well hello there.

These keys feel funny to me now.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. A hundred times thank you for the grace of your comments and emails and tweets (even!).

If you don’t know what it is like to step out of the blurred lights of life moving fast and boil it all down to what is essential to you then I pray that you will soon.

I’ve pursued quiet. I’ve cleaned and organized only to end up right smack dab in the same old chaos.

I’ve prayed about this space and the work of my hands.

And I have some answers.

But, mostly? I have been trying to scoop up my moments.

I could pour it all out here in one long, winding post. But, instead. I think I will share the whys and wherefores slowly.

Because I’m learning that my heart is just that. To share my Redeeming with you in the hope that you will be softer with yourself, that you will be more pliable in His hands and that you will be brave.

hi there.

 

Friends? I am going to take a few weeks off from blogging.

The thing is that the last three months, excepting the beauty of Christmas and being with family, have been overly full. I feel overwhelmed. And a bit disappointed and disappointing.

My life is a tiny bit singed from a constant rhythm of putting out fires.

When the scale’s balance tips, you do what you have to do to survive.

But. I want to do more than just get by.

I need to take some time to get back to what is life giving and hope inspiring and anchor holding.

We’re told not to let small things become big things. But. The way to do that? Is to be faithful in the small things.

And I’ve got to find my way back to that for my family.

 

my secret.

My husband and I had been dating for three months when my Daddy rolled into town in our family’s first edition Dodge Caravan. Backseat removed.

We loaded up all of my worldly possessions and I pointed my van in the direction of Roanoke, Virginia.

A freshly degreed teacher, I had followed my heart to urban ministry instead of to the classroom. For a romantic like me, it was the greatest movie ending to my young adulthood.

And on that early summer night? Months before? When the air was not quite solid yet and I looked across the front seat of my car at the boy I had not liked and then tolerated and then counted as a dear friend? When I looked across that car and I saw it in his eyes? That he was choosing me?

I knew. I knew I’d be leaving soon. I knew I’d be caught up in something bigger than myself. I knew that God was going to rip my heart apart and I might not have much to give to him. But I said yes anyway.

I didn’t know if we could make it. But I’d waited 22 years to have a boy choose me.

“I love you,” he said as he pushed flowers at me, me loading all of my life into the back of the van my parents bought when I was in 8th grade. I said yes.

Whatever this means. Yes.

We didn’t make it.

By November we were coasting on the fumes of our summer love. Phone calls relegated to Sunday nights by fledgling youth ministries and down and dirty loving you right where you are ministry. Me, trying to be present right where I was. Loving the parts of the city that I’d been taught to avoid. Him, staffing an inner city golf ministry (you read that right) and winning hearts and pointing Up.

We couldn’t make it. And so we let our fingertip hold loosen.

And I cried for him every day after.

Months later, I found my way to the classroom and home and he was here.

It didn’t happen right away.

Half a year had passed and we were awkward around each other. Shaky. Nervous. Unsure.

We avoided. We took turns sharing friends.

And then on a hot July night, he chose me all over again.

We were married on December 30, 2000. Eleven years ago today.

There are things that are meant to be kept close. I’ll always keep them there.

But know this. It has been my privilege to know this man and be called his wife.

He has a way about him. And it’s a secret only for me: a bulldozer of emotions and questions. He’s taught me what it means to let who you are unfold in the most surprising way. He’s shown me that no one will ever see his heart the way I have. It’s a secret only for me.

this is Christmas.

Are you the type who hangs every bit of her hat on performance? I’m convinced that God lovingly allowed in me the propensity to say every wrong thing at the wrongest time. To be clumsy. To be awkward. I win at that; you can be sure.

But all these wonky heart shapes and uneven lines? They are on purpose. Because I’m sure He knew that I would try to make my value equal to my performance. And so I am learning to stop and thank Him. I mean really stop. And really say my thanks to Him that I am not perfect. And that other people see that from time to time. So that I won’t get caught up in wondering why, why, why do I have to be so messy? In front of others?

So I stop asking why. I start thanking Him. Thanking Him for that very time when I said everything so wrong or so silly or so not funny or so not encouraging. For that time when I missed giving grace or shoring up or just plain showing up.

Because it’s in the wonky shapes and uneven lines and my mess showing that I am reminded that I never could perform my way to Him. I never could. Not to His love for me. Not to His life for me. Not to His gift for me.

So. This is Christmas. On His fresh born, God in full, Man in full, Savior completely birthday, I will thank Christ. Thank Him that I never could perform my way to Him. Never could song and dance my way to value. Thank Him that He covered that distance for me.

Merry Christmas, friends. I’ll be turning in for a bit. I’m so thankful for you. Smiley face. See you in the new year.

celebrate His rest.

Today? There is a place prepared for you. A place of rest. That little Baby? Born on Christmas? He’s promised rest for your weary walk. Celebrate Him by offering your heart to be His Bethlehem.

color and loveliness.

God’s grace? Jesus’ gift? Every bit of color and loveliness in our lives today. Every bit of color in this season celebrates who He is.

this jubilee.

Mary was a ponderer. She gathered up the truths of who her little fresh born son was. She sheltered the good news of his birth. She nuzzled all the things of who He was right down in her heart and she thought on them.

Pondering is an important reaction. To think on God. His ways. His heart. His will.

The shepherds? They rejoiced. They went their way barely able to contain the joy of having met God’s answer to our world. They were sopping wet with the truth of Christ. They poured that water out on every single soul they met.

Right this very minute the church down the street is ringing it’s bells. Literally.

Shepherds? Why this jubilee?

There’s a time to think. A time for quiet treasuring. And there’s a time to rejoice. Out loud. Together.

It’s jubilee time. All this week. I’m going to let my words take a back seat. Instead, I’ll be here with quick glimpses of joyful moments. They might be simple. They’ll probably be everyday. But they will be full of jubilation.

Join me?

Leave a link to your blog in the comments and we’ll all join hands in celebration.

a tiny home sneak peek.

Hi. We’re in full on Christmas mode now. Would you like to see?

I’m linking up with my friend, Nester, for her annual tour of homes.

a bit of shop news.

Hi. I’ve survived an indie craft show. And last week? I had a little open studio for local customers. I have the best locals. Really. It’s a joy to spend an evening with them.

