The view from our front porch this morning, 8:30am. The coolest cloud I've ever seen!

“Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.”

{Lamentations 3:22-23}

 ~

“But I will sing of your strength,
in the morning I will sing of your love;
for you are my fortress,
my refuge in times of trouble.”

{Psalm 59:16}

In the midst of putting this post together I had a meltdown encounter with my three-year-old spirited son. I was the one melting down, to be clear. He was disobeying, ignoring me, and finally hit me. I reacted in anger, dragged him to his room, and pushed him in with him fighting me every step of the way. I yelled. I lost my cool. I was so *not* gentle or kind or loving. Husband walked through the door at that exact moment and saw the worst of it. His gentle words caused me to feel great conviction, which led to me cuddling with Isaac in his bed, apologizing to each other and tearfully saying I love you and rubbing noses. He asked me why there was water coming from my eyes as my tears dripped regret onto in pillow. I told him that I was sad that I yelled, and with big brown eyes full of love he put his arm around my neck and tenderly said “It’s ok, Mommy, I love you”.

Praise God for grace every moment of the day. Praise him for mercies and compassions. May my mistakes and yours always end with conviction and love and second chances. My emotions are so fickle but He is my fortress of love, singing peace over me.

If you are in a season of your life that is ripe with heaviness and burden, I want to encourage you today to breathe in the newness of a morning gifted to you by God. His mercies are new every morning, and He never fails. There is beauty all around us, dear friends, and my prayer for you today is that you see it and revel in it. Let it wash over you with gratefulness and peace.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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I’m having a bit of a Blogging Identity Crisis. I have long envisioned my blog as a sort of intersection between the practical and the poetic, and I am content with my lack of a specific topic focus. I know that’s kind of against the “rules” for growing a blog – if you blog recipes and rainy day activities, then you should not also be taking on heavy spiritual or moral issues, or poetry and art, or God forbid – politics. Your blog should be about *something* specific. IF you are interested in growing your blog beyond the usual mom/grandma/bff readership, that is… which, I am.

Can I just lay it all bare for you here, knocking knees and insecurities aside? I do desire to see this thing grow. I think that most bloggers do, if they’re honest with themselves. (We all want to be heard.) I have two main reasons:

1) It is my art and soul poured out into word form. Most artists want their art to be acknowledged. Even beyond that, I want my art to matter. I want it to move hearts and encourage others in this messy business of humanity. I want it be an expression of my status as an image-bearer of Christ, and I want it to speak love and truth. Growing subscriber numbers and comments don’t define me, but heck yeah, they sure are encouraging. When someone shares my writing with others and likes what they read I am blown away and honoured.

2) It is a potential form of income-earning that I would like to explore. If I successfully grow my blog enough then the potential for earning a tiny bit of extra for my family’s income would be a tremendous blessing. We have willingly chosen a life of “poverty” (please know that I mean this relative to our own culture, not those around the world who are truly in poverty) in order to pursue overseas missions aviation. We are barely making ends meet right now, but we are learning huge lessons about trust and God’s provision, not to mention frugality and creativity  in meeting physical needs.

Now, perhaps you are thinking that I’m nuts. That I’m no artist, and that my writing certainly isn’t good or special enough to ever grow that much. Trust me, I have those fears myself. (Boy, do I ever!).

But, you know, maybe Mandy is onto something when she says:

“…maybe, just maybe, we’re all a bit nervous from time to time that what we have to offer isn’t enough. And we’re all a bit nervous that we aren’t going to break through the noise to draw attention to the message that burns within us. And we’re all a bit nervous that the crowd won’t have ears to hear or eyes to see. And maybe that’s just part of being an artist” (emphasis mine).

And isn’t that just it?

Trying to break through the noise to draw attention to the message that burns within us.

That is why I write in this space.

And yet sometimes I look at my latest posts and all I feel is dull. Enter: this little Blogging Identity Crisis. Sometimes I want to write about the practical stuff – the daily grind of being a natural-minded mama of nearly three littles just trying to hang on and maybe even stick my head out  the window and feel the wind rushing by as I scrape up dried bits of food from the floor, wipe poopy bums, and deal with discipline issues beyond my expertise. A recipe for something delicious and nourishing (though I totally believe that food can be art, too), a practical discussion on raising three-year-olds… stuff like that. Then at other times I want to hunker down over a piece of carrot cake and a steaming cup of caramel rooibos, and just talk about the heavy stuff. Theology, the church, pregnancy and educated childbirth, morality and God, whole foods and natural living. Sometimes I want to share my *gasp* opinions on things without worrying that I’ll disappoint or offend someone, somehow. I’m not in neat little categories, and if men are like waffles and women are like spaghetti (are they really?) then I’m the most tangled plate of spaghetti you’ve ever seen. (Perhaps you are, too?)

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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The other day I was in a gnarly mood, scolding the kids for breaking the crayons that I gave them to colour with. And since we all know that a grumpy mama begets grumpy children, and it’s all a big fat grumpy cycle of grumpiness, it was not a good scene. Eventually we moved on though, and I tried my darndest not to be annoyed that the brand-new crayons that they got for Christmas are now broken little pieces with the paper torn off and scattered throughout the house.

The next day I was scraping happy face stickers off the kitchen floor which had been strategically placed there for decoration by the three-year-old while the 18-month-old gleefully watched.

“Those darn kids just don’t know how to use these things respectfully. Stickers, crayons, and every time I let him paint he ends up painting himself more than the paper. Maybe I just shouldn’t bother letting them play with anything until they’re at least eight. Maybe ten. Maybe then they’ll play with them “properly”… I thought huffily, as I scraped them up with my fingernails.”

(At this point I’m indignantly picturing papers with adorable little drawings and reasonably-placed stickers, made with care and coloured with non-broken crayons…)

Then a little voice on my shoulder asked if I might try to compare my kids’ playful exploration of stickers and crayons with the way that I stumble around trying to figure out how to use prayer and other tools for spiritual growth.

“um, no,” I said firmly. “It’s obviously a totally different thing…”

Then the little voice whispered this thought: maybe putting an entire sheet of stickers on the floor just for the sheer joy of peeling them off the sheet and sticking them on is just the way I should be thinking about my spiritual life. Maybe breaking crayons and peeling the paper off and scribbling on the play kitchen are their way of discovering and learning about crayons and how they can be used. I’m sure that in a few years’ time they will have stopped those things and started using them more truly, more consistently, and more maturely.

But first, they are children. Acting in childish ways. They are immature and that’s ok. They are learning as I (gently!) guide them.

“And maybe, just maybe there’s a lesson there for you, too,” the voice whispered?

***

A little while later as I reached for my Bible and journal I noticed that my last entry was dated nearly two months ago. Yikes. When will I ever get this thing right? When will I stop being so immature in my disciplines? When will I learn to read and pray and think the way I should? 

And the verse I read was this: “Therefore, since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.”

Perfecting holiness.

It’s a process, a journey, a destination. In order for something to be perfected it must by nature find its beginnings in imperfection. On my way as I’m learning and growing and fumbling around with scales on my eyes, I’m making a mess of things, breaking crayons and “wasting” happy face stickers like there’s no tomorrow. But I’m trying to get the hang of this stuff. I’m exploring. I’m curious and even playful; I’m determined.

Most of all though, I’m hopeful.

That God can take my broken crayon offerings and lead me to discipleship and the art of perfecting holiness.

One carelessly placed sticker and broken crayon at a time.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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I’m sitting on my favourite chair in the living room. It’s cozy and comfortable, and just what I need to relax and take a breath between the work of suppertime and bathtime and bedtime. It’s kind of like Tiny Town in that way. Small and cozy. Familiar. We’ve just finished supper after getting home from a walk in the crisp air under sunny blue skies. The bit of snow that lays on the ground crunched under the stroller wheels as our lungs breathed in cold and breathed out breath made visible. We walked hand-in-hand and chit-chatted about how good it was to get out for a walk, and guessed at how long it would be until the Big Cold hits this year.

