the science of music

11 years

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 05:34:00 +0000

This little guy? He’s almost as tall as me.

He still loves baseball (ball was his first word).

He’s 11.

{gasp} {when did that happen?}

It can’t be true. I mean, I don’t think I’m 11 years older than I was when he was born.

{nice try?}

Join me in wishing him a very happy birthday!

Thoughts on Story

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 04:47:00 +0000

Story: an account of incidents or events

I’ve been thinking a lot about story lately. Story, to me, is more than just a recording of events. Story is life! My history, my experiences, are uniquely mine. They are me. How I act, react, think, live, is all related to story. My family, my passions. My capacity for love, for grace. All that is my story. I’d still have a story if I didn’t write. It would continue to shape me, always. As I live, new story is intertwined with the old. All writing does is help me remember. And hopefully, to encourage you as you live your own story.

Our local radio station has a segment in the morning called “Good News of the Day”. It’s a time for people call in and share good things God has done in their lives. We’re always on the way to school when the good news comes on, and I always shush the kids and turn up the radio so I can listen. The other day after it was over, Alex asked me why I always have to listen to other people’s stories.

“Alex,” I said, “it’s about people sharing the great things God has done for them. It’s a way to encourage other people who might be in a similar situation. It’s a reminder that God loves people and helps people and answers prayers. A reminder that if He helped the person sharing their story, then He might help us and answer our prayers.” (That was the quick answer. I could have stopped there, but I didn’t.)

I kept talking. I talked about how these people have stories to share. Once again, how they can be used to encourage us, to uplift us. How they can be used as warnings. How we can learn from other people’s mistakes, but also how we can rejoice with other people’s triumphs. (I could have stopped there, but I didn’t.)

I kept talking. I talked about how every person is important because God created every person. If God created every person, then every person matters. Every one. If every person matters, and every person’s story is the essence of who they are, then every person’s story matters. And if they matter to God, then every person, and their story, should matter to me. I listen and invest myself in that person, if only for a few minutes one morning. (I stopped there.)

I stopped talking, but I kept thinking. At the beginning of the year, many people make resolutions. I don’t like to because resolutions usually become a list of things you don’t like about yourself. Other people focus on a single word to live out during the year. I sort of did this last year. As I thought about what I said to Alex, I realized “story” has been growing on my heart for a while now. Not writing stories. No, story for me is living one worth writing.

A blog I sometimes read has taken a twist on the one word idea: one picture. She prayed about finding a picture that describes a thought, a feeling, to focus on for the year. For her, flowers in bloom show abundance.

As the word “story” invaded my mind and heart, I wondered what picture could possibly show me a story. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Every picture has a story behind it, of why it was taken. I needed one that captures the heart of why I think story is so important. I needed the right thousand words.

I found my thousand words: a picture of Bogotá, Colombia, taken from a mountaintop church. While you can see most of the city from the mountain, the camera captures only a portion. These thousands of buildings represent millions of people. Millions of stories. I wonder: how many of those stories are being told? How many know that their story matters? That they matter?

Just the thought of it spurs me on to turn up the radio in the car and listen to the stories that I can. It makes me want to live out my story even more.

What about you? Is there a word God has placed on your heart? Do you have a story to tell? I’ll listen!

Celebrating Christmas!

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 19:14:00 +0000

We hung our stockings….

We wrapped our presents…

We decorated our home…

We’re having a good time, but why?

Today we’re celebrating a baby. A baby who came so small and insignificant. A baby who was the most significant gift the world has ever seen. A baby who grew to become reconciliation.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. –John 3:16

Reconciliation to God, the creator of the universe? Yes, that’s something to celebrate! May your Christmas be filled with joyful celebration!

Twins who aren’t twins

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 15:05:00 +0000

My boys, they are so different. They are like night and day, personality–wise.

They look alike. They know that. They look just like their dad. They know that, too. If they were ever to forget, they’d be reminded next time they are seen together. They’d be reminded by friends, friends’ parents, teachers, strangers.

How do “twins” who aren’t twins deal with it? They push against each other. They make sure that everyone knows they are their own person. They pick up their own drums and create their own drumbeats. They make sure to not be caught having the same ideas, doing the same things. (They do have the same ideas, often, but to make it known? *shudder*)

They are day and night. But even nighttime sparkles. They both shine bright, and both are alike. Different, but alike.

