A room without books is like a body without a soul.
-Cicero

Click the images for captions and close-up views of the bookshelves of the YLCF Team Members (those who aren’t in the midst of cross-country moves and beginning deployment, that is!).  And start taking pictures of your own books: we’re having a bookshelf photo carnival next week!

I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves.
-Anna Quindlen, “Enough Bookshelves,” New York Times, August 7, 1991

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

They are piled artfully on the desk. They mount to the lampshade on the bedside table. They wobble in stacks as precarious as a loose boulder jutting over a snowy mountainscape.

Oh, yes. And they fill the bookshelves.

What would we do without them? For the true bibliophile, nothing so beautifies a room as a healthy population of books. One of my favorite things to do upon entering another’s home is to peruse the shelves. To run an eager eye over the titles and spines deemed worthy by the occupants to proclaim their unique passions and interests to the world. I fully believe that the books one chooses to read and display speak more eloquently than words of one’s identity. Of what moves and motivates them; of what makes them more alive. Of where their treasure is, if you will. Books are such living companions that the placing of one upon a shelf–or on a table, or leaning in a deep windowsill or even propping up a candlestick–is in many ways an invitation to that volume to take up its abode with you. It is for that reason that it is as interesting for me to stare at the bookshelves of old friends as it is of new acquaintances.  A person’s bookshelf is a window into their personhood. And it can be a magic casement, “opening on the foam of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn”.

When we renovated our den a few years back, we had a pretty clear idea of what we wanted: a William Morris-styled room with dark paneling and old, polished wood for the firelight to flicker off of. We envisioned a plate rail carefully adorned with things we “believe to be beautiful” and deep leather furniture that would envelop one like an embrace. But the most important thing about the room–the focal point about which we grouped our other ideas–was the bookcase. I wanted floor-to-ceiling shelves, like the 14-footers in my grandmother’s Victorian home. Philip saw them backed with the same rich heart-pine with which we had paneled the walls and the ceiling and laid the floor, stained a gorgeous English Chestnut like the rest of the room. And a freize at the top for a motto to express our ideals and our vision–to both of which the volumes to be housed beneath had contributed immeasurably.

Only the best for our books, was the unspoken mantra between us.

So Philip drew them out, measured about a million times for good luck, and cranked up the circular saw. For days our lives were punctuated by the wails and shrieks of cutting and the pounding of hammers and nail guns. We opened our windows in December against the fumes of the stain and polyurethane. But at last it was time for our books to come home, and we carted them down from where we had stashed them in an upstairs bedroom with the giddiness of children. I couldn’t wait to see how they would look–how alive the room would become–when we had fitted our loved volumes into Philip’s beautiful bookshelves.

“I wonder how full they will be?” I wondered as we passed each other on the stairs.

“I wonder how long it will take to fill them up?” Philip grinned.

The shelves were close to half-full and we were amazed. We didn’t realize that we had that many books.

That was five years ago.

They are full now.

My grandparents’ library shelves were full, too. And the old drug store case in the upstairs hall. And the barrister cases in the bedroom. And the low bookshelves encircling the sunporch. And the built-ins encasing the door to the back hall like an arch of triumph.

That’s just the way it is with book lovers. It’s not only hard to know when to stop. It’s impossible. But how soulless our homes would be without them!

Check back on Wednesday for a gallery tour of some of our YLCF Team Members‘ bookshelves!

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

Bluebells, Herefordshire, England

by Christine Brown

Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God.
-Jim Elliot

Don’t strain your eyes to see the future –
for you will not be able to see clearly what God wants you to see now.
-Elisabeth Elliot

Looks like the Elliots had a good handle on contentment…living life to the fullest. It sounds like they didn’t worry much. I’ve a note written in the back of my Bible that our pastor mentioned in a message: “If you worry, your view of God is that He is not there”.

Wow. When fear invades thoughts, do I believe that God is there?

My husband and I were saying that other day that this Air Force life is one of extremes. Extremely adventurous and exciting things…extremely hard things.

I have to admit, sometimes I find my thoughts in these places:

• fear of the future
• fear of deployment
• fear of having to handle life ALONE
• fear of failure in being all my son will need me to be
• fear of the danger in flying
• fear of the unknown
• fear of moving overseas
• fear of moving across the country by myself

I am sure that your fears are very different from mine. Perhaps you’re worrying about needing a job, singleness, or other strains are bearing down on you.

When stormy thoughts and imaginations of what things could possibly be like come, it drains you. You can’t “see clearly what God wants you to see today”. You miss out on HERE and NOW. I am not the wife my husband needs me to be, or the mommy that my son needs when my thoughts are out there getting lost in worry.

Fear is abuse of the imagination as you picture worst that can happen, when the best may very well be what is in store.

So many times I want to know what is down the road. I am a very organized person—planning is essential. Right now we don’t even know what is 4 months down the road!  Will my husband be off training somewhere without us? Will my son and I be able to go along? Will he be in survival training which is pretty much a horrible time? Will we still be living in here or moving very soon after graduation? What state or country will we be living in next?

I think that if we knew the future, we would faint at the very thought of it. If I had known what 2008 would be like I would have most likely had a nervous breakdown!

But here’s what God’s Word says…

…and as thy days, so shall thy strength be. (Deuteronomy 33:25)

God gives strength for each day when that day comes, not beforehand. What a realization this was! When saying goodbye comes on a deployment day, I will have strength for that day. When I have to handle life alone, I will have strength for that day. If we move overseas, I will have strength for that day. And not only for these big things in life, but in everything HE GIVES STRENGTH! What a promise from God!

Are we assured that we are safe in the hands that hold the stars? Can we wholeheartedly surrender to God, leaving quietly with Him all of our ‘what ifs’ and ‘but what abouts’? ALL can rest quietly in His very capable hands.
-Elisabeth Elliot

In my flower garden, some plants have been flowering beautifully while some are bent over, brown, dried up. How disappointing the brown ones are! I have put such time, attention and love into those little seeds, then the little plants, watching them grow and practically cheering them on. It was so exciting to think of how beautiful all the different types of flowers will be!  Now, pitiful describes them best.

We’ve all heard the phrase, “Bloom where you are planted.”  I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

Am I blooming right here, right now, where I am planted? Am I bringing beauty into my little corner of the world? Or am I dried up and pitiful from the strain of worry? Am I a disappointment to God, to Him who has planted me here? Is He looking down thinking…”how beautiful you could have been!”

As I’ve been reflecting on life and where God has us right now I am realizing more than ever that I need to leave EVERYTHING in His hands. Worrying and becoming fearful will accomplish only one thing. It will steal my joy. It will filter out the beauty and only allow the negative is seen. It will prevent me from living life to the fullest today.

I can rest in Him and find joy in the everyday things of life. In where I am right now—even with all of the uncertainties of the future. My eyes are not clouded by worry anymore. God has a perfect plan that only HE could plan so wonderfully! Whatever comes our way will have gone through His hand first. Nothing can touch us without God being a part of it. I can trust Him…in all things. Life is beautiful.

My name is Christine Brown and I’m 24 years old.  The love of my life is a pilot in the Air Force, and we have a 1 year old boy, Tyler.  Some of my interests include decorating, cooking, photography, and scrapbooking.  Loving God more and loving others as He did is my continual pursuit.

photography copyright Philip Ivester, 2007

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

adapted from my journal

On Christmas Eve morning I was up at five. I wondered if any of my neighbors were astir at that hour, but all the other houses through the trees were dark. It was my own, private, precious hour with Jesus—on a day when His humanity is nearer to my heart than any other. I would not have traded it for silver and gold. It shines in my heart yet as an unspeakable gift from Him—I have no words.

When I first stepped into my dark kitchen that morning a silver tide of moonlight was pouring in from the windows above the sink. The moon itself, a tremendous and luminous sphere, was sailing calmly through an untroubled sky of velvety blue, with a single star—the star of the morning—waiting attendance upon the regal passage. It was so beautiful—the light all tangled up in the branches of the water oak outside and casting its pale glory over frost-encrusted yard and pasture and silent winter garden—that I literally caught my breath. It hurt me to look at it, and yet I could not get enough. I lighted the gas jet under the tea kettle and just stared and stared. I hated to turn on the lights in the den to banish such a radiance.

After my devotions, I fell to setting the tables, moving about as quietly as I could, yet with a growing mirth at what day the coming dawn was hailing and what happiness would soon be filling these rooms and sitting at these tables. As I worked, I was blessedly conscious of what was happening outside—the moon dropped almost reluctantly into the west, behind the great oak at the corner of the pasture by the cemetery, and from behind the woods to the east the day began to spring. The sky paled to a breathless blue, the gate of the day grew rosy, and soon a glory of another kind was spilling over treetops and lawn and setting all the frost crystals to glittering like so many diamonds. It was utterly pure and beautiful, my own special possession. And to think that I might have missed it—to think of how many other glorious dawns I have passed in the ignorance of sleep!! I always say that I love a cloudy Christmas Eve best, and a gloriously sunny Christmas Day—but I’d not send back the sweet splendours my Lord sent this year.

