Things I Learned In July

Last month, I joined up with Emily Freeman from Chatting at the Sky in reflecting on some of the random – and sometimes quirky – things we’ve learned in the past month. I love this link up because it appeals to my introspective nature, and my ability to notice the accidental and mundane and elevate it into something that might be enlightening. Or then again, just be kind of odd and eccentric, and very much me.

One – I guess I’m just never going to get tired of fairy tales. We haven’t had cable for a couple of years now, so when we watch shows, it’s fun to see them back to back to back. Without commercials. Without waiting. The latest one my family and I enjoy is Once Upon A Time – a modern day twist on traditional fairy tales. It doesn’t require a lot of brain power, and I’m better at pacing myself now, but it sure is fun to pop in a new episode after dinner.

Two – I (finally) learned how to link up social media buttons on my blog. I had been wrestling with this for weeks and weeks and couldn’t get things quite right. The links would work, but the images would be off. Or the images would appear – sometimes randomly – and the links wouldn’t work. Then I read a series of great interviews with Amy Lynn Andrews on How They Blog and she had so much good information to share. I gleaned so much from her posts and Q & A, I thought I’d take my fledgling Twitter self and just ask her if she had any tips. Within 24 hours, she responded with a specific post that had the best tutorial I’d ever seen, and within half an hour, I had my buttons up. Thank you Kat Lee (How They Blog). Thank you Amy Lynn Andrews.

Three – Speaking of recommendations from Amy Lynn Andrews, Tiny Wings is totally addicting. Fun. But addicting.

Four – It’s official. I feel like I belong at work. I love my job. I never saw myself doing something like this. But in the process of configuring Microsoft Surface Pros for deployment later next month, I realized that I’ve found my next career calling in a place I absolutely love. Oh, and I learned how to configure a Surface.

Five – Having Fridays off in the summer is pretty fabulous, but working four-tens kicks my butt.

Six – No matter how many times I watch Firefly, I still love every episode. And I still get passionately annoyed that the series was cancelled. Browncoats forever.

Seven – I thought it would be awful when my daughter got around to texting, but it’s not. Granted, she doesn’t have her own phone yet – that may alter my opinion somewhat – but when she’s sending me love and sweet messages out of the blue, it’s hard to be unhappy about that.

Eight – I still get a little giddy when I know a package is coming my way. Especially when it has new books in it.

Nine – I make a pretty mean, “gummy salad” for kids’ sleepovers. It was a huge hit.

Ten – Guest posting is exciting, and encouraging, and fabulous, and exhilarating, and exhausting. I was privileged to have my first guest post ever with the (in)courage Bloom book club, and the range of emotions I went through really surprised me. Their team was so supportive and just cheered for me the whole way – it was such a wonderful first time experience.

Eleven – this is not so much a “learned” as a “reminder.” It’s just so hard to be 3,000 miles away from home with no road in between; especially when they could really use you at home.

Twelve – In French, instead of saying “I miss you,” the translation is “you are missing from me.” Love that.

I'd love to connect with you some more - stop on by the Three Bees Facebook Page or connect with me on Twitter @3BeesBlueBonnet. Let's continue the conversation!

Behind the Scenes – My Weekend Trip to Europe

 Last year in the middle of June, I was suffering from a bout of insomnia. Another night of sleepless wanderings around my silent house. Another set of hours stressing about lack of work, lack of funds – lack of a future as far as I could see. My desert journey was in a particularly dry period. It was a dark time, and I was feeling hopeless, helpless, and at the end of my rope. My cries out to God seemed to be hitting a glass ceiling and reverberating back into the empty space around me.

One o'clock in the morning is not the ideal time for me to start a new project, try to gain traction, or build initiative; so really, I was just looking for a distraction. While perusing Facebook (what better place for distraction!), I noticed that a friend had checked into a nearby coffee shop several hours before. I smiled to see in the comments, she noted that she hadn’t actually been there, but just wished she had, and how she thought it was funny that Facebook let you check into places without actually having to be there. Two posts down from that, another friend was reminiscing about her time spent in France, and how she loved the fact that she could still see her old neighborhood using Google maps.