Which is why this week, when both came downstairs wearing red under blue, I had to laugh. Because sometimes they push themselves against each other to the extent that one becomes a reflection of the other. There was much discussion of who would change when I reminded them that they don’t go to the same school anymore. Suddenly, it was ok to match.

Then, the surprise of all surprises! They let me take a picture.

Two boys, twins who aren’t twins, who are so different, but so much alike.

{note: The next day, they wore the same color again! They couldn’t stand to go 3 in a row – they coordinated so they wouldn’t match again.}

Book Review: My Life and Lesser Catastrophes

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 04:27:00 +0000

My Life and Lesser Catastrophes by Christina Schofield

The back cover of the book describes it so much better than I ever could, so I’ll quote it here:

Everyone was hoping God would take His big, awesome mistake eraser and rub this whole mess away. But He didn’t. And I found myself at the very heart of it all struggling to answer that one big question, “Am I right about God?”

For Christina Schofield, the difference between life as she’d always known it and a life of fear and uncertainty was a matter of a few pebbles.

As the motorcycle she and her husband were riding hit a patch of loose gravel, the bubble around her smooth Christian life popped. The safety nets she thought she had – based on unquestioning obedience to God, unyielding faith, a ministry-focused life - broke as their bodies were hurled from the bike.

What began that very moment was an emotional search for the God she thought she knew. With warmth and transparency, Christina describes facing her deepest questions of faith – and God’s painful silence - with honesty, sincerity, and humor, showing that even in our darkest hours, God’s goodness shines through.

The important info the back cover doesn't tell you: the authors husband was injured in the motorcycle accident and is now a quadriplegic. She had a concussion but was otherwise unharmed beyond scrapes and bruises.

What did I think? Yes, this is enough to shake anyone’s faith. But I loved the way Schofield deals with it: She asks questions. Lots of questions. She actively searches for answers. Even when the answers don’t come, she doesn’t give up. Yes, she has doubts and fears. But the fantastic part was that she was willing to face those doubts and fears head-on. The best parts of the book were when she was writing about the questions she asked. As I read, I knew that if I was in a similar situation, I’d be asking the same questions. It was encouraging to know that you can doubt and search and not get answers and still keep your faith.

The rest of the book, I could live without. She came across as quite whiny at times. Her jokes were only funny to her. They were the kind where if you knew her in person, or if you were there when the joke was made, it would make sense. She tried to keep things light by making self-depreciating comments like how she can’t cook or balance a checkbook, but the comments just made her sound pathetic. I appreciated that she kept her sense of humor and tried to keep the book from getting too gloomy and introspective. She just didn’t pull it off very well.

Overall, I can’t rate it very high. I wanted to like it. I wanted to love it! It didn’t happen for me.

{Note: This book was provided to me free of charge to review from Bethany House as part of their blog review program. The opinions in the review are my own; my only compensation was the book. For more information, please see my policies/disclosures page.}

Color

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 20:43:00 +0000

Color. Red, yellow, blue, green. Orange, purple, black, brown. Aggie maroon?

I've been thinking a lot about color lately as I think about my home.

I want my home to be comfortable. A respite.

I want my home to be beautiful.

I want my home to reflect my family.

The paint on our walls is not cutting it. Most walls are close, but not quite.

So I need new color.

A color to inspire rest.

A color to inspire warmth

A color to inspire creativity.

As I look at paint chips and pinterest,

I think of color

and how it affects every one of us.

And how grateful I am that life is beautiful

because it is colorful.

{linking up with The Gypsy Mama for Five Minute Friday. It's a challenge to write for 5 minutes, no editing, no second guessing, just writing, and share what goodness is created. Join us? Click on the button at the top of this post.}

A memory of love.

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 20:35:00 +0000

“I remember, I say. Honestly? I don't. What I remember is handed down to me in stories, marred by the story-teller's own frail memories.” – from a previous post.

Most of my memories, especially the early ones, are just that. Stories I’ve heard. My earliest true memories are blips on the screen. Moments frozen in time. Snapshots in my mind. Only a few stand out from my earliest years. I remember…

* Riding bikes in our driveway.

* “Swimming” in the ditch after the rain.

* Sitting in a circle on the floor at preschool, next to the girl who shared my name. I think we were eating popcorn for snack.

The strongest, most vivid, is of me walking across the church parking lot on a Sunday morning. For a long time, I thought it was Easter Sunday. Now I know it must have been a late spring or early summer day. I was wearing a pink dress edged with lace, holding my parents’ hands as we walked towards the sanctuary of our church, my brother and sister running ahead.