And so, just before ten, I got into my new red dress—finished at the characteristic eleventh hour—and dashed into the kitchen, just in time for Once in Royal David’s City, broadcast live right into my den all the way from King’s College in Cambridge. That sacred moment always makes the world seem smaller and our beloved England so much closer to us in time and space. We sat on the sofa hand in hand and listened, breathless, as the airy strains grew into a full choir and finally swelled with the organ and audience and what seemed like all the combined worshippers of ages past. I listened, as I always do, with a catch in my throat and tears in my eyes, to the Bidding Prayer, particularly at the thought of all those dear ones of my own “who rejoice with us, but upon another shore and in a greater light”. And then it was time to turn the sausage and flip on the coffee pot and check on the bacon sizzling away. And just as I was tucking the plum pudding back into its buttery mold for one last steam, the doorbell rang, and our merry old Christmas Eve party had begun…

It was my brother-in-law and his wife, but there was a whole parade of cars behind them: my family, Philip’s family and friends that are such family no ties of blood could make nearer and dearer. And soon the rooms rang with “Hello! Hello!” “Merry Christmas!” “Oooh—don’t you look pretty!” “Christmas Gif’!” and “Where can I put this?” There seemed to be children everywhere—which is fitting as this day is for them above all others at our farm-in-the-city. One of them came up and asked me if there were to be peppermint sticks in oranges this year. I smiled knowingly and replied that they should go and take a look at the coffee table in the den where two crystal bowls boasted the coveted treats—“But you’ll have to wait till after breakfast!” In the twinkling of an eye, as it were, my home was full of laughter and the snap and crackle of open fires, fragrant with cider and the pudding that was steaming away and the traditional sausages…

Philip asked the patriarchs to say the blessing and I thought that was quite fitting and sensitive of him. As I looked around the dining room, filled to capacity with the progeny of these two men, I had to smile to myself at what they would have thought when they first met at college all those years ago if they could have looked into the future and seen such a gorgeous (and enormous—35 of us!) assemblage. And I smiled, at the same time, at the sweet sounds of Ding Dong Merrily in High pouring out of my radio in that quiet moment, all the way from England…

I spent most of the breakfast bustling about, making sure everyone had tea and coffee and juice, catching a five year-old cherub who threatened to topple out of her chair at the childrens’ table, lingering to laugh at an old and loved story at the adults’ table, and sitting down in my place at the ‘kids’ table’ just about the time I needed to pop back up again and take out the pudding. But I love it, of course. Every minute of it. And when brunch had been dispensed with and the pudding slipped miraculously from its antique mold, we warmed some brandy in a skillet and Philip called all the children into the kitchen to see the great event—after igniting it I poured the blue elven flame over the pudding on its silver holly trimmed tray amid gasps and exclamations—it was quite lovely!—and Philip bore it in triumph into the dining room to a chorus of delighted voices and a spontaneous burst of applause.

Then all of the children—from the smallest to the tallest—came asking for their oranges and peppermint sticks, and to look around at all those beautiful girls in their smocked dresses and handsome little men looking like pint-sized versions of their Daddys in sweater vests, intent upon a pleasure so simple as sucking the juice of an orange through a soft peppermint ‘straw’ made.

After all the excitement of the pudding and the crackers had died down and the jokes had been told and re-told and the charms passed off to admiring children who thought they were treasures indeed, I settled down in the hall with the ladies for a much-appreciated cup of coffee and a good chat while the men and children went out in the yard to play and to say ‘Hello,’ and ‘Merry Christmas!’ to the chickens. When I chanced to step out on the back porch it was a sight to warm the heart for days to come—a lovely day, as the dawn had promised, lightly overcast with clouds scudding across a wintry sky, chill enough for all the lovely velvet Christmas coats to bloom out in all the colors of jewels, and a pale December sunlight falling with a mellowing touch upon all the bright heads. They were all running around, screaming and laughing, chasing and being chased by the adults, paper crowns askew and baby dolls dangling by the arms…such a beautiful tableau of innocent happiness…I loved it. I just stood there, leaning over the rail and taking it all in. And then Philip got the idea that each one of them should have a chance at ringing the old school bell at the back of the house in honor of Christmas and a great pealing ensued which drove me from my post and down into the yard with them all to take part in the fun.

I gave everyone their favors when it was time to go—paper cones filled with fudge and caramels—and the children were so excited. How refreshing it is in this age of materialism to see children thrilled over peppermint sticks in oranges and bits of paper and tinsel crammed with homemade candy!

As the dusk fell upon our darling day and a purple and golden twilight descended, the light of the fire and the Christmas tree and my little Advent wreath in the window shone out with an ever-increasing warmth and I longed, oh so fiercely!, to make time stop for even a moment or two. We had done our favorite day homage, old traditions had been honored and new ones introduced for consideration. Children had been exalted to the guests of honor in tribute to our blessed Child-Savior and adults had celebrated the ties that He had forged. The whole day had been a Christmas gift from the Host of the feast. An invitation to the children and the childlike to enter into His joy.

A gilt-edged shadow of the happiness that lies in store for us all when faith is made sight.

Thanks be to God.

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

The question has been presented in various forms over the two years John and I have been married. I heard it again last weekend at the wedding we attended.

Before I answer, I ask myself, what do I do?

Thinking over my days I remember the many little things that fill them. Waking up while the morning is still crisp, snuggling with my husband and baby boy, eating breakfast of cereal with banana before John leaves for work, reading my Bible with Troy on my lap… doing dishes, laundry, vacuuming, dusting, mopping, ironing…. planning menus, making grocery lists, having dinner ready when John gets home from work… holding and loving my precious baby boy, kissing poor tiny fingers pinched in baby toys–which will soon be scraped knees and cut fingers, changing many diapers a day, looking into Troy’s sweet little eyes as he nurses… enjoying conversations in the evening, ranging from computer networking to Bible doctrines… watching Troy enjoy his bath, then rocking and singing him to sleep… listening to John read God’s Word and praying together before drifting off to sleep…

“What do I do?” I reply with a smile. “I am a domestic engineer.”

“Oh. Wow.” The eyebrows go up. “And… do you enjoy that?”

Again I smile, unsure if this friend of a cousin understands what I mean in using the little phrase my mom coined when I was a little girl. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

A friend stopped by yesterday. We haven’t seen much of each other lately due to many short trips both of us have made. This was the girl who, in our high school years, was envied by many of the teenage girls in our church. Perhaps because of her naturally tiny shape, stylish clothes, coquettish ways? I don’t really know why we girls think some of the silly things we do.

We had a bit of an awkward visit yesterday. I listened for the first hour while she talked about all of the excursions she and her single sister have been making… weekends at the beach, visiting friends around the state and country. She told me about the cosmetology school she enrolled in, the house she just bought. She laughed as she told me about all the many guys who are just “crazy about her.” She talked of the clothes she’s been buying and the brands she loves.

Then she paused, sat back, and looked at me. “So what have you been doing? What’s up with you?”

“Well,” I began. “Not much. We just got back from a wedding in Minnesota, and we’re finally done with all these trips! I’ve just been kinda recovering from that… you know, laundry and cleaning up and stuff.”

I was met with a blank stare. For a moment there, I felt exactly like I did at fifteen when this same friend, who has become a dear friend in more recent years and with whom I laugh about our high school years now, would talk to me only if she had to, since I far, far from “cool.”  She said nothing. Just looked at me, waiting for me to say something else.

I took a breath. “Aaaand, taking care of Troy…. and…. stuff like that.” I laughed. There really wasn’t much else to say!

A  little half smile and a shrug. “Oh.”

This was one of those rare moments when I feel that my life is monotonous… humdrum… a little, perhaps, boring? I wanted to crawl upstairs with Troy and hide in a corner. The blank look, the shrug, the half smile. I felt so… insignificant. I didn’t have any wild times to talk about, or guys to report on,  or new clothes to sport. I just had the rhythm of my little life, not too full, not too crazy.

She left shortly after that, and I sat down on the couch where my friend, whom I do love dearly, had been sitting. I pulled Troy near to nurse him and thought about the visit. My heart was full of many different emotions, for many different reasons, not all relating to that conversation. But I still felt a tiny bit bruised from the encounter, and was rather surprised at my own reaction.

Then I looked down into the eyes of my baby boy. He was gazing up at me with more trust and little baby love than I ever could have imagined. I ran my hand across his soft head and held his hand in mine. My eyes started welling up.

As I sat there, John arrived home for his lunch break. He came and sat with me while I still fed Troy, and we talked together about his morning at work, my visit, and a few other topics. He put his arm around me and said, “The house sure looks nice. I like coming home when you have the music playing and candles lit.” I smiled at him, happy he had noticed my cleaning efforts of earlier in the morning.

