Homemaking ~ The Ministry of the Laundry

Laundresses at Eragny, Camille Pissarro, c. 1901

The mountain rises every day, not just in its elevation, but in its girth. It is a mountain of socks with holes, t-shirts and sports shorts, of faded school uniforms, denim jeans too small, and kids’ shirts now too tight, mixed in with bedsheets, pillow cases, and tablecloths. We sort through the piles of laundered items to separate the items that fit from the items that are ready to be bagged up and ushered forth into the wonderful world of The Thrift Shop. The socks who’ve lost their matching pair are tossed into the lone sock drawer in the laundry room. One day, I’m sure I’ll go through that drawer and find all the pairs have been reunited in there over the years. Different seasons have called for different methods of managing the vast amount of laundry our family has used.

The baby years called for inordinate amounts of stain remover as I tried to rescue onesies from their unavoidable destiny of blowouts. (This is why new babies need a large supply of onesies for the first several months.) The toddler years saw my efforts for putting away folded clothes thwarted as my little ones loved pulling clohtes out of dresser drawers as soon as they could pull themselves up! During our seminary years, we were so busy with our four little ones and my husband in classes, that the laundry pile went onto the floor during the night, and back onto our bed during the day. The clothes always got washed and dried, but they didn’t always make it into neat and tidy folded stacks, and very rarely got put back into dresser drawers.

As our children grew and acquired more responsibilities, I would have them go through the clean laundry bins and pull out their own clothes and put them away (folded or unfolded, it didn’t matter, as long as they were in their drawers). They now regularly wash, fold, and put away their clothes properly… almost. I think we have finished training our children in laundry management.

Can there be beauty in washing the laundry? I would argue, yes, and I will state my case plainly. First, have you ever wondered where this clothing comes from? Which fabrics they are made from? How those fabrics got produced in the first place? And what plants or worms were the source of those fabrics? If you are like me, it is all so very fascinating and worth a good think! I want to look at fabrics with the intelligence of a worker who knows which plants these fibers have been culled from, and how to work with these fibers to make them last as long as possible. The fabrics that clothe my family are worth getting to know. It makes a difference to understand fabric and how to preserve and protect them for longevity. Its a type of stewardship, and yet not entirely a naturally enjoyable task, as any monotonous type of work creates this challenge. May I refer to the thorns and thistles of Genesis 3:18 & 19? Can we see beauty in something so tedious and mundane? Something I have loved to do in the last few years is to find beautiful works of art to inspire and enhance my domestic duties, to make it more of a creative act of beauty, than just a mundane task on my to-do list each week. If you’ve read this far, you are hooked! Hooray! A like-minded soul! Carry on!

One of the artists that best captures the beauty in the ordinary is artist, Camille Pissarro. I discovered one of his works one day while rummaging through the art and empty frames section of our local thrift shop. A sense of wonderment overtook me, almost an adrenaline. The name in cursive letters below the print was C. Pissarro. The painting I found was his piece titled, “The Hermitage at Pontoise” which portrays a quaint little village scene in the town of Pontoise, France. This painting is now reframed in our living room, prominently placed beside the piano.

Camille Pissarro was an impressionist painter who saw beauty in the ordinary tasks of the men, women, and children of his time, so much so that he sought to capture the experience of ordinary moments of daily living with the brushstrokes of his genius. Ordinary became art. Duty became beauty. Passing moments became opportunities to create with light and color. Not only are his works wall worthy, but they give me joy in the beauty of a hidden and quiet life.

“Known as the ‘Father of Impressionism’, Pissarro painted rural and urban French life, particularly landscapes in and around Pontoise, as well as scenes from Montmartre. His mature work displays an empathy for peasants and laborers,” -https://www.camille-pissarro.org/biography.html

In 1 Thessalonians 4:11, Paul urges the believers in Thessalonica to “make it your ambition to lead a quiet life and attend to your own business and work with your hands, just as we instructed you…” (NASB).