I still have a nice little selection of ready to ship products.

The shop’s updated. I’ve even listed a few hand towels that are usually reserved for shows.

Order by December 18th. And then? Vacation Mode. Smiley face.

Sign up in the sidebar for a coupon code. The newsletter goes out at 8 am tomorrow morning.

my life in technicolor.

I’m joining The Gypsy Mama today for Five Minute Friday, a space to write without worry, perfection burdens or end product serving.

Color

Sometimes I want a technicolor dreamcoat kind of life. All dripping off the pages and loud and full of adventure.

I want to skirt around the edges of life lived boldly or walk straight through it.

I want to be so bright and on fire.

Like our youngest.

Living life as committed as he can.

He plays air guitar with wild abandon.

“Yes!” he yells with every ounce of energy, a fist pump and the soft lisp of being snaggletoothed already. He’s over the moon about a cookie or baseball or his favorite t shirt with his dentist’s name printed all over it.

Sometimes I want to be technicolor.

Most times I want to be technicolor.

But worry. Busyness. Self. Pull all of the saturation out until I’m just tinged at the edges with what should be the beauty of my life.

A technicolor dreamcoat kind of life.

Stop

 

a foolproof handmade wreath

We’ve got four pretty, waxy and full boxwood bushes in our backyard.

And I’ve always coveted those preserved boxwood wreaths.

But not so much the price. I don’t covet that.

So. I googled all around and discovered that it’s pretty easy to make your own. And cheap, too.

Here’s how it went down.

First, I basically did everything that this tutorial instructed.

I hustled myself down to Jo Ann and got some green floral wire and a wire wreath form. I believe that I paid $5 total for the pair of them.

The night before I wanted to make the wreath, I cut a big pile of boxwood and soaked it in water until morning. I’d read somewhere that soaking would prolong prettiness. You can actually preserve your own. It’s just a matter of dipping your clippings in glycerine and letting them dry for three whole weeks. I had this grand idea last week so no preserving for me this year.

Basically, you group then wire then group then layer then wire and repeat. It’s really easy (and much more detailed in that tutorial I linked to up there) and I did it in the span of about thirty minutes with my darling friend Mary Beth supervising.

P.S. Just a note about Mary Beth. When I posted a picture of my ironing pile two weeks ago? She drove over and took it from me without letting me get a no in. She ironed all of my clothes. Did I already post about that? It was the most beautiful service and friendship.

Back to the wreath.

It’s right at home on my mantel now.

marking advent.

Hi. Oh, I hope your weekend was lovely. We’ve finally got the tree up. Only lights right now but I’m slowly making my way to having some festiveness around our house.

I’m going to be sharing some crafty type things with you this week. But. Before I do that, I’d like to speak to comparison for just a minute. When I share bits of my life I do it because I like to share with you. I do it because I have to tell the story of how a mess of a girl can be redeemed. I do it because I want you to know that I’m in the trenches of everyday life with you. I don’t do it to present some false image of perfection or all-togetherness or lookee! here. I can’t bear to think of you walking away from this space tearing yourself down. I know that misery. I CAN bear to-even delight to-think that you’ll walk away from this space thinking that what I’ve shared-my life-is not that special or pedestal worthy. I’m just like you with dirty dishes and ironing piles and messy bathrooms and failures. Ok?

Transition.

I love to learn from others. Love to. In that spirit, I’m sharing here today how we mark Advent.

It started over Thanksgiving with a cloudy afternoon and some Christmas music.

This year, I ordered Jessi’s advent calendar.

The little people sat with me and ate ice cream.

They made lists of what they’d like to do to celebrate Advent. NOT! gift lists, which is apparently very hard to distinguish when you are three and six. This one right here might have just drawn a picture. I’m not sure where the biggest little person was this afternoon. But his, list? Oh his list was a delight. It included caroling! Caroling! You have no idea how much that made me smile.

I already had some white paper bags. So we put each of Jessi’s cards in the paper bags. And then, I printed out the Christmas story, pieced together from Matthew 2 and Luke 2 and then split into 24 days. I grew up celebrating Advent as a liturgical season so I love the idea of drawing out the story in anticipation of Christ’s birth.

I had some cardstockish paper lying around so I cut it down and wrote numbers on it. I printed out our activities, too. I slip them in at some point during the day. I’ve tried planning it all out ahead of time and that never works for us. So. I can decide at 6 pm on a Monday evening that our surprise activity will be to read a Christmas book because it has been a crazy day and we’re all tired and you can see that the term activity is used very loosely around here. Activities are mostly things we can do at home like reading or eating a candy cane or drinking hot chocolate or making a popcorn garland. All of the bags are stacked in a basket in the dining room with some clothespins.

I ran the extra paper through the sewing machine and strung it along the mirror. We clip up each day’s card as we contemplate and celebrate Advent together.

It doesn’t matter what kind of Advent calendar you do. It’s a joy. We’ve done the cubby kind and the chocolate kind but whatever kind we do, my little people are always, always so excited to see what the day holds. They fight over who gets to pull out the verses and who gets to read them and they wonder all day long what we’ll do in anticipation.

And! It’s not too late. I believe we started our advent calendar on December 10th last year. So. There’s grace.

How do YOU celebrate advent?

my portion, too.

“Come to my basketball game?” he asks.

A team of girls with lives right now crammed into a temporary home. And all the hurt and wondering and the everything else is dripping off. It’s running over and out. How can a person find home when home is not with them?

And we rush through dinner. A bean soup. We swallow it down almost too hot. That tingling feeling of a singed tongue.

We rumble in at half time.

“Daddy! Daddy! We love you!”

My little voices join cheers for Blue.

And then. A tall and beautiful young girl stands at the free throw line.

She misses.

But, then.

She makes it. And you have never seen such joy. We all. All of us. We scream and rejoice and she can’t even believe it. This moment of joy and this moment of celebrating her. She can’t even get back down the court.

Because she made it.

I don’t even know her name. She’s new. And so I just hoot and holler. What else? What else can I do?

And it’s the fourth quarter. And there he is. Crouched on one knee. His face in theirs. Pouring love and instruction and I-am-heres and mercy and gentleness all over those young and beautiful hearts.

My husband.

And we share that with them. Because he has too much for us. He has to give it. He has to.