With bellies full of a simple supper, the kiddos are playing on the floor in their jammies at my feet wreaking havoc in their usual charming way. My honey walks into the room and hands me his iPhone with a goofy smile on his face. I look, read the email, and give him a raised-eyebrow and twinkling-eyes look of well-of-course-you-got-the-job-silly-i-never-stopped-believing-in-you. He grins sheepishly and we smile at each other as the worries and what-if’s melt away. The peace and rightness of it all melts over us like a relief from the burden we did not realize we had hung onto.

If I’m not careful, the unknowing will kill me. Or, rather, it will crush my living. It entangles and drags down hope into the pit of discontent and future-mindedness while sacrificing the gifts of today on the altar of control and wishing away the days until. Until this or that or whatever I am looking to while I miss the days in front of me, around me. I’ve been learning slowly though that this will never end.

I’ve been learning slowly that the temptation to live in the future instead of in the present will not quit now that we have this news, or the next, or the next. Not when we finally are settled with an organization, or a country, or how long our assignment will be, or what we will do after that. No, the urge to always want to know what’s ahead will always be there. But miracle of miracles, I am finding sweetness in the unknowing. A rest of sorts, from worrying and planning and fussing.

As aspiring overseas missionaries, our sense of home and rootedness cannot be found in a town, or a house with picket fence, or anything at all earthly. Our sense of home is ever-changing and mobile. It is wherever we have each other that we have found home, and wherever we land our earthly selves and nudge each other into opening up into community, saying yes to relationship and participation, and denying the urge to burrow down deep into anonymity. That’s where we are home. For one unknown day ahead we will pick up and go again. Across the country, across the world, wherever it may be. And heaven forbid that we should trade the beauty of the now for the worrying of the what’s-to-come.

We realized upon our return to Tiny Town after the holidays that this obscure little place in the middle of the Canadian prairies, surrounded by wheat fields as far as the eye can see, has become home to us. I hadn’t expected that feeling to ever come, considering the nomadic lifestyle that we’ve embarked on. This life that we’ve chosen (or, the life that has chosen us?). Nonetheless it feels like home and I can’t help but wonder if it’s more to do with the state of our contented hearts and our living-of-today rather than wondering about the length of days for which we’ll stay.

When I don’t know what’s ahead, I can just focus on the here-and-now. When I don’t know what’s to come but I trust the One who does, I can just leave it in His hands. But how, really? I wonder the same thing, after years of fussing and worrying and obsessing over it all.

It’s a mystery, and a beautiful one at that. But not only is it possible, it’s so much easier, too.

He starts a week from Monday. He’s a flight instructor. He’s going to teach his students how to fly airplanes. God, I’m proud of him. And I mean that will all reverence in the world. Our God has certainly been sustaining us and guiding us in this long journey, and we know that He will continue to do so. When Honey finished his training last summer and got his instructor rating, we knew we were entering into a season of waiting. We’ve lived with the possibility of moving to any flight school in the country that would hire him, and as we’ve wrestled with the idea of staying vs. going and the out-of-our-hands nature of it all, we’ve come to a strange sense of peace and contentment.

So, now we know. The wait is over.

For now, that is.

We’ve learned that they’ve changed the way they are handling their hirings this time. Everyone will be on a three-month contract to start, which will be extended as necessary according to student numbers and such. We are hoping to stay for around a year, which is long enough to gain the hours necessary for an organization like this to be able to use us in a place like this or this.

From Tiny Town for while, to Toronto to raise funds and prepare for overseas, to a far-away country for missionary aviation, and beyond. The unknowing and the questions of what’s to come and when and how and all of it will never end. We hold these hopes and plans loosely, knowing that today is enough on its own.

And I’ll keep living my today’s for as long as they are gifted to me, breathing deeply in the beauty and living in the now, grateful for it all.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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It’s resolution-time and despair is thick in the air. Why bother trying? The stats tell us we will fail and all will be for naught. But yet my soul refuses to listen. I refuse to sink down. I stubbornly cling to my quiet optimism and hope for renewal, that one day my old self will be gone forever, and that while I wait I am His image-bearer and love-bearer in this world and I will never ever give that away. I can never sacrifice my opportunity to live and love more fully in His way.

It’s a slow fading of darkness into night and another year marches to a close. The minutes tick by as we make our choices and live our lives with breath in and breath out without even noticing most of the time that’s it’s an utter miracle just to be alive. And life continues while we catch up, with scrambled eggs and car drives and budgeting and kissing in the kitchen. We are the people of fresh new moments and life in the fast lane, trying to slow down. Trying to remember the reason for the sun’s rise every morning. And every so often the glimmer of unveiled knowing shines through the cracks of our constructed reality and we truly see what it’s all about. And we exhale our thanks to Him, and declare our refusal to ever stop saying yes to hope and love and the beauty of it all. The quiet knowing that I can do better (in His strength) and that I was made for more than mediocrity. Passionate resolve is my life’s amen and so I raise my glass to hope and give a nod to deep breaths of grace and second chances, and thirds, and so on.

These days are heavy with the never-giving-up on the living, and I make my art by saying yes.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Sometimes we don’t need another chance to express how we feel or to ask someone to understand our situation. Sometimes we just need a firm kick in the pants. An unsmiling expectation that if we mean all these wonderful things we talk about and sing about, then lets see something to prove it. –Dietrich Bonhoeffer

This Christmas I received a book called “Praying in Color: Drawing a New Path to God”. I’ve only yet read the first few chapters, introducing the concept, but already I love it, as I suspected I would. For a long time I have been convicted at the lack of discipline in my faith and the quote above encapsulates it perfectly. I need more spiritual discipline in my life to show that I really do mean what I say I believe. It’s not about salvation through works, it’s about allowing the Holy Spirit to take a hold of my life and change me into what He desires me to be. It’s about putting your money where your mouth is and doing the hard work of spirituality in order to reap the good things that go along with it.

I am free to go about my life as a “lukewarm” Christian, but to be honest there’s no joy in that. No fulfillment. Saying that you are living for Christ without actually disciplining yourself to grow spiritually rings hollow in the end. Consider these words from Bonhoeffer: “Christianity without discipleship is always Christianity without Christ”. Do you agree with that claim? I am definitely nodding along, and though it is an extreme statement, it’s one I cannot criticize.

*

I watched a romantic comedy the night before last, and in it the main characters are the fiancé and the bride’s best friend, who begin to have an affair. The guy ends up breaking off the engagement to be with the other girl (the best friend of the bride-to-be), and the overall message is that following your heart and passions is far superior to doing what is right (in fact, the two are pretty well equated, with no regard for morality whatsoever).

In this world we are bombarded on all sides with the gospel of self-fulfillment. Feelings are valued over morality, lust over love, and indulging in your physical desires is much more important than self-control and delayed gratification. This message is in direct opposition to the discipline and self-denial that is inherent to a life of discipleship. Discipleship is not “normal”. It is not popular. And it certainly is not easy.

We have learned to live with unholiness and have come to look upon it as the natural and expected thing (A.W. Tozer).

It can be difficult not to become ensnared by these subtle messages in our culture. Difficult, yes, but not impossible, and I think, mandatory for growth and closeness with Him. Do I want a Christianity without Christ (not really faith in Christ at all!), or do I want to live now, to really truly live my days with every moment attuned to Christ?

Christianity does not consist in any partial amendment of our lives, any particular moral virtues, but in an entire change of our natural temper, a life wholly devoted to God (William Law).

*

So how to achieve this? The how has always been the part that trips me up and intimidates the heck out of me. What if I try it and fail? What if my life is miserable? What if, what if, what if?

Or what if I find the satisfaction and joy and maturity that we are designed to seek our whole lives?