I perked up as inspiration hit. This was what I needed – to get out of this space, to take a trip, to get a new perspective. Right now.

I was going to Europe.

The beauty of the Internet age and the imagination is that just about anything is possible. I started Googling places I’d like to visit and looking for local coffee shops. I started with Paris and “checked in” to a popular tourist spot called Les Duex Magots. For fun, I started an online album and copied generic pictures from the net of the café, of a lovely tea set up, and even a cute black and white of a supposed new friend – Marthe – that I’d made while visiting. I planned out a few more spots, did some research, and crawled into bed with my spirits lifted from my creative endeavors.

Imagine my surprise in the morning when I logged on to Facebook again and saw comments from friends expressing amazement about my “sudden trip to France” and how excited they were for me. Surely they were kidding. Everyone knew that we were broke, and seriously – they thought I’d disappeared overnight and was suddenly in Paris? I shrugged it off and continued with my online adventure; researching more cities; checking in to new destination cafés; adding photos; and commenting about my adventures.

To my astonishment and delight, friends continued to comment on my journey – some still thinking I was actually away on a whirlwind escapade, others figuring out what I was up to and playing along by “joining me” in different cities. By the time the weekend was over, I had been to cafes Paris, Florence, London, Prague, and a castle in Liechtenstein.

While my weekend journey will never measure up to the real deal, that creative expedition was just what I needed in that moment to jolt myself out of the doldrums and gain a new perspective. And finding pictures of the cathedrals and holy labyrinths I longed to visit only reminded me that I didn’t have to go overseas to find a quiet, meditative place to commune with God to refresh my spirit.


I'm linking up with Crystal Stine and company for the first time today; joining the Behind the Scenes link up. A place to make a connection beyond the Pinterest perfect ideals; to look past the edges of the photo to the real life behind it; to say hi, this is me in all my messy real-ness. Sounds like a good time to me.

I'd love to connect with you some more - stop on by the Three Bees Facebook Page or connect with me on Twitter @3BeesBlueBonnet. Let's continue the conversation!

Five Minute Friday: Broken

Tonight, it’s going to be an unusual one. It’s still a beautiful, unscripted, Five Minute Friday moment. But tonight, I lingered a little longer with the family, recalling Karrilee’s reminder for balance; I relaxed into the sofa at the end of a long week – loosening up before jumping online for tweets and posts of inspiration and encouragement. Then I had to detour and go grab the receipt for plane tickets in December as I read an email from one of my best friends from high school saying that there was a tiny, maybe possibility that we’d be home for Christmas at the same time.  And then I saw the prompt …

This Week: Broken

Go

It would be so easy for me to tell you about all the things that are wrong with me. And I could start way back. Way. Back.

Memories of separateness and disconnectedness that started with a clothespin in kindergarten. Isolation that continued with a lizard hidden with ill intent in elementary school (what? this phobia doesn’t come from nowhere, folks). One misunderstood mistake in Junior High that made me a pariah for months – over a table. Pain seeps through my life like water going to ground in dry, parched earth. It gets worse. There are things I don’t write about; things I barely talk about; things I won’t even acknowledge in my journal because writing them down makes them too real.

But not tonight.

Because despite all the hurt, and the pain, and the deep dark places, this is what you need to know about me:

I am stronger in the broken places.

I used to love to quote Invictus by William Earnest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Continued here

Like that’s what made me strong. Me. And my will to survive.  But the older I got, and the more I went through, the more I realized, it was not about me surviving. It was not about me thriving in difficult circumstances. It wasn’t about me at all.

I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end He will stand on the earth. Job 19:25 NIV

 

This is what it’s about. And this:

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 2 Corinthians 12: 9 NIV

Let anything that I have come through, let anything that I have survived, let anything that I have been given grace to overcome, stand simply as a testimony to the power of Christ in my life, and what my God is able to do.

Broken and poured out, my life is His.