And all of the sudden it’s Tuesday morning and my youngest and I have used up three Magic Erasers cleaning the bathroom floor.

I’m jealous for that moment. When all I had to do is sit just behind him. And watch him at his calling. And I’m wondering where the adventure is in my Tuesday chore?

But I suppose it’s right there. Right there in serving him, in welcoming him, in nurturing him, in rushing through dinner-burning my tongue on my hot, hot soup so that I can catch just a glimpse.

Of God. Using him. Broken and bruised. To love the brokener and bruiseder.

 

various and sundry life and shop things.

Hi. It’s Friday. Smiley face.

I hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving. We ate lunch with the University of South Carolina football team. My husband does it every Thanksgiving but since we usually have family in town, we don’t go with him. It’s such a special thing. Some of the children who live in the children’s home where Tom works can go home or to a relative’s house for holidays. But there is a good portion who can’t. And so the WHOLE-and I mean all of those huge football players-team eats lunch with our children. For the last two years, they’ve had our little group out to the stadium for a catered lunch. Before that, they would come to us. It’s really special. And sweet. And I wish you could have seen my nine year old’s face when two of the players sat down next to him.

We had a fun little dinner later for just our family complete with table decorations courtesy of our sassy sue. It was pretty fancy.

But. Today is Friday. And we’re going to celebrate my birthday. And we might go to the movies. And it’s some kind of big shopping day, right? So. Stick with me to the end. Spoiler Alert: coupon code. Smiley face.

So I’ve got a few new goodies in my shop.

It took me a few days to inventory everything and get some new pictures of what was left after Indie Craft Experience.

And I decided to put some new items in the shop for today.

This little bag? It’s an absolute favorite of mine. That geometric trim? I found a seller in France. Yep, France.

And this purple is so sweet and lovely in person.

There are several more new items over there in my shop, too!

So. I’m nothing if not  a follower. And today is a day for sales, right?

How about you use the code BLACKFRIDAY11 for 25 % off your purchase. I think that’s the biggest coupon code I’ve ever offered. It’s good until 8 am tomorrow morning.

*********************************************************************

Also! I really wanted to tell you about my friend Hayley’s holiday pop up shop.

She’s making the most beautiful necklaces. I have one. I wear it too much.

She takes vintage necklaces and beads and puts them together in the most unique and beautiful ways.

Today? If you order one? You get a special surprise treat. Could be earrings or a bracelet or another necklace.

 

 

the joy of your everyday life.

there’s a thrum building.

it’s the just a bit mores and the striving and the if onlys.

it’s the restlessness of a heart grasping for something more. something else. somewhere else.

maybe your house doesn’t feel like enough. if you could just fix that one thing.

maybe money is thin. if it would just stretch and not give out.

maybe you aren’t who or where you thought you’d be last time around. if you were just better, brighter, bigger.

there’s a thrum building.

a restlessness eluded by happiness.

tomorrow?

i hope happiness and joy creep up and hit you so hard in the chest that you can’t even catch your breath. that tears sting your eyes.

i’m praying it for me, too.

this striving?

this restlessness?

this thrum?

it’s not the road to abiding joy.

cease striving.

stop. notice. let the joy of your everyday life smack you to the core.

be still.

it’s going to smart. so much.

but. it’s the only way to resist the underlying discontent that can snake it’s way over our hearts at this time of year.

a season intended for Joy. for Rescue. for Promise. for Hope.

not for not enough. not for just a bit more.

this life given to you is enough.

enough.

stand under that hope. it’s right here.

even if it crushes you. even if you can’t breathe because it hits you so hard.

 

teeny tiny things i’ve been saving up to tell you in a list.

1. Indie Craft Experience was good. I don’t have any pictures-not shocking, I’m sure. It’s just that a show is a blur of setting up and waiting and engaging and it’s selling. And selling is exhausting for me. But. It was a good weekend. I got to make some sweet connections. And. My booth neighbors were adorable: a new take on pillows and as soon as she gets set up on etsy, I can’t wait to share more with y’all.

2. Saturday was my 35th birthday. Smiley face. I’m not sad about getting older. Were you wondering? We haven’t even had a chance to celebrate. But! It appears that Friday has been set aside to do some fun family things together. Since it was my birthday on Saturday, I was determined to finally get some latte bowls from Anthropologie. And! After getting lost, calling my mom and making her look up the address and breaking out the GPS my dad gave me that I swore I’d never need, I got those bowls four minutes before closing time.

3. This is my ironing pile. I don’t think there are any other words.

4. I am thinking of painting my kitchen chairs this yellow color. Thoughts?

5. I have fully surrendered to the grandma. So. After 8 pm, if I sit in one place for longer than five minutes, I’m asleep. Out. Completely. And I’ve given up on evening tv. As a result, I save up all of my favorite shows for sewing or ironing or folding laundry. Sometimes I get woefully behind. But there is one show that I never, ever, absolutely don’t get behind on. Parks and Recreation. I think that Ron Swanson might be one of my best friends.

6. We are going to be just our little family for Thanksgiving. Don’t worry. I’m not sad about that either. We have lots of great extended family time. Honestly, I’ve been bone weary. And Tom’s schedule is about to be crazy town. And so we are turning in. It’s just a heart call right now. Turn in. I’ll be crafting with my girl. And I think we’ll brave the crowds and take in a movie. A crowded movie theater with paper cup and popcorn sounds and everyone talking to the screen is my love language. We’re going to turn in.

7. I’m thankful for you. Smiley face.

a bit more on the riley and this weekend.

I previewed these sweet gift guides earlier this week. Let’s talk about them a bit more.

The riley was born out of my frustration with handbags. Making them can be overwhelming. It’s mostly because I’m extremely picky. It started to become overwhelming. And so, I had decided not to make a larger bag anymore. Until we were on a roadtrip and I started to dream about dyeing fabric.

I truly love this bag. I used mine for Relevant. I stuffed in my laptop, several books, wallet, ipod and accoutrements and lots of other little bits like lip gloss and a cell phone. It’s not a huge bag but it’s very utilitarian.

a

And so much more convenient than a bulky duffle bag for a quick trip.

Hasn’t Anna done an amazing job on these? I’m so thankful for her!

