bsmiles and sunny days

  One of my favorite Christmas traditions from childhood is getting my stocking early on Christmas morning. I knew that it was my parents that bought the presents, but our stockings were empty when we went to bed on Christmas Eve and stuffed full on Christmas morning. My mom is a master-crafter. She makes magic happen with felt and sequins and yarn and needles and thread and basically anything she sets her mind to. The pattern for our stockings has stayed the same for as long as I can remember. The stockings were only updated when they got holes in them or new people were added to our family.  The first time my mom asked me to help her stuff stockings, I was an adult, and it stung a little. It was the first time I saw my stocking filled before Christmas Day. It was the last little flicker of Christmas magic to go out.  I still get a flutter in my belly when I see those stockings all hung on the mantle. They represent the family heritage that I was born into. My parents have sacrificed

Every time we leave my hometown, Scarlette bemoans the fact that my sister’s house has everything she has ever wanted in life. A pool. A trampoline. Chickens. A country house. Fruit trees. Bonfires. A pond. I gotta be honest, it’s pretty much everything we all want.  Tonight we spent the evening at her house, and she did not disappoint. First, she and her husband had a huge bonfire that lit up the night. Next we had a beautiful advent candle lighting ceremony. After dinner we roasted marshmallows in the fireplace for s’mores and then played the coolest new game for the switch. I was joking about what a let down my house would be when she and the kids stay with us. I’m way less fun than she is.  It would be really easy to let shame creep in and pick apart all the ways I don’t measure up. It’s something I’ve always struggled with, but I’m not doing it. I’m so happy we got to come have such a great night. I’m celebrating making sweet memories instead.  “Every good thing given and every pe

  I have never been one to make lists of things I’m grateful for without being prompted, but lately, the constancy of cultural glum has kept me under a dark cloud. I didn’t see it coming and dismissed it as a hormonal thing, but it lasted too long. The awareness forced me to take a look at what I was mostly thinking about. It wasn’t good or true or beautiful.  The shift in perspective that allowed the sun to shine again. I woke up one morning and listed some of the things I was grateful for, thanking God in the meantime. As I did, I thought of more things, and joy bubbled up from inside me. I can’t really explain it, but I know where it started. Gratitude.  “A joyful heart is good medicine, But a broken spirit dries up the bones.” ‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭17:22‬ ‭NASB1995‬‬ https://www.bible.com/bible/100/pro.17.22.nasb1995

In our reading of Hinds Feet on High Places today, Much Afraid, while unattended by her companions, was confronted by her enemies. The instant that she cried out for the Shepherd to save her, He immediately came and put her enemies to flight. When she asked why He thought she had nearly fallen prey to their attack, His response to her was so perfectly timed for my own state of discontent, that I nearly cried.  “I think,” said the Shepherd gently, “that lately, the way seemed a little easier and the sun shone, and you came to a place where you could rest. You forgot that you were my little handmaiden Acceptance-With-Joy and were beginning to tell yourself that it really was time that I lead you back to the mountains and up to the High Places. When you wear the weed of impatience in your heart instead of the flower of Acceptance-With-Joy, you will always find your enemies get an advantage over you.” Acceptance is freedom when you are a follower of Jesus. “Your ears will hear a word behin

  It’s been a crazy run of activity for the past month. I get to the end of each day and I don’t know what to say here. In the quiet hours I recognize that I need to stop. Notice. Feel. Be grateful. But I’m tired. A lot is required of me in 24 hours, and I forget to be present.  Even though I’ve missed an entire month of writing, I want to finish the year strong. So, here I am on the first day of December, flipping through photos for inspiration. The photos of completed puzzles, of a huddle around playing cards, and sleepy eyes and smiling faces, of togetherness are what triggered a rush a pure joy. They are evidence to me that I haven’t wasted the days, I’ve cherished the time and been filled with rich goodness and simplicity with the people closest to me.  As the rush of the hustle and bustle begins, don’t forget to notice. Feel. Be grateful. The joy is in the journey. There is real peace in Jesus, and He will give it to you when you seek Him with your whole heart. “But he who listen