Although I still prefer to do other things than fold the laundry, it’s also something that must be done. Nowadays, I fold laundry while listening to an audiobook or podcast so that my mind is engaged as well as my hands. I’ve found pieces of art that inspire me to do the work, enjoy the work, and watch as beauty is unfurled as a result of the work. Below are some of my favorite creative works that inspire me to do the duties the Lord has called me to and to find beauty in the mundane work that must be done. Other artists and musicians have found the glory in the mundane and have written songs about it. I find in these creative expressions, voices that articulate the worth of these domestic duties and puts their glory on display. Even the German poet, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe believed these sentiments when he wrote the famous line, “Cease endlessly striving to do what you want to do and learn to love what must be done.”

Since today is a day of much laundry: clothing, towels, bedsheets, and preparations for a guest, it seemed like the perfect timing to share this little message. I hope you enjoy and find beautiful ways to adorn your necessary everyday tasks of this life God has given you to steward.

Art

Woman Hanging Up the Laundry, Camille Pissarro

Painting by Lilias Trotter

Ruth Chou Simons - Van Goethe print “…learn to love what must be done”

Hermosa Print Co. - Vintage Watercolor of Young Woman Relaxing in Field

Podcast & Music

Christy Nockles - podcast: Glorious in the Mundane & album Into the Glorious

Leslie Jordan - Your Work is Happening Here

Dreamers Dreaming Greatly

“Before us all dawned, I think a new horizon – of the glory of the task to which God has called us – a glory in its every hardness & in the sense that we are working for the future & its coming day.  ‘We were dreamers dreaming greatly.'”  Lilias Trotter, Missionary to Algeria, 23 October 1911

A couple times this year, I was asked if we’ve experienced anything difficult in church planting. Church planting is hard. Its a daily dying and offering up of yourself to do work that is counter cultural, brings criticism, sits with people in their pain and suffering, counsels people to overcome sin in their lives, and intercedes in prayer for the building of a body of believers to stand against the powers of hell through the power of the Holy Spirit. It has been incredibly hard. Church planting has brought us to our knees in prayer many times. Throughout each trial that God ordained, He has strengthened us with a willingness to bear these things for the Kingdom of God, cocooning us in His love, defending us with His shield, becoming to us the Refuge to which we run. . We know our struggle is not against flesh and blood.

It made me think, have we not shared enough about our struggles? Have we only shared about the victories? I am a “glass half full” kind of person and so I try to see all the ways God is at work in a situation and then rejoice to bring Him all the glory, no matter how small the victory. I live to express my worship to God and praise Him for being the Wonderful One, and so that joy comes forth like a waterfall. But that joy is hard won. That joy was purchased for me on a bloody Roman cross by the Perfect One, the Lord Jesus. That joy was poured out through his electing will and through the indwelling of His Spirit. That joy was worked and reworked inside me as I went through years of formation during the dark years of depression and obsessive compulsive disorder, years of medication, counseling, and prayers for healing. Those dark times drove me to my Lord Jesus to depend on Him in ways I wouldn’t have, had everything been okay in my life. It was not okay for a very long time and at various times.

So I hide myself in the Lord Jesus where I find His protection and safety and security in His presence. I feed on His Word to sustain me and solidify my hope. He trains my hands for war, and that is what church planting is - it is war and a declaration of the victory of Christ claiming more souls with His torrent of love and forgiveness and grace.

As our fifth summer of church planting begins here in central Washington State, we see the beauty of summer unfolding in gardens, orchards, vineyards, in hiking trails and vacation time begins with visits to the woods, our favorite book shop, the new bake shop and of course the little garden shop where I just recently found the moonlight petunias I had been longing for. The reality of life is that life overlaps, with the good and the bad, the holy and the profane. As sun and heat bring vigor to our bones, it also brings local fires where people lose homes and animals and we watch the sky fill with smoke as friends send text notifications of evacuation. While our church continues to joyfully welcome new members, we also find freshly sprayed graffiti messages at the front entrance of our building. We step over these words as we enter to worship our Lord. Life overlaps.