To be honest, things are a bit crazytown around here today. This weekend, I’ll be participating in Indie Craft Experience in Atlanta (Please come and say hi if you are in the area!). ICE looks amazingly fun. But. Getting ready for a show like this one usually means I am a ball of why-am-doing-this and how-can-I-work-faster. It’s probably fun to watch.

In preparation for the show, I’ll be putting my shop in vacation mode at 9 am. So. If you’ve been eyeing something and don’t want to leave you owning it up to chance, go ahead and purchase it this morning. Everything not sold is going with me. Smiley face.

battles.

It’s red ribbon day. Red ribbon day means a red shirt.

And the only red shirts my girl has are an explosion of Christmas.

So I put her in a purple shirt.  Because one cannot wear a Christmas shirt on November 4th.

We are two sides of the battlefield, her with armies of will amassed and me with armies of habit and rules standing behind me.

We try a blue and red striped dress.

No.

We try a headband with a red flower.

No. Tears.

Nothing will do but a red shirt.

And so I climb under the covers and play the parenting tag game with my husband.

“I should just let her wear the Christmas shirt, right?”

“Yup.” He shuffles around preparing for the morning car line. It’s his turn today.

“Hey. You can wear the red shirt,” I yell out as I stay tucked away in my bunker of heavy down comforter and flannel sheets.

She giggles. “I’m wearing my red shi-irt,” she sings out as she skip jumps down the stairs.

I’m of all the all or nothing camp. And I cling to my rules.

But today–on November 4th–she is wearing her Christmas shirt.

A surrender that took too long.

 

 

holiday shop open and one more product story.

Hi. Today we’ve opened up the holiday shop with lots of fun goodies and gifts for your loved ones.

Let’s start with the riley.

Anna and I dreamed up a night away all around the riley. It’s hand dyed and very versatile.

You can find a rainbow of colors right here in the shop.

Next, the janie; our other new bag for 2011.

It’s perfect for a night out, especially to the movies.

And you can find plenty of janies right here.

The mini is a bestseller.

It goes from work to night out and from inside your bottomless bag to a sweet little clutch.

Find a mini for every type of girl right here.

And we won’t forget our sweet little zippies and wallets!

A regular old day is always brightened by the fun and function of both of these accessories.

Just for the holidays, both the zippy and trudy (wallet) are available in some beautiful and sweet vintage cotton feedsack prints.

And! We’ve got holiday bundles for you, too. Ashley-Morgan has paired up some sweet bags and wallets and we’re offering them at a great price together. Find them here.

when what if comes suddenly.

I came away from Relevant with an unanswered question about my writing. What if I were more disciplined with my writing? Stretched a bit? I’m hoping to make room here to explore that a little. And I’m starting withFive Minute Fridays hosted by The Gypsy Mama. The idea is to write. Five minutes. No editing. Just write.

Unexpected.

There are things in my heart that I never knew. Places I did know but never thought I could go.

And all of the sudden. I can ask. What if?

Sometimes the everyday is just putting your hand to the plow. And then doing it again. And then doing it again. It’s your portion.

And it’s not that that isn’t good. To just go one more day. And then one more day after that. Because you learn. You learn that you can do that. And you learn that it’s everybody’s portion sometimes.

And you learn that God is the God over hand to plow. He just is. And His goodness is there, too.

But, then. All of the sudden. He allows what if. He whispers, “Go there.”

And you look up. You’ve plowed that field. You’ve tilled the ground. You’ve painstakingly-seed by seed-planted. Index finger and thumb grabbing over and over that tiny seed until it is habitual.

That field has grown. You’ve grown. And so. You are finally to what if. What next?

Somehow you got here. You don’t know how except that it must be hand to plow and hand to plow and hand to plow.

You don’t know how except that you didn’t expect it at all.

STOP.

the janie: a storyboard

Hi. It’s Thursday. Smiley face. And it’s actually fall like here. Even the leaves have turned. It makes me happy.

It also makes me happy that we’ve got another product storyboard for you today.

I love the idea of a clutch. I really do. They’re cute and easy. But the problem is that I usually have a ballet shoe and lego man and a half eaten apple in one hand and a child in the other. So. I knew that if we were going to do a clutch, it would have to be hands-free. But. I’m also fickle. I wanted to be able to use it without a wrist strap, too. It’s removable, you know? In general, that’s where handmade recess has been moving. Utilitarian workhorse type bags that are pretty as punch. Feminine and industrial.

That’s why I love the janie bag. It’s big enough to carry just about anything but so toteable. You don’t have to feel beholden to that big, bottomless bag you’ve been carrying. And I love that Anna picked up on that. A day full of errands needs the janie.

The janie is perfect for a busy errand, mom type day-yes-but it’s also sophisticated enough for a night out. Who doesn’t sneak in their candy? And, those shoes? Please. Adorable.

We’re gearing up for the holiday shop open next Tuesday, November 15th. And! We’ve decided to extend the newsletter sign up for this month and send it out next week just before the open. I can’t wait for y’all to see what we’ve been working on. We’ve got the most adorable groupings just for you, my internet heart friends. Smiley face. I’m also using some of my hand-dyed fabrics on the janie. We’ve been experimenting with color blocking. It’s so cool.

So. Would you sign up, pretty please, if you haven’t already? It’s just right over there in the sidebar. And you’ll get a coupon code for online orders.

in this season of giving thanks.

Well. It seems that I want to have more conversation with y’all about joy and contentment. And so I’m thinking of dedicating a little corner of this space to that. As it comes, we’ll write and talk. I never thought that after 31 days there would still be more. There is.

I marched my little self out to our backyard tree first thing this morning and stripped it of some of its low hanging branches.

The beauty of God’s design just within my reach.

I arranged. And this gift of beauty started sinking deep into my bones.

Last Thursday, I was having one of those fist-shaking moments. Reading promises of God’s faithfulness but not having eyes to see how He has kept His promises to me.

He’s promised to be constant and crushingly loving and peace bringing and confrontational.

And He’s promised to provide.

But His provision wasn’t coming the neat and tidy way I wanted it to. It was coming in every way that pointed to Him and no way that smacked of me. I confess, I wanted to know that my hard work equals exactly what I want the way I want it.

In a sweet moment, I looked around at our home. Thing after thing. Given.

Given.

Given.

Given.

