bsmiles and sunny days

  Here is the evidence of my harvest this week. 4 tiny strawberries, 1 little cucumber, and 1 green bean. I couldn’t be happier! Unless, of course I had a bushel of green beans, and maybe if my strawberries were bigger and sweeter. I mean, I’m not complaining because I didn’t expect anything to grow since my yard gets pretty limited sun exposure. This summer has had me scrambling every single day, which makes me think that next year I might not invest so much time and energy into planting and tending a garden. (2 gardens, really, but whatev.) Maybe I’ll just collect my summer harvest the old-fashioned way, from the Farmer’s Market. I have aspirations of lining my pantry shelves with jars of produce that I’ve canned at home, just like my grandma used to do. But I have a lot of life calling my name and vying for my attention. There’s no sense in fighting for my dreams when the only things are going with me to the next life are my people.  It’s become my most critical aim to get quiet wit

  When we moved to Platte City from Lompoc, California, I was breathless as we pulled into the driveway of our new house. The duplex we moved out of had a yard full of sand and only a few shrubs. Our new home had green grass everywhere and two gorgeous trees in the front yard and two gigantic blue spruce trees in our side yard. I couldn’t believe we had our very own trees. Only God knew how much I would treasure them. This year as the barren branches began to bud, this beauty remained the same. The leaves that never fell through the winter stayed put as everything around it came to new life with the spring. Last week I finally resigned myself to the reality that she had died and we needed to make arrangements for removal.  It wrenches my heart a little; I don’t like change. But at the same time, I have been dreaming about planting an apple tree. Once the removal is complete, I will have the space to begin something new. It reminds me to hold on loosely to all the things in my life that

  For the past few months I’ve been waking up in the night with a tickle in my throat. Usually by the time I am fully awake, I’ve been coughing hard enough to cause tears to trickle down my cheeks. It’s terrible. I’m not sure what is causing it, but I have desperately sought some sort of relief.  At the National Worship Leaders Conference in Nashville last week, I learned some valuable lessons in vocal health. With that I discovered this throat spray. It provides moisture and dissolves mucous on the vocal cords. I’ve been keeping it by my bed to use during my midnight coughing episodes. It works like magic to settle down whatever is causing the tickle. I’m so thankful for these little gifts! “Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NASB1995‬‬ https://www.bible.com/100/jas.1.17.nasb1995

  This is my happy place. When things get overwhelming for one of the littles in my family, I take them to a quiet corner and read them a book. It carries us both out of whatever is happening into the world of Frog and Toad, or Little Bear, or Grandad and his boy.  It took me a long time to cross the chasm from reading because I had to, to reading because it soothed my soul. I think it was because I wasn’t good at it and people kept shoving reading assignments into my hands. When I got out of college, I abandoned reading indefinitely. But when I found the joy of it by the gentle nudges of the Holy Spirit, I discovered a whole new dimension of this life. This summer God has gifted me the great honor of teaching my Sunday school class, in order to give our great leaders a soul rest. Because of the nature of the summer study, I have the opportunity to read one of my most treasured books to the girls I have grown to love so dearly.  If you would like to join us, even for one week as a gues

Every time I open the trash can my dog’s eyes light up. I usually give him some of our leftovers, but then I have to guard the trash can. Once he’s had a taste of the good stuff, he’s insatiable. He doesn’t know it would be bad for him to eat it all. He doesn’t understand how it could effect his digestive system, or his heart, or what a choking hazard is. He just knows the other half of what he got went into the trash can. If we aren’t watching, he will do everything in his power to open the lid and devour it’s contents. Even a newspaper is appetizing to him with a little drizzle of gravy on it. He can’t be trusted to keep himself safe, so we must be in guard. We want him to live a long, rich life with us, but every time he gets into the trash, he puts that dream at risk. Sin has a filthy connotation, but it’s allure is silky and powerful. It’s noxious. It will scramble your senses with pleasure and turn you into a dog with its face in the trash and a total disregard for the consequenc