Church planting is hard, but its very hardness is what makes it meaningful. The Lord works through those hardships to form us and to equip us. Nothing is wasted in the economy of the Lord’s work. And now we get to walk alongside others who are planting churches too, and encourage, pray, and support their work! We see God forming potential church plants in two areas near us. Our networks of friendships are planting churches in places around the country, and even more with those overseas planting gospel seeds for the beginnings of redeemed communities, gardens of God’s people being transformed by His wonderful Word, by the Word. The Holy Spirit hovers over His people, His gardens, and brings forth full and abundant life by His breath. We are dreamers dreaming greatly.

Gathering Gardens of Words in April & May

It is the first day of May, but let’s pretend its still April for a moment! I am just going to tuck this little garden of words into April’s archive before we get too far into May! It has been a wondrous month of welcoming four new babies into our little church family through baby showers, baptism, meal trains, and the anticipation of another sweet one next month. We are rejoicing that God is bringing so much life into our community. In the meantime, I have been finding pages to savor in a variety of books, and I would love to share some quotes here to cultivate thought and hope.

Photo from Unsplash

“One hears of the light chasing the darkness - but I never saw it done before. It was literally hunted and driven down due west in the sunrise into this great bay of sky between the Matterhorn and the Obere Gabelhorn. When I went to keep watch in the front of the house at quarter to five, the sky was still soft lavender blue. Then came from the zenith a flush of violet, sweeping the blue down to the snow of the skyline and that was chased down by mauve, and the mauve by dim rose colour, and the rose by apricot. Then the peak of the Matterhorn flamed up in brilliant rose and madder - and the day has come.” -Lilias Trotter, from the book A Blossom in the Desert: Reflections of Faith in the Art and Writings of Lilias Trotter, collected by Miriam Huffman Rockness

Art by I. Lilias Trotter

I greatly appreciate detailed descriptions of beauty in creation. I find that Lilias Trotter is among my most loved writers of descriptions of the natural world. Glory upon glory revealed through language in a way that we can vividly recreate in our imagination. It is like drinking endlessly from a mountain stream, and if you read these authors regularly, the well never seems to run dry. What a gift Lilias had to be able to communicate through language, the vision beholden in her eyes and translated through words into the mind of another. Her works of art, some just sketches, or incomplete paintings, give us a glimpse into her life and travels serving the Lord amidst a foreign culture. Unfinished art seems to me to be more realistic, giving us a vision of the artist’s life in process, perhaps being interrupted by a conversation, or lunch time, or changes in weather from where the art is being made. Perhaps the child she was painting came up to her and asked her to play a game with sticks and stones, and maybe she put her tools down to give attention to this little one… just a thought.

Woman Playing a Harp (Lavinia Banks?)
National Gallery of Art

“Oh! Is it not to the eternal praise of a covenant-keeping God that poor pilgrims - wandering through a wilderness and having to wage constant war with the world, the flesh, and the devil - should yet be enabled to sing gloriously as they put their enemies to flight and overcome by the blood of the Lamb? It is the overcoming ones who learn to praise. The fingers which can most adroitly use the sword are the most skillful in touching the harp. Each time God gives us the victory over sin, we learn a new song with which to laud and bless His holy name. Does it not make your heart leap to know that your Lord takes pleasure in your praise?” - Susannah Spurgeon, A Basket of Summer Fruit

and…

“How well the wee chicks know this! When the least thing alarms them, or the drops of rain come pattering down, then fly quickly to their mother’s wings for shelter and safety, and you can see nothing of them but a collection of legs, tiptoeing in their eagerness to press very close to the warm breast which covers them! …my faith nestled up, as it were, to the loving heart which brooded over me and found such a glow of everlasting love there that all outside ills and evils were as if they were not. …But if any timid, afflicted souls read these few lines, let me whisper to them to run at once to their God… The hen effectually conceals her brood from any passing enemy- but God is an impenetrable hiding-place for His people. Surely this is the meaning of the psalmist when he says, “I will trust in the covert of Your wings,” (Psalm 61:4). Is it not a sad wonder that, sometimes, we willfully stay out in the rain and the storm, facing unknown dangers-when all the while, so gracious a shelter is provided and accessible?”