My word for 2012 signifies the journey I begin in earnest. It is a getting-down-to-business and an acknowledging that I have been a gung-ho believer, but a poor disciple. I want to grow in maturity, and I am ready to accept the work that is necessary to do so.

In 2012, I will explore these spiritual disciplines (some of which I am more familiar with than others):

• Solitude and Silence
• Fasting and Frugality
• Secrecy and Sacrifice
• Study and Prayer (This is the hardest one for me, and one that I will focus on first.)
• Service and Submission
• Worship and Celebration
• Fellowship and Confession

It’s probably going to be downright difficult (nearly impossible?). But I am convinced that while I cannot become spiritually mature on my own strength, I can choose to submit myself to the practices that will lead me to Him. To discipline myself to attune my heart to Him and allow him to change me with his power and strength.

Disciple.

A journey. A commitment. A disciplining of self, that I might live more fully for Him.

A postscript: I want to say thanks to all who read here regularly. I am completely humbled at the amount of people who find something of worth in my words. All of the glory for that goes to Him, and I thank-you for giving me the opportunity to write my heart and have it be heard. What a privilege! It’s probably pretty obvious that I am trying to grow my readership, to increase this community, and to use this place with integrity. If you enjoy what you read, would take a moment to “like” Red and Honey on Facebook, to subscribe, or to share your favourite articles? I would be so appreciative and honoured.

I wish you a happy Christmas season and new coming year of fresh hope to you today!

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Buy less. Shorten your gift list. Ask for less. Resist the pull of commercialism on your family by deemphasizing gifts and focusing more on family time, activities, etc…

These are popular sentiments among conscientious families these days that wish to remember the Christ-child as more than just an afterthought in their celebrations this month. I can certainly empathize with this desire, and I completely understand why many families will choose to minimize the gift giving and receiving. It’s been overdone. Overemphasized. There are children who believe that the entire point of Christmas is what’s on their wish list to Santa. That just doesn’t sit well with me at all.

However.

For those of us who count gifts as a love language, it is not so easy to dismiss their importance and centrality to our celebrations – to just focus on family time (a different love language) instead. I remember my childhood Christmases with magical and fond memories because of the amazing extent to which my parents went to make it special for us. There were family activities and togetherness in the days leading up, culminating with Christmas morning and the overflowing of gifts and toys that delighted and thrilled us. The amount they spent I never knew, because it never mattered. It was far more than any other day of the year, and that was significant. We waited all year for this day. Not a penny was spent out of turn and each time we decided on a “want” we were told to ask for it for Christmas. And so we waited until that one special morning in which gifts were lavished upon us by parents who loved us and wanted to share in our delight. As I think back on those memories I remember the gifts that He pours out in my life. Sometimes they come after waiting, but they are always worth the wait. I learned gratitude this way. And the knowledge that those who love me want to see my joy, as does He.

I want my kids to wake up on Christmas morning to lots of gifts and an overflowing stocking because I want them to know the overflowing love of Christ. I want them to know that God desires to give them so many gifts, and that Jesus Christ was the very best gift of all. He didn’t hold back, but rather he gave us blessings in abundance if we dare to see them and declare them. A family of origin, a new family in the midst of growing, beautiful masterpieces in the form of wide-eyed children, rich with wonder and ripe with curiosity and unending trust. A marriage that is built on faith and that endures through the hard times anchored firmly. A home that is cozy and warm, beautiful things for my eyes to see, food that tastes good, and incredible health and life that beats in our chests all of us each day on and on, not stopping for single second. I catch my breath and realize that I am blessed beyond comprehension, and emulating His generous character is one tiny way to thank Him.

Furthermore I want them to delight in giving specially chosen gifts to family and friends to symbolize and share that love and richness from our lives. Not a material richness, to be sure, but a spiritual one. A richness that cannot be bought for all the savvy business deals in the world. I want to share that overflowing abundance, signified by the tradition of wrapped up packages containing all manner of treasures and delights. There was everything from new sleds (remember GT’s, anyone?) to slippers, all to remind us of the Giver of Gifts and His goodness to us.

The tradition of giving gifts has usually been linked to the wise men who brought gifts to the baby Jesus to honor him. We give gifts to each other today to remember this and to honor Christ. So I think the pertinent question is not how much can we minimize our participation in the gong show of more, more, more – and how quickly can we jump on the less, less, less bandwagon. It is simply how can we ensure that our gift-giving honors Christ? Whether one small parcel or a toppling pile of packages – how can we bring glory to the King of Kings, of whose birth we sing, by participating in these modernized traditions?

If I may be so bold, I have a few suggestions. Nowhere on my list will you see the suggestion to cut the aunties and uncles off from the gift list, or spend half of what you did last year, though if you thoughtfully choose to do those things, that’s ok too. Do whatever works for your family! I just don’t think it’s necessarily the better way.

1. Consider buying used. We have a very small amount to spend on gifts because as missionaries our monthly budget is very tight. Our kids don’t know the difference between a toy bought from a friend second-hand for a third of the store price, and a boxed toy from the store. You can get so much more for your money – three outfits instead of just one. Four books instead of a brand new one.
2. Get creative! I had aspired to make all handmade gifts this year, but being pregnant this fall and having other things on my plate to fill my time just didn’t allow for it. So my modified goal is to have at least a couple of handmade gifts, and to increase that number each year from now on. Handmade is often more frugal, always more personal, and definitely a break from the commercialization that is indeed so rampant in our society.
3. When you buy gifts, do it carefully and thoughtfully. A hastily thrown together gift with no real effort to make it special is a dishonor to the God that gives us more than we could ask for. If you can’t figure out “the perfect gift” then ask the person!
4. Don’t spend more than you can afford. Being a poor steward of your money in order to give an impressive and awesome gift is not honoring to Christ.
5. Think of others. Emphasize giving to teach your children generosity and selflessness. As you are able, consider giving to charitable organizations that work with those in our own neighborhoods who may not be able to afford any gifts at all, or those in other countries who cannot even afford the basic necessities of life.

The bottom line is this: however you give, whatever you give… do it with the intention of honoring Christ our King as the true giver of gifts. The one who blesses us beyond comprehension with good things, like a love that we don’t deserve, and the beauty that is in our everyday living. Such rich blessings, given with a perfect love.

Emulate the beautiful generosity of our loving God, and celebrate the Christ-child who is the most precious gift of all.

May peace and joy be yours this Christmas!

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Do you ever feel that your heart is a little bit rumpled and in a state of disarray? Slightly frayed around the edges?

I could have entitled this post “the curse of the idealist”. If you know me at all, you may have guessed that I am a strong idealist. Kamille at Redeeming the Table is somewhat of an expert on the MBTI personality profiles, and she wrote about the INFP type (my type) that “they have a deeper sense of idealism in them than of the other NFs.  In fact, it’s their idealism derived from their strong sense of morality, which makes them believe that the world is an ethical, honorable place.  Their idealism is connected with their ability to be self-sacrificing for someone or something they believe in.  This idealism also leaves them feeling disconnected & alone in the world.”

The quotidian blessing of laundry and cranky children and stressed-out husbands and tight budgets are indeed blessings when viewed through rose-coloured glasses. And yet some days they are simply tiresome, heavy burdens to overcome. Even my own idealism fails me on some days. What shall I do, then? Lean more completely on Christ? Always a fine idea indeed. But perhaps it might be wise to ask of my own part in my own condition. Have I sought the wrong things? Too many good things? Taken on more than I should have and squeezed out the One Thing that really matters most? If I’m being perfectly honest, perhaps a yes of varying degree should be answered to each of these questions.

Last year in the Christmas season I made a goal for myself to have a handmade Christmas. It was perfectly laid out in my head (big picture, of course – executing minute details gives me hives). Handmade jives with who I am so well – my personal values for buying less, embracing my creativity, avoiding thoughtless and impersonal gifts, and being intentional in opting out of the consumer mentality.  I began gathering and ideas and inspiration right away (hello, pinterest!). There are some seriously brilliant homemade gift ideas out there – beyond badly knitted potholders and pictures painted by your kids (though both could be given with heart and soul I’m sure). I won’t list them here just in case I end up going completely against my nature and actually finishing some of these projects that I’ve been eyeing.

