Christmas was so relaxing this year, and made even more special by my parents upcoming move from the big blue house on Hardscrabble Road. Next year we will be having an Idaho Christmas, or perhaps filling up the guest room at my grandparents house. It's funny how we are given new eyes to see the things that are important to us, just in time for them to change. Does the promise of loss make old things seem glamorous, or just shed some light on the way things have always been? Either way, it seems important to realize that we don't have to continue dwelling in the past in order for it to be precious to us.
Easier said than done, as life marches on before we are ready. Or should I say, before I am ready. Me, the grown child who once became depressed and despondent when my dad chose to chop down a tree in our yard. One that was interfering with the power lines. Not my favorite climbing tree, but just a tree. Just a slight alteration of the view from the kitchen window. If I had known what an environmentalist was then, I would have eagerly joined the cause at the age of six. Not to protect mother earth, but to save my little girl brain from the uncertainy of sitting in the back seat of a minivan, never knowing when we would round the curve to find a bald hillside where once stood a forest.
There is something so urgent and temporary about being human; something in all of us that gets nostalgic about the time that is slipping through our fingers, knowing we can never have it back...and something that makes us get all teary eyed and sappy about babies growing up, and say stuff like, I remember when you were born, and other highly original phrases.
Last night, I lay awake in what used to be my bedroom, with my husband beside me (weird), and thought about all the thinking, planning, and dreaming that went on there...wishing on a plastic glow in the dark star from Wal Mart. Never could I have imagined a life as full and blessed as the one that has come my way so far.
All that to say that this Christmas, we all collected some more beautiful memories in the blue house...ones that will stay with us through the inevitable changes as my mom and dad move to Boise, Jonah learns to walk, my little brother graduates from high school...and yes...a tree is chopped down to make way for a clearer view.

Jonah at six months

The day after Christmas, I got to spend some time with Kara, Joel and JONAH! He grows to be more delightful every day. Lately he is all smiles, especially when he's with his mama.

The fabric of our lives

Today I wore a beautiful new scarf, crocheted by my mother. It is very warm in color and in function.

I am naming the colors myself, since they are too rich and varied for the usual names.

Merlot and raspberry jam...two of my favorites. Although that might not be a very good combination in your mouth (yuck), it sure is beautiful in yarn to be wrapped around your neck. There is also an orange cinnamonish color that I have yet to name. Any ideas?

Adding to my textile delight, I also received this blanket from India. I find it pretty special since it is handmade out of used saris, and handpicked by my little sister.

This website tells the story about the organization where the blanket came from.

http://www.saribari.com/

And here is an excerpt from their website that I copied and pasted (can I do that?)

Sari Bari is a safe home where women, who have been exploited in the sex trade, can have their dignity restored and experience new life in the making.
Each of our products made from the Indian sari is marked with a woman's name, a woman who now has the opportunity to make a choice for freedom and new life.

Direction

my little sister's favorite red shoes. ruby red slippers to bring her home on Saturday. Yay!

For some time now, I've been searching for some direction for my blog. I've always been a sporadic journaler, and am finding blogging to be a similar experience. Chronicalling everything that goes on in my life ends up being pretty tedious for me, and I find that it just becomes another thing on the to do list.

But, I really like blogging...I eagerly check my friends blogs for new posts, hoping for something new to read...and I enjoy the connections that it gives people; a window into someone else's life that you might not gather from passing the time of day. So, I haven't wanted to throw the baby out with the bathwater just yet (what a horrible metaphor).

What I would really like to turn this blog into, is a way to practice making a big deal about the everydayness in everyday life. I need a place to document the presence of God in the details....you know, in the small stuff....as in, "don't sweat the ______". side note: could anyone please tell me whether or not periods and commas go inside of quotations marks or outside? It's getting a little embarrassing to not know that.

Anyways, back to my revelation about blogging. Having a place to record my observations will help me get in the habit of noticing God around every corner. Because there really is a whisper of the divine in everything, and I want to tune my ears to hear it. I miss out on where God is in my life, because I am looking for her in something so....Goddish. Except for the fact that that is not a word. And then I wonder where God is. I actually ask myself that sometimes. But I know that I am the only one. :)

Self Doubt: The Loudest Voice in my Head

I've got zero creative energy tonight, but just want to bring up the topic/topics of:
Self Doubt
Self Counsciousness
Insecurity
The voice that seems to speak up the loudest, is the one that confirms my deepest fears. I want to drown that voice out; listen to it less and give it no room in my life. But old habits die hard.
I know that the voice of Jesus speaks of love, freedom, acceptance...this is the voice that I need to turn up the volume on.
Otherwise, I end up trapped inside myself; tangled up in my own fears with no one room to see anyone else. Aside from the anxiety that my insecurities bring me...they keep me focused on myself, and incapable of cultivating the kind of love that Jesus gave out with abandon.

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

from a poem by Mary Oliver