-Susannah Spurgeon, A Basket of Summer Fruit

These two quotes have spoken such gratitude and remembrance to me. At a recent baby shower, I read these words of Susannah Spurgeon to speak of our gratitude to the Lord of the joyful gift of new life to this family, and also to remind us in the uncertainties and unknowns, to flee to our God who shelters us and our little ones and hides us under His wings of refuge in the beautiful and hard work of motherhood.

The End of Woman, by Dr Carrie Gress

The following collection of quotes is not quite a garden of botanical beauty, but more a collection of aloe vera pups, prickly, but meant to aid in the healing of the world…

“Feminism’s failure, at root, is its misdiagnosis of what ails women. Feminists have worked hard to mitigate women’s suffering, but by trying to eliminate our vulnerability, by making us cheap imitations of men, and by ignoring our womanhood. Setting off in the wrong direction, the prescribed fix can’t really fix anything. Instead, it has erased women one slow step at a time. As those slow steps get faster and faster, women find themselves at risk of being erased from the movement that once purported to liberate them, finding themselves undefined in an increasily progressive world.” -Dr Carrie Gress, The End of Woman: How Smashing the Patriarchy Has Destroyed Us

This morning, I went to my mammogram appointment. When filling out the paperwork at the clinic, a question was posed as to what my sex designated at birth was and then I was asked a second question: which gender do I identify with? What happened to the simple question: which sex are you? Male or female? This book answers the question of what happened, and it goes far deeper into history than readers may be ready for. It is disturbing. There were times I almost had to close the book because of the evils described within. But truth is always brought into the light. I deeply respect the courage of Carrie Gress for this historical overview and her scholarly research on this topic.

“Feminism has been deeply influenced by the occult, going back to its earliest stages. The source, in part, is connect to Mary Wollstonecraft’s kin and legacy, particularly in the work of her daughter… Mary Godwin Shelley, author of Frankenstein… (Percy) Shelley viewed the diabolical passions as the opposite side of the typically masculine characteristics of order, reason, law, hierarchy, obedience, and authority. God, he believed, was the source of order and all that is male, while Satan, represented by the serpent, was the source of passion and creativity. Men and women, in his view, were not meant to be children of God, but rather opposing forces… He used the devil and myths to create new narratives in the minds of readers, taking the place of earlier religious ideas. The Romantics knew that, in order to reshape culture, one had to go back to the beginning of culture and rewrite it… With Cythna, Shelley created a new female archetype, the embodiment of the human creature that Mary Wollstonecraft idealized: the woman as an individual without any connection to motherhood, husbands, or children… Cythna became the ideal individual, not connected to any kind of family, the model of womanhood. Her only real personal connection was with Satan. Shelley presciently saw that sex differences, what he called “detestable distinctions,” would “surely be abolished in the future state of being.” -Dr. Carrie Gress, The End of Woman: How Smashing the Patriarchy Has Destroyed Us

Though I disagree with Carrie Gress on many of her theological leanings described in other books (I am not Roman Catholic, I am a Christian in the Reformed tradition), I think this book is one of the most important historical overviews of the feminist movement of our time. It’s a beginning at least, to expose the deception that has cost the lives of so many, one million babies killed in the United States in 2020 alone. When society has been burned to the ground, which in this case, it has, we have the greatest opportunity in the world to rebuild with truth, beauty, and goodness with the resources of the One who is Truth, Beauty, and Goodness, Jesus, the Son of God.

Something to Watch… Eve in Exile… let’s build.

“And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”

-2 Corinthians 4:3-6 ESV

Spring Morning, Cloudy, Eragny, 1900, Camille Pissarro

Home Making ~ The Ministry of Ironing

I was listening to a podcast this morning on gratitude.
I want to say thank you today to anyone who is taking the time to read my words.
It is so life-giving just to write creatively. And if anyone is consequently blessed by these words,
that just adds another layer of gratitude. So I want to say, “Thank you.”