In addition to a making all of our Christmas gifts (for a list of nearly thirty family and friends-like-family), I also aspire(d?) to execute one of those creative ideas to observe advent with my children, with a small activity for each day, maybe a small piece of candy (homemade, of course), and a family devotional thought to do each evening at supper-time. I have the perfect retro advent calendar that I thrifted last year, hanging empty on my wall, taunting me with its start date edging closer and closer.

Then there are the photo books. For the past several years I have made a photo book to give to grandparents each year at Christmas, and each year it has expanded and grown until it is now a beautiful record of our family’s life and adventures over the past year. Last year my sister and I collaborated, so that my parents’ grandkids were all included in the same book. I believe it was around 150 pages, which of course means weeks and weeks and a ridiculous amount of late nights with many hours spent editing and perfecting. Not something I am willing to let go.

Oh, and Christmas cards! Good grief! Every single year since we’ve been married (coming up on nine years this spring!) I’ve desperately wanted to send out Christmas cards. I know that it’s an easy “no” for many people. It’s at the bottom of the priority list (or not on it at all), and it’s so often begrudged with a sense of duty, that lately I’ve often heard declarations of skipping the whole dang thing. I have to say though – I love Christmas cards. Growing up we’d have dozens of them, all taped to the front closet door, giving tidings of joy and friends and news from afar, all simply given with love from a greeting and a handwritten address (aren’t those a rare sight in your mailbox these days?!). Perhaps it’s the nostalgia, perhaps it’s the thought that goes into it… whatever it is, I love it. Plus, I already got the family photo printed to tuck inside, so I kinda have to now.

As December draws nearer, and these lofty goals begin to openly mock me, I grow more anxious, more stressed, and more smothered. The wants have become needs in my idealistic mind, and I think… I may just be coming to a place where I can admit… that I can’t do it all. Amidst first trimester pregnancy fatigue, chasing two other monkeys around, and keeping up with a home… not to mention trying to keep up some semblance of a blog (because when I let my writing go, I begin to feel rumpled and frayed and bottled up)… I am still only one person. One person with a tendency to dream and think up all kinds of big ideas that will bless my family and bring satisfaction and joy. A love for Christ expressed in a way fitting for how he created me. All of these things aren’t bad in and of themselves – they are beautiful ways to honour the Christ-child, born in a manger so many years ago.

The problem is, none of these are honouring to Christ if part of the package is for my heart to be all in disarray.

The question is, what do I decide to cut? What do I give up? What dream must I mourn and how many times do I have to bring my head out of the clouds and back to the hard realities of my capabilities and situation?

No perfect answers as of yet. Stay tuned??

{How do you balance all of the things you want to do with the amount of time that you have? Are you an idealist also?}

***

PS. You can find me over at Kelly’s place, The Complete Guide to Imperfect Homemaking, today as well. I guest posted on the subject of Ten Tips for Cooking and Hosting a Stress-Free Turkey Dinner. I would love to hear your own tips in the comments over there!

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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The kiddos are downstairs in their new playroom happily going about their childhood, not (yet) fighting or crying or needing me for one of a million possible reasons. I stand at the sink dreamily washing the dishes because the dear hard-working hubby has not yet had a chance to install the dishwasher. The warm water and suds swirl around my hands, turning them pruney, as I listen to Christmas music and feel quite productive. After all, it’s only 9:30am and I’ve showered, dressed, made and served breakfast, washed the dishes (almost), and remembered to do vitamin D and CLO all around. Others may laugh at my version of productivity, but to me this day is unfolding with joy and an everydayness that is the very reason for why I consider my life to be untradeable and inimitable.

There is no other place I’d rather be.

I am not an oppressed woman, bound to the kitchen and the badly-needing-swept-floors. To the wiping of snotty noses and diapered bums. I am not a victim of a system of anti-feminists and narrow-minded patriarchs. It may not be glamorous in the traditional sense of the word but please, know this: I am a strong woman with a mind of her own (oh mercy, many can attest to this fact!), and I willingly and gladly and knowingly chose this life. This exact life.

Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, with a contentedness that you could not buy for all the money in the entire world.

That is perhaps the real reason for this sense of productivity: the peace in my heart and the joy that bubbles in my toes, tapping to the Christmas music, as I scrub the pot of burnt chili from last night’s dinner. There are dinner fiascos, cranky children (and parents), distance between spouses, pregnancy fatigue, losing tempers and yelling, apologies, and always, always a return to each other’s arms, eventually. This is one family that will not be taken down, that will not be allowing a crack for the enemy to enter. This is real life and it is too damn valuable to be anything less than amazing. And so we press on. Burnt dinner, arguments, and toes touching in bed as we fall asleep, and we breathe deep in the beauty of the mundane stuff that is our life.

Woven in throughout the stuff of life is the joy and peace of knowing that this is it. This is the life I asked for, and I wouldn’t trade it. For this moment, I am focused on the things that matter, and when you catch that glimpse of joy it is deep and soul-burning. My breath catches in my throat, and I know.

I just know.

This is love.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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...so this is the six week belly (after supper though, and that seriously makes a difference you know. and I'm not kidding when I say that my friend was seriously this size at almost 23 weeks pregnant! granted, it was her first pregnancy, and this is my third, but still, yikes! i must say though - half of it is probably leftover space from number one and two, haha!). also - please excuse the really dirty mirror that doesn't help my "i'm-trying-to-be-a-good-housekeeper" case.

I rocked my daughter to sleep last night (yes, she’s still rocked/nursed to sleep, and yes we’re ok with it. mostly), her little arm curled around mine, holding me closer as she nuzzled in to my breast and heaved a quivery sigh of surrender, slowing breath, and eyelashes dusting her plump cheeks. Her body gave in to the rest it craved and the blissful security that I provide, and I rocked in that creaky chair ’til I was sure she was out. I breathed in the moment of sweet cuddles and then with a mind to the dirty dishes awaiting me downstairs (and before I rocked myself to sleep) gave her up to her cozy bed. Another slow sigh and wiggle to get comfy, then all was still.

I sighed, and reprimanded myself for the mind that had gone galloping away into a future world of worries and what-if’s, yet again.

Such a wild and untameable mind I have sometimes.

You see, I am six weeks pregnant. And my pants are getting tight. (Rocked the bella band for the first time today – woohoo for wearing my favourite jeans still, even if they weren’t even close to buttoned). And in these days of growing belly, having gone through this twice already before, I know what’s coming. I know the massiveness that is my impending future. And so, worry is what floods my mind when putting my dear daughter in her crib these days.

Will she learn to fall asleep by herself before I’m too huge?

What if she doesn’t and I’m so huge I can’t bend over?

What if I have to try but I’m such a massive blob that it’s impossibly awkward and wakes her every time? Stressful!

How did I do this with Isaac, when I was pregnant with Aliza?

Will I grow so tired that I begin to resent this little one?

Will I be fired from the motherhood club and be a massive failure…!?

Before I know it, my mind has been consumed with thoughts and worries that are not mine to worry about. But the thoughts are fleeting and soon I am focused on staying awake long enough to do the dishes and relax with the hubby for a few precious moments before falling into that amazingly soft pillow and duvet combo. But the same thing comes to mind night after night, as I bend to place the little piece of me known as Aliza in her bed, and I am affronted with little wisps of worry. What-if. What-if. What-if.

Do I truly trust Him with my needs? With my troubles?

It’s just a “small thing”, really. The awkwardness of being hugely pregnant and how to care for other small children. But it’s representative of the larger fears and what-if’s that loom in the shadows of my mind.

I was reminded of this verse:

“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.” {Matthew 6:34, The Message}

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” {Matthew 6:34, NIV}

And breathed a sigh of relief.