I was in an English class in high school studying handwriting analysis when I learned something really insightful about myself. I'm not a finisher. When I write my name without a real concerted effort, I start with big, strong letters, scrawl out the middle and end with a swoosh rather than anything legible. If you tried to interpret it, you might guess my name is Rebew Sutt. This is very telling. I am a visionary. I start strong, work diligently for about 80% of the project, and then finish with a scribble or a line or a pile of supplies and tools in the garage, leaving the last 20% undone indefinitely. That's why it felt like such a big deal to me when I placed the last piece in this puzzle. Early in the spring, Dale registered us for the ETS Annual Meeting in Rhode Island. He booked airfare, rented a car, and reserved our room. I was over the moon in anticipation of it. I love that part of the country and couldn't wait to go back. By the end of the summer, the conference

I  have always wrestled with self-righteousness, the thorn in a good Christian’s heart. I try to do the right thing, and live in a way that represents Jesus well, but there has always been sin lurking in the secret places of my life. Instead of acknowledging it, I dismiss it as weakness or human frailty, in an effort to keep on living a good Christian life. Sadly, the church also has a way of not addressing sin for what it is, rather, we put on a good Christian appearance without confessing sins and bringing darkness to light. We are very good at addressing other people’s sin, but hiding our own has become a way of life.  As I have gotten older, I’ve become almost desperate to get honest with myself, admitting to issues in my heart that I’ve shut down and locked up. God is revealing these things to me, to bring them to the light for healing and redemption. These words hit me hard.  “All things in heaven, earth, around, within, without, condemn me- the sun which sees my misdeeds, the cr

I wish I had a great story to tell you about how amazing these past few weeks have been and how I’ve overcome my anxiety in leaps and bounds, but as much as I hate to say it, the darkness has nearly overtaken me.  I’ve been asking God for relief from it around the clock. At times I feel like my heart will pound out of my chest and my oxygen levels must be barely life-sustaining because I notice myself gasping for air in random settings, but when I check my pulse, it’s normal. I don’t understand it. It’s haunting. It helps to do normal things. I continue to make a list of six things I want to accomplish every morning when I get out of bed. It gives me a place to begin and an end. Today we made apple turkeys. It’s an age-old tradition in my family. It was a major accomplishment to get it done before Thanksgiving Day.    We live in a mad, mad world, and the tensions therein pull us in all directions. However, we are not those belonging to the wild, ranting and writhing in darkness. We are

 I feel like the long dark winter has already settled. I've been watching the news reels like a hawk, hedging my bets against the odds. Hoping for some kind of validation in my hunches. Trolling one news sight after the next for some new insight into our nation's future.  And then I stopped. This morning I shut off the alarm on my phone at 7am and left it on my bedside table. My impulses fired over and over to go and check "just one thing," but I let them starve and did a puzzle instead. I took the kids to the park. We ate McDonald's cheeseburgers and then took a nap. When Dale got home at the end of the day, I felt a quiet in my soul that I haven't felt in a long, long time.  I have written about this addiction to my phone and the news and social media, as an attempt to give myself some accountability. It's so easy to talk about how addictive it is, and how it corrupts your peace, and how it shifts your thinking from what is good and true, to conspiracy a

  I keep waiting for someone to give me the handbook on all things mom. Something that says, “When this happens, just do this.” I feel like my mom has one, and I never got a copy. I was thinking about it today when I got caught in this predicament. Clinton was sitting at the table coloring. He got up to get a drink and Moses moved into his seat. Clinton cried. Moses said, “He got up!”  Ok. In my house, the phrase, “Always consider others more important than yourself,” is repeated like a mantra. Also “move your feet, lose your seat.” When Clinton cried, (please don’t judge me harshly for getting in my feelings over the littlest one) I realized that I’m promoting to opposing positions. Give everything away, and take what you can get. I can’t reconcile this. Double-standards haunt my dreams.  “Don’t repeat words you hear me say on a daily basis.”  “Don’t make fun of people even if I’m laughing.” “Work hard and serve others. Also ask someone else to help you, besides me.” “Don’t have a bad