Beautiful pieces full of story offered up to become part of our home.

Given but not received.

I have used these things, yes. But I have not received them.

Used them. Changed them. Puzzle pieced them into our setting.

Receiving demands humility. My eyes dropped. Who am I to question what I need and how it is given? Just because it wasn’t given in the way I expected? How can I not see that our needs have been met over and over again?

Contentment-joy-demands receiving. Wholeheartedly taking in what is offered without a well-it-works-for-now or I-could’ve-done-better or it’s-not-what-I-would-have-done. Receiving means letting go of expectations.

In this season of giving thanks, let’s thank Him-yes-but let’s also receive with every single piece of who we are what He has given.

remember.

I came away from Relevant with an unanswered question about my writing. I can’t say writer yet, ok? But. What if I were more disciplined with my writing? Stretched a bit? I’m hoping to make room here to explore that a little. And I’m starting with Five Minute Fridays hosted by The Gypsy Mama. The idea is to write. Five minutes. No editing. Just write.

Remember.

A warm cheek. It’s the best place to nuzzle up and forget worries and overwhelming thoughts.

Lately I’m feeling like I can’t seem to catch the memories fast enough. So many small and wonderful bits that I want to gather and tuck away so that I can bring them out later and run my fingers over their smooth sides. Treasures.

Like the way my girl’s eyebrows rise to the tippy top of her little face and her eyes dazzle when she is passionate about something. All six and toothless, her freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose and numbering up every day.

Or how my biggest one whisks down the stairs every morning to be the breakfast maker. That look of pride? That dimple barely peeking out? He is becoming a boy-man.

Not failures. Not habits. Not fears. These. These are my smooth sided treasures tucked away in my pocket.

STOP

handmade recess gift guide: the mini

Welp, Anna has been at it again. Did y’all know that this lady is a senior in college? A senior in college. Good gravy, I was not nearly as sophisticated or mature as this girl is.

The mini is just a teensy bit bigger than a wallet; big enough to fit in a cell phone, some lipstick and other workaday necessities. It’s not too big to do some hard work inside a larger bag. And if you are young-which I am not-and able to fit all of your personal belongings into a something on the less humongous size-which I can not-then you can use this adorable bag as a clutch.

Honestly, it’s kind of a workhorse. Stuff lots of personal bits in there and then pull it out when you don’t want to carry everything with you for a movie or dinner out with friends. Also. That dress and those shoes are from Target. Target.

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Have y’all signed up for the holiday journal yet? Yep. I’m going to keep talking about it. I’m just really excited about our holiday approach this year and the journal is where you’re going to find out more about it. While Anna’s been holding down the graphics end of things around here, my other intern (I know I’m spoiled!), Ashley-Morgan, has been picking out fabrics and will be helping me put together some fabulous groupings for the shop open on November 15th. There’s all that. Plus! I’m including a few things that I’m really inspired and challenged by.

I’ll be sending this little journal out next Tuesday, November 7th. I’ll send it out again in early December. Both times, I’ll include different coupon codes that you can use to get a bit of Christmas shopping done. Right now, it’s only a holiday thing but I’m entertaining doing one seasonally.

So. You just type your email address in. That’s it. Smiley face.

relevant.

1 pm on a Saturday. My fingers punching out the most familiar number. And I’m a mess of tears when my husband’s voice comes over the line.

I cry and he bolsters as I count snow coming down outside the window.

Relevant. I agreed to go on a lark and a sweet friend’s encouragement.

I bought the very last, solitary ticket.

I tried not to anticipate. I just went.

There’s something to be said for testing all the things you think you know about yourself.

Sometimes you find that you still have work to do at excavating the same old lies.

Sometimes you find that you are bafflingly loved.

Sometimes you discover kindredness.

Sometimes you are challenged to dream AND to do.

Sometimes it’s all of that.

It’s hard but it’s delightful. I met some pretty amazing people this weekend. Women.

And I’ve come away with a challenge to believe that I am loved and loveable. And to be who I was made to be. To take that seriously. What would happen if we all stepped into our passionate callings?

All surrendered.

day thirty-one: look around

I hope you chose joy this month.

I hope you dethroned lists and discontent and lonely and hurting.

I hope you dug down deep and celebrated to the very top of who you are.

All of these little moments? They’re the pieces of quartz in every little girl’s treasure bag. Everywhere. Common. But by nature supernatural and divinely appointed. You can’t help but pick them up. Wash them off a bit. They razzle dazzle.

Look around. Joy is all around you.

Thank you for being here. For your comments. Your emails. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me.

Not so much for the recognition but for the community. The you-are-not-alones.

This is the last post of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day thirty: home is joy.

A tiny little bird chirruped over to me in the Detroit airport this morning. Where tall glass walls let the sun pierce so brightly that words on screen and on paper were washed out.

Within minutes, others joined. A small family.

I’ve been away from home. Away to Relevant with one thing in my heart to find that it was something else all together that I needed to unearth.

I’ve discovered that the world really is so much bigger than I ever imagine. And it’s good on both sides of a coppery coin of fear and safety.

Away from home I can toss up that worn, metal smelling coin and watch as it turns and turns and turns. Hopes. Dreams. And it glints of risk because I’m standing on my own legs. I take home with me but I also lock it safe away when walls are wider. Will my legs stand strong on different ground?

But eventually my rope tethered heart is called home. Home, where we danced at twilight tonight. All of the smells of autumn dancing with us. The sour tinge of pumpkin after jack-o-lantern carving mixed with the sweet breath of a kiss still smelling of peanut butter and jelly dinner.

I know home. And because of that I can be away.

It’s a greater joy than I ever thought I’d know.

We’ve been at this discussion for thirty days now. Thirty days. And tomorrow it comes to a close. I hope it resonates with you as much as it’s washing over me.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

 

day twenty-nine: a joy manifesto for the lonely ones.

day twenty-eight: a joy manifesto for the hurting.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day twenty-seven: a joy manifesto for the fearful.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day twenty-six: a manifesto for the waiting ones.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

holiday shopping with handmade recess, part one.

Let’s take a break from talking about joy for just a minute, ok?

Look at what my intern, Anna, and I have been working on! We’ve been dreaming up ways you can use handmade recess in your everyday life.