It was quiet for a minute, then John looked down at Troy, stroked his little foot and said, in his cutest little mushy voice, “Isn’t he just the cutest thing?”

As I sat there, contemplating the events of the first half of the day, I became overwhelmed at God’s goodness to me. He has indeed given me everything and so much more than I ever could have asked for. He blesses me each morning with new mercies, a husband’s love, a little baby blessing to love and nurture, and a home to keep for His glory. What more could I want? The day to day tasks of my life may not hold much significance in the sight of others, but I can go to bed each night knowing that my husband considers himself a blessed man, and we are raising our little man to love Jesus with all of his heart. These are the things–the occupation–I have been given, and by God’s grace, I want to be a good steward of them, so that in the end, I can stand before Him and be told, “Well done, good and faithful servant… He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much… In as much as you’ve done it unto the least of these. you’ve done it unto Me.”

Written August 2006

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

Military wives know there are times we can feel so very alone, whether or not our husbands are deployed. Since it is always helpful to me to talk with or read about other women who “get it”, we put all the deployment-related posts from my blog during the time John was gone, here, in one spot. Feel free to peruse as you wish.

Getting Ready
And So… He’s Gone
Hanging In There
Hello My Name Is Ashleigh and I Sniff My Husband’s Deodorant
Easter Greetings From the Sandy Spot
Strength That Is Not My Own
Look! A Family Picture With All Four of Us!
My Jesus… He Is Real
Be Still
“See You Soon,” says the Daddy
Remembering
I’m His Wife. I Get To Brag A Little, Right?
And so… He’s Home
The Journey

What I’d Like For You To Know–Wife of a Deployed Soldier (my guest post at Rocks In My Dryer)

Being that we know there are several of you here at YLCF with military husbands or family members, the Team and I would love to know who you are. I’d be thrilled if you would leave a comment here, telling us a little about yourself and your Country-serving family member.

I’ll start: I’m Ashleigh, wife of a United States Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant. We’ve been married for five-and-a-half years and have two little boys, ages 2 and 3. We’ve made it through two duty stations, four houses, one deployment and are gearing up for the next one in a few months. We love the commissary, dislike barracks duty, love long weekends and hate separation!

Now it’s your turn. Tell us your story.

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

Listen.

Do you hear that?

Stillness. Complete quiet.

Both my boys are sound asleep. The first soft notes of an old Amy Grant song I loved as a little girl are beginning to fill the little computer nook I’m curled up in. The house is clean. The dishes are done. The washer and dryer have stopped for the night.

In a few minutes, it will be tomorrow. The beginning of another full day.

I know… I’ve not posted in over a week. I have emails from last week that I still haven’t responded to. But we are alive and well.

I have at least a handful of bloggie posts written in my head over the past week, but somehow none of them made it to the screen. The days here are so full of diapers, cooking, home-keeping, book reading, park trips, child training, projects for Daddy, coloring, gym-going, playing with trains, nursing… it seems there are hardly five minutes put together to spend doing the things that NEED to get done on the computer, let alone actually thinking enough to type. Add that to the fact that I don’t have a lap top right now and my desk top computer is upstairs… daily blogging? It just ain’t happenin’.

But, to be quite honest, there is another reason the “new post” screen has spent so much time open, yet blank, on my computer screen.

Every time I sit down in this desk chair and hold my fingers over the keyboard, staring at that blank screen, I get a shaky feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. I plan to whip out a funny kiddo-related anecdote, or upload a picture, or ramble about something silly. But the truth is… I just don’t feel silly.

Writing is a part of me, whether it be my own journal, long letters or emails, or this thing we call blogging. It’s always been an outlet. The deep areas of my heart and mind tend to push forward when I put pen to paper, or, you know, fingers to keyboard.

You see, I’ve been running around, living in a whirlwind these past six weeks. I guess I’m subconsciously thinking that if I live in a flurry of baby-world, church, home, family, friends… then I won’t have to think about John being gone. It won’t seem as real. The time will go by so quickly that I won’t even realize what is going on.

I tell myself that, yeah, this is kinda hard. We sure miss John. And life alone with the boys is a little chaotic at times. But, no matter what, it’s going to be a little crazy with two boys under two. That’s just normal life as a mom. I have such support from those around me–family nearby, friends who rally around me when I’ve had a crazy day. Just yesterday I had two friends, at two different times, look me in the eyes and ask how they could specifically pray for me this week. I can’t even tell you how that blessed my heart.

Knowing all this, I struggle to pinpoint exactly what “it” is that’s difficult, given that the day-to-day of being a mom is just normal and I have more support than many military wives. What is “it?”

But then… the evenings come. The times like this. When it is so quiet I can almost hear my own heart beating. Then I remember. My beloved is away. I’m here alone. And the time… oh, how it seems to stretch endlessly in front of me. I realize that the normal day-to-day isn’t “it.” It’s this feeling. The loneliness that threatens to suffocate me. The emotional distance from my beloved that I feel more and more with each passing day he’s away and he becomes less and less connected to our everyday life here.

But by the next morning, I’ve always managed to convince myself to just. keep. moving. Be strong. Don’t let it bowl me over. It’s not really that bad. Keep telling everyone that we’re doing good… we’re hanging in there. Must be strong. Must… be… strong…

A few evenings ago, since I once again didn’t know what to write, I was be-bopping around the blogosphere and visited a blog I hadn’t been to in a while. This friend-of-a-friend was in the midst of several weeks with her husband gone for work, and as I read her words, I suddenly just… lost it. I cried harder then, right there at my keyboard, than I had at any point in the past several months. Everything I’d been trying to push down the past couple weeks flooded my heart as the tears flooded my eyes.

I laid across my bed, crying out to God with tears streaming down my face… “I can’t be strong. I’m not brave…”

And I heard His voice say quietly – “I don’t expect you to be…”

As I lay with my face buried in my covers I felt His assurance begin to wash over me. His grace lifting me. It’s not about digging deeper. Pulling myself up by my bootstraps. Acting more spiritual. Or trying to muster the courage to face my trials…

It’s admitting there’s no way I can. It’s doing nothing, and realizing He’s already done it for me. It’s clinging to the Rock that is higher than I, and allowing His strength to hold me. To keep me from falling. to remove my fear. And to be my security.

The kind of strength that – powerful enough in and of itself – yet, is made even more perfect through my weakness.

Perfect strength – I like the sound of that!

No. I’m not strong. I can’t be. But He CAN. And He IS!

I suddenly realized it was okay to be weak. Which sure is a good thing, because that’s what I am right now. Perfect strength… my Jesus has abundant, perfect strength to hold me up in my weakness. And He says it is made perfect in this weakness of mine.

Talk about an opportunity to display His glory and power.

So how are we doing, you ask? I’m going to revise what I’ve been telling so many sweet ones who ask… Yes, we are doing well. We’re hanging in there. But here’s a tidbit more…

The truth is that I’m just clinging to Him with everything I’ve got in me. It’s a good thing His strength is so perfect, because I don’t have much in me. He’s holding me. Which means I’m actually just falling into His arms. And that is always the best place to be.

I have found a place where I can hide
It’s safe inside
Your arms of love…

Like a child who’s held throughout a storm
You keep me warm
In Your arms of love…

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

This morning I sat sipping a mocha in Starbucks for almost three hours, reading my Bible and writing John a long letter, and repeatedly told myself that one week ago he was still home. But the thought remained in the world of surreal… it has to have been longer than that…

But no, it was only a week ago tomorrow my beloved headed off on a bus toward the Sandy Spot on the other side of the globe.

The hardest moment, by far, was seeing his camouflage-clad arm waving in the midst of a sea of hands as the buses drove away… around the corner… and were gone. The best part–getting his phone call to tell me he was safely at his base a few days later.

God’s grace is an absolutely amazing thing. It is never-ending, the supply can never be exhausted and He always gives more in accordance with our need.

For weeks–more like months–I’d been dreading that day last week. I’d been trying to imagine spending our last day together, kissing him goodbye, hearing Troy tell him bye-bye, watching him walk away and onto the bus. Many were the nights I fell asleep with tears on my pillow.

But in all my imagining, I didn’t see the grace my Jesus would supply when the time actually came. I didn’t know that He would wrap His loving arms around me when my beloved’s arms had to let go. I didn’t see the peace He’d give. I couldn’t feel His gentleness as He dried my tears. I didn’t realize the enormous amount of support He’d pour on us through dear family and precious friends.

Now I kinda wish I hadn’t spent so many hours trying to imagine a feeling I couldn’t possibly feel, having never been through it before. The imagining was truly worse than the reality has been–but only because of Jesus and His comfort.

I’m missing my husband terribly, even though he’s been gone much longer than a week before. Knowing it will be over a year makes it harder somehow. Both boys are having a hard time with the transition. Merritt, little as he is, has been extremely fussy and not wanting to nurse, and Troy has been having nightmares, crying for Daddy.