I turn on the faucet and a thin stream of water fills the reservoir of my metal iron. Returning it to the ironing board, I push the plug into the outlet in the wall. It will take a few minutes to heat up the plate and produce the steam needed to get the wrinkles out of the fabric laid flat. Like divets in the road, like ridges on a hilltop, these little creases will be straightened and made plane.

I remember as a child watching my mother iron clothes every weekend. I didn’t have much of an appreciation for ironing back then. In fact, I determined in my adult years to only buy clothing that did not need an iron. I did not know then the many graces that were to be found in the ministry of ironing, but my mother knew, and one day I would learn it too.

As my mother faithfully ironed clothes on a Saturday evening, the fresh mown grass smell swooping in with the wind from my parent’s bay windows, my innermost thoughts would pour out in conversation. Sometimes I kneeled beside her bed and began to help fold towels. Sometimes I would just flop down on her bed forlorn about some kind of middle grade angst whether it was a friendship struggle, or an exciting fountain of news that must be told to someone and rejoiced in together, or perhaps just sharing my wildest dreams, thoughts and questions. Meanwhile, my mom ironed the clothes, the tablecloths that would grace the dining table for Sunday noon meal guests, and my dad’s buttoned shirts and slacks. Sometimes she would pull out her Bible and point me to one of the many verses highlighted there, the pages  scented with a fragrant real leather bookmark.

When my mother was standing at her post, serving our family through the ministry of ironing, the door stood open, an invitation for my sisters and I to come and chat. The warm glow of her lamps on the bedside tables drew us in. The view of Mt Baker southeast of our home in British Columbia, and the descent of the sun lit up the dusky sky with pink and orange hues upon the city of Vancouver from where our house was perched on a plateau that overlooked the Fraser Valley. This scene invited my sisters and I into conversation with her at the end of a long week.

When at a discipleship school in Texas in my college years, I was assigned to be a housekeeper for an elderly woman and a middle-age woman who shared a home together. These two women taught my friend and I their standards of housekeeping at their home and the specific ways they wanted things done. I was a little afraid to leave a speck of dirt unconquered or a plant not returned to its appointed place, because the standards were high. Their standard for excellence taught me the virtue of doing things well and offering my best to the Lord. These lovely and wise women always served us ice cream and enriched our souls with godly conversation after our work day. They taught me how to fold flat sheet corners on guest beds, brought us to tour their gorgeously renovated bed and breakfast mansion, and I learned how to set up a Texas patio greenhouse during the winter months to protect their garden conservatory, and how to take it apart in preparation for the summer months. It was such a joy to learn from them.

Many years later, just after our wedding, my husband and I were in Huemoz, Switzerland, living in a corner room of an old chalet in a Christian community called L’Abri, which in French means “the shelter”. One of our work days involved being invited to a home chalet, just down the hillside from the main chalet. A couple of us were assigned many housekeeping duties for the morning work: vacuuming their floors, washing dishes, preparing food, and yes, ironing tablecloths and bedsheets. I took it all in as I watched the woman of the house prepare food for about 20 of us who would be eating lunch at her home that day.

Classical music filled the home from a record player. She showed us how to set her table for the group, everything intentionally placed, and delicious food served to eager and impressionable young adults. As I worked, I listened to conversations, set my hands to the task, and absorbed all I could about the atmosphere of her home: a place of mutual love, with sunlight streaming in through windows, older children at play or work, a love of learning and strong work ethic meant to bless the community. It was just beautiful, and it left a mark on me and on my husband, another seed planted to prepare us for our work of preparing a home for our future children, in the ministry of parenting and the ministry of church work.

As I stood at my ironing board the other day, smoothing the wrinkles of a dress, there was a pleasant slowing down, a monotonous yet satisfying labor with my hands. There was a quietness, a methodical outpouring of love to care for and steward the resources God has given us. There in the quiet, my mind relaxed as if the creases in my thoughts, too, were getting ironed out.