    "Find other Christians and live your life with them."   It seems like it would be the most simple part of being a Christian. It's what my parents did, I essentially did it when I was growing up. But our world is not so simple anymore. Some of us are not regularly plugged into many venues to find other Christians. There have been seasons in my life when I was extremely isolated. When we first moved to California, I wanted to ask the lady that set up my bank account for her number because she was the first person outside my immediate family that I'd had a conversation with in months.  Every day I read this book of prayers. It sets the stage for my day. Sometimes I don't have the words I need and this little book, The Valley of Vision, gives me the words and a rich insight to my human condition and my desperate need for God. Today I arrived at the very last page. It ended on such a profound request that I couldn't help but share it. It said this:  "May w

This crazy thing happens to me in the transition between driving home from a place and walking in the door of my house. On the way home, I diligently plan how I will spend the time remaining in the day. I make a list of items I’d like to accomplish; often I say the list out loud so that I also hear it in hopes of remembering. When I walk into my house through the door, I’m immediately overwhelmed with six million other things that need to be done. My commitment to finish the four things I said out loud is abolished by the mountain of things in the que, things that have been waiting in the que for years. Things like cleaning out the gutters on the back of the house. Organizing the linen closet. Finishing the trim in the kitchen. It’s like that game Fruit Basket Upset. Or Four Corners, when the caller calls all the numbers at the same time. My brain scrambles, and all I see is what’s in front of me. Laundry. The mess on the counter. The clothes on the floor. The dishes scattered into eve

 After a long season of endless days, desperate prayers and physical manifestations of anxiety, my son has returned from boot camp. He left in July, 13 weeks ago, and has endured many, many trials in the process of joining the military during the pandemic.  More than anything else, I am in awe of God. I missed him, I worried over him, I prayed for him, and I’m so grateful, for the second time in his adult life, that he is sleeping under our roof. But my eyes see God. When he made the decision to join at 17 years old, we had reservations. His determination was all he needed and he persisted until he shipped. It felt presumptuous to ask God to bring him home when it became clear that he was struggling in the uncertainty of it all. But I did ask. I begged. I pleaded. I became the widow with the judge, continuously returning to remind him of my need. When He answered, there was no delay, the answer came swiftly and he returned in record time. Why did God do this? Why did He move senators a

 Tonight as I got out of the car after date night, I carefully stacked a coffee cup, a water cup, my purse, my phone, and two bags of groceries in my arms. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when I spilled my water and almost lost the coffee and the lobster ravioli that I wanted to savor the final few bites of tomorrow. That’s what my life feels like right now. It’s all precariously balanced and at any moment it might all come crashing down. I’m still here, you guys. I have really gotten caught in a whirlwind. I can’t seem to get things ordered around here. It feels like there is always something waiting for my attention and nothing ever seems to get done. I am overwhelmed and anxious, and instead of doing the next thing, I’m trying to carry all of them. The precarious balancing act. I just need to keep reminding myself of the truth. Jesus said, “Come unto me all you who labor and I will give you rest...” Matthew 11:28 Ok. I’ll do it. 😭❤️

As I transition over to blogging more regularly, I don’t really know if I’ll get off of Facebook completely or not. I just can’t see that far ahead. Trying to keep my sights on what’s “in the headlights”.  I am so grateful for you, my dearest reader, coming along with me here to the blog. It’s like leaving the coffee shop to come sit in my living room. I’ve always felt more at home here.I really want to be able to respond when you engage in the comments. I understand the hassle of having to sign in, but I don’t know who is saying what. It would be great if you could leave your first name under your comment, it would help me to cross the bridge to you. That way I’ll know who’s sitting on the couch with me. ❤️ This weekend is looking like it’s gonna be dreamy and cold. I plan on drinking hot chocolate and starting a puzzle in between the running and doing. Maybe it will ease some of this anxiety that’s burning in my chest.  Lvb

  In high school, I took an art class that included casting and sculpting. I was fascinated by the process. One day I walked in to discover a table covered in rocks. We were instructed to pick out a rock and get a chisel and file off of the tool pile. The next step was to choose a design and use the chisel to begin to shape the rock by taking off large chunks. As the rock began to take shape, we used smaller chisels and files to smooth the edges and make finer details. It was an arduous process but I was captivated. I have understood the gospel since I was very young, but I didn’t realize how much time the growing would take. I knew that I would be changed when I turned my heart over to God. But I had this colossal expectation that my life would reflect goodness and rightness all along the way once Jesus was dwelling inside me. What I didn’t expect was the wrestling that would come with the journey. I didn’t know that sin would still be crouching at my door waiting for an opportunity t