We expected it to be hard–but once again, God’s grace astounds me. Our transition into life-with-Daddy-gone-land has been nice and slow. Except for a few hours on Monday, I’ve had some member of my family here since John left. I usually talk to John’s mom at least once or twice a day. Troy is now spending a couple fun-filled days with my parents and I have some time to re-group a little, think through how to get started with “normal” life next week, and finish the blanket I’m crocheting for John–he says it is very cold over there.

So we’re hangin’ in there. It’s a rainy night here and I’m curled up under 2/3 of that partially-crocheted afghan with my lap top and a handful of peanut M&M’s. Merritt is crashed for the night. I’m re-reading the oodles upon oodles of sweet comments and emails you all sent me–your love and prayers on our behalf is completely overwhelming. I can’t tell you what it has meant to me to have my inbox fill with your words of kindness. You bloggie peeps are the greatest and I’ll be responding to each of your emails one by one.

All I have to say is that if the Lord has given us this much strength and comfort in the first week… I can’t wait to see what He’ll have done a year from now. He is good. So very good.

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

This is you.

This is the Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. And by your participation in our A Peek Into Your Day blog carnival, you have demonstrated the beauty and complexity of the very special community we have here, not to mention the limitless creativity of God in allotting such unique places in life for each of us.

I had so much fun watching the posts come in on Wednesday—I told my husband that it was like watching lights flare and glow over a dark grid. It reminded me of the way I felt that first time I stumbled across the YLCF website so many years ago and how my heart thrilled at the knowledge of all of these precious girls and ladies out there that simply loved Jesus and wanted to live for Him to the best of their ability in a fallen world.

My eyes have burned with tears many times these past few days as I’ve read of your hope, your joy, your love for God and for those He has placed in your lives. It has been one of the most encouraging things that I can remember in quite some time simply to click through these blogs and revel in, not only the diversity, but the one single unifying factor that ties them all together into a beautiful whole: Jesus Christ.

Because, for all the differences in your individual lives and callings, one thing remained a constant. Almost every blog had a descriptive box on the right-hand side proclaiming the author to be a lover of God, a servant of Christ, an aspiring disciple. And almost every entry started out something like this:

I got up and met with the Lord. I sought Him in prayer. I went to His Word and I tried to take something away from it into my day. I tried to remember Him and what I believe and what it’s all about…

Do you girls have any idea how exciting that is? How precious it must be to the Lord? I don’t know about you, but the very thought of so many women all over the world (and the carnival, I know, is only a small slice of the whole of this precious community) getting up every day and trying to figure out how to live for God and what pleases Him and how to lend action and breath to love for Him—it gives me hope for this generation! And it makes me realize afresh just how much more brightly the Light shines against the darkness.

So, thank you all for participating, and for being so real. Thank you for loving our Jesus and for being bold to proclaim it. Thank you for shining like stars in the midst of a crooked and depraved generation. What a lovely, twinkling display it must be to the Father of Lights!

And to our own dear Ashleigh—for organizing and pulling off this blog carnival. We know and appreciate the work that you put into this, and I’m sure that all of YLCF will join me in saying thank you.

Thank you, all, for being you, the faces of YLCF. We love you, girls.

p.s. If you haven’t yet linked in to the A Peek Into Your Day carnival, it’s not too late! Links may be submitted through Sunday, November 1, 2009. The winner of the drawing will be announced Monday, November 2.

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

Over the course of the past few weeks, we’ve enjoyed a behind the scenes look into the real, day-to-day lives of the YLCF team members. You’ve watched us making meals, running errands, feeding animals, hurrying to softball games, writing articles, and, yes, even picking up fast food for dinner. Now it’s your turn! Join us as we visit the homes of blog friends, catching a glimpse into various lives and lifestyles.

We want to hear about your day–your real day. What does a normal, regular, ordinary, plain ol’, same ol’ day in your life look like? We hope you’ll open your virtual home to us and allow us and other readers a peek into your life. Show us that real lives aren’t lived by storybook characters, but we can still capture the fullness of the God even in the day-to-day.

To join in the fun is simple. Just post about your day on your blog, then copy and paste the URL for your individual blog post into the MckLinky below. Your link will appear in the list for others to click and view. Link back to YLCF somewhere in your post or use the blog button, copying this code:

<a href="http://ylcf.org" target="_blank"><img src="http://ylcf.org/uploaded_images/peek-into-your-day.jpg" border="0" alt="YLCF Blog Carnival"></a>

Additionally, every participant will be entered to win this pretty little blue and brown 16-month day planner! Winners will be chosen at random from the participants and announced Monday, November 2nd.

Post your link, get nosy and start blog hopping!

YLCF does not necessarily endorse every blog or lifestyle portrayed in the above links. We also reserve the right to delete any links deemed offensive or inappropriate.

A Day in the Life of the YLCF Team…

• Monday at the Farm in the City by Lanier
• Tuesday in the Writing Life by Elisabeth
• Wednesday in North Idaho by Chantel
• Thursday at the Little Pink House by Gretchen (with series introduction)
• Friday in Sunny Southern California by Ashleigh
• Saturday at Castleberry Farms by Jeannie

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

There’s something about crossing items off a list that not only makes them more doable, but gives an incentive to get them done.  Who hasn’t written down an already accomplished task just to be able to cross it off the list?  I’ve learned that planning my day with a prioritized to-do list helps ensure I get not just something done, but the important things done.  It also helps me feel like I’ve accomplished something and not only answers my husband’s question of “What are you going to do today?” but ensures I don’t forget something he asked me to be sure to get done.  The real reason behind my to-do list is truly that I am so scatter-brained these days that I always feel like I’m running in circles, so my list gives me direction and prevents me from forgetting what I need to do!

I learned long ago that singing improves not only my attitude, but that of those around me.  I remember helping baby-sit my cousins, and when all else failed in making them settle down, I’d start singing “Trust and Obey” and they’d all chime in and become little angels (or something close).  Later, when working in the state capitol, I learned that other people noticed the happy mood of my humming, even when I didn’t know a tune was on my lips.  And now, even though my little girls can’t repeat the words, they catch the mood of Mommy’s singing: Mary quiets her crying at the sound of my voice and Ruth sings her own wordless little songs along with me.  And naturally, if I’m singing cheerful songs I can’t help but feeling more cheerful.

So, assuming that time with the Lord is the “given”, the #1 item on your priority list, what are the things (under your control) that help your day go better?

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

I’d like to say our Fridays are anything but typical, but in reality, though the actual activities change, they do end up quite similar in that they’re always a full of a bit of The Crazy. But then again, my life is always filled with a bit of The Crazy.

Friday, September 18th begins as usual at 5:00am with John’s alarm startling us out of our slumber. We both tend to believe there is not a sound on earth quite so jarring as an alarm clock’s buzz. I think it could qualify, if needed, as some form of torture.

So, we hit snooze. Quickly.

In all honesty, we kinda prefer to set the alarm just a little earlier than necessary, just for the luxury of a few half-awake minutes to become accustomed to the day, slowly gaining enough consciousness for whispered words and a morning kiss.

At 5:15, the buzzing starts again just as we hear another common morning sound, that of, “Daddy! Mommy! Daddy! Up! Up!” coming from the boys’ room. Merritt, our little 22 month old boy (known around YLCF as “the little Merritt“) is bright eyed and bushy tailed much earlier than normal! John hops up to get him from his crib, bringing the little boy, his white silky blankie and his beloved Pooh Bear all back to our room. Merritt curls up in my arms under the covers, of course showing no signs of falling back to sleep. While Daddy starts getting ready for work, we’re left to our customary morning snuggle full of Eskimo kisses and sleepy giggles.

With three year old Troy still dozing in his toddler bed, Merritt and I head downstairs and turn on a light. There isn’t much more perfect to my mind than a warm yellow light gently filling a dark downstairs. We gather up my Bible, journal and various books and curl up in the corner of our old couch with a blanket. John makes his way downstairs to the kitchen table, picking up his own Bible and books on the way. He makes us each a cup of coffee–mine served with a smile and a kiss in my favorite “Marine Wife and Proud of It!” mug. We talk softly, for fear of waking Troy, about the day ahead, our weekend plans, the work we plan to do on his classic car that afternoon. We settle into our morning places and quietness falls.

“I will love You, O Lord, my Strength…”

These words from Psalm 18 have spoken much truth and challenge and comfort to me over the years, and I read them, fresh and new again, this morning.

Around 6:00AM, John slides his Bible back into its place on the bookshelf and brings in his bike from the garage. He’s an avid cyclist and forgoes the engine and steering wheel on workdays in favor of two spoked tires and a set of handlebars. Merritt and I give him kisses and send him off.

