This winter I planted wildflowers with my little boy. Tiny seeds that I poured from a paper envelope into the palm of his hand have grown into brilliant little shoots of green in tiny peat pots. In the midst of January, that green is lively and delicious. The little shoots grow taller every day and, hungry for the source of life, they lean desperately toward the window light. Plants that you would expect to grow upward in fact lean nearly ninety degrees toward the window. These seedlings stop me in my tracks; make me a better mother.
Sometimes God speaks in whisper. Sometimes He whispers through wildflower shoots in kitchen windows in January. How great is our God.
Shhhhhh . . . quiet now . . . do you hear?
He is speaking, dear one. He is speaking just for you:
“Lean toward the Light.”
Baby, it’s cold outside!! This polar vortex is something else. Is it sub-zero where you are?
During the long winter months I am always looking for projects to do with my little ones indoors. I know you are too. This diy paint could not be any easier (2 ingredients). It washes easily off surfaces and kiddos. It is even safe to eat.
It works equally well as finger paint or with brushes.
To make your own paints, just put a few heaping tablespoons of plain yogurt in each of several individual dishes or ramekins. Add 5-7 drops of food coloring to each bowl and stir well.
It’s really that simple!
It is, of course, quite messy! But it wipes up well! I plopped my babe down, in only a diaper, with an big piece of poster board. The paint wiped clean from the floor and baby with warm soapy water.
You could certainly make smaller amounts of each color (try 1 tablespoon of plain yogurt and 2 drops food coloring) for brush play to better contain the mess.
Or you could do as I did and let your little one go crazy while you sit and enjoy a hot cup of coffee on a cold winter day. My 1 year-old played with these paints long enough for me to look through a decorating magazine and drink a full cup of coffee (without reheating!!) Oh heavenly day!
In the end he was crowned King of Messes, but what can I say? He wears it well.
What do you think? Would you try this at home?
Pine needles fall from our Christmas tree, scatter about the wooden floor.
I sing the praises of my three year-old as he “sweeps,” scattering bits and pieces under the rug and to the far corners of the room.
This is our first Christmas in our new home. I desperately wanted it to be memorable-idyllic. We cut our own Christmas tree from our own acreage and I took a string of pictures of Mr. Marvelous hauling it into the house- the country Christmas I wanted to have, record, remember. Now we are one week away from Christmas and there are twelve ornaments on the tree (twelve!), an exposed Christmas tree stand, and a heap of pine needles on the living room floor. Life has a way of seeping in and filling our days with a current that, in a flash, takes us from Thanksgiving to Christmas Eve at warp speed.
The first weekend of December I bought fresh evergreen garland to hang on our front windows and front door. To keep them fresh you are supposed to spray them daily, thoroughly, with water-especially the stems. You should have seen the hysteria of me, madly spraying a plastic spray bottle to cover some 48 feet of evergreen while my baby banged on the window, crying for mommy. Turns out the cozy country Christmas depicted in those coveted images is a lot more work than each peaceful scene would have you believe. And when I stood outside yesterday, looking up at the front of our house at sad and drooping evergreen, I felt, for a self-indulgent moment or two, like a rather pathetic failure.
I should have fallen on my face in worship, because the God I so desperately long to serve wrapped his arms around me, my self-pity and regret and opened my eyes.
“This is what Christmas is about.“
“Christmas is about the broken. The wilting. The dried up and the undone.”
“This is why I had to come for you, beloved.”
“I had to come.”
As the song says- “the weary world rejoices.” Not the beautiful, bountiful, polished world.
So as I watch my little one clean pine needles fallen from a drooping tree, I train my mind to not see defeat but the very gospel this silly tree is supposed to celebrate. It turns out my “short-comings” prepare my heart for Christmas in a way that a decorated house never could.
So fall on your knees.
Christmas is for the broken.
Pass it on.
No other version of this song is the same to me. This is pure worship.