Christ and His Beautiful Bride

Wedding Rehearsal

The string trio set their bows to the strings and began the prelude as a holy hush gathered in the sanctuary of the 98 year old presbyterian church building. Grandparents and parents were seated first, and then bridesmaids and groomsmen. Turning my head toward the back, I caught a glimpse of the bride, the music changed, the congregation stood in awed respect to honor the bride as her father escorted down the aisle and gave her away to the groom.

I have been to countless weddings through the decades, mostly because my dad was a pastor and as a family, my sisters and I were always eager to attend yet another glorious marriage ceremony as we daydreamed of what ours would be like one day. This afternoon, as our dear friend gracefully and gloriously walked down the aisle with her father, the thought that came to mind was how glorious and beautiful Christ sees His Bride, the Church.

His Church, the people the Father has given Him, through no merit or effort of their own, have been chosen by God, before the foundation of the world, before literally anything was created into existence. His Church past, present, future, contains millions and millions of redeemed sinners, saved by His own sacrifice, to make them whole, healed, forgiven, redeemed. He makes His Church beautiful by giving her His own goodness, not of their own doing, but by unmerited favor poured out upon them and in them through the outpouring of His Holy Spirit into them, as He regenerates their souls and makes them a new creation in Christ.

As a congregation, we sang the song, Yet Not I But Through Christ in Me. Entering into this song of worship took this group of people into a moment of musical praise to our Lord Jesus whose presence was honored and invited and felt. A wedding is a picture of Christ and His Bride, the consummation of the ages, the glorious end to which we travel in this world, and yet what lies beyond this is more than we could ask or imagine. It will truly be the beginning of endless days of praise, goodness we have so long waited for, truth that heals all the lies we have believed about ourselves and others, and beauty that shines from the face of Jesus Himself, a beauty that outshines all others.

Will the world learn this? Will they hear these truths and turn to Him who so longs for them to know Him? Now is the time to turn your heart to Jesus and look into His wonderful face. Look at your groom! He comes for you, dear Bride of Christ.

Listen to this beautiful hymn recorded by our sister church in Washington state, by dear friends of ours:

The Church’s One Foundation, by Christ Church Bellingham

Photo from Unsplash

Gathering Gardens of Words in Autumn

The teenager appetite is quite impressive! Not only is our family consuming 120 eggs a week in this season of life, but baking has also ramped up this Fall. With prices at the grocery store also increasing, our food budget is quite tight, especially in that last week of the month when we are nearing the red line and have to get extra creative with what’s in the pantry. This is when our family opens the fridge door and stares a while as we contemplate whether or not to heat up the leftovers, concoct something out of the random remains of other meals or ponder what kind of soup we could make with perhaps a fresh loaf of artisan bread, because even a meager “end of the month” soup tastes like a feast with a fresh loaf of bread! Ah, it is Fall, my reading friends! The smells of fresh baked Autumn Apple Pie and fresh baked chocolate chip cookies and pumpkin chocolate chip muffins fill our home and brings a smile of delight and sense of care after coming in from a long day of work and school.

Where we live, we have 300 days of sunshine and quite a dry climate, so we have been enjoying the beauties of the season all around us. The leaves that have shadowed protectively over us are turning all crimson and golden as they make their farewell tour. We thank them for their service to us and bless them as they make their way into the autumn decay where they will return to nourish the soil. Our sunflowers finally made their way into a blooming golden fiesta! Even my chickens have enjoyed a couple of sunflower stalks growing around their coop. The two newest chicks, Poppi and Daisy, are now big enough to join the rest of the flock and are doing just fine! I realized I needed to get them acclimated to the rest of the flock after seeing some frost on the ground in the early morning. So I took down the makeshift fence within the coop and now they are able to nestle together in the shared warmth of their body heat for the colder days of Fall.

Just like the western winds that blew down from the Cascades this past week ushering in evidence of seasonal changes, our September was a whirlwind of hoisting the sails of new schedules and routines for our family. With our eldest now driving, we are able to manage a fuller load of activities. Along with starting up the school year for our children at their little classical school, milestones are happening at our church with the launch of new ministries and discipleship opportunities. And in the midst of all the beginnings and activities, I had the joyful gift from Jesus to whisk my teenage daughter away on a mother-daughter trip. At one point on our getaway, as we were surrounded by women worshiping the Lord through song, I whispered in my heart to my Lord, “Thank you, Lord. This is perfect.” Gratitude to my Lord Jesus, Giver of good gifts.