Each of us are being formed daily, and the Lord continues to iron out the ridges and ruffles of my soul that come from living in a broken world. The Lord ministers to me in the quiet, and I am restored. In all the work of God’s faithful hands, he is preparing for us a home. All Christians, men and women are called to hospitality - ours is a faith of hospitality, the creating of home that shelters others in this dark world. The creating of a home is the creating of a city on a hill, a light to draw others out of the darkness into the Kingdom of Light. Our God is making a home for us here and in an unseen realm. One day the veil will be lifted and the new heaven and new earth will merge as one. Our God is the greatest home Maker. May we be home makers who reflect the joy and beauty of His work for those entrusted to our nurturing care.

John 14:2-3

“In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.”

Bread and Wine - Lenten Reflections

Bread

I didn’t plan to remove gluten and wine from my personal menu this year, but when symptoms of food sensitivities began to reveal themselves and I could no longer bear them, I made the unwanted decision to remove these triggers and pursue the health of my body. The funny thing is that these symptoms began to pile up right around the beginning of Lent, a season of the church calendar that reminds us of our mortality, our brief lives pre-eternity. What was also funny, yet not entirely, was that I had just become good at making sour dough bread! What impeccable timing! The very food I cannot eat, the very food I crave fresh out of the oven slathered in salted butter, is the very thing that I must withhold from myself. And it taunts me in a way, the little glass mason jar of a sour dough culture that sits beneath my kitchen lamp or on the window sill after I’ve fed it. When preparing the bread for my kids, the fragrance of bread rising, baking, and cooling on the counter are in my senses of sight as I measure ingredients, of smell as the dough breathes, and of touch as I score the top of the boules with lovely designs. Everything within me says eat, and then I remember the Lord said hundreds of years ago,

“But he answered, ‘It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” ~Matthew 4:4

Wine

I never really liked wine until I got married in my late twenties. My husband enjoyed it so I thought I would try a few sips at times. Mostly with a sour look and cringy face, I would take a few sips before passing it on to my husband to finish. But eventually I did acquire a taste and it was delightful. In the past several years, I have noticed that I started getting headaches that would last for hours. “Perhaps,” I thought , “White wine will be safe,” but most recently, when having a single glass, I ended up with a painful 20 hour headache. I declared that my journey with wine has ended… except on the Lord’s Day, as we gather with our church community. I take the bread and the wine during the Lord’s Supper, a small and simple portion, take, eat, drink.

What could all this mean? I sit and ponder.

“But he answered, ‘It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” ~Matthew 4:4

The answer comes in the form of a catechism question and a dear sweet group of Kindergartners. While assisting at our little Christian school yesterday, the lovely teacher asked the class, “What is the Gospel?” The children replied, “Jesus!”

Amen!

The gospel is Jesus. Jesus is the Word, and He is my sustenance in this life and throughout eternity. He is nourishing my mind, body, and soul with His Word, every word that comes from the mouth of God.

“Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” ~ Matthew 26:26-29 ESV

Thankfully, my body can currently handle the bread and wine at communion, once a week, a small portion. But there may come a time when I may have to eat gluten-free communion bread and grape juice, and that will be okay, not quite as okay as the delicious homemade bread our bread team makes each week, but it will be okay! ;)

For now, I want to share with you a sour dough recipe that I’m certain you will enjoy (unless you can’t eat gluten)!

Sour Dough Bread Recipe: photos attached!

““Self-denial means knowing only Christ, and no longer oneself. It means seeing only Christ, who goes ahead of us, and no longer the path that is too difficult for us. Again, self-denial is saying only: He goes ahead of us; hold fast to him.” ”

— Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter, p. 49

The Necessity of Feeding on God's Word and How To Do That in the Little Years

Photo by Pierre-Alain Picard on Unsplash

There were times in my life where time alone was plenteous. Because I was single (and waiting patiently for my future husband to arrive on the timeline) I had so very much time available to me in my twenties when I was not studying at college or working a plethora of part time jobs to pay the bills. As an introvert, my time was not filled up with a lot of social activity, there was some, especially when it came to church ministry and serving the youth and young adults at my parent’s church plant. In those times, I was busy… driving kids to the bi-weekly community worship service in another town, planning Bible study, leading the youth music team and one of the adult music teams, practicing for our hilarious Christmas drama at church, and gathering for youth events, or just meeting up with young people for coffee. But in general, life was quiet; I had no cell phone and the internet was at my parent’s house where you could only access it if no one else was on the phone, and then, you had to dial up to connect. Those who remember that stage of the internet will recall the all too familiar tones emitting from the computer speakers as it laboriously attempted to connect to the world wide web, and the painstaking patience required to wait for it!

