because, sometimes, I'm a genius

Years ago, when my husband and I were first married, we lived in the same town as my Grandma Ruby. Many mornings I would stop by her house on my walk to work.

Grandma Ruby could knit and crochet like no body's business. One cold morning, I stopped in without mittens on my hands. When I stopped again on my way home, she handed me a pair of mittens (and a hat) that she had whipped up that afternoon.

While walking the rest of the way home with my new mittens warming my hands, I had a thought. A thought about my sisters and me and our future babies. Grandma Ruby was getting older, and I didn't like to think about it, but it occurred to me that she might not be able to meet all our babies. Her future great-grand babies. So the next day I asked her if she would be willing to make some baby blankets. I told her I'd love to have a blanket made by her to give to each one of my sisters for their first baby. She was very willing and so excited.

On my lunch break, I stopped by the Ben Franklin across the street and picked out the softest white yarn I could find. I dropped it off on my walk back home. I don't remember exactly how long it took her to complete the blankets. Maybe a week? Probably less. She made five. One for me and each of my sisters, and one for my sister-in-law, Kara. (She loved Kara, and wanted her to get in on the blanket action as well.) They were each different and wonderful. I carefully stored them, and waited patiently for the day when I would give them each away.

Grandma Ruby was only able to meet one of our babies. But each sister received a special Grandma Ruby blanket for the birth of her first baby.

On Saturday, I get to give away the last blanket lovingly made by my Grandma Ruby's hands. I know for certain she prayed for the baby that would receive this blanket. And for the mama that would place it over her sweet babe.

for Annie...

...we'll see if they work...

...if not, you know I don't mind cranking out more. :)

{the colors look a little off, it's a gloomy day, so I can't get a good shot without the flash.}

oldies....

We've been liking Father Knows Best on hulu.

(Wish they had more than the first season available. )

mass chaos

If someone were to happen upon my house right now, they might think we've been burgled.

The rocking chair is tipped on its side so the baby can't crawl into it, stand, and rock. (While laughing with delight.) There are chairs all over, as make-shift gates...since the gate I bought on Monday has already been broken. Toys mark a Hansel and Gretel-esque path through the chaos.

Tangible evidence of what I'm most thankful for this upcoming holiday.

high school baggage

I've been thinking. Which is something I haven't had the luxury of doing for a few months. When I'm on auto-pilot that part of my brain shuts itself off. Conservation. Or protection. Or something.

But the thinking began when I was doing my hair. I thought about trying something a little different. A little jazzy. But then I stopped and thought, "Wait a minute. Who do I think I am? I'm not someone with jazzy hair! What will people think? They will think, 'Who does she think she is? She's not someone with jazzy hair!'"

And so I didn't have jazzy hair. I let myself be defined by my own made up thoughts about other people's thoughts about who I am. (Did you follow that? Extend some grace, please. My thoughts have been shut off for a while, so they're a bit rusty.)

So then I thought about my thoughts. And about why I would care if people actually had those thoughts about my identity. (Thoughts thoughts thoughts....just trying to wear out that word. It looks strange if you type it out too many times.) I traced those feelings back to middle school. The time when you are tyring to figure out who you are. When all too often we let ourselves be defined by the people around us. We let them dictate what we look like. How we act. What we say.

Why do we do that?

Why did I do that?

Why am I still doing that?!

No more, my friends! No more!

There is only One that can define who I am. Only One that I am going to listen to. And, frankly, He doesn't care about my outward appearance. If I want jazzy hair, or no hair, or blue hair...He loves me just the same.

I might even become a hat person. A hat person that wears huge jewelry. A hat person that wears huge GLITTERY jewelry!

There is no stopping me now.

Lamp ReVamp

I have an awkwardly shaped living room. In my awkwardly shaped living room, I have an angled sofa, with an ugly lamp behind it. The lamp was one we purchased for around $10 when we were first married. You know the kind; black with accents in brass and green glass? From the '90s? That kind. Some where along the way, I spray painted it all green. Not good. Not good at all.

Well, I got SO sick of that stupid lamp, that I began a nationwide search to replace it. However, I have exactly zero dollars to spend on a new lamp. And I don't steal. So, my options are pretty slim. And none. None options. But! I have an active imagination and too much time on my hands AND a glue gun. Plus I had all of these things:

I cut apart that old lamp shade and used the bottom ring. I smooshed it into an oval shape and stitched some fabric around it. I borrowed some wire from the garage for the bottom oval. Stitched the fabric to it, and slipped it all on top of the old lamp's original shade. It just rests there. To cover up my goofy stitching, I glued some red ribbon around the top, bottom and inside bottom of the new shade. Then I pulled some loose stitches up through to give it a little rouching.

It's not what I would go for if I had, say, $500 for my nationwide lamp search, but it works for today.

Off for a fun weekend

Praising the Lord for a good mother in law, and brother's in law that marry well! :)

l.o.v.e.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:13

I saw a post by Elizabeth Esther a while back. She grew up in an abusive, legalistic, fundamentalist church. She was saying how when she was little, she thought she was going to go to hell because she loved her mom more than God.

Her blog is one that I stumbled upon, and spent a whole bunch of time reading. It's hard to imagine some of what she grew up in, but some of it struck a chord with me. I was not raised in an abusive, legalistic, fundamentalist church. Thank God. But I think every church and every believer is in danger of becoming sidetracked. We can easily narrow our scope to include only the pieces and parts of Scripture that pertain to our pet issues.

There are many times I want to stand up in my own church and scream to my fellow congregates, "LOVE! What about the love??!!"

How many things would snap into focus if we would focus on loving? Not loving sin, but loving sinners?

Not being in love with myself, but being in love with Jesus?

And that's where the chord was struck reading Elizabeth's post. I remember when I was young feeling bad because I didn't love Jesus more than my parents. When I met my husband in high school, it seemed like I loved him more....and I felt guilty. I didn't worry about hell, but I knew that my love priority wasn't in the right order.

But how do you correct that?

How do you make your heart love?

I've been mulling this over for a while. And it's seems so simple. The real questions is, how can you love someone you don't know?

It's hard. But once you know what this person has done for you, once you begin spending some time with Him, and once you read His love letter to you....He corrects the order.

He makes your heart love.