Stop

How to Join:
Want to know how Five Minute Friday got started and how to participate? All the details are here. No editing or second guessing. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community

One Plate at a Time

I have not always been a girl’s girl. Growing up in a neighborhood of boys, I played hard and long with my brother and his friends; eschewing Barbie and her crew for tall leafy trees to climb; deep cool ravines to run rampant in; and the half-built cinder-block structures near the soccer field in the park that made a great fort. This trend continued all through school as I made friends with the girls, but kept my best friendships for the guys and their ability to keep things simple and uncomplicated.

Fast-forward twenty-something years in my life and I’m all about my women friends. My grown up girlfriends. I’m still a fringe-of-the-party kind of loner, but there are a handful that I hold close to my heart. I’d seen some of them online before I met them in person – friends of friends who shared a monthly supper club in common – I’d see their likes and comments on mutual friends' Facebook posts; hear about them at church gatherings; come into a conversation where someone told a story about someone else and there that name was again. And then I met them.

One night in December; squeezing together around a booth in a Chinese restaurant and spilling out the sides – I said hello for the first time – ducking immediately into introvert mode as the laughter, holiday cheer, and swapping of dishes swirled around me. I recognized faces, now suddenly blooming in real life around me, and thought, I could do it. I could be friends here.

The Girls and I at the Hub on a summer afternoon

Month by month I came back. Came as we celebrated birthdays; set goals; caught up on life moving at break-neck pace; talked about kids; laughed some more, ate some more – always at a different favorite place.

There was a space of time where we actually broke for a while. Things happen in any group of friends, they always do, and for a while there was a large, empty space where this cluster of companionship used to be. Then the May birthdays said “oh, why not, let’s just do it again and see who comes,” and it was off and running. A little bit of the same. A little bit different. But still together. And still dinner. And still God-blessed and holding on and praying together and for each other.

Technology adds a new dimension now - and it’s a great place to connect when we can’t be together. We post prayer requests, struggles with family, our hopes for our children, death, cancer, chronic illness that feels like it’s killing us, custody battles, unemployment, the things that wear us so thin we feel we can’t breathe, joys, those wonderful moments you just have to share right this second – and then we have those times we’re together again. And it’s all of us, around another table; everyone hugging hello; passing menus and deciding what to order; trying to play catch up and breathe in the life that flows from one to another when we are connected.

These are the connections that happen over chow mein and cheese plates. Over crab dip and chardonnay. Over corn salad and enchiladas. These connections weave us together; intertwining our lives, so that when things happen – good or bad – when I reach for the phone to call or text, it’s these women I’m reaching out for; their prayers I’m asking for;  their voices I want to hear – laughing or crying with me. I’m blessed to have been brought to them; blessed to have been welcomed in by them; blessed to be adding our stories together, one plate at a time.

I'm thrilled to be featured as a Second Helpings guest post with the Bloom (in)courage Book Club. We've been reading the wonderfully tasteful Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table, by Shauna Niequist. Special thanks to Alia Joy from Narrow Paths to Higher Places and Robin Dance from (in)courage and Pensieve.me for their support and encouragement on my very first guest post.

And be sure to visit Anna {a girl with a blog} - I'm her second helpings today. And she's just lovely. 

I'd love to connect with you some more - stop on by the Three Bees Facebook Page or connect with me on Twitter @3BeesBlueBonnet. Let's continue the conversation!

The Text that Made Me Catch My Breath

It is the height of summer here, and all the school related issues I wrestled with over the past year are becoming faded memories. Not completely gone, but they’ve been replaced by my outrageously happy girl who greets me with smiles; who can’t stop hugging me; who wants to give me sweet kisses all the time. Oh, how I’ve missed that smile.

Please don’t let this stop.

I feel like I’ve spent the last three school years fighting for my child to be heard, listened to, and recognized for the person she is; for the learning style she has; and for the creative soul that lives inside this fiercely independent, extra-tall body.