We’re calling this a holiday shopping guide. It’s time to start thinking about the women in your life and what you’ll be giving them.

Anna put together these adorable outfits. She’s pretty great. Smiley face. Our little zippy bag is fantastic for a day of errands and it does double duty in your purse: it’s the perfect size for an iphone, ipod or small digital camera.

Can you believe that dress is from Target? Our sweet trudy wallet is the perfect size to grab and go a sweet date, adding a bright punch of color.

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We’re planning some exciting things for handmade recess and the holiday season! I’ll be opening up my holiday shop on November 14th with some new products and a new feature: pairings of complementary products for easy gift giving. I’ll be listing some products in really special vintage fabrics and we’ll be offering special wrapping.

I’ll be sharing even more in the handmade recess journal | holiday edition which will go out November 7th. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to keep up a monthly newsletter. So I’m thinking this will be a really fun seasonal journal full of shop news, new products, creative inspiration (diys, recipes, tutorials) and a coupon code just for subscribers.

You can sign up right over there ——-> in the sidebar!

day twenty-five: a joy manifesto for the weary.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day twenty-four: small joy celebrated.

If we want to know joy, we’ve got to celebrate it.

Just a snippet of our time at the state fair last week. It’s true: I love the fair. I’m not at all put off by the crowds of people, dusty air and greasy food. It’s a favorite tradition.

Our oldest had a self-portrait accepted into competition. He didn’t win anything but it was fun to make a big, embarrassing deal out of it.

And a first ride all alone!

You’ll all rest easier knowing that this year I did NOT sample the doughnut burger. That is an experience unto itself and as much as I didn’t haaaate it, I don’t think I’ll be doing it again. We had tiny doughnuts and elephant ears and stuffed wings and pizza. So. We more than made up for it.

Stop right now. Celebrate a small joy. Even the tiniest gift is good.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day twenty-three: joy in everyday relationships.

I’ve always been a wildly hopeless romantic, a little girl at heart. I’ve believed every sweeping epic movie moment when it comes to what my life should look like. Fairy tales? I ate them up.

It’s a burdensome thing to saddle life with. When your head is in the clouds, the everyday can be pretty disappointing.

For 21 years, I waited. I waited to even date. I waited for a first kiss. It wasn’t really my choice. I could list a myriad of reasons why. But the truth is that the plan for my life just didn’t involve dating, loving or marrying anyone but Tom. I can’t even number the whispers and shouts I made in argument. I would have given anything to be storied in love.

And so I dreamed. And I bought into romantic notions. And I made detailed lists about who I would be, who he would be, who they would be. I tried to control.

But God knows better. And He blew up my list. It’s true. I didn’t marry a man who plays the guitar, writes poetry, writes music, is a star athlete, cooks gourmet dinners, makes flowery speeches, gives extravagant gifts, runs through airports for me, likes fancy restaurants AND is mysteriously broken. One or two of those things? Maybe. But everything? No.

Does that mean I settled? Does that mean romance is dead for me? It’s the opposite, really. My romance comes in real, catchable everyday moments.

It comes when he sneaks two pieces of cheesecake into the refrigerator for after the little people are in bed.

It comes when I catch the sound of him wrestling with our children in the den while I’m cooking dinner.

It comes in his goofy jokes that make our girl cackle. And it comes in hearing him ready Fancy Nancy over and over.

It comes in his arm wrapped tight around my chilly shoulder.

It comes in his steady it-will-be-alrights when all of my junk spills out of my heart and I can’t breathe for the lies I’m having to confront.

It comes in his wide grin, dimples and all.

The more I’m on the lookout for these everyday sweet moments, the more joy I find in him.

This is an everyday relationship. We’ve promised all of them to each other.

There’s so much grime and quicksand in the everyday. Jobs. Work. Selfishness. Pride. Insecurity.

But when I catch that joy? Instead of saddling my everyday relationships with epic romantic notions?

It’s the key to everything. To my joy. To his joy. But also to teaching our little ones, especially our girl, that joy is found in each and every moment-right in front of them.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day twenty-two: take risks together.

When we put these two on the swings at the state fair last week,  their little faces reflected perfectly the boiled down essence of who they are. One, cautious and concerned and not entirely sure about  loss of control. The other, a thrill seeker without a sense of limitation. It’s amazing, really: this discovering of God’s weaving purposes.

Taking risks together isn’t easy. When there is the risk of failure, we often shelter ourselves from watching eyes. But then we’re walking through new and hard and scary and risky all by ourselves. That life wasn’t intended for us, the solitary one.

What if we invited others in when we don’t know whether we’ll fail miserably or succeed sweetly? What if we saw the ability in others to bolster us instead of feared what others will think when we fall short?

What if we look to our right when things feel downright frightening and we see not judgement or impatience but joy? And what if that joy infects us and changes the way we see?

Let’s take risks together.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here

determined joy, day twenty-one

I’ve been wracking my brain over whether or not yesterday’s post went out with enough grace. I was thinking of you.

In the most painful waiting.

In the most heartbreaking loss.

In what seems like a hopeless everyday.

I hope I didn’t disallow sadness.

Sadness will come. Hopes will seem distant and impossible. And when joy for others makes neighbors with hard places it rubs raw.

Sadness will come. And rejoicing for others won’t wipe it away. But sadness doesn’t have to be bitterness.

It might not feel like it but there is a sweetness when sadness and thankfulness are intertwined.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

 

 

 

day twenty: taking joy for others.

There have been times in my life when I thought I would burst from the waiting. Or I thought I couldn’t work one bit harder for something that was tarrying in coming to me. Or I thought that ev.ery.one. else knew ease and victory when I was just eeking it out.

I can know that I’m in that place but I can also be totally surprised by longing when I thought I was just fine.

The best litmus test for the degree of my longing serving is the discipline of taking joy for others.

Honestly? I stink at it. I don’t know any other way to say it.

So. What exactly is taking joy for another?

It’s being able to rejoice when they rejoice and laugh when they laugh and release when they release and move when they move.

It isn’t a litany of thoughts about how hard YOU’VE worked or how long YOU’VE waited or how sad YOU’LL be or how stuck YOU are.

It’s hard. It’s hard to react with joy for others and not think of ourselves. It’s hard to put aside all of the reasons we should have what we want and just be happy for someone else.