One day, I told my mom about this memory, and she couldn't think of any dress that fit the description. I didn't wear much pink because it clashed with my red hair. We puzzled over it. A few days later, we spotted the dress: on the cover of a recipe binder my mom made for me. A picture of me on my 5th birthday, eating homemade ice cream, wearing a pink dress edged with lace. The kind of dress that I would have worn to church on a late spring/early summer day. It’s not as frilly as what I remember, but otherwise, it fits my memory.

When I pull out the comfort of family recipes, I see that picture first. I think back to my mental snapshot of a parking lot. Of a church. Of love.

I fast forward several years. You see the beaded trim? It’s the trim that was used on my wedding dress. And when I see that, I think of a different parking lot. A different chapel. And love.

When all else gone, what else is there to remember?

Church. And God. And love.

Book Review: Cliques, Hicks, and Ugly Sticks

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 23:41:00 +0000

Confessions of April Grace: Cliques, Hicks, and Ugly Sticks by KD McCrite

This is the second book in the series Confessions of April Grace. In this book, April Grace is 11 years old and starting 6th grade - the dreaded junior high years. As if that wasn't bad enough, everything else in her life is falling apart. Their family friend is recovering from a car wreck. Her mama is sick. Her former best friend started her own clique, April not invited. Her sister is impossible to live with. Plus, the church has asked the youth group to act in the Christmas play. And who gets the lead part? April Grace. Which was not in her plans.
It was an ok book. I usually like books geared towards tween girls like this one is, but this one left me wanting something. April was hard to like. She complained about everything. While some things were valid complaints and some were simply what a tween girl would think, it got annoying after a while. You know she meant well in everything she did, but she still annoyed me. She definitely could have lived up to her name a little better.
I can't say I liked the book (I didn't dislike it, but I didn't like it). Then again, I'm not the target audience. The thing is, when I was 5-6th grade (the age of the target audience), I'm not sure that I would have liked it then. It would be one to check out from the library, read, say "That's a cute story", and then promptly forget about.

{Note: This book was provided to me free of charge to review through Thomas Nelson Publisher's Booksneeze bloggers program. The opinions in the review are my own; my only compensation was the book. For more information, please see my policies/disclosures page.}

How NOT to crack an egg

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 21:48:00 +0000

It doesn’t rank up there with my other baking disasters, I know. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.

What about you? Any funny baking stories to share?

Coke or Pepsi: the cool factor

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 23:47:00 +0000

It’s no secret that I drink Diet Coke. It’s no secret that I prefer Diet Coke over Diet Pepsi any day. And I prefer no-diet drinks over Pepsi products any day.

It’s no secret that hubby likes Coke. We’re a Coke kind of family.

There’s an after-school social tomorrow for those who are in clubs at David’s school. He’s in three; he’s definitely included! He was assigned to bring a 2 liter drink. I asked what he wanted to bring.

“Something cool….” (Because we all remember what middle school was like – and the perks that came with being the cool kid)

“…like Pepsi.”

*hack*

*gasp*

*stunned speechless*

Did my son really say that? That Pepsi is cool? Doesn’t he know that we’re a Coke family?

Or am I just not cool? (Say it ain’t so. Please say it ain’t so!)

I really thought he was going to say something like Dr Pepper. Or root beer.

I’m hoping that Coke and Pepsi can peacefully coexist in my fridge for one night. If not, David is cleaning up the mess.

What about you? Are you Coke or Pepsi? I promise not to judge. Well, probably.

what I’ve been up to lately.

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 20:30:00 +0000

*reading: I’ve read a LOT of books lately. Working on a list of books I’ve read and ratings for them.

*Sewing: Finally started cutting fabric for a project I’ve planned for almost a year now. Also working on a little something for a teacher at Alex’s school. It was a special request that I just couldn’t deny.

*Landscaping: Our landscaping has been ignored. Time to remedy that. I finally got the right tools needed. Now we just need to get working.

*Painting: I want to re-paint the house. Thinking about paint colors, window treatments, and other decor.

What about you? What have you been up to?

Five Minute Friday: Remember

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 19:03:00 +0000

I remember when I first met you. I forgot what you looked like until I saw you again. And you re-introduced yourself to me.

I remember the first time you gave me a gift. It was lovely. It was a....oh, never mind. I forgot.

I remember my 6th birthday party. Out at the park and my friend fell and scraped up her knees. Was that my 6th? Or was it the 7th? Or some other time?