Just knowing that I only have to think of today’s troubles is a burden lifted. I feel lighter and freer, just letting that wash over me. What a priceless gift!

And the words of this hymn are sung in my mind:

O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

~~~

Do you find yourself being carried away by worries? No matter whether they are big or small, they can take a place that is not rightfully theirs in your life. Do yourself a favour, and “give your entire attention to what God is doing right now”.

{This post is part of my “31 Days of Real Housewife Confessions“. More than halfway done now! I’ll be chatting mainly about marriage and womanhood from here on out, although let’s be honest – I’m not good at following the rules… even my own, so we shall see!}

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Today’s interview is a total treat for me – I’ve been reading The Gypsy Mama for a while now, and her writing is powerful and evocative, with a strength and truth in it that is rarely expressed so profoundly. I highly recommend subscribing to her blog and hearing her words for yourself. Lisa-Jo was kind enough to answer some questions for me for our 31 Days of Real Housewife Confessions series, so today I share these with you with the hope that these words will encourage you and challenge you.

***

1. How long have you been a housewife? How many kids do you have?

Gosh, thanks so much for including me in your 31 days. I am totally telling Nester about this to prove that even though I didn’t have the courage to write my own 31 days series, at least I made an appearance Ok, so housewife? Well, I work full time from home while wrangling a six-month-old baby and juggling preschool and Kindergarten drop offs and picks up for my two oldest kids, along with their Tae Kwon Do, playdates, and run-of-the-mill meltdowns. So, three kids, one house, lots of laundry, an awesome job and a whole lot of chaos for the last six years. But I’ve been married for 12 years. It just took a while for me to figure out I did, in fact, want to be a mom. And now that I am, I love it and this tiny house that we rent and the family inside that make it home.

2. If I walked in to your house unannounced right now, what would I see?

Oh man, now I wish I’d answered these questions yesterday because yesterday the house was all spruced up for family we have visiting from South Africa. Today? Not so much. Today we’re back to the usual pink stroller in the living room, golden grahams stranded under the dining room table, an assortment of tea cups in the sink and a partially inflated air mattress occupying much of the play room. The baby’s room, however, is still tidy. Whoot whoot – that’s 1 room still on my side. There’s always a computer open somewhere in this house and music playing. And boys in their underroos dancing up a storm.

3. What do you think is at the heart of why so many women feel that they aren’t doing a good enough job of the housework?

Perhaps because it’s never done. You know, just as you get it all cleaned, spic and span through lots of blood, sweat, tears, and time with kids parked in front of Bob the Builder so you can vacuum without anyone under foot, they up and start playing again and you’re back to square one. Housework can feel like the hamster wheel you never get a break from. And no one wants to feel like a hamster. I mean, for one thing, they smell really bad. I wish I’d known that before we agreed to get one for the first time last month. But wait, where was I? Yea, the monotony of housework – it leaves us feeling like the work itself – you know – like dirt and dust and mildew are the defining elements of our day so maybe they define us. But what I’m learning is that those tasks that no one sees us do? Those are the gifts of sacrifice. Those are us climbing onto God’s altar and saying, “here I am – ready again today to die to self and love these others you’ve given me all over again.” It’s not boring then, it’s sanctified. Yup, I think even cleaning toilets is sacrificial work when we’re doing it for the big reasons and not as just another part of our daily routine.

4. What kind of memories do you hope your children have of you while growing up?

Oh I think about this a lot and worry a lot that they’ll remember me yelling and rushing and frustrated at them. I pray instead that the great moments, the slow moments of sitting with them as they play with trucks in a tray of flour (that I just know will spill all over the place again) or wrestle with them or show them how well I know their tickle spots, or tell them long and convoluted tales of South Africa will be the joy that imprints on their memories. I want to be the mom they knew loved them, celebrated them, and took great joy in them. I want them to remember how much we danced in the rain. That mud and wet and messy were never more important than joy and laughter and being together to celebrate God’s down pour of blessing in our lives.

5. What do you do really well in your homemaking?

Yikes, making the bed? I’m also really good at a super fast cleaning the kitchen.

6. What do you want to build on and learn to do better?

Cooking. Sigh. I wish I were a better cook or that cooking interested me more. It. Does. Not. And keeping up with the laundry – I don’t know that I’ll ever win that battle.

7. How was your marriage affected from having kids?

Yowza – in so many ways. It showed us both how selfish we were for one thing And started the long, holy process of breaking us of the habit of self first. That’s a good thing for any marriage. It also etched deep into our hearts a layer of love that we’d never really understood before. A layer of living at a place where you can understand for the first time why Jesus might have died for you, because you would die for your own kids in a heart beat.

8. What might people be surprised to know about you as a housewife?

That there are many things I just don’t care about – it matters little to me how the kitchen is organized or if all the laundry is put away. I like pictures of pretty mantels and rugs placed just so in a house, but at the moment I don’t have the time or energy to care about making ours look like that. That I’d always choose time with kids over time cleaning. That I’ve given up wanting to live in a museum tidy house over wanting to live in a lived in one.

9. If you could have coffee with any mother in history, who would it be?

My own. She died a week after I turned 18. I would give a lot for one heart to heart with her now – mother to mother. So many questions. So much I would love to learn from, and share with, her.

***

I am totally loving hearing other women share their hearts and perspectives here via interview, and I hope you are too. Please, choose your favourite question, and share your answer with me. I’d love to hear your heart!

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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As I wrote on the first day of this series, my house is not perfectly kept, and I am ok with that. (Interestingly, though, since writing that first day and finding so many kindred spirits in this struggle, I have found myself more motivated to make that small extra effort in housekeeping). My personality type is such that the toys scattered on the floor and the unwashed dishes do not demand to be taken care of before I rest. Of course, ideally they would be, but I accept that in some seasons of my life (such as having two kids that still need to be parented in the night, being pregnant, and living in a space that does not lend itself to easy cleaning) some of my idealistic standards will need to be lowered. So that’s what I’ve done. It’s not that I don’t want to have a clean and tidy house every night before bed, it’s more that I cannot possibly achieve that without sacrificing something else – there are so many things on my plate right now – and that’s a decision that I have not made lightly.

However.

There is a fine line between doing my best and being ok with that, and plain and simple laziness.

It is so easy, especially for personalities such as my own, to fall into the laziness trap. The scales get tipped a little too far one way, and the excuses come fast and thick. Soon I am drowning in my own apathy, quickly losing sight of the joy of accomplishing a task, and the spiritual element of my daily household tasks. The perfectionist trap says that if I can’t achieve everything perfectly, then what’s the use in trying? Perfectionism leads only to apathy and despair. In reality the achievement comes in the everyday trudging onwards. The giving of one’s self to the dailiness of our life’s work, and in doing so, constantly surrendering our will to His. It is a daily giving up of our perceived need for perfection and our constant desire for entertainment and fulfillment that leaves us most satisfied in the end. I wonder if laziness is simply seeking fulfilment from a source other than what has been given to you.

In The Quotidian Mysteries, Kathleen Norris writes:

The Christian religion asks us to place our trust not in ideas, and certainly not in ideologies, but in a God who was vulnerable enough to become human and die, and who desires to present with us in our everyday circumstances. And because we are human, it is in the realm of the daily and the mundane that we must find our way to God {emphasis mine}.

In light of this I cannot simply sit back and be ok with an apathetic housekeeping attitude. I must give Him my very best day in and day out, because this is precisely the way that I meet with God. The way I keep my home is a direct correlation to the way I relate to God. Not that there is any one right way, or a checklist of household tasks to complete in order to “make the grade”. Rather, it is about the heart, and its desire for honouring God with my mundane. If my heart is attuned to Him, and my tasks are done with the intent of giving Him glory, then the kind of housekeeping (however it may be) that follows I daresay is most excellent. It’s not about a checked-off list of tasks – for surely every woman has a different story and place in life, and we cannot fairly expect the exact same results.