Just as I was closing my journal, I hear stirring upstairs. Troy is awake and peeking down from our overlooking staircase. At my bidding, he hurries his little pajama-clad self down the stairs and into my lap alongside his brother. He asks if Daddy left already, we talk about his dreams, the boys wiggle and laugh. They both rest their still-sleepy heads on my shoulders, just the right height for breathing in the scent of their hair. In the dawn light and the stillness of early morning, I close my eyes, laying my cheek on one boy’s head, and speak to my Heavenly Father.

Stillness never lasts long with two little boys, so it’s only a few minutes before the chorus of, “Ee-eat!” and “Breakfast time yet, Mama, please?” begins. They climb into their seats, Troy spreading place mats while I pour cereal. Their favorite breakfast is Barbara’s Bakery’s Shredded Spoonfuls with sliced banana chunks, so they think this is a treat. We’re cleaning up breakfast dishes–Troy clears the table and Merritt “helps” put silverware in the dishwasher–when the phone rings. John forgot his salad for lunch and is turning around to get it. Can we meet him outside?

Our house here in the city–a suburb of San Diego, our current Marine Corps ordered place of residence–is in a gated community and we stand on the patch of grass in our “front yard” watching the gate. We wait to see John’s bike rolling in, Troy thrilled that he gets to see Daddy this morning after all. The gate begins to open and the boys start to argue over who is going to give the salad to Daddy, dropping the closed container in the process. I stomp out the little fire of toddler rage, then smirk at John as he stops in our driveway. Ah, such is life, and toddler hood, and motherhood.

7:45 now, and we head back inside, salad safely in John’s pack. I tell the boys to go upstairs and take off their jammies while I open my computer for an email check. My laptop customarily sits atop the coffee table during the day, and is stashed in a nook beside the couch at night–or when company’s stopping in and I don’t want to look like a complete computer-addict. I read my emails, check a few things for YLCF and its email account, relieved to see that nothing on any front needs urgent attention.

A friend is stopping by at 8:30am so we can load up our strollers and go walking through our hill-filled neighborhood, so I hurry upstairs to get myself and the boys dressed and ready. The next few minutes are a flurry of activity as we do the usual morning things–making beds, brushing teeth, putting a load of diapers in the washer to soak, filling water bottles, tying shoe laces. At promptly 8:30, my friends knocks on the door. My two boys and her one (only a few days older than Merritt) are all abundantly, exuberantly, ridiculously excited to see each other. We can barely get them in the strollers. We settle on putting Merritt and his little friend in my double jogger and Troy in the single jogger, which seems to work well until Merritt decides that something–who knows what–is not exactly to his liking and cries in the stroller for five minutes. Troy won’t stop talking to my friend, trying to make her laugh. He succeeded, but probably not in the way he’d hoped. Again, such is life.

We chat as we push our strollers and our heart rates higher, pumping our way up and down sidewalk and pavement, moving out of the way of the dog-walkers, landscapers and other moms.

It’s already 10:45am by the time we make it home, being we stopped for a while at a nearby park. The boys need exercise too! Or maybe we just need tired boys?

The single jogger is moving from our house to my friend’s house, being that we won’t have use for it for a good many years, if ever, so she and I load it up in her vehicle and say goodbye. The boys have been inside getting more water; the day turned out to be much hotter than we expected, even for SoCal.

Midday catch up time: put the diapers on the spin cycle, check emails and such again, and start lunch. I make the boys sandwiches using leftover pork chop meat and cut up some pears and carrots. I make myself a salad, intending to eat it… but never quite getting that far. The boys are done eating before I take a bite, so I grab a cloth to wipe hands and faces. We didn’t get to read our “lunchtime book,” so we pile onto the couch to read a paragraph of the long, not-so-many-pictures book, followed up with a few other favorites: I Love You Through and Through and Trusty.

It’s Merritt’s nap time, so with a hug and a kiss and a Pooh Bear and a blankie, he’s out like a light in his room. I’m glad, being he’s been having a hard time falling asleep lately and has been known to whimper in his bed for a little while. Troy has been downstairs pulling out a stack, and I mean a STACK of books to read on the living room floor. It’s a tower a mile high. He peruses two, and then promptly decides playing with cars looks like more fun.

I finally sit down to eat that salad and sip another large glass of water. I suffer from some severe migraines that seem to be triggered by even the slightest exercise, raised heart rate or heat. I love and believe in exercise too much to stop, but sometimes drinking excessive amounts of water keeps them at bay. This one is in its beginning stages and I’d prefer not to spend the rest of my day in a dark room!

Troy and I like to take a day or two a week and work through some fun little workbooks we found at a dollar store recently. Today we spend about half an hour counting, tracing numbers, discussing colors, learning letter sounds. He isn’t too certain about the lower case letters, being that, as he put it, “I really just like the medium letters, because small letters are just too littleish.”

After “school time” and cleaning up those 187,643 books, he grabs his “baby doggie” and lays down on our bed, the place for his naps. After five minutes, his head is again peeking through the stair rail, telling me he forgot to go potty. That accomplished, he’s back in bed, while I spend some time crossing items off my to-do list for the day. Phone calls, more emails, working on a YLCF post, planning a toddler field trip with friends, wrapping up a blog post of my own.

John calls at 2:00pm and says he’s on his way home. Fridays are usually an early-to-home day for him, being he has an Officer in the Marine Corps who sees it as a way to make life a little easier on the guys when they’re not deployed. The guys are separated from their families enough already, so why not give them a couple extra hours? Yes, fellow military wives, our family is a bit spoiled.

After about an hour of rest, it doesn’t appear Troy is going to nap. We’re in a transition phase with him–I don’t think we’re going to get many more nap times. John arrives at the door just as Troy is coming down the stairs, so Troy holds it open for him and I greet my beloved with a kiss.

We fill the rest of Merritt’s nap time with various sundries… checking the mail, discovering that my wedding ring has returned from the jeweler’s where it had to be repaired (happy day!) and the new license plates for John’s collector’s car have arrived. John gets cleaned up from his ride, reads Troy a book, watches as the little man shows off his newest letter writing skills.

I hear Merritt stirring around 3:30pm, as I’m running the mop over the last few pieces of tile on our floor. He’s energetic and ready to move, so all three of my boys head out into the backyard for a while, which gives me the opportunity to get the diapers rinsed and ready to dry before we begin on the next installment of our current big project of getting that classic car drivable again.

It’s a baby blue 1968 AMC Javelin, and holds a special place in both of our hearts. I’m not sure who loves this car more–John or me. It’s given us more than enough trouble in the six years since John and I have known each other, but it’s been a fixture throughout, and we love it. I have even been known to plant a kiss right on the end of it’s shiny blue hood. Yes, I have.

Once the house is in good condition for the craziness that awaits us in the weekend, all four of us head into the garage, open the big door and set to work on our little beauty. Today’s piece to tackle is the inside, so I hop in the back seat armed with several big cloths, glass cleaner and a bottle of shine spray. John is working on some paint “issues” on the driver’s side door and the boys pretend to drive.

Then the phone rings, and I answer it. (Enter Problem #1.) It is someone calling about an upcoming event. Discussing said event causes me to open my day planner and try to figure out how exactly said event is going to actually… happen. (Enter Problem #2.) I hang up the phone, glance through the next three months of plans and begin to have a mild panic attack.

Okay, not really, but pretty close. Enough that when I walk back into the garage and proceed to tell John about all the overlapping things “supposed to be” going on in the coming weeks, he stops fixing the paint, sits me down, and looks through my day planner with me. He tells me to breeeaaaaathe. I do. And I’m better.

So engrossed are we in this life planning and calming of the nerves, we don’t even realize it is getting later until Merritt comes over, patting my leg and asking, “Ee-eat, Mommy? Please, ee-eat?” Oh, yes, dinner. For my family. Might be a helpful thing.

And here, my dear friends, is where I get really, really honest. This is the point at which I nearly scratch the whole idea of the day-in-my-life post. At least on this Friday. Because the honest to goodness truth is that usually, on Fridays, we find something that needs doing while John’s home for an extra afternoon. Usually, we’re wrapped up in that something and plan to simply go get tacos for dinner from a local Mexican restaurant. But. BUT. This was the day I’m going to be writing about for YLCF, and frankly, I don’t want to admit that we eat tacos and/or burritos on Fridays. Tacos that are, in fact, prepared in an establishment that may or may not be employing any sort of “healthy” philosophy. So I had planned to make sweet and sour chicken instead. Only, when I looked at the recipe in the morning, it said the chicken needed to marinate 12-24 hours, rather than the 4-6 hours I’d thought it said. That option gone, I decided I’d make a different chicken dish. But now it was 5:30pm on Friday night and my family was wondering why we weren’t just getting tacos, as per normal.

So we do.

We eat tacos for dinner. Well, John and I do. The boys have burritos.

I’m a big fan of Being Real.