Photo by Unseen Studio on Unsplash

Sometimes I would pack up my journal, Bible, a book, and drive to a cozy coffee shop for an evening of writing and reflection while being serenaded by the instrumental jazz on the stereo playing overhead. Sometimes, I would venture down the ravine behind my parents house for some time alone amidst the woods, the sound of birdsong, the calming rhythm of the creek flowing ever on down towards the Fraser River from Whonnock Mountain where we lived. The views from my parents’ mountain sanctuary helped me get perspective on life. Lots of walks. Lots of thoughts. A quiet afternoon climbing over massive logs and dipping my feet in the Kanaka Creek while sunlight streamed through gathered trees watching over me like Tolkien’s faithful Ents, provided a perfect scene to spend time alone with the Lord Jesus and pour out my heart to Him, seek Him (even though I didn’t spend too long on that log that warm summer day when I realized all the berries were eaten half way up the surrounding bushes, and the thought of running into bear or cougar or coyote snapped me back into the reality of the wild… but still, it was awesome… except when I dislocated my knee going back up the ravine… but still, it was awesome.)

Photo by John Thomas on Unsplash

When the blessing of children arrived, those quiet times alone with the Lord became fewer and far between. The journaling stopped altogether as my energy was sapped much quicker and naps were an afternoon necessity! There were times when I would look up and say, “Lord, I miss you,” not that He was gone, but that my time alone with Him was now just different. While I absolutely loved being in this new season of motherhood, I had to find new rhythms of devotion, and the Lord gently led me into creative ways to “practice His presence”.

I wasn’t able to drink from the firehose of God’s Word in the same way I had before, and so it was a new season of learning by trial and error, how I was going to be in God’s Word. There were many ups and downs, many dry times, and as always with any new thing, it was a learning curve, and I had to learn to give myself grace. Over time, I found things that worked for me and didn’t work for me.

Hiking in St Louis, Missouri, 2015

2 Simple and Practical Ways to Get Into God’s Word:

1. Listen to the Bible on audiobook or stream online: We have access to so many ways to get into God’s Word in our current era, besides picking up the Bible and turning the pages. Ten years ago, my four babies were between the ages of 0 and 6 years old. We were starting some homeschooling and busy with crafting and snacks and play doh and snacks and getting everyone’s shoes and coats on to go to the community playground outside and snacks and changing diapers for two and potty training and… snacks! Life was gloriously full (and still is)! But I had little ones up at night, with sicknesses making its round through all four kids and sometimes little ones waking with bad dreams and needing consoling, or others waking up before the sun rose. So my capacity was quite limited. I wanted to wake up early and spend time alone with the Lord pouring over Scripture, but that did not happen in those years. In those years, the online version of the Bible I use was not streaming chapter to chapter. You could only play one chapter at a time, run back to the computer and click on the next chapter to hear it aloud. So I thought to myself, “What is the longest chapter in the Bible? I will just play that so I don’t have to run from the kitchen every few minutes… Psalm 119, the longest chapter in the Bible. I would put it on in the background while the kids and I were spending our mornings in the kitchen playing, cooking, drawing, learning, and eating snacks! That was one way to get the Word in my ears, and theirs! Now, technology has improved and you can play through any book of the Bible in one click, and even use apps on your phone. Even now that my kids are tweens and teens, I still listen to the audio Bible when I’m wanting to catch up on my Bible reading plan as I rush out the door to get everyone where they need to go.

