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