It is also significant to note the connection of the repetition to the present-day-hope in our tasks. Norris continues in a later chapter:

But, like liturgy, the work of cleaning draws much of its meaning and value from repetition, from the fact that it is never completed, but only set aside until the next day. Both liturgy and what is euphemistically termed “domestic” work  also have an intense relation with the present moment, a kind of faith in the present that fosters hope and makes life seem possible in the day-to-day.

This is so significant – don’t miss it! It’s not about the work, it’s about a relationship with the God that ordained that we work in the first place. Our work is a tool, a liturgy for knowing God, and an opportunity to practice self-discipline.

By failing to note the significance of the dailiness of my tasks I am missing the opportunity to commune with the God who lowered himself so that he could meet me in my mundane. This is the real danger of laziness – that I would miss out on meeting with God… not that the state of my house might embarrass me when someone comes to call unexpectedly (though that’s true too).

He does not want to me hurry and finish the laundry so that we can get down to our spiritual business. He does not sit patiently by while I chop onions and carrots for the soup, then meet me in my scripture reading for the day. No! He meets me in my every moment, reminding me that relating to God is not always terribly exciting or revolutionary. Sometimes in my humanness I am sleepy, or bored, or grouchy, or even disinterested in thinking about Him at all, and yet he knows, and he understands. He does not ask me to put on a show, nor to pretend I’m something that I’m not. He simply wants to be with me, lavishing rich grace upon me as I learn and grow.

Moment by moment.

Day in, and day out.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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I love photography, and I would love to do it as a business one day. Confession: I’m scared out of my ever-loving mind that I will fail miserably and completely. Or worse, that I will be only ever be “just ok” at it. Mediocrity is a hard pill to swallow for an NF-type Idealist like myself.

Recently I was asked by a friend to take some photos of their family. I said yes, of course, and proceeded to be uber-excited and freakin’-nervous all at once. My first “real” photo shoot. I charged just a very small amount for my time, and plan to work from there as I gain experience and a good portfolio. I have so so much to learn still! I am confessing all of this today to help hold myself accountable. I won’t shrink back from calling myself a photographer from now on. A beginner, sure, but a photographer nonetheless.

What quiet goals and hopes do you have for “one day”?

What are you afraid to admit to dreaming about? 

~

So, with trepidation and ample amounts of nail-biting nervousness… I give you: a sneak peak from my first “professional?” photo session. The photos turned out decently – I try not to see only the lavish amounts of criticism I could heap upon them. I am happy with them for a start, and I see several things to improve upon. A good beginning, I suppose!

Without further blah-blah-blah-ing… here is your sneak peak, S family. Thanks for the privilege of capturing a few shots of your gorgeous family!

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Confession: I need worship like I need air to breathe. So often I forget this, and it’s like forgetting to take a breath: the consequences are immediate. I find myself gasping for breath, shrivelling from lack of oxygen, until I fill my searing lungs with sweet gasps of sustaining air, awakening my soul once again to my role as creature and my purpose of worshipping the Creator.

I often forget that my homemaking is a perfect opportunity to worship God. I know it cerebrally, but often I allow the mundaneness of the daily tasks to numb my brain rather than awaken it. I give more ear than is deserved to the lie that laundry and dirty dishes are something to overcome so that I can begin the “more important” job of spirituality. (They’re not). The depth of this truth often has trouble sinking its way down into my heart.

In The Quotidian Mysteries, Kathleen Norris writes, “Like John Bunyan’s pilgrim, having been captured by Giant Despair, I languish in the dungeon of Doubting Castle and need to be reminded that the key that would set me free is already in my possession. Worship has often proved to be that key.”

I do believe fervently that worship in a homemaker’s day is often like a woven thread that winds its way throughout your day. Worship takes so many forms among different believers, and perhaps even more still for the housewife intent on worshipping God with her days. The many hats and multi-tasking nature of a mama are perfect fodder for her to practice the art of being content in all situations and offering her stress, her expectations, her goals, her imperfections to the Lord as a sacrifice of praise. Day by day (even minute by minute) I find plentiful opportunities to practice patience and holiness, to dwell on Jesus’ nature and seek to be more like Him. Daily I fail, daily he gently offers his help, and I inch closer to the heart of God, being transformed before my very eyes.

My mom said to me recently on the topic of having a daily devotions – “you didn’t know that your mother was really having an underground QT!” She would put on music (Psalty, of course!) for us to listen to – we loved it – and the gospel truths presented in those albums were foundational enough that she would find herself in worship while humming along for the 85th time that day. I love this concept: that worship doesn’t happen only in a pew on a Sunday morning. Nor solely in your hour-long uninterrupted Bible reading and prayer time before the rest of the family gets up (cuz seriously, when you have small kids that wake up in the night and then get up at 6am, that’s not really sane. I’ve heard of a few crazies out there, and power-to-them-rah-rah-rah-etc… but I must just be slightly more in touch with my “humanness”).

I am learning that daily worship for me is most often in non-traditional ways. My kids listen to Psalty and my soul sings along, remembering to have faith-like-a-child. I breathe a prayer in my frustration that the toddler is not sleeping well due to endless teething, and another to praise God for her beautiful hazel eyes. Here are a few ways that I find worship in my days… perhaps you can find the same opportunities in your day?

1. Kids praise music

2. One-liner prayers (conversations with God)

3. Reading scripture (post it up on your walls, mirrors, etc!)

4. Music & meditation (sit for 5 minutes while the kids are playing, and just soak in the words, focusing on God)

5. Acts of kindness above and beyond (Aristotle said that it’s not generosity unless it’s painful to give… so do something kind that is a sacrifice on your part somehow)

6. Teaching your kids about God (reading the Bible, modelling prayer, talk about God and what he’s like)

7. Daily rhythm of prayer (consider incorporating specific times in the day that you pray as a family, in addition to just mealtimes)

8. Being in nature (what better way to appreciate God’s goodness than to see the beauty of his creation? Share your thoughts with your kids, too!)

9. Emulating the character of Christ / selflessness (Oi. This one’s a tough one for this very human mama who likes to live by the flesh. Nothing harder. Nothing more rewarding)

10. Reading a book to edify you (Something that challenges or encourages you, not necessarily related to mothering. Worship God with your mind!)

I might not sit down for a traditional “quiet time” each and every day, but these things are bits of worship woven throughout my days like a thread. This connection to my Creator sustains me and strengthens me. It took me many years to let go of the guilt of not having a traditional quiet time every single day. I am convinced that while a traditional quiet time may be a great thing, it is not something you need to worry about doing every single day in every season of life. The more important thing is to know God, and become more like His son, Jesus. Rest easy in that knowledge, friends, because he doesn’t demand you to punch in and punch out… he simply wants to know you. Real life is rarely predictable, rarely unchanging. Let him be the one constant in your life.

***

{This post is part of a 31 day series called “31 Days of Real Housewife Confessions”. Feel free to “like” me on Facebook and follow me on Twitter if you like what you’re reading. You can also subscribe to my blog via RSS or email and posts will be automatically delivered to you. Thanks for joining me here and blessing me with your comments and interactions – you, the reader, are my raison d’être.}

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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We interrupt our lovely homemaking theme this week to invite you to pull a chair up to my soapbox. Settle down and get cozy, friends. This is gonna be a doozy.

If you’ve read my blog recently you know that we have been having a hard time with “church”. We didn’t really attend church much in the summer, but when we returned from our trip to Toronto in mid-September, we decided to visit a few churches around town, to see if there was indeed a better fit for us. This past Sunday we visited the fifth church whose doors we’ve darkened since moving to Tiny Town. If the others were bad, this was horrible. If the others were not a good fit, this was just plain offensive. It was a guest speaker, thankfully (for the church’s sake), but it was absolutely horrendous and shocking regardless.