 When it gets really cold outside, and there's not much to do inside, we do puzzles. I remember my mom doing puzzles when I was young. She always had something going, if it wasn't a puzzle it was a painting or a knitting project or a sewing project. She still keeps a basket next to her chair where there is a project going. When we got married, Dale and I would go to his mom and dad's house for Christmas break, and there would usually be a puzzle going at the kitchen table. I loved it. I felt so awkward in the newness of my place in the family, so it gave me something to do that didn't require a lot of vulnerability. I would just sit down next to Dana and start hunting for pieces. It was easy to find common ground. In my plight for peace, I have been asking myself, what things do I do that are life-giving? Going to the park is one (see yesterday's post.) Puzzling is another one, an easy one. While we sat and listened to the confirmation hearings on Columbus Day, I pu

 Just before the sun went down, we walked to the park to play before bed. I sat on the edge of the playground watching my three littles run and play and squeal and spin. My energy was slow to return this weekend, but I tried to be responsive to all of their new tricks on the equipment. I couldn’t muster the gumption to play whatever game they wanted me to join in on, but I watched and laughed and drank in the sunset just past the trees. Why is it so hard to do little things like walking to the park with the kids? I didn’t have anything pressing to accomplish, but I had to talk myself into going. And then when we got there, it was exactly what I needed. The thing I didn’t want to do was just what was missing in my stormy soul. It didn’t seem like a thing last night, but somehow in hindsight, it feels significant. The weather was mild, there was a gentle breeze and it was cool enough for a light sweater. The kids ran wild, but they played in harmony together. Reflecting on those few minu

I'm terrible at starting conversations with people I don't know. Last night, I went into Dollar General to buy the wasp spray I keep forgetting to buy. Wasps are tormenting us in the middle of October. They come out of nowhere, and we are defenseless. I got to the register at 8:15pm, and the cashier was new to our store. She looked tired. As I approached we exchanged pleasantries, but when the conversation fell flat, I struggled to find words. She chattered to herself about the bags, her co-worker, the boxes, whatever, whatever. I couldn't hear most of what she was saying, but I liked her and wanted to engage. But I couldn't. I was empty. I'm struggling. I've just come through a season of warfare. I prayed and fasted and gathered people to pray, and God heard our prayers and answered. There's no question about it; God moved on our behalf. He heard and responded in a powerful way. When the answer came, I cried all day. It was partly because I was so overwhelm

  Being Aunt Bea to this little Darth Vader is one of the highlights of my life.    My sister is the queen of all things fun. When she asked me to dress up for his birthday, I couldn’t get those Leia buns in fast enough. This photo captured my elation as Jude yelled, “CHEESE!” For each photo. 😂 I love this little Ewok so much I could fall to pieces. Yesterday when she came into the kitchen where I was sitting, she gave me the most intense glare I’ve ever seen a baby pull off! Today when I got to her house, she reached for me. I was over the moon!! I think I’m going to need to make another trip home soon so we can keep this good connection alive. 😍 The kids table was packed, so I wandered around the room several times looking for a place to sit. I had to borrow my sister’s Spanx because I forgot mine, and my dress required another layer of clothes underneath. Unfortunately the second layer fit like armor and I felt like a sweaty mess by the end of the night, with my cheap hair paint a

I’m waiting for an important phone call today. It’s crazy how something trivial can be so paramount. I’ve been praying like I’ve never prayed before. This season has probably been the greatest season of growth in my faith that I’ve ever experienced. I’ve known seasons of hope. Seasons of growth, and I’ve known the closeness of Jesus in loneliness, but this has been an expansion in my faith in God’s willingness to come to my aid, the likes of which I’ve never known.  (9 hours later) I just received the phone call I've been waiting all day to hear. I've suffered in the waiting, wondering, praying, and praying a lot. And now I am rejoicing in the answer that came to in response.  God. answered. my prayers.  I get tears writing those words. It's not because I didn't think He could, because I knew He could. It's because He would. It's because He heard my cries. He saw my distress. He loves us in a way that no one else can. He sees it all. He knows it all. He hears it