It’s humbling and it’s control releasing.

I’m not great at it. Not by a mile. But I’m working on it.

I’m working on saying that I trust and I know that everything that is good is good and everything that is hard will rise up goodness, all ready to be skimmed-full and concentrated. I’m working on saying and believing that my Savior does not sell out of his goodness.

He does not sell out of His goodness.

It breaks my heart to see us not take joy for others. I don’t know but that THAT is true fellowship. Our fellowship is rusty, grown over, out of practice.

It breaks my heart to hear us tear each other down. I don’t know but that THAT is true grace.

No one deserves. But still HE gives freely.

I know it’s hard. But He knows, too. And our sacrifice of praise and joy is not lost on Him.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day nineteen: giving and giving some more

Guess what? We’re going to talk even more about expectations today. Mostly because I’ve found that it’s pivotal for me.

Having low expectations is all about having grace for others. It’s about seeing who they are and loving them right there.

It doesn’t mean that you don’t hope for them. Or that you have to say everything is ok when it’s not. It just means that you accept what a person’s availability level is and you don’t ask them to hold up a weight that is far too heavy for them.

Sometimes I like to make this a game. I like to think about how much I can do for a person without expecting anything in return. I like to think about giving and then giving some more and then giving even more. And when I follow through and do it? It’s so fun.

It’s how Christ has called us to live. Walk another mile even though your sandals have come unshod and your skirt tails are choking you with dust they’ve already kicked up.

That kind of loving? That kind of loving has to be done without looking for reward. And doing that without reward is ok. You don’t always have to fight for what you get back.

To those who say that it’s too much-that you have to protect yourself, I say that the guarding of your heart comes in what you anticipate the other person doing in response to your love, your giving.

If you’re caught up in how you are affected then I’m pretty sure you’ll never find joy in relationships. Joy is found in giving away. Not demanding in return.

Look. This isn’t right in every situation. There are relationships that need more than what I’m offering today.

But. What happens when you’ve poured yourself out without any bitterness or rights championing or guilt inducing is a beautiful picture of what love really is.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day eighteen: expectations part two

We talked about expectations last week when we were covering joy in lacking.

Expectations are just as important in relationships.

What I am about to say is going to sound incredibly mean. It’s not. In fact, I’ve learned that it’s actually full of grace.

Lower expectations. Expect people to be who they are not who you hope they will be.

There are so many broken relationships and hurting women that could know healing if we just owned up to the fact that loving others is most of the time about meeting them where they are instead of demanding that they come to us.

Maybe there’s a friendship that isn’t what it was. Don’t force it to be the same. Allow it to change. Lower your expectations.

Maybe there’s a person who has never given to you the way you’ve given to them. Lower expectations. They might not ever give to you they way you’d hoped. But holding that over them in your heart isn’t doing anything but hurting you.

Listen. Because we are people and we can make a mess out of just about anything, there are some really hurtful and broken connections in our worlds. You might need more than what I’m proposing today. There might be deeper issues.

But. In my experience, there’s always a bit of what I bring to the table and saddle others with. And when I let go of some of that and just accept them where they are, I begin to find more joy in knowing them.

Lowered expectations can lower disappointment and resentment and bitterness.

It’s like a big breath of relieving air. Joy filled air.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here

day seventeen: joy in relationships

And now we’ve gotten to the part of my life where joy seems to be the hardest to apply. Relationships. I have to admit that I’m a bit scared to go here.

The best place to start is to tell y’all a bit about my husband. He is sweet, for sure. He’s loving and fun and full of mercy, all things you would expect from someone who works daily with children and their heart hurts.

He also doesn’t take any of my junk. No manipulating. No pouting. No pity parties. He will straight call me out on them. I’m not going to lie. I haven’t always received his leadership with a humble spirit. Smiley face.

He’s also not a flowery speaker. When we had been dating long enough to feel comfortable and familiar and pretty certain that our relationship was going somewhere, he said something to me. Something about how what I say in 20 minutes, he could say in 2. And that’s just about right. He delivers the absolute true necessities boiled down to nuggets.  It can smart but it can also be wonderful.

And I don’t know if it’s just me and how I developed habits in relating to others but he has led me in some transformational ways when it comes to relationships and being determined to be joyful in them.

And we are going to go there this week.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

small joy: this weekend

Look what I noticed outside my window this weekend.

Fall is on its way. Makes me so happy.

What about you? What small joy did you find this weekend?

days fifteen and sixteen: joy when it doesn’t go as planned.

Well, this weekend has been a lesson in staying in a joy filled place even when all of your sweet plans don’t come to fruition.

The truth is that we plan but we are not in control. It’s a constant balance of intentionality and surrender.

Even the most trivial things can upend your plans and steal rejoicing from your heart.

Which is what has happened to me this weekend. Apparently I spilled a drink on my laptop. At some point in distant history.

But it made my battery go haywire. The good news is that we don’t need a new laptop.

We don’t have an Apple store. And so my husband took this little thing up to Charlotte and back. Girly handmade recess laptop sleeve and all.

We have a new battery. But not a report on doing something this weekend.

It wasn’t a hard interruption. In fact, it made me be slow today.

Joy takes upended plans, surrenders them and finds glimmers in what’s left.

But I thought of y’all and how I asked you to share.

So we’ll do that tomorrow. Will you come back here tomorrow and share in the comments about how you did something this weekend to be determined in joy? I’d love to hear from you.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day fourteen: do something

This weekend, will you turn in, tune out or take action?

Examine your own life and not someone else’s. Celebrate something sweet and small. Do some precious and everyday thing with your loved ones that you’ve always loved to do or always wanted to do.

Practice quiet. Withdraw from the not enoughs and just a bit mores. Slow. down.

Do little somethings. Change what you can. Take care of routine things. But make time for something you’ve been putting off. Plan something to look forward to. Make a small change in your everyday.

I promise. I promise that you can find joy in the midst of this weekend. And, then? Will you come back here on Sunday and share a bit about it? I’ll do it, too.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

 

day thirteen: comparison continued

So let’s talk about resisting comparison when you are in want, need, lacking. We’ll cover comparison and relationships next week.