It started off being about Jesus and the Pharisees. One of my biggest frustrations in a sermon is when the overall message is completely incoherent. The beginning has absolutely nothing to do with the end, and the bits in between are random and choppy. This was the poster child for an incoherent sermon, but it was the last section that really killed it for me…

He (the preacher) said that all psychological diseases and disorders are actually sinful rebellion against God, and that taking drugs is denying the sin. He says that “Physical (medical) issues are testable and observable, such as a withered hand, a blinded eye, a lame appendage, a blood disease. Spiritual (psychological) issues occur when one struggles to function within the framework of his/her life setting without the joy and peace of a clear conscience before God.” 

He claims that impulsive disorders, anxiety disorders, and depression are simply folly, fear and worry, and despair, and that we must listen to the Bible’s admonishment against such things, and acknowledge that those things are simply sin.

“All the people who advocated spiritual issues as “disorders” and “diseases” will be stripped bare and isolated at God’s judgement.”

What??! 

Yes, he actually said all of that. I have the bulletin insert sermon notes in front of me.

I can certainly agree that it is possible that some people deny (or are unaware of) the spiritual aspect of their psychological issues. But to say that all psychological diseases and disorders are actually just sinful rebellion against God?!?!

Seriously?

I won’t even dignify this load of crap with intelligent counter-arguments, because to be honest I’m too angry (still, 3 days later). Having been familiarized with mental illness through some people that I love and care deeply for, I take personal offence to that sorry excuse for a “sermon”. That was a perfect play for Satan’s strategy of making people feel guilty and beaten down (oh, and he said that guilt is a gift from God. I am gonna have to vehemently disagree with that one too. Guilt is from Satan. Conviction to change is from the Holy Spirit. There is a BIG difference.)

The entire thing was flat-out wrong, offensive, and ignorant. It was the first time I was *thisclose* to walking out on a church service in moral protest. I almost wish I had. Needless to say we left as quickly as we could and have no plans to go back ever again. That may sound cold and harsh, but I assure you it is only a reflection on how strongly I feel about this issue.

The fact that the pastor did not get up (he was there – he was new, but he was there) afterwards and state that the church did not necessarily agree, blah blah blah… was a grave disappointment to me. I also heard a few “amen’s” as the sermon was in progress, which distressed me even more.

There are sinful attitudes that need to be addressed, but they sure as hell aren’t the mind-numbing consuming depression that so many souls suffer, nor the obsessive compulsive disorder that overwhelms and breaks families. Not the varied mental illnesses that are a tragic and difficult enough part of our fallen world and broken bodies already. No. They aren’t.

They are the self-righteous ignorant attitudes that condemn without mercy or grace, or experience.

They are the in the pulpit on Sunday morning.

And I wonder why in God’s name I am sitting there listening.

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Confession: I need a blank canvas for today.

It’s been days (actually, almost two weeks) since I last opened the pages and sunk into the comfort of the newly familiar. I need the grace of a new canvas. I don’t want to let go; I don’t want to give up. I want to take the new day that is given to me, and spend it with intention.

I unsubscribed from the daily read-through-in-a-year emails because I got behind. Overwhelmed. I could not do it perfectly, so I didn’t want to do it at all.

A prideful heart distances itself from the Saviour. As it does so it begins to wither. I want to thrive. I want a pulse that is alive and beating with vigour and life. There is but one source for this aliveness, this fullness that I desire, nay that I need.

Tomorrow, I continue reading. Learning and loving. Living with purpose.

I am not a failure if I accept the grace freely offered.

Grateful for second chances.

What do you need a blank canvas for today?

***

{This post is part of a 31 day series called “31 Days of Real Housewife Confessions”. Be sure to “like” me on Facebook and follow me on Twitter if you like what you’re reading. You can also subscribe to my blog via RSS or email and posts will be automatically delivered to you! Thanks for joining me here and blessing me with your comments and interactions – you, the reader, are my raison d’être.}

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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{Today is the first day of October, which means that from now until the end of the month I will be posting every day with a “Real Housewife Confession”. I am dividing the month into four sections, as outlined in my intro post, and the first section is on Homemaking. (By the way, I’d love it if you grabbed that cute little button over on my sidebar and stuck it on your blog to let others know about this 31 Days series.)

Thus, today, my confession is this: I don’t keep my house as clean as others might, and I’m ok with that. For us, it’s clean enough. A clean house is often a source of pride among women, and I want to encourage you today that a clean house does not define you as a homemaker, nor is a rule by which you are measured. The state of your home is irrelevant to your worth before God and your family, if your heart seeks to honour your family and God. There are so many priorities to balance for a mama, and I think you are more than likely doing a fabulous job! Give yourself some credit, and stop feeling guilty that it’s not perfect. As you will read below – I recently discovered that I’m not perfect (go ahead, laugh uproariously), and to be honest, it’s a wild and freeing concept. Can you let it sink in?}

I sink into the soft couch that we bought as newlyweds, sip a cup of tea, and catch up on my google reader. There are toys sticking out from under the couch and scattered at my feet. The kids are both finally asleep, and my thoughts are my own for as long as I dare stay up and sacrifice precious sleeping hours to precious kid-free hours. I put up my tired feet as my heart rumbles and comes alive and I contemplate my place in this home. I am a wife and mama. I am a housewife. I’ve been the very definition of barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen on more than one occasion. And yet, the insidiously sneaky discontent winds its way into my soul like a slow-moving sloth, hardly noticeable until I’m choking and desperate. Here’s what I have discovered: I’m not perfect. (Newsflash to myself! The entire world and all of eternity already knew that little irrefutable fact).

In my rational mind, I’m totally ok with it, and even make great attempts to embrace my flaws and “uniqueness”. My weaknesses make me lean on Jesus! Hallelujah! But deep in my gut I find myself compelled to get it together already. To have a clean and tidy house most of the time; and when it does get dirty, it’s of the charming variety (oh look, there’s a a smidge of dust on the doorframes, tsk tsk, time to scrub and shine again!). In reality, though, sometimes my house gets to the “Red alert! Unidentified substance growing in toilet bowl rims!” stage. Children go missing under mountains of clean, unfolded laundry that never makes it to dressers before getting picked out in the morning and worn again. Toys scattered over every inch of living room floor don’t get tidied up every day mixed with crumbs and withered up carrot sticks, and sometimes it’s days before I see the carpet again in its entirety. Sometimes, I’m just too dang tired to pick up the little bits of food that my toddler throws from her high chair, and they get vacuumed up weeks later after having dried into unrecognizable hard bits.

I keep the house “clean enough”.

I have other interests that I devote time to as well. I cook, care for my kiddos, I write, I read, I take the kids to the park, and I remind my preschooler to speak kindly for the millionth time that day. I wish sometimes that I could have a perfectly clean house at the end of each day, but I’m just not willing to sacrifice my every waking moment to get it. And you know what? I’m truly ok with that.

When I stop, take a moment to grasp the grace that is being freely offered I breathe more deeply than I have in a very long time. I embrace the truth that I am enough – in my housekeeping, in my imperfections, in the way my heart is just trying its darndest to please Him, and sometimes I fall way short, but I keep trying. Sometimes laziness creeps in, priorities get out of whack, and I need to tip the scales again. I redirect and I find my balance, my rhythm, my imperfections and strengths. There is a peace in my heart when the dishes are undone, but my son beams and bounces with excitement because I’ve come to play trains with him. When my daughter giggles with breathless excitement over simply being chased around the living room with threats of tickles. When I write an article that expressed my heart and encourages another mama in some way. When my husband is blessed by the messy-but-happy home he is welcomed into every evening.

There’s a peace in my heart, a mess in my kitchen, and love just lavished around with abandon.

It’s a good life.

How clean do you keep your house? How do you deal with the days (seasons) where the housekeeping just feels totally out of control? What values are important to you in your homemaking?