When I walked through the kitchen today, these three caught my eye. I thought someone was setting up for teatime. It made me feel a little giddy when I saw all the pumpkins and the swirl of winter on the cups.  Turns out, the little boys just set these and a few other dishes here because they couldn’t reach the cabinet where they belonged. They left them for me to put away. I, in turn, left them there to remind me to have tea with them a little later because we all love it so much.  It was easy to pick up fall cups from Dollar General. Sometimes I find them at Hobby Lobby, but I’ve also found really cool ones at the Dollar Tree. It’s just a matter of looking for them. Having them on the counter gave me a lift, because of pumpkins, and you know how I feel about this time of year. The beauty is in the details. It’s just a little extra effort that takes something ordinary and makes it feel like something special.  I’m not great at giving gifts, I’m too scattered and distracted. But I do l

Even after all these years of homeschooling, it doesn't really get easier, it just finds a groove. Homeschooling is the most fulfilling and more exasperating time of my day. October has come, and we've found our groove, but the pains of learning are tiresome. Without a lot of details,  I'll confess that I'm not good at teaching math. My parents, the genepool from which I have come, are both brilliant in the world of numbers. Sadly, I have trouble combining like terms. It's one of the most basic algebraic operations. I struggle with parenthesis and get turned around when it comes to negatives. You guys, I feel like the one of the least capable when it comes to teaching math. Thank God, and I mean literally, I thank God, for Khan Academy. It's been a life-saver for this struggling teacher.  There are tears when math is hard. Even when it isn't as hard as variables in fractions. The learning is difficult. It requires attention and retention. It is a cumulative

  Sunday morning we slept in. It had already been established that we would practice taking a sabbath when I realized we weren’t going to be able to attend church on Sunday morning. It was perfect. Church Saturday, sleep in Sunday, spend the day doing anything besides being on devices or in front of the TV.  I did a little laundry and ironing and had coffee with my kids while they ate breakfast. They played Monopoly while I read, and then we put a puzzle together. Next we played Crazy 8s. (Thanks @dianne!) We picked up Culvers for lunch, and afterwards, the kids played outside while I did some writing. Once the sun felt warm enough to take the chill out of the air, I went for a walk. My little boys trotted along beside me investigating the smashed frog in the street each time we passed it. I made dinner before dropping the girls off at youth group, and when Dale got home, we played another few rounds of Crazy 8s. After family devotions, I took a very hot bath and thanked God for my lif

It's 7:42. I'm tired. This headache started a few hours ago. I haven't had a headache in over a week.  Before that I was having headaches for days on end.  You want to know something I'm embarrassed to admit? It makes me think I have a devastating disease that is only presenting in all-too-common ways. I probably don't, I just need Lisa Murphy to say the magic words. "You're fine." When I sit down in this corner, in this chair, with this guy adjacent to me. When the kids pile up on our bed and play games together with their heads so close to each other that their faces are practically touching, I feel it the most.  I am living under the blessing of God.  I love my life. I wake up in the morning and feel free. I laugh out loud every single day. I get hugs straight out of bed. I don't feel afraid of "messing things up" by saying the wrong thing. My darling and I know each other so well that sometimes our conversations only require half the

Found this on the floor after church last week. We had stacks of these emojis, since each kid got em. I couldn’t help but laugh when I picked it up. Mad looks so much madder when the face is isolated at the tip of the paper airplane. And I sure don’t want to see that sharp red face coming in hot in my direction. I am ill-equipped for this kind of hostility. I used some of the discarded emoji papers to write letters on for one of our own. He’s far away and needs some happiness from home. My little boys sifted through the stack to find sad emojis. They wanted to fully express what they were feeling about his absence. I’m feeling it too. The unexplained anxiety. The shortness of breath. The random heart palpitations. The inability to focus. Maybe it’s not some fatal tumor affecting my mental faculties, instead maybe it’s the weight of towing the line. Constantly murmuring prayers. Waking to see if I have missed a phone call. Forcing myself to think about something else. Holding all of it