images: Decorpad
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Labels:
Inspiring Spaces
Labels:
Inspiring Spaces
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