I add this last bit, because if you’re a parent whose child falls outside the “normal” scale on the growth chart, you know what it’s like to wrestle with expectations – whether they’re too much or too little for the child who is your heart. Have a child on the petite side? I’m sure you live with amazement and wonder at what they can do. And all you want to say is, “yes, well, actually, she’s five, not three.” If you’re like my husband and I – raising an Amazon princess – it’s quite the opposite. It can be very frustrating to constantly say, “but, no, really, she’s just three. Not five.” Or seven. Or nine. So back off. Immediately. That last part is said in my head.

But like I said, those days are behind us for now. No comparing, no judgment, no round peg, square hole. Just lots of time for love and snuggles and joy.

And texting.

Oh yes. She’s started texting me on her daddy’s phone. It’s a hoot and a half; these wildly punctuated notes that come trilling over the ether to me. Sometimes they make me catch my breath in mid-stride. Like this one yesterday:

Dear mama,i wish we could stay together forever!!!!!!!!!! seriously, i miss you so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

This child of my heart teaches me so much. She loves greatly and without restraint. She forgives me any number of stumbles and crashes that I make. Daily. She reminds me (as she follows in my footsteps wanting to emulate everything) of the kind of reflection I need to provide for her as she grows up. Though I might wrestle with things I think I might not want to give up; things my human nature wants to hang on to; I cannot deny that striving to be a better mother makes me a better person. And If my eyes turn heavenward with Christ as the image I try to reflect, what better ideal can I provide for her?

This closeness we share now; the part where she loves me so fiercely and misses me after being apart for only a few hours? I’m cherishing it, and aiming to cultivate that relationship so that when she hits her teenage stride with its inevitable bumps and lumps – we’ll have this solid foundation to rely on; these moments and memories to grow from; the already established expectation that we don’t have to grow apart in those years – but simply continue to grow stronger together as a family.

Behind the Scenes: Dreaming of a Trans-Pacific Highway

We make plans. And then life happens. Isn’t that the way of it? When my daughter was first born, it worked out that my mom could come up and spend about a month with us. How amazing is that? It really was a blessing, and even more so because my dad had been through a couple of strokes and wasn’t as independent as he used to be. We made plans during that time, that she’d come and spend time with us each year around my daughter’s birthday.

The first year, we got a pass on that because my family and I wound up moving out near my parents. But that’s a whole ‘nother post (perhaps another book) in and of itself. It was a time of struggle (too expensive, too hot, too many things stacked against us), and in the end, clarity (this wasn’t where we were supposed to be – not where we wanted to call home), but I’m thankful that it meant time for my parents to have with my child.

So we started again when she was two – again with the plan that my mom would come for her birthday month. It worked at two, and then again at three. And then my dad had another stroke, this one more devastating than the ones before, and then that was the end of the birthday visits.

I made the decision to move away from home long before I met my husband, long before my child was even a possibility. Before there was even an us. I needed to be away to establish my identity and competency away from everything that I had grown up with, and the Pacific Northwest has truly become home for me. But oh, there are times when I wish there was a trans-Pacific highway and a way to get back home that doesn’t require a flight plan.

This picture is from my mom’s last visit when my daughter was three. We were having breakfast at a favorite spot – the Hob Nob (best biscuits and gravy in town) before popping over to the park. Thankfully, we’ve seen them since then, but only a couple of times.

It’s been four years since I was home with my family. Four years since my mom and dad have seen their first grandchild face to face; four years since I’ve held my dad’s hand or looked into my mother's eyes. Four years since I’ve punched my little brother in the arm and given him a hug. Never mind the niece I haven’t even met yet. She can say my name, and I’m pretty sure she can show you what a picture of me looks like. But it’s not the same.

This Christmas, we’re flying back.

I can’t believe it. I can’t even think about it. I’m just like that. It won’t be real for me until I’ve stepped off the plane in Honolulu and taken and deep breath of the air out there and realized once again how much I’m going to need to re-acclimate for the days that I’m there. But it will be a precious time to once again be with my family – the people I love. To have tea, celebrate Christmas, and hold each other close.