I remember first day of high school. New school, new experiences ahead. Wait a minute. No, I don't really. It was a long time ago.I remember, I say. Honestly? I don't. What I remember is handed down to me in stories, marred by the story-teller's own frail memories.

Good thing there is one who never forgets. Not me, nor who I am, nor where I'm headed. He is always there, always remembering.

Question is, do I remember Him?

He has caused his wonders to be remembered;
the LORD is gracious and compassionate.
He provides food for those who fear him;
he remembers his covenant forever.
Psalm 111:4-5, NIV

Book Review: The Baker’s Wife

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 22:02:00 +0000

Audrey feels other people’s pain. Literally. Her husband, Geoff, is the ex-pastor of the local church. Now, they run a bakery. Jack Mansfield is the detective for the local police force and the one who destroyed Geoff’s preaching career. While driving to the bakery one foggy morning, Audrey hits a scooter belonging to Jack’s wife. Julie’s blood is everywhere but she is nowhere to be found. When the police take too long to solve the case, Jack decides to act and takes Geoff and the bakery hostage. Suddenly, it’s up to Audrey, an ex-con who showed up in town the morning of the accident, and a teenage girl to find Julie and end the hostage situation before things go further out of control.

What a fantastic book this was! It was an engaging story, one that keeps you wanting more and more. I loved how all the characters believed they were doing the right thing, even when they were obviously wrong. It was great because everyone in the story had endured hurt of some kind and they all reacted to it differently. Each of the characters’ reactions brought the story together in such a fantastic way. It was a great reminder that things aren’t always what they seem, that grace is every bit as important as justice, and that if you seek the truth, you’ll find it. Whether you recognize it and believe it as such is up to you.

It is a book that will have a permanent place on my bookshelf. I give it 5 stars out of 5!

Women of Faith Recap

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 22:08:00 +0000

So…I went to the Women of Faith conference last weekend. I went not knowing what to expect. I went with open ears and an open mind, ready to soak up whatever I needed to.
It was good. I learned a few things, I laughed, got some great advice on raising my boys, and was given a sweet gift of new friends. Once again, I brought my camera but didn’t take a single picture. My mind became my camera, and I thought about Mary. She didn’t have a camera, but she pondered things in her heart.
Anyway, the theme for the weekend was Over The Top!, taken from Romans 11:33 (MSG): “Have you ever come on anything quite like this extravagant generosity of God…?” While I didn’t quite feel the speakers fit the theme, they did have a lot of good things to say. The main thing that I took away from it was the importance of community, of friendships, of surrounding yourself with people who are willing to love you even when they know every detail of your life.
Which is exactly what I needed to hear.
{God is good at doing that to us, isn’t he?}
I thought it was interesting, because I went alone. My sister was supposed to come, but at the last minute she wasn’t able to. It was too late to find someone else to take her spot. Now, remember, I’m an introvert. I don’t mind being alone. But being alone in an arena full of women? That’s intimidating. Not 15 minutes into the first session, I realized something:
Some things in life are better shared with a friend. Women of Faith is one of them.
I had a great time, yes, but I knew that it would be so much better if I had someone to share the time with.
By Saturday morning, I was ready to pack up and leave because I was so intimidated by all these women swarming around me. I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and made a bold move. {Hang with me here. It was bold for me.} I {gasp!} asked two women to eat breakfast with me. It really wasn’t that hard of a choice. They needed a place to sit and my table was the only one with room. But it still took me speaking up and putting myself out there. So they sat and we chatted and I felt like I had known them for a long time. As we were leaving the hotel, they offered me a ride to the Alamodome so I wouldn’t have to pay for parking. I jumped right in. Halfway there, the thoughts came. I’ve only known these women for 10 minutes. And I jump in their car without hesitation? What am I thinking?! What have I been taught my whole life? DON’T ACCEPT RIDES FROM STRANGERS! And what am I doing? Accepting a ride from a stranger!
Fear. It messes with your mind, I’m telling ya.
But these two ladies were a breath of fresh air. No, we didn’t sit together, but I was comforted by the fact that in that arena, I had two friends. I had community.
Community. It doesn’t take much. It was just what I needed, and it was just what I found.
{I’d like to thank Thomas Nelson and Booksneeze for sending me to Women of Faith. Y’all are so awesome to us readers and I’m grateful for your generosity!}

Fair Weather Fans

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 03:07:00 +0000

I’ve been watching a lot of baseball lately. It is October, after all! My favorite team, the Texas Rangers, made it to the postseason again, after losing to the Giants in the World Series last year. Watching the fans in the stands got me to thinking. During the regular season, the stands in some places are usually filled and others rarely are. When the team is doing well, has big-name players, and/or realistic championship aspirations, the stands are full. Other places, where the team is full of no-names and their outlook is dismal, attendance lags. Then again, some places are victims of location. Some parts of the country just don’t care that much about baseball.

