counting gifts
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a new way to spend tuesday afternoons.
On Tuesdays at 1:00, my mother-in-law, Linda, comes over to sit with my kids. She reads or works while they have their afternoon room time until 3:00, then walks them two streets over to her house to play until 5:00. Tuesday afternoons are one of God’s gifts to me in this season. For the past six months I have exercised, gone to counseling appointments, scheduled my trip to the dentist, and run errands in a blessedly quiet van. My counselor is so great that she works herself out of a job; currently I’m seeing her once a month, which leaves many Tuesdays wide open. I guess ideally I would use…
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with the hurting and with aleppo.
Hello dear friends, It’s a gray, cold December afternoon here in Columbia. After a brisk walk to their grandparents’ for a fire pit and some back yard Advent projects, the kids and I have holed up at home, with new Christmas pj’s and soup and A Charlie Brown Christmas. I’m going to be honest: I almost never, ever read the news. I’m not on Facebook or Twitter, and not often on Instagram, so the way I find out about current events is typically from my husband or from blogs. It’s not that I don’t care what’s going on in our country or in the world. But when it comes to…
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six things on friday.
Happy Friday, dear friends! Here are six things that are making my life a little happier these days: 1. We have a holiday and birthday cinnamon roll tradition. David’s birthday was October 7, but we had a few busy weekends in a row, so I finally made his cinnamon rolls this week. Homemade cinnamon rolls are something I was intimidated by until my friends in India showed me how very easy they are. Now I’m teaching Amie how to make them. If you’re interested, here’s our tried-and-true recipe. I prepare them the night before and then bake them the next morning and whip up a quick glaze. 2. A monumental…
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lately.
Hello friends! I can’t explain the feelings of relief and joy I have now that March is here and spring is around the corner. I remember that it’s around this time every year (right around the time I can wear flip flops once again) that I begin to feel more like myself. I don’t like to use the word “busy,” but I’d describe our winter and this coming month as full. Very full. I began leading a life group, David’s doing three weddings in four months, we’re searching for a new worship place for our church, we’re starting on our house addition, and of course we have normal life and…
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nine years.
We did our premarital counseling with Jeff Philpott, my pastor from Sandhills Community Church. I remember sitting with him and talking about marriage several evenings amidst our whirlwind of college classes and writing papers and part-time jobs. Jeff had just celebrated ten years with his wife Michelle. Back then it was impossible for me to imagine David and I celebrating one year of marriage, much less ten. One thing Jeff said stood out in particular to me. He said, “You know, over time those giddy, head-over-heels feelings that comprise all of what Hollywood calls ‘love’ change. It’s not that they totally go away, but they fade into something much deeper.…
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gratitude, #826-843.
826. hearing Alison’s voice on the phone yesterday morning, the afterward-luxury of five minutes’ crying in the women’s restroom stall before my doctor’s appointments 827. the staff at Dr. Lisa Hutto’s office, who are kind-beyond-belief 828. a day full of getting to the bottom of my sicknesses 829. debriefing over tuna sandwiches and Wavy Lays potato chips and coffee at Kenny and Cici’s 830. David and Bridget and Elizabeth, dear friends 831. Hardy and Mary Woods, who make my kids feel special 832. Judah: “I was happy when I Skyped on Joshua, but then I was sad because I missed him.” 833. my son is learning to put words to…
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gratitude, #804-825.
804. the patter of raindrops on my parents’ deck 805. thick, creamy slices of avocado . . . on salads, on sandwiches, on toast 806. salads and sandwiches and toast 807. an armload of clothes, warm and soft from the dryer 808. humidity and sprinklers and wet grassy feet 809. afternoon nap on a friend’s carpeted living room floor 810. the smell of the library stacks, the luxury of choosing a pile of books I don’t have to finish 811. being in the same time zone 812. Dr. Beaver, who’s been my family doctor since I was fourteen years old and hasn’t changed a bit 813. Josh’s chocolate chip cookies,…
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gratitude, #782-802.
782. a home to live in with a real roof, real windows, real floors 783. my husband has a job that provides for our family 784. parents who did not force me to marry before I became a teenager 785. education, the ability to read and write, two jobs where I was treated with dignity 786. choosing my husband, choosing when I wanted to start having babies 787. never having to leave my children with strangers in front of a television all day while I go to work 788. never knowing hunger pangs, never suffering from diarrhea and typhoid due to unclean drinking water 789. I do not have to…
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gratitude, #762-781.
762. a nighttime auto ride through the city: happy alone-ness in a sea of people 763. Friday evening with a sweet group of friends . . . sipping hot tea, idea-sharing, and praying together. Balm for my soul. 764. Maggie’s reminder that we’ve been friends for three years now, and I’m full of wonder at the passage of time, and the gift of a friendship forged in laughter and tears and forgiveness. 765. friends I can be myself with 766. a pantry full of gluten-free food, sent from loved ones in the States 767. gluten-free banana bread for breakfast and a peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich for lunch and homemade tomato basil soup…
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gratitude #760-761.
760. Our Vonage phone 761. Amie’s first princess dress