I’m hanging on.


I'm linking up with Crystal Stine and company for the first time today; joining the Behind the Scenes link up. A place to make a connection beyond the Pinterest perfect ideals; to look past the edges of the photo to the real life behind it; to say hi, this is me in all my messy real-ness. Sounds like a good time to me.

I'd love to connect with you some more - stop on by the Three Bees Facebook Page or connect with me on Twitter @3BeesBlueBonnet. Let's continue the conversation!

Chasing History: Dorcas - Love Was in Her Hands

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Romans 12: 9-13

There are so many passages in scripture that speak to us about love – specifically about what loving one another looks like. If we love we will share, we will care, we will speak kindly, we will have patience, we will lay down our life for another. These acts of doing bring action to love. They make love become the verb that it should be. When they are done in the name of Christ and in the spirit of helping our brothers and sisters in Christ – and even those who are not – that love becomes a testimony to God’s glory and is an instrument to draw others to Him.

We all know people like that, don’t we? Those who are good with their hands; those whose gifts lie in their ability to make and to give – and they seem to do it with an easy grace that makes abundance seem like a natural outflowing of their lives. They are great cooks who are ready to bring a meal when someone is sick or laid up; they are beautiful seamstresses who create beautiful clothes to share or costumes for the children’s plays; they are an indispensable masseuse who’s hands being relief and healing to aching, tired muscles; they are the kind friend who pulls us aside with a cup of coffee, sits quietly at our side, and wipes away our tears when our hearts are breaking. Where would we be without the gift of these who give with their hands?

For the new church growing in Joppa that we read about in Acts, Dorcas (also called Tabitha in the Aramaic) was that kind of person. She was a disciple who is described as always doing good and helping the poor. Dorcas used her hands to create things – she made clothing for those who were too poor to make or purchase their own. Caring for the poor and widowed was called for in the Jewish culture, but Dorcas’ commitment to the cause must have been exemplary and extraordinary for her to be remembered for this special gift. So much so that when her unexpected passing came, her community was devastated.

Imagine a spirit like that – not just a generous giving of material things – but surely a generosity of spirit surrounded her like a sweet perfume. Dorcas was the kind of person you wanted to be around because you could see God in action in her life. They were not ready to let her go.

Photo by saviodm

The disciples of Joppa heard that Peter was nearby in Lydda and sent two of their men to ask him to come immediately. When he arrived, imagine the scene – the people gathered in the home where she was laid out. They were in mourning, but also, they shared with Peter the testimony of the life of woman who was laid out to rest.

All the widows stood around him, crying and showing him the robes and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was still with them. Acts 9:39b

All these women whose lives had been touched and been made better by the hand-made gifts of one woman. They wanted a chance to share this with Peter. I wonder if this community realized how large her influence had been; how many lives she had touched, until they were all gathered there together to mourn her passing. I’m sure there wasn’t a single dry eye in the house. This woman had moved people.

The Bible doesn’t go into a lot of detail about what happens next. It tells us that Peter asked all the people to leave the room; that he prayed; and then he turned to the dead woman and said, “Tabitha, get up.” Then he called the believers and widows back into the room and presented her to them alive. What rejoicing there must have been. Dorcas gave her life in service to God and He returned her life to her to show His love for her and His glory through her. Her community of believers and all of Joppa would know that she had been brought back by the power of the risen Christ and testimony would draw others to Him. All because she chose to show love through acts of kindness with her hands.

Hands. Made for loving, serving, praising, giving, sharing. Our hands can be instruments for God’s glory if we allow Him to use them – as He uses all of us, in all ways, with our whole lives – in service for Him. If we let Him, our hands can proclaim good news to the poor … bind up the brokenhearted … proclaim freedom for the captives … proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor … and comfort all who mourn (from Isaiah 61:1-2).

What will you allow God to do through your hands?

I'm Chasing History again today with Just One Girl and the ones who are writing about women in the Bible. Come on over and share with us. We're a community coming together to talk about the stories He has written!