Then, you get a playoff team. When a team that typically has low attendance makes the playoffs, what happens? The stands fill up. These games suddenly mean something, and the who-cares-about-baseball city is suddenly feeding off the excitement their team has created. Everyone loves a winner, right? There’s a name for these kinds of people: fair-weather fans. They cheer on their team when the sky is blue, ignore them otherwise.

I sure love a winner. But I love my teams more. I've cheered for the Texas Rangers since I first began to enjoy baseball. Even when they cratered at the end of the season. Even when they were last in their division. I’ll always cheer for them. I’ll always cheer for my Texas Aggies. Even when they blow big first half leads two weeks in a row. {Yes, I switched to football here, sorry. But the point is the same.} Why? Because I’m loyal. True-blue stuck like glue.

Then I got to thinking:

Am I fair-weather fan when it comes to God?

Some people are. When all is well and good, they praise God and thank him for their blessings. But when hard times come, they blame him. They turn their backs because God is responsible for the bad as well as good. After all, how could a loving God cause such destruction? Or, the opposite happens. People remember God only when things are bad. They cry out, asking him for help. When things get better, and life is good, they forget that it’s only through God’s grace that they have gotten to where they are.

God doesn’t want fair-weather fans. He wants us to be fans during good or bad, championship seasons or not. How do I know?

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice. (Philippians 4:4)

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him... (Romans 8:28)

(emphasis added)

My question for you: Are you true-blue-stuck-like-glue, or only-when-the-skies-are-blue?

My question for me: Am I?

Women of Faith

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 02:45:00 +0000

Have you seen that button on my sidebar? ---->

Yes, the Women of Faith one. Guess what?! I’m going!

I was in high school when I first heard of Women of Faith. I remember saying to myself that if I ever got the opportunity to go, I would. Several years ago was my first one. And I didn’t go – a band concert, or something. The next few years, there was always a reason why I couldn’t go. This year, I was given the chance again, and I said yes as soon as I could. I figured that if I had it on the calendar far enough in advance, then anything else that comes up would be easy to say no to.

You know how I do book reviews with the Booksneeze bloggers program? Well, they teamed up with Women of Faith to give us bloggers a chance to go. For free! Yes, free tickets in exchange for a couple of blog posts. I can handle that. :) The best part? I get to take my sister with me!

What do I want to take away from the conference? I’m not sure. Partly because I’m not sure what to expect. The main thing I’m looking for right now is refreshment. Encouragement. I pour out so much of myself on a daily basis. I need a refill. And what better gift is there than to be filled up with than God’s goodness?

I can’t wait to share with you how it goes!

Bluebell

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 03:42:00 +0000

Sweet and creamy,

Cold and dreamy,

Makes my taste buds scream for more.

Oh, this bowlful

makes me thankful

that there’s Bluebell

at the store.

{Yes, this is the same picture I used a few weeks ago. No, it is not Bluebell. It’s the only picture of ice cream I could find. While homemade ice cream is fantastic, tonight I’m dreaming in Blue.}

Bringing work home

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 21:43:00 +0000

Andres has a laptop for his office computer. He often complains that he goes to so many meetings that he has no time left over to do the actual work discussed in the meetings. This makes the laptop quite convenient.

It also makes it more convenient for him to bring his work home. Which is not always convenient for me. Especially when he brings his work home and leaves it there.

The plus side to me having to take his computer to him? A lunch date. {It was nice.}

Hmm…maybe he should leave his work at home more often. =)

Paint a world with words.

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 05:13:00 +0000

Paint a world with words. Color dripping down the page. Right into your soul.

Paint a world in all its vibrancy. The hustle-bustle of city streets everything going faster faster rush rush keep up don’t stop now! The slow meander of a country stream… pause… turn… soak it in… appreciate... Fall foliage red and orange and yellow. Snow bright white. Spring green grass emerging, a promise of new beginnings. Summer beaches, tan, white, brown sand littered with turquoise waves and bleached white shells.