I want to share a quote with you that is the theme of where I am at right now in this moment as I chair our church plant’s Women’s Ministry Team. Its from the booklet of the Made for More Conferences that have begun this Fall around the nation:

“If we keep talking and walking together, things are going to change! Not only will we be changed or transformed as we unpack the content of the gospel in the context of intergenerational community, but also, we believe, the intergenerational discipleship culture of our churches will change. We will begin building bridges and removing barriers across the generations. Women will begin to think biblically about all of life and live those truths out covenantally and relationally. And as we keep walking and talking together, we will become increasingly ready to share the gospel and our lives together! You, our friend, are made for more than this world can offer!” -Karen Hodge and Katie Flores, PCA CDM

This month, I am also participating in a book launch team for Sarah Clarkson’s newest offering, Reclaiming Quiet, Cultivating a Life of Holy Attention. As part of the launch team, I get to begin reading a digital version of it before it releases in November. In these beginning chapters, I am drawn into her story as she describes the events that led her into the realization of her need to desperately pursue a season of quiet. Again, like in her other writings, I can relate to so much of her experience. Reading her words is like sitting down with an old friend who understands so much of seasons I have also walked through, including the intentional battle to pursue and attend to quiet in a noisy and distracting modern world. She writes:

“Somewhere along the way, my mind became crowded with the images and thoughts of countless screens and headlines, my soul restless and on edge, and the way to quiet, even in solitude, was no longer plain to me. I watched myself become increasingly formed and driven by my inward distraction, my incapacity to be still, my unease with hush. I witnessed the holy quiet of those early years being swallowed by the buzz of a mind primed to turn to a screen for comfort, addicted to headlines. I felt chased by all I witnessed online and all I must accomplish, desperate both to keep up with and also attend to the myriad voices calling out in sorrow or anger or outrage in the words on my screen. I could no longer look away from them without a mighty inward wrestle, and even then, I was haunted by the echoes of their frenzy and fury… St Teresa discovered a palace within her soul. I found a kitchen table in mine…”

“I stepped back into a sense of God’s companionship.”

-Sarah Clarkson, Reclaiming Quiet

I look forward to this month of delving into her book, reflecting on seasons of quiet in my own life and how God has so dearly met me there in the past, and what He will teach me this month as I wrestle with how “quiet” looks for me in my season and stage of life. I hope you will pick up a copy of her book too! It might just be a discipleship message others need to wrestle with as well.

My little pumpkin, a late bloomer, but happy to be here and growing quietly, sheltered by a blue spruce in a part of our yard that doesn’t usually get water… well, some water found the seed one day, and in late August, the plant sprouted up and began to grow. Its been a welcome surprise of life adorning our chicken coop and making me chuckle every time I pass by it.

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

His Yea, My Amen

Painting by Lucy Bacon

““All little miniature beginnings but all ‘beautiful in their time’, like the dark green August oranges in the court below. The fact that they have got thus far into being is more than a promise. Like all the promises of God they are (given the conditions) an accomplishment begun. His ‘Yea’ only waits our ‘Amen.’” ”

— Lilias Trotter, 11 August 1906

Ten years ago, I shared with my husband how I longed to write a blog again. I had been out of the practice for a few years, and once our fourth baby was beginning to toddle around our apartment and master every barrier we tried to use to contain him in manageable areas of the home (he was very determined to catch up with his sister and brothers), we were preparing for a move across the country to attend seminary and pursue further ministry. One thing I had put on the shelf for a while was writing, but I was sensing a need to practice this refreshing and creative work once again. I wasn’t ready to write publicly, but my husband encouraged me to start a blog and just write for myself and him until I was ready to share my words with others. So I did. I began Every Morning New Mercies.

On this 10 year anniversary of my writing home, we have now moved geographically twice more, planted a church, and dwell in a land that I compare to Frodo’s Shire, with Rivendell not too far away. In celebration of the gift this blog has been to me from my Lord Jesus, and the joy of so many words written, I have decided to: first, start a Substack; second, tell people about it(!), third, pray and dream and consider what the Lord would have me write.

What you can expect monthly…

In a busy season of raising teens and tweens, church planting, and beginning a piano studio at home, you can expect two monthly pieces posted on Substack and here on the blog: one where I write a brief essay on a topic I am passionate about, and one post sharing quotes from the reading I have done that month combined with beautiful images I find.

Subscribe to Every Morning New Mercies
on Substack @everymorningnewmercies

Nothing will change here. I have never had a subscribe button because I haven’t been able to figure it out (!) or wanted to pay the fee for one, however, one of the perks of a Substack is not only the community it brings to my writing, but it also provides me with a subscribe button (for those who have the Substack app). But if you are a reader who prefers to just pop on here whenever it suits you best, and you’d rather not be notified, I totally get it, and I welcome you here. With the addition of a Substack, I am folded into a community of like-minded writers, authors, readers, and artists (all of whom love Narnia & Middle Earth, so I’m in good company)!

With all that said, I think a Substack and a subscribe button will help my writing get out to more people, Lord willing, to bless them.

As always, thank you for reading. I hope it is a blessing.

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.”

Attending to Gratitude in Pages and Pathways

As I drove my kids to our little school this week, the smell of harvested apples permeated my senses, even with the truck windows shut to keep out the morning chill. Orchards must be in their final stages of apple picking right now. Its a common sight to see trucks heavily laden with full apple boxes being transported to the various warehouses in our fruit-bearing land. As we pass by the irrigation canals which wind through people’s backyards like quiet streams of life flowing on their journey from the top of Mt Rainier’s snow pack to our lake reservoir to water fields and backyard gardens, I notice the water level is going down. The irrigation season in what we call the upper valley is coming to an end and the canals will soon run dry once the water is officially shut off to this high desert. Homeowners will need to have their sprinkler systems blown out to remove all water from pipes before the first frost.