After the Great Taco Pride Fiasco, we go back out to put the finishing touches on the car for the night. We have done most of the inside, and now it just needs washing. A good washing. While Troy sprayed the sides of the car with garden hose, a few little neighbor children gather in our yard and driveaway, all eager to either grab a sudsy, soapy sponge and do some washing, or else begging to be catch some of the water spray. They all laugh and hop and dance through the falling droplets.

It’s getting late… almost 8:30… before we finish up outside. The boys are filthy from playing in the water and running in our culdesac barefoot. We say goodbye to the little neighbors and whisk the boys upstairs for a very quick bath before devotion time downstairs. We read a few favorites from Eloise Wilkin’s Poem book and John helps the boys through their memory verses.

More kisses. More hugs. Footie jammies. Stuffed animals. Tucking in blankets and sheets.

It’s 9:30… crazy late for the boys who usually are in bed two hours earlier. But they aren’t the only ones who are tired. John and I don our own sleepwear and climb into bed, weary from a long day. We snuggle close, each reading our own book–his, a Lamplighter, mine, Lasting Love–for about an hour, until our eyes are too heavy to continue.

And then…

we fall…

asleep.

The rest of the week…

• Monday at the Farm in the City by Lanier
• Tuesday in the Writing Life by Elisabeth
• Wednesday in North Idaho by Chantel
• Thursday at the Little Pink House by Gretchen (with series introduction)
• Saturday at Castleberry Farms by Jeannie
• A Peek Into Your Day by YOU – Wednesday, October 28, right here at YLCF! Plan to be there!

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

The past year or two has seen a shift in focus here at YLCF, as one after another of our board and team members have married. We’ve enjoyed some wonderful posts from our sisters in their single years, and the response has indicated to us that such posts are reaching a deep need. But many, if not the majority, of our posts have reflected our individual stages. For many of us, that means we’re writing about our wonderful and beautiful marriages.

We understand–having all been there ourselves!–that it can be discouraging for an unmarried young woman to read post after post about married life. Our intention has been to share our hearts, as well as give our beloved friends a vision and a goal; to remind them that a fulfilling, Christ-centered marriage and the joy of children is something worth waiting for. But a few “little birds” have told us that it can be a bit much for a heart striving to be content. While we do believe it important to set one’s own boundaries in one’s spiritual journey (for example, if reading love stories causes discontentment or pain, we’d suggest not clicking on the Courtship Stories page for a new story every day!) and we certainly won’t ever stop writing from our perspective of wives and mothers, we would like to incorporate a bit more from the single years.

We’re not necessarily asking for posts about singleness (though they are certainly appreciated and needed). We’d like to know what you are doing with your single years. We’d like to catch a glimpse of your heart. We recently talked about making our lives count for Christ, no matter our marital status, and we’d like to hear more about how you are accomplishing that. If you are single, if you have wisdom to share… share it.

Along the same lines, we’d all love–LOVE–to hear from women who are in the next phase of life, past the first years of marriage or raising toddlers. The women who have a few more years of wisdom in their hearts and can offer a perspective most of us on the Team can’t pretend to grasp. We do understand, however, that time for such writing may be a slightly more limited!

This post isn’t borne out of desperation or a lack of posts or writers, but simply because we love interaction with all the ladies of YLCF. After all, the “F” in our name is for “fellowship” because it’s what we love most. Keeping in mind our Values and Writing Guidelines, get those fingers flying and let us hear from you!

As another means of promoting the fellowship and interaction (Gretchen already gave a little teaser to this) we’re going to ask for yet more participation from our dear readers. You’ve all had a chance to be privy to a day in each of the Team members’ lives–my own, the final installment, is coming on Friday–and now we’d like to get a peek into a day in your lives.

Next Wednesday, October 28, we’re going to host the “A Peek Into YOUR Day” blog carnival, right here at YLCF. This means you will have a chance to post about a real, normal day in your life on your own blog and then link to it here, giving all the readers of YLCF a chance to visit you and your day. The emphasis here is on being real. We don’t want idealized versions of what you wish your life were like, or what might fit a mold, but the real, day-to-day workings of your world. Whatever season you are in, whatever your life is like, we’d like to hear about it. If it isn’t real… don’t post it.

To participate, pick a day this next week to chronicle and come back next Wednesday ready to link up. My little nosy self is already excited! If you’d like to spread the word, grab this blog button and put it in your sidebar, tweet it, Facebook it, or post about it:

Copy this code:

<a href="http://ylcf.org" target="_blank"><img src="http://ylcf.org/uploaded_images/peek-into-your-day.jpg" border="0" alt="YLCF Blog Carnival"></a>

Every participant will be entered in the giveaway for this little 16-month day planner–along with a pretty pen, not shown, being that I still have to… obtain it. I don’t know about you, but I always fall hard and fast for anything with blue and brown! Along with adding your link to the carnival on Wednesday, comment and tell us if you add the button to your sidebar, tweet or write a blog post about the carnival before Wednesday for additional chances to win.

Official YLCF Giveaway Entry Rules:

• To enter the drawing, please participate in the carnival or leave a comment on this post with the link to the place you’ve “talked” about the carnival.
• Don’t forget to include your name and email address in the space provided on the comment form (your email address will not be published, but we need a way to contact you if you win!).
• This drawing open to readers with U.S. mailing addresses only, please.
• YLCF Team Members, their families, and recent YLCF giveaway winners ineligible for entry.
• Drawing ends Sunday, November 1, 2009.
• Winner(s) will be chosen randomly and notified by email Monday, November 2, 2009.

We can’t wait to hear from you!

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

7 am: The radio alarm clock goes off in the girls’ bedroom. I share a room with my sisters and can’t imagine it any other way, but mornings are a little funny. For some reason, none of us speak to each other as we get up and prepare for the day. Silence reigns until we get downstairs, and if anyone happens to say something, she is met with incredulous looks. One would think we had taken a vow of silence.

But I digress. We love our radio alarm because we wake up to something different each morning. Today was “Motions” by Matthew West, and the words keep going through my head as I go downstairs to read my Bible:

“I don’t want to go through the motions
I don’t want to go one more day
Without Your all-consuming
Passion inside of me…”

It’s a good song to have in your mind. I’m reading through the New Testament right now, and today’s chapter is I Corinthians 8. While it can be a challenge to be awake enough to really grasp what I’m reading, I’ve found that unless I make my Bible reading the first thing I do in the morning, I tend to forget to read at all. The day just gets busy so fast. I treasure this time in God’s word as the day begins.

We generally do our barn chores before breakfast. Today Betsy and I are on milking duty while Katie prepares scrambled eggs, homemade sausage, and hot chocolate for breakfast. I love going to the barn in the morning and working with the animals — I’m such a country girl! Sunshine, our lovely Jersey cow, is giving lots of milk this year (5-6 gallons per day), so we’ve been making a lot of cheese and butter. The boys take care of the meat chickens, beef cattle,  and laying hens. When the chores are done we gather for breakfast with good appetites.

Summer means church league softball around here, and this particular Saturday is the end of softball season: tournaments! Since it’s threatening rain, only the older boys head into town (30 minutes away) for the 9:00 game.  We girls stay home and pick second-crop peas. The garden has been a real challenge this summer — it’s been both cool and dry, so our yields are definitely lower than usual. We’re thankful for whatever we get, though. The guys call while we’re shelling peas. The opposing team didn’t show up, so we won by default. Next game will be at 1:30, so they are coming home for lunch.

Since we knew we’d be attending the tournaments today, we did our house cleaning yesterday. We divide the work into three main jobs — bathrooms, dusting, and floors (we love a dry Swiffer® for the hardwood floors!), then each girl takes one job. I must confess I don’t much care for the bathroom cleaning job, but it’s something that can be done to the glory of God if I have the right attitude.

So, with the housecleaning out of the way, the peas done, and a little extra time before lunch, what would most busy farm girls do? Get a little high-speed exercise! Okay, maybe not most.  But this summer my sisters and I have been running about three times a week. We aren’t marathoners, and we only run about 2.5 to 3 miles (usually around the hayfield — told you we are farm girls!), but we’ve really enjoyed it. We run at the same time, but often in different directions or on different trails, and we listen to music as we run. It is a real worship time for me. My favorite running music is Third Day’s Wherever You Are CD. It’s full of upbeat and energetic songs, which is important for keeping me motivated while running!

After running (and showers), we join the family for lunch. We typically have leftovers or sandwiches at our noon meal. Today we’re hurried, trying to finish the dishes and noon barn chores before it’s time to head to the tournaments.  There’s a special surprise for the softball team that we made last night — a cake in the team colors that says “Lakeside Softball: Great Year!” It has been a good year, fun to watch and fun for the guys who went into the tournaments at the top of our division.

We don’t do as well in the tournaments as in the rest of the season, unfortunately, but it’s still fun to watch our friends, neighbors, and brothers play. The wind picks up, blowing in some pretty dark clouds and occasional rain shower. Good thing we brought umbrellas! We win one game and lose two, ending our season on a bit of a sad note, but thankfully we serve the cake right after the winning game.