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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As I’ve written, before, I believe that we are all artists. Every single last one of us. Our life is our canvas, and our breath and passion are our paintbrush. The art that is created when you live your life purposefully and with passion and a genuine heart is absolutely beautiful. Do you have eyes to see it?

Do you see the beauty in your own life?

It’s there, I promise. There is goodness and beauty and creativity in this world, and we are a part of it. We were formed with intricate design by the CREATOR God.

Tragically so many of us (especially adults) refuse to acknowledge it. When a little child comes to us saying “mommy, can you draw me a train*?”, we laugh nervously and brush the request off, saying that we don’t really know how to draw, and even our stick people are terrible. Well, friend, that might just be true. Your stick people may just be completely wonky looking. But you are still an artist. 

One author notes that “Plato holds in the Republic and elsewhere that the arts are representational, or mimetic (sometimes translated “imitative”). I also believe that all human beings are made in the image of God, so first and foremost, we are works of art. We are masterpieces.

Also, we were created to be like Him, to have that urge to create our own masterpieces. It is imperative that you don’t squash that artist nature, lest your children see and follow your lead! What tragedy that would be! Open your heart to creating, be vulnerable to that bit of artist potential you have inside you. Draw a wonky stick figure, and smile as your child skips back to the table to cover it with a rainbow of colours, making a masterpiece. Then go and paint on your own canvas. Picasso has famously said “Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up”. 

But, how to be an artist, if your stick people are indeed wonky? Plenty of ways! Bake an exquisite cake. Design a lesson plan that makes students passionate about learning. Lavish beautifully crafted words of grace onto your spouse and children like sweet honey. Do the mundane tasks of today with a joyful heart singing His praises. Be present in a friend’s troubles. Grieve with an open heart. Give with an open wallet. Browse the inspiration on Pinterest, then choose a project, and do it. Sit, breathe, and paint with your three-year-old. Build a new Thomas the Train track design. Decorate with style and an eye to your own uniqueness. Get down happily in the sandbox and help make mountains for the cars to drive over. Imitate His character…

Call out the beauty in your life today. Refuse to let it pass by unnoticed.

To raise an artist you must be an artist.

Be an artist. 

*the top photo is of a coloured on tuba drawing that I did for Isaac. He went through a “tuba obsession phase” for a few months, and was  constantly asking me to draw tubas! So, I googled image searched it, and did a pretty dang good job, if I do say so.

Have you seen beauty this week? How have you been an artist in your own life? Share a comment, or a link to your post!

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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My favourite season is definitely autumn. The warmth and beauty in the crisp air and bright colours gives vibrance to my soul. Art & Soul Tuesdays is all about finding beauty and art in everyday life happenings, and in unexpected places. This photo was taken of the leaves growing up around the garbage bins out in our back alley way, and I love the obvious contrast of the beauty surrounding them. Happy (late) Tuesday, friends. May you find beauty and art in your life today.

“Delicious autumn!  My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”

- George Eliot

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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Perhaps ‘avoid’ is too strong. That makes me sound really bad. How about ‘passive non-committal’? Uh, or ‘disinterested religiously-fatigued ex-sunday-school perfect-attendance-award-winner’?

I’ve been a professing Christian since I was around three years old (ish?). That’s twenty-five years, people. That’s a very long time. I have grown spiritually in many ways since then, and have read a whole lot of the Bible. I even earned a four-year bachelor’s degree in philosophy and religious studies from a Christian university, and took a number of courses specifically studying various books of the Bible, as well as theology, philosophy, spirituality, and so on. I’ve studied the Bible, I’ve enjoyed verses here and there, and sometimes even a sermon or two. I’ve even memorized little bits. But, to be completely honest, I’ve never really dug in to the Bible as eagerly as my latest novel or favourite blog. Oh, but every good Christian reads the Bible every day, right? Praying and reading your Bible every day are sure-fire ways to ensure your salvation, are they not? Well, I’ve struggled with that type of legalistic thinking. And, also… other than small exceptions here and there, I’ve usually found the Bible to be… (gulp) a little boring…

I don’t remember how it happened, but a few months ago I found myself devouring Proverbs. Like, ‘couldn’t-put-it-down’ kind of devoured. If ever there was a practical book of the Bible, Proverbs is it. For whatever reason, at that time I loved reading it, and started underlining like crazy.

Fast-forward to last month, when Honey and I decided to make another go at establishing ourselves in discipline of daily Bible reading, figuring it would be really good for our marriage, etcetera etcetera. I’ve tried countless times before, and failed each and every time. I think the longest I’ve gone before it just kind of fizzled out was maybe three weeks. We’re currently at one month and counting…

I haven’t successfully done my reading every single day, but when I’ve missed a day (or two), I’ve ploughed ahead and gotten back into it, catching up on missed readings. I’m getting a daily email telling me the chapters to read each day in order to read through the entire Bible in a year. One thing that I’m doing differently this time around? I’m not using any devotional or supplemental materials at all (the photo above, from the top down, is my Bible, journal, memorization work, and gratitude book). I have my Bible, a new journal bought specifically for this purpose, and a blue ink pen (always blue!). I am recording whatever I feel like writing as I go, whether it’s questions, favourite verses, or other related personal thoughts. Sometimes I record prayers and needs and wants and hopes… and I breathe deep in the pages that are slowly being filled, one by one, with the evidence of a journey that is soaked in grace and a desire for more.

The more I read, the more the words come to life. The more the words are life. Funny how that works.

It’s interesting, this feeling. This is goodness and mercy, right here, in my living room, in the form of a cup of tea and the Word that has been so near to me my whole life, but not as my whole life. It’s been within arms-reach, sitting on my shelf. Words of life, wisdom, and comfort. Grace-breathed to a weary soul tired of trying and failing, and trying and failing again. This time, it’s about the words in those pages, not about the number of pages I check off the list.

For you, then, here are three things that I want to share with you that I think have been the key thus far…

1. Accountability. I’ve signed up to be a part of this, and it started two days ago. After flying halfway across the country on Tuesday, we are still getting over jet lag (ie. the kids are still waking up at 4:30-5:00am every morning!), but I’m finding the encouragement on twitter from my group members to be a perfect little boost for getting my reading in every day, and checking in and being accountable with my time in the mornings. Even though I’m not a morning person, it still seems to make my day go so much smoother when I can do my reading in the mornings. Even if it has to wait until Aliza’s morning nap, I am still trying to be purposeful in making sure it happens! (And sometimes, I will make Isaac a cup of tea as well – see the small blue tea cup in the background of the above photo? – so that he sits quietly {sort of} while I read).
2. If you’re going cross-eyed and your lids are getting droopy, try changing up your translation. The Message is a lovely work, but I know, I know, tell a Conservative Evangelical that it’s a translation, and you’ll get some dirty looks. Nonetheless, that’s what I’ve oft been reading as of late. It’s been a totally fresh way of looking at so many of the passages I’ve read so many times before. I find myself reading beyond “just to see what happens”, which I love!
3. Write your thoughts. Record your journey through the scripture so that you can look back the next time you read through the entire Bible again, and see how God can really speak a fresh word to your heart each and every time you open those pages. Different things will strike you at different times. You can do it in blog-style, or in personal journal-style. Either way is good, just make it intentional!

After so many years of praying that I would find a passion for His word, I am finally falling asleep at night excited to wake up and see what I will find from my morning scripture portion. How cool is that?!

I’m curious – am I the only ‘bad Christian’ out there that has not done daily Bible reading since becoming a Christian? What do you do for your daily time with God? (If you have it at all?) What has helped you establish the habit? 

Beth

Beth is the creator and editor here at Red & Honey, a lifestyle blog for the naturally-minded homemaker. She recently began a passionate love affair with coffee and her life will never be the same. She has had three babies in less than four years, is a professional laundry-avoider, and loves to stay up way too late making weird stuff from scratch that normal people tend to just buy in a store. Hence, the coffee.

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