Paint a world of joy, of laughter, of playground fun. Paint a world of children. Dip your fingers in their paints and jump right in. Tag! You’re it!

Paint a world of kindness, of grace. Of those who give fully and selflessly. Of those who invest in people. Of those who speak the language of time, of a smile, of a warm heart.

Paint a world of melancholy. Somber grays give ways to muted blues and tears fill the paper. The sadness lands in between.

Paint a world with words. But always give it light. For without light, there is no life.

After all, isn’t Jesus the light of the world?

Big, little

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 06:00:00 +0000

You’re big

I’m little

My head only comes to your middle

But I say little guys can do big things too!*

*Lyrics from the Veggie Tales song “Big Things Too”

The Taskmaster

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 06:00:00 +0000

I’m off kilter. This school year has really done a number on me so far. I know we’re only two weeks in; there’s always an adjustment period. This one seems longer. Harder. The clock changes from a meaningless desk accessory to an impatient taskmaster.

It exhausts me.

I press on, push through the exhaustion. If I keep moving, I’m fine. When I take a breather, it hits me, crushing, overwhelming. I sink into the couch and before I know it, I’m asleep. I wake up and instead of feeling refreshed, I feel rushed. I just wasted 30 minutes, an hour, two.

Stupid clock.

So off I run, again, rushing to the next task because there’s always something after.

I grab a drink; anything will do. As long as it’s ice cold and contains caffeine. It chills me, wakes me up. For a while. But that burst of energy is enough to get me going again. And this time, I make sure to not sit down.

Not like I have time to.

Stupid clock.

A perfect ending.

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 01:06:00 +0000

Homemade ice cream, topped with berries. Served up with a side of family. The perfect ending to a holiday weekend.

Public Service Announcement

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 01:51:00 +0000

We now interrupt our programming for this important message:

The Hunger Games.

Catching Fire.

Mockingjay.

Get them. Read them. Now.

Thank you. Your normally scheduled program will continue shortly.

to the glory of God

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Sat, 27 Aug 2011 01:41:00 +0000

Yesterday, I gave y’all a little rant. About how can I get done the things I need to do but not at the expense of the things I want to do? And how can I do it without going broke? It was more me thinking aloud than anything…and in a way, it was a prayer.

Because after hitting publish, I kept thinking it over. And even though I never said, “Dear God…”, I knew He was listening. And I knew in my heart that I was really asking Him those questions. And God answered me. In a totally unexpected, knock my socks off kind of way. {He’s good at that, isn’t He?}

So, whether you eat or drink, orwhatever you do, do all to the glory of God. – 1 Corinthians 10:31

Do all to the glory of God. And I immediately knew what the missing piece was. Why do I do the things I do? Because I should. Or because it’s expected of me. Or because I expect it of myself. But how much do I do specifically for the glory of God?

{Gives me quite a bit to think about.}

Flat broke

noreply@blogger.com ({rachel}) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 02:20:00 +0000

Lately, it seems that everything I do is at the expense of something else.

I volunteer at school at the expense of playing with Miguel.

I play with Miguel at the expense of cleaning house.

I run errands at the expense of taking time to sew, write, read, whatever.

I sew, write, read, or whatever at the expense of doing laundry.

I do laundry because we’re out of clean underwear (again).

And where does that leave me? Flat broke.

If I spend all day doing the things I must do, then there is no time (or energy) left to do the things I want to do. So where do I find the time? How do I balance it all out? This is what I’ve been trying to figure out.

I did a fairly good job of it this summer. We had plenty of time to play and work. It was wonderful! But…there were no strict bedtimes or alarms to wake up to. We weren’t ruled by the clock. School started this week and it’s all gone out the window. The clock is my dictator. There are alarm clocks to wake up to and buses to catch. Then there’s the afternoon. If I go out, I need to be home before the boys are. Then there’s the earlier (and stricter) bedtime because the alarm clock will come ringing before we know it. So how to do it? I want to be a part of my kids’ educations. I want to have a tidy house and clean underwear. I want to keep Miguel engaged and interested in things around him. And I want to write, to play, to create. I’m not even looking for perfection, especially with housework. Yet everything I do seems to come at the expense of something else.

I feel like I’m playing tug-of-war, only I’m the rope with the flag in the middle, trying not to fall on the ground and get trampled on.

It’s all part of the adjustment of the school year, I know. But for now, I’m broke.