2. Scripture Music is another great way to get the Word in your hearts and in your kids’ hearts and carry it with you throughout the day. There are so many songwriters out there doing this now, you could pick your favorite and easily memorize scripture and even the catechisms through song! I still play Scripture songs around the home to fill the environment of my home, and my mind with Truth and beautiful music, especially if its a particularly stressful day, or if I’m feeling maxed out, and want to help remind myself and my family of God’s ways and words. Music can set the tone of the home.

Reminders on Perspective:

In the early church days, the New Testament was yet to be written, and eventually those documents would be circulated hand to hand as people traveled to teach and encourage the young churches that were being organized. Letters that were shared were read aloud to gatherings of Christians. They didn’t have copies of these documents in their homes to wake up to in the morning and meditate on with a cup of steaming hot espresso. They did not have the beloved music of Chopin or Mozart or Yo Yo Ma to listen to on a streaming device or a record player. The adults probably woke up before the sunrise, to start the cooking fires and warm up the house, prepare the grains and proteins for cooking, take care of the children and animals, and start the day’s work of survival. Every day is a work of survival. Maybe they had saved enough water from the day before for an early morning tea or another ancient drink of herbs and spices.

But likely, believers would gather once a week or several times a week for the reading of God’s Word, for the work of the church, and to be taught the Scriptures. Maybe they would memorize large portions to pass to others and recite those. Likely, any meditation on Scripture was what they had memorized from church gatherings and repeated at home. Many Jewish Christians also had the Old Testament, and many portions, or all of the Pentateuch, memorized as a part of their lifestyle and education. But most importantly, the Word of God was now written on their hearts and they lived and breathed with God’s Spirit indwelling them. This revolutionized the world. The peace and presence of Immanuel, God with us, was now a daily reality and as living temples, they carried the presence of God with them wherever they went, the aroma of Christ.

So, if you cannot be consistent in daily Scripture reading, there is no shame. Jesus doesn’t shame you. There is no shame on this train. But also, we need to stay on this train.

God says that those who meditate on His Word day and night are happy, are blessed (Psalm 1:1-2). God says where your treasure is there will your heart be also (Matthew 6:21). God says to not be conformed to the pattern of this world, but be transformed (Romans 12:1-2) and your heart and mind can be transformed and formed, literal neuropathways are formed when you read God’s Word and He transforms your thinking and thought life through these means when you saturate yourself in God’s Word.

So there is no shame (Romans 8:1) if you do not have capacity to live up to your ideals of Bible reading and frequent deep study of God’s Word, but on the other hand, He shows you the better way… Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus, (Luke 10:42) spending time with the Word made flesh, soaking in every moment of hearing Him speak and filling her soul with Truth… that will not be taken away from you, and it is the better way to pursue.

Ice Cream Birthday Cake

Photo by American Heritage Chocolate on Unsplash

Just before my husband turned 40 this month, and everything in our house started breaking and falling apart, I had organized some fun things to ring in this new decade for him! One thing was an ice cream cake! Our family loves ice cream, so very much. But looking up the cost, I was determined to just make my own and save the money. With help from an online recipe, a couple of tweaks, and my mom’s chocolate trifle recipe, this homemade ice cream cake is going down in the annals of the Harris Family Chronicles, or at least onto a recipe card for my recipe box. Its easy, its not quick, and its cost-effective!

First, you need to bake the cake portion and cool it, so its good to give yourself time for that. Here’s my mom’s Chocolate Trifle recipe:

Ingredients:

1 3/4 cups white flour
1 1/2 cups white sugar
1/2 cup baker’s cocoa
1/2 cup butter (softened)
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
2 eggs
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp salt

This recipe makes 2 round cake pan size chocolate cakes. Use just one for the ice cream cake and wrap the other in plastic wrap and freeze for another occasion!

Directions:
-put all ingredients into a mixing bowl and mix for 3 mins.
-pour the batter into two round cake pans
-bake @ 350 F for approx. 25 mins (consider your elevation and oven temps)
-let the cake cool

Once the cake round is cooled, you can follow the steps on the photo posted (back and front of my recipe card) and build your ice cream cake! I gotta run and pick up my kiddos!

Enjoy!