As the cold settles in, dew becomes a crunchy frost. It seems to me that the sweetest season in this valley is Fall, with apple, mint, and grape harvests to fragrance the air depending on which orchard, field, or vineyard one is traveling past.

This weekend, our family celebrates Canadian Thanksgiving with my folks and then in November, we will celebrate American Thanksgiving with a visit from them. I’ve designated this period of time as our Season of Gratitude, bookended with family visits. With a chalkboard marker, I wrote above my kitchen sink window “Season of Gratitude” as a gentle reminder to all of us in our home to be attentive to this season with grateful hearts, and it is a reminder to myself as well.

Some of the things I’m especially grateful for this October is the many books that I’ve been enjoying. Here is a little glimpse into some true and beautiful ideas I’ve been meditating and reflecting on in recent weeks:

The Confessions of St Augustine

In 2007, when my husband and I were visiting different Christian communities in Europe, I was inspired to study more of Church history, and a desire formed in me to discover the writings of early Christians after the time of the Apostles, generally called the Patristics, writings of the early Church Fathers, those directly mentored and discipled by the Apostles themselves. I got a copy of the shortest one I could find, On the Incarnation by Athanasius which I began to read but didn’t finish. Then for my birthday, several babies later, I asked my husband for a book on Tertullian, which I also didn’t get around to (it is a massive volume that awaits me on our bookshelf). Shortly after our fourth was born, I thought I’d read Augustine’s Confessions, the most popular of the Patristics. Again, it did not happen. However, this Fall, with my increased schedule of driving to and fro to transport my children to various school, musical, and sports activities, I’ve committed to listening to the audiobook of The Confessions. It is as others have said, so good. I will need to go back and read the actual paperback book of this tome as there are words, phrases, paragraphs I wish to highlight, underline, and mark up on the real pages of this book. For now, I am getting the general lay of the land with Augustine’s life and thoughts, and then I shall prepare for excavation another time.

A lovely visit with some mom friends for a morning cup of coffee at the cutest coffee shop in town, with stained glass windows, cozy chairs, and a quiet little book nook.

I’ve been organizing Moms Prayer Groups for about 6 years at the little classical and Christian schools we’ve been blessed to be part of. This morning, our prayer group got together for a cup of coffee and fellowship after prayer. Its a joy to make time for friendship.

On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, The Wingfeather Saga, Book 1

On our drives to school in the mornings, it’s nice to have a story to play for the fifteen minute drive. Occasionally, we listen to music, other times we are in a conversation, or there have been times when the eldest son has had us in stitches laughing at his very talented array of accents. But there are some mornings, I press play on the audiobook and all becomes quiet as we settle in for the drive into town and listen once again to this beloved story. I first read these books to our kids a few years ago at bedtime. I would position myself in the hallway between the bedrooms and read aloud this endearing and meaningful tale of the jewels of Anniera. This time, we are all listening to the adventures of Janner, Tink, & Leeli in the wee hours of the morning.

St Patrick: His Confession and Other Works & The Life of St Patrick and His Place in History

I have long been fascinated by Christianity in Scotland and Ireland, and love to learn more about early Christians in the years after the apostles. When living and working in Scotland years ago, I was introduced by a missionary friend to St Patrick’s Breastplate prayer in his “Confessio”. Reading works written by these ancient heroes of the faith, written in such intelligent prose and with depth of passion for the Lord Jesus, is both an education and an encouragement in the faith. Reading more about what we know of Patrick’s life and work is also incredibly inspiring.

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,

Through a belief in the Threeness,

Through confession of the Oneness

Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today

Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism,

Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial,

Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension,

Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom…

-Patrick, circa 377AD (The Lorica of St Patrick or St Patrick’s Breastplate or Faeth Fiada)

The Story of John G. Paton: Or 30 Years Among South Sea Cannibals

This is a book I’m reading aloud with my kids once a week. We are usually reading through a biography of a Christian in history. This year, we finished The Hiding Place, God’s Smuggler, and now we are slowly making our way through John Paton’s story as a missionary. Sharing these stories of lives laid down for the sake of the gospel inspire us to live our lives in His service.

I’m working my way through several other books when I have time and also listening to the audio of a seminary class from Covenant Theological Seminary in St Louis, Missouri, called Ancient and Medieval Church History, another period of time I want to understand more deeply.

As I was growing up, my mom had an Irish prayer on a cloth hanging in the laundry room. It is a good reminder that the words you put on your walls for all to see send a message to those who live and take shelter there. Send messages of truth and hope in this life! They become treasures one holds on to. Below is that Irish blessing and a photo I took this week while walking with a friend in the canyon.

May you look for and find beauty on your pathway with the Lord.