Dad brings pizza for us and the other fans (this is definitely not typical, but just as definitely appreciated!), so that takes care of supper.  It’s time to head home and do the barn chores one more time. Sunshine the cow is waiting to be milked, the chickens need to be secured in the safe barn for the night (yes, there are many predators who would like nothing better than a tasty chicken dinner!), and the cows are nearly out of water.

Regardless of the busyness of the day, we always end it the same way: the whole family gathers in the living room and together we read a chapter of Scripture aloud. We practice a few memory verses. We share prayer requests. And then we “come boldly unto the throne of grace” and let our “requests be made known unto God.”

And that…is one Saturday at Castleberry Farms. Come join us sometime!

The rest of the week…

• Monday at the Farm in the City by Lanier
• Tuesday in the Writing Life by Elisabeth
• Wednesday in North Idaho by Chantel
• Thursday at the Little Pink House by Gretchen (with series introduction)
• Friday in Sunny Southern California by Ashleigh
• A Peek into Your Day by YLCF Readers

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

“Summer’s loss seems little, dear, on days like these.”
-Ernest Dowson

“It snowed on the hills around us last night.”  The phrase from one of the letters Merritt wrote me during our years of friendship always comes to mind this time of year.  As in his letter (a particular favorite, which I carried around in my Bible), it snowed on the hills around us last night.  And this is the third autumn that these hills have been our hills, around us. The sight out my windows, with snow-frosted trees topping the gentle hills, is breathtaking—and it is home.

We’ve had our first few fires in the wood stove, our first winter squash.  I’m thinking about apple pies and being able to cook pots of beans and soup on the wood stove.  I’m looking forward to long candle-lit evenings reading with my husband and our girls.  And when I glance out my kitchen window, I see the red maple we bought and planted during our first few months of marriage.  The leaves have turned a deep red, signaling that yes, indeed, autumn has arrived.

“Here Comes Autumn!  A whiff of wood smoke on the wind, the first chill in the air, the woods just edged in gold, and without looking at the calendar, we know we’ve turned the page and it is September.  Time to put the ‘sweet’ in ‘Home Sweet Home.’”
-Susan Stewart Branch

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

Beautiful First Glimpses of Morning Light

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

There seems to be no two days alike for us when Summer is here, and newly wed life is full of learning experiences. I’m still getting our own little routines in place (and admittedly, this isn’t my strong point) I , and our ” bones” schedule, though fairly helter-skelter of late, is slowly coming back into shape. No matter what the rest of the day may hold, one thing is certain about any weekday: they start early.

There’s nothing like waking up in the morning and realizing that there is a whole new day awaiting you. I love to hear the birds sing in the morning, and to see the gentle glow of a sky warmed by the sunshine that isn’t quite visible just yet. Better yet, starting the day off kneeling together to ask God’s blessing and direction is a blessing that I cherish deeply.

Today looks like it will be absolutely beautiful- and warmer. Both of those things make me happy, for while there is a definite chill to the air, and there are a few signs that Autumn is not far away, I am not quite ready for cooler days and snowy weather once again, and any warm day is welcome here!

Mornings are almost always busy, and today is no exception to that rule. Scott and Katie (our sister-in-law) both work at Quest Aircraft

Scott & I standing with one of Quest's Kodiaks post production

and their shift starts at 6, and they should be out the door between 5:30 and 5:45 each morning. It is my first responsibility to pack up their lunches while they prepare for work, and make sure that they have breakfast if they want it. I learned long ago when it was my brother’s lunches that I packed that planning ahead is quite essential, because there are few things I dislike more to start off the day than to realize that I have nothing ready to feed “my people” as I lovingly refer to the heads under this roof.

Thankfully, thanks to yesterday’s baking and cooking, lunches are no problem, and all too soon for me, Scott is out the door and headed to work.  I always stand at the door and watch and wave or blow kisses until his car disappears around the corner. Katie usually takes a little longer to get ready, but by 6, the house is almost always quiet again, and I clean up lunch fixings (Usually a sandwich or two, or some of yesterday’s dinner- which no one complains about
eating again, as a general rule!

A Morning Quiet Time

before slipping back upstairs to our room, where I settle myself down on the bed again, pillows propped behind me for some quiet time of my own with God, and to watch the sun complete its rising and to listen and be still in my heart.

Breakfast for me is a quick meal of whatever look good. Cooking for one- myself- does not tend to make me feel the very most creative, and more often than not my breakfast is either fresh fruit and bread or cereal, or something like “tea and biscuits”. Over breakfast, I plan out my day, and try to keep myself motivated to be efficient with my time.

I live an ordinary life. My day is much like hundreds of other newly-wed girls out there, and I have my struggles and my strong and weak points with the rest.

For me, getting a good start in the morning is essential. I can accomplish twice as much as usual bright and early in the morning. The new sunshine and fresh, cool air makes me feel energetic and motivated, and by afternoon, I’m winding down and switch to a more relaxed approach to housework, and admittedly, afternoons make cooking much more interesting than cleaning, especially when I know that my people will be home and (we hope) hungry.

Menus & Shopping lists

Today my “to do” list included the normal week-day adventures in conquering laundry mountains, de-wrinkling clothing, polishing the bathroom,  banning left-over-for-too-long food from the fridge, sweeping floors and racing some deadlines for writing and for my current web design job. I had hopes of baking a few dozen little cookies to toss in the freezer (as frozen cookies seem to be the favorite sweet thing for certain guys in this house. Not that certain girls don’t ever eat frozen cookies either…)

I like lists and being organized. I like a perfectly orderly and tidy house. I like planning ahead and getting things done on time. But my lists and plans don’t always turn out like I’d envisioned. Unexpected things come up. Guests drop in. Someone isn’t feeling well and needs some extra help. Work takes longer than I could have ever imagined, and some days just are nothing other than murphy days when nothing at all seems to go “right” and one can laugh or cry, but in the end just make the best out of it.

Realistically, I am not always a perfect house keeper and homemaker, though I desire with all my heart to be just that. Sometimes that lack of matching the mental image of perfection that I have set as my own personal goal is due to circumstances beyond my control. Then I learn to flex a little and grow a little. Sometimes it’s because I’ve gathered up onto my plate more than I can chew- and more than the priorities that God put on the plate that morning- Other times, it is simply my own lack of keeping on track, and letting myself become distracted, lax and pretty much just lazy.

Some of my ordinary days are probably mundane, but the little secret for me has always been to look for the best and the bright spots in every day- no matter how beautiful, how common, or how dark it might be. Thus my “ordinary” life  is a beautiful, happy life that I wouldn’t trade for anything, even on the rainy days!

On this ordinary day, Laundry always comes first- it can take care of its self once I start it, and I can occupy those minutes with other things. So, washer swishing and drying humming, I ran out behind the house to the garden- now a virtual jungle of weeds- and tomato plants. Digging in the garden is one of the joys of country-living that I treasure. I grew up with my hands in the dirt, and after a few years of not being able to grow, this year has been happy for

Baby Squash Plants in the Spring

me-though the garden has fared poorly. I staked up some of the bigger plants and foraged for more stakes for the rest in the woods. I know it’s not a good idea to count tomatoes before they are ripe and are in your picking basket, but in spite of the deer helping themselves to a huge portion of my garden this year, I find that I can’t help but be a little hopeful that at least a few of the beautiful green tomatoes I counted out there will both ripen and last until I can pick them, instead of the pesky creatures who love produce as much as we.

One thing is official around here: while the deer may have a fondness for practically everything from potato tops and okra flowers to ripe tomatoes and baby cucumbers, they do not seem very much interested in the summer squash beds, and nearly every day I can haul in a few squashes to supplement our dinners. Actually, with half a dozen in the fridge and half a dozen near ready to pick, it is more likely that summer squash is our dinner, rather than a type of side-dish supplement to the meal. In any case, our grocery bill has gone down and our squash consumption has gone up, and I count it a very good thing, considering that we both love steamed summer squash, and N&K, who eat dinner with us every night, at least eat it, because at this rate, if the weather holds out, by next week it’ll be more than a few a day, and we’ll be wishing we had someone to leave “gifts” of squash for before long!

I always am slightly amused though, how days differ from my “mental list” nearly

Our Kitchen

always in some ways, and while I did spend time in the garden, and did get quite a bit of laundry done, I ended up doing computer work much more than I had intended or wanted, did not get the shopping list compiled, forgot to ask Scott to pick up a water filter, and suddenly realized that it was later than I thought (Happy realization, that- for my favorite moment of the day comes sometime mid to late afternoon on most days), and in the scramble to get the biscuits ready to go in the oven and the gravy done there were a few mishaps and flour seemed to enjoy dusting my recently-washed floors and counters with a little powdery white.