Examine your own life. Learn to focus on what you have and not what you lack. And learn to find joy in your own life. I’ve wasted too much energy thinking about what God’s given everyone else. It’s like our extra special super duper social nine year old. Whenever we are out in public, he’s constantly searching for who he can talk to next. It’s like watching a tennis spectator. His head is going back and forth and all around. It’s sweet. But not when it’s about comparison. It’s like we’re searching for every way everyone else has everything we want. Thank Him for His goodness to others and yourself and leave your comparison in His hands. Toss it out if you have to.

Turn off the tv. Toss (or store if you are a thrifty person) that glossy magazine before you can begin to pick it apart. Take a break from facebook. Fast from blogs. It’s ok to take a break from those things, especially if they are only making you shake your fist more. They’ll be there when you come back. Don’t spend your precious, precious moments trolling for ways that your life does NOT stack up. Joy is about studying the portions of your life that are full of goodness. And you probably don’t want to hear this. But just about every part of your life is laced with goodness.

Don’t be distracted from what you CAN do by what you CAN’T do. I’ve been guilty of feeling paralyzed in every part of my life because I don’t have what I want or need. I’m not minimizing your struggle. I’m just humbly suggesting that all of your life does not have to be on hold.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day twelve: joy’s enemy

We all know it. Comparison steals every bit of loveliness from any circumstance. I’m not sure why we’re so prone to it.

But we look around. Especially when we are going without, lacking, without what we want most.

We look around and we see. Better. More. Happier. Prettier. What I want and don’t have.

Someone else has it.

I think the answer to the comparison question is in the definition. What am I examining?

Am I examining my own life? Turning in and seeking to see its beauty?

Or am I examining everything else? My little eyes roaming around and looking and LOOKING at what others have. It’s one thing to glance. It’s another thing to obsess.

There’s something to be said for learning from others; looking for their wisdom.

But comparison is not that. Comparison is the act of stacking up and then tearing down. If I’m not tearing myself down, I’m tearing them down.

It’s a thief. Let’s talk more about this tomorrow. We’ll discuss some practical ways to say no to comparison.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day eleven: surrender is joy’s close companion

Surrender is really just an extension of expectations. When you are in a wilderness of not yet or not more, surrender is a key to finding joy.

To yield. To say, “Ok. This is where I am.” To accept that you don’t have what you want right now. To yield and believe that you can be ok until it happens or your wanter changes. To bend to the fact that even in pain joy can be found.

I’ve found that my biggest fist shaking happens right before surrender.

It’s like we want to stay shut in and all closed up when just a bit of breeze would be the best kind of joy.

Surrender is like an open window on a breezy and crisp fall day. It’s a chilly shock but the freshness it brings is life giving and joy altering.

What are your open windows of surrender today?

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day ten: expectations

Finding joy is not about ignoring sadness or longing. I sort of agree with good old Mr. Hughes when it comes to dreams and longings and ignoring them or stifling them.

If you can’t have what you long for what right now, it doesn’t do any good to deny that the longing exists.

It’s my hope and wish that you will seek joy in the hard places but that you won’t be defeated by the fact that the hard places are still there. Don’t defeat yourself with your expectations. Practice grace.

Joy shines brightest, boldest, shiniest when it’s been buffeted and hard pressed.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day nine: joy in the lacking

Well, I think we’ve talked joy as a discipline to death, don’t y’all?

Let’s talk about seeking joy when your wanting is big and your needing feels overwhelming and you are barely taking each breath without thinking about it. This thing you lack. And that’s what you’re living out of. Not what you have. But what you don’t.

At 21, I had never dated. Not one person. My heart ached so much. And I wondered if this was it. Was I called to be single? It became a living, walking, breathing fear that gripped my hand tight as a vice. My constant companion. Was there joy to be had in that season? Yes.

Our oldest child was a complete surprise. Our second was a lesson in patience. After nine months of trying and negative pregnancy tests, my every thought and breath was WHEN?! It was not as long as other waits but it was enough to know what it feels like when life reminds you that what you want is not what you have. A raw inhaling of icy cold air. Was there joy to be found in that season? Yes.

At 29, we had sold our house. We had moved into a rectory attached to my husband’s job and we had settled in, thinking this was for the long run. And then we were given months to move. Eventually, another rectory was offered and we moved two doors down. But somehow the fear and wondering of that uncertain season had tainted the water. And I lived in despair that I would never have what I wanted. I wondered if my children would ever have a sense of home. I lived with bare white walls and a leaky sink. Was there joy to be treasured in that season? Absolutely.

We’ve moved one more time since then. And my fears and fist shaking moments are still the same. We don’t own our home. We have one reliable car. We don’t have cable or smart phones or a permanent sense of house. I could go on. But in the midst of those wilderness wanderings, God has changed the way I see.

And, now? I’m embarrassed by how full my life is. Embarrassed and humbled in the best way. It doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with what we lack, not all shared here. It just means that I am learning to take it to God and live out of His abundance instead of what I don’t have.

So. Let’s talk about that this week.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.

day eight: small joy celebrated.

Big joy grows from little joy. It’s like we talked about yesterday. The small things have every effect on the big things.

This year, I’ve been celebrating small joys. Recording little things. Not ignoring the difficulties. Just seeing tiny snippets of beauty in them.

I am a creature of habit. I like my routine. And I’m not spontaneous. At all. I wake up with the birdies. And I like dinner early. In summary, I’m a grandma and I like my life just so.

I would have missed this, though.

Our not so little and not so big town is home to some pretty good college baseball. Like national champions good. And it’s our alma mater. Which we love. People are a tiny bit crazy about our school and it’s so much fun. And my husband loves baseball. Very, very much. He’s a Braves man if you must know. I’ve grown to love it, too. I’ll never forget the early years of our marriage listening to Skip Cary call games on the radio.

And a baseball scrimmage is free which means on a temperate and cool night you can take your three year old and girly girl and not worry about having to leave early. So we watched for sliding: our youngest’s obsession right now. He can slide real good.

I’m not going to lie. After about five minutes, our sassy sue was already asking when we were leaving.

We hung in. We took the long way home around the stadium just to watch a bit more. We watched sandlot boys scramble over the stadium to get baseballs signed.

A small and everyday joy for sure. What about you? What small joy can you celebrate today? When you celebrate them you celebrate the One who takes joy over you.

This post is part of a 31 day series on determined joy. Read from the beginning here.