I’ve never considered myself a creative type because I’ve never been “good at art.” I could trace the roots of that belief all the way back to childhood. It’s taken me into my 30s to learn that there’s so much more to creativity than the ability to paint or draw.
There’s something about the act of making that stirs up excitement in me—writing, organizing words on a page, taking and editing photos, building a webpage, even the occasional craft project. (Earlier this month I shared about my slow return to knitting.)
Maybe that’s because we’re all wired for creativity in one way or another. We bear the image of our Creator God.
This website used to have a different name, a different purpose, and (much) different content.
You ready for this? Continue reading “Day 26: The need to create”
You’ll have to forgive us Floridians today as we lose our minds over the cooler temperatures that arrived this morning—it’s been a while since we’ve walked from the grocery store to our cars without breaking into a sweat.
I’m still quarantined with a sick kid, day three. But I’ve known this cool-weather day was coming for more than a week now, and I was not going to miss out.
It struck me today that while writing on this topic, I run the risk of presenting my days as all wonderful, all the time—because this series is about intentionally focusing on the good, the praise-worthy in the mundane. (What I’m finding, of course, is that all of it is praise-worthy.) But I hope I haven’t led you to believe that my life is all rainbows and sparkles, that my children are 24-hour-a-day angels, or that I am in a constant state of singing, “Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, Rejoice!”
None of the above are true; in fact, these last three weeks have offered their fair share of lows—though God has done a serious work on my attitude and perspective. (And we’re not even finished yet!)
Today required a bit of scraping myself up off the floor of my very own pity party and dragging myself out the front door, into the fresh air and sunlight. Continue reading “Day 25: We went looking for fall”
I’ve got a miserable 3-year-old on my hands today. She spiked a fever last night out of nowhere (though I guess that’s how it usually happens, right?) and woke up before the sun just not herself, toasty as could be, with a “hot potato” voice (the pediatrician’s words—let’s just say Phoebe Buffay would be jealous).
As I write this she’s sound asleep on the couch beneath a Winnie-the-Pooh comforter that belonged to me as a child, arms wrapped tightly around her three, yes three, blankies and a stuffed lion named Louie (who is, I am often reminded by an offended preschooler, a girl—pay no attention to the mane). Continue reading “Day 23: Still singing”
On the Instagram account for The Drafting Desk, Lindsey and I, from the very beginning, have posted a scripture verse every Sunday. It was Lindsey’s idea, and I immediately agreed it should be something we do consistently. After all, where better to discover freedom than in God’s Word? (Learn more about The Drafting Desk, our monthly email, here!)
We fell into a pattern of taking turns, each selecting verses for one month at a time. I took October this time around, and at the end of September sat down at my computer to plug five weeks’ worth of verses and captions into our calendar.
This morning, I opened Instagram to post our Sunday verse—a verse I chose for today’s share almost a month ago:
As I reread the words and the accompanying caption, a smile spread across my face, and I began to laugh. Continue reading “Day 22: No coincidence”
On top of my piano sit two vases: one full of eucalyptus sprigs, the other containing a mix of sunflowers, daisies, azaleas, roses, mums, and sea holly.
Both bouquets came home with me late tonight, leftover table decorations from a women’s dinner at my church—the first event I’d ever been assigned the task of organizing.
For most of the week, I battled nerves and doubt. Why in the world did anyone think I would be the right person to take the lead on this—to take the lead on anything? Me, the introvert. Me, the girl who’s been logged out of Pinterest so long I don’t even remember my password. Continue reading “Day 21: Autumn bouquets and brown paper”
When I settle down in my favorite chair in the living room, one of my little people inevitably climbs onto my lap. My sitting seems to send out a beacon of some sort; it calls to them. Sometimes when one sees the other in the coveted spot, she’ll attempt to pile on as well—a feat that usually ends with squeals, or someone getting kicked in the face, or both.
I hear myself saying, “My lap isn’t big enough for both of you!” and I’m hit with a pang of grief for days past. When they were babies, I avoided thinking much about them someday getting too big for this—when the thought did surface, I pushed it away. Savor the moment. Continue reading “Day 20: Sitting together”
“I don’t want to go to bed.”
The shower has been running for 25 minutes. I can hear singing. She hasn’t washed her hair yet.
Speaking of hair—one of the girls cut her own yesterday. And no, it’s not the one you’re thinking. I’m still upset about it. I don’t want to be upset about it.
I’m longing to curl up in my chair and watch TV. But I begged God for this gig!
I hear the bedroom door open and close with a whump; here she comes again. This is the fifth time I’ve walked her back to bed.
“I love you! Sweet dreams!” Please, just go to sleep! Continue reading “Day 19: Bedtime, round two”