I was stirring up the biscuits when I heard that sound I’ve training my ears to pick up- the quiet sound of crunching gravel and every time I hear it, my heart skips a beat and I run to the window to see just who is arriving home, as more than once I’ve nearly rushed pell-mell to to the door only to find it is Katie, who while I am always happy to see, was not who I was expecting or really wanting

Summertime Love

to see right then. This time, when that white Subaru pulls in front of the window to turn around, I know the happiest moment of the day has come and I temporarily abandon my biscuit making to rush to the door and shall spare you the details of our greeting, but I hope that my heart always skips a beat when the door opens and I see my man.

Our afternoons are definitely wind down times for all of us. Scot had a long and busy day, Katie had a stressful one, and dinner is served with bits of work-news and random conversation about the day.  This dinner was also a “remembering” dinner, as Katie and I recalled and laughed over the antics of her little brothers and memories from our Alaskan Childhood days when we never dreamed of marrying brothers.

Full Moon

More often than not, dinner come to an end, and dishes cleared up, we sit at the table and talk awhile. Today, with Nick gone for a couple days, Katie wandered off to her room to read.  Scott had some computer work to do, I had to finish folding up a comforter and some sheets, and before we know it,  early-to-bed as is our custom has slipped by a little too far, and we haven’t gone out for our
evening walk nor have I managed to store any cookies in the freezer, but the day has been happy, and beautiful and best of all, just as we began it, we close it with the One who is the first cord in our three-cord rope: thanking Him for protection, for blessings, and for the beauty that He pours upon us every new day.

Pictures are random ones taken over the summer- I didn’t manage to take any on the day that I wrote about.

The rest of the week…

• Monday at the Farm in the City by Lanier
• Tuesday in the Writing Life by Elisabeth
• Thursday at the Little Pink House by Gretchen (with series introduction)
• Friday in Sunny Southern California by Ashleigh
• Saturday at Castleberry Farms by Jeannie
• A Peek into Your Day by YLCF Readers

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

Whether it is a friend in need of encouragement, a lonely neighbor without Christ, a phone call with someone who just needs to be prayer at that moment, a friend in tears at church, a young girl who needs to see a home where Jesus is the center… the opportunities are endless. And none of this is counting the most important daily ministry we have to our families–loving our husbands, raising our children to the glory of God.

This morning I read an old poem that I’ve been familiar with since I was a little girl. As a wife and mother now, it holds so much more meaning to me.

Isn’t There a Noble Task?

“There seems to be so little that I can do for Thee,
Isn’t there a noble task that You would have for me?
Something that the world may know I’m busy for my King;
Beside the dull and daily tasks that every new day brings?

For how can stacks of dishes and piles of dirty clothes,
Tackled and completed, ever tell Christ rose?
Or stories, mud and band-aids; read, cleaned up, applied,
Tell the world of Jesus, my Saviour, crucified?”

“Oh, busy, busy mother, your task is very great.
I’ve given you eternal souls to teach and educate.
Not in worldly wisdom, in fame or honor grand,
But how to love and serve My cause, and seek that better land.

For as you tackle homey tasks with children by your side,
You have the greatest privilege, within their hearts to hide
Bits of goodly treasures from My Holy Word,
Which many mighty men of faith first from their mothers heard.

Oh, busy, busy mother, I need you where you are.
Your task at hand is very great, you need not travel far.
Oh love and teach these little souls, and help them grow to be
Steadfast within the simple faith, to be of use to Me.”

-from Heart Throbs of Motherhood by Miriam Druist

written August 2006

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

I just love Mondays. Call me crazy, but I really do. There is just something about the sense of order that it brings, the reigning in after the comparative slackness of the weekend, that motivates me afresh every week. I like to bring my house back into order, and with it, myself, reorienting around my priorities within the blessed boundaries of routine. Ever since I have been married I have structured my weeks loosely around a basic schedule: laundry and finances on Monday, shopping on Tuesday, baking and ironing on Wednesday, social commitments and projects on Thursday and cleaning on Friday. And after ten years, these basic parameters are so ingrained I don’t even have to think about them. It’s like my mother told me once, you need a routine so that you’ll have something to be flexible from! And while I’ve seen these words proven true over and over again, no matter how crazy a particular season or week or day might be, I always have my little schedule to welcome me back to sanity when things settle down.

This Monday was just a good, normal, at home day. It seems that over the past month or so I’ve either been traveling (good!) or sick (bad!) so a quiet day of washing and folding and sorting and filing has been even more of a joy than it usually is. Today started just as every other one does, Monday or not, with a cup of tea brought to me in bed by my obliging husband, who has learned after ten years that I can sleep right through an alarm and only begin to assume a semi-conscious state after a draught or two of The Stimulant has passed my lips. I have my devotions upstairs with another cuppa, and am inclined to linger until I hear Philip close his closet door downstairs, signaling the next stage of the morning routine: the barn.

This morning was cool and sweet—almost like fall—and the dogs were so happy about it and the impending breakfast that our appearance heralded that they pranced and capered alongside me from the gate to the very door of the feed room. While they were eating, Philip did the mucking and I employed myself with the all-important task of petting the sheep and giving them each little scratches and rubs in the places they like best—behind the ears and on the tops of their heads. Everyone seemed more interested in that than in going out to pasture—as is the case many mornings, we walked out with them into the tall, dew-wet grass, with the accompanying attendants of little black cats and big white dogs. Only, Puck and Pansy, my utterly spoiled Nubian goats, trailed back to the barn with us after we left the sheep in the pasture, and stood at the fence wailing in protest when we left them in the barnyard to go back up to the house for our own breakfast.

Seven cats, another dog, a fish and two hives of honeybees later, it was time to feed my husband and get him out the door to his morning meeting. The only problem with his nourishing breakfast of hot oatmeal and fresh blueberries was that he had to take it in a mug to eat in the car, as he spent his actual breakfast time fiddling with the html in my YLCF post of the day. But I made his lunch in the meantime—a turkey sandwich on fresh homemade bread—and took the chicken out of the freezer for supper, thinking all the while of what one of my newly-married friends had said to me once upon a time: “When I get up in the morning, my first thought is, ‘What are we going to have for breakfast?’ And my second thought is, ‘What am I going to fix my husband for lunch?’ And my third thought is, ‘What am I going to cook for supper?’” I related with a happy little inward laugh this morning.

As soon as Philip was off I fell to my Monday chores. I got the laundry going, watered the plants, cleaned out the fridge, and sat down to plan my meals for the week since I’ll be shopping tomorrow. After that I spent some time at the computer, paying bills, answering emails, checking up on the budget. I rewarded myself for all my diligence (I may love Mondays but I hate paying bills!) with a turkey sandwich of my own (perhaps mildly precipitated by a reminder call from my husband to actually, you know, eat lunch). One chapter in my book over said sandwich, and then one of my indispensable little cat naps, without which I’d not make it through the day, with my faithful calico companion, Josephine, curled up at my feet.

The afternoon was one of those in which the phone literally rings off the hook. I forced myself to actually sit down in a rocking chair on the front porch to enjoy both the surprisingly lovely eighty-degree weather and a couple of conversations with beloved friends, rather than stomping around the house ‘being productive’ as I am usually tempted to do under similar circumstances. I had a wonderful talk with precious Gretchen, who, I am happy to report, confessed herself to be in the hammock in the yard with her feet up like any good pregnant lady should be.

When I got off the phone with her, I realized that my husband should be making his appearance soon, as yet another quick call confirmed. So I made a dash to fold up the remaining laundry waiting in the big French market basket I use, and to make up the bed with sheets fresh from the dryer, warm and soft. That done, I started dinner—I am unabashedly old-fashioned, but I really do love it when the aromas of whatever’s cooking waft out to greet Philip as he comes up the front walk of an evening (ideally not the smell of burned things spilling over onto the element! ). Tonight I stuffed a chicken with onions, tucking some fragrant garlic cloves under the skin and topping it off with a lovely bouquet garni of fresh herbs from the garden: rosemary, savory, purple sage and thyme. Philip’s favorite mashed potatoes, made with little red new potatoes still in their skins and sliced fine, later blended with a little butter and milk and plain yogurt with a dash of rosemary for good measure, and a simmering pot of butter beans completed the meal.

It did smell quite temptingly when he got home, but as it was a little later than usual we decided to go ahead and put all the barn babies to bed before eating ourselves. The reverse of the morning, tucking everyone into their stalls at night, all safely gathered in and secure, is truly one of my favorite parts of the day. Tonight Puck and Pansy saw me coming from far across the terraced pasture, and with a whimper and a neigh they came running, bringing their sheep siblings with them. When I entered the barnyard there was a regular small stampede—goats, sheep and dogs all vying for my attention and literally knocking me over in the effort. Philip found me seated on the ground with a loving host all around me: licking my face, tugging at my hair with strong little teeth, poking long Nubian noses inquisitively into mine. I managed to disentangle myself and we performed the evening routine: shooing the last chickens back into their run and shutting the door for the night, searching for renegade eggs in the barn, laying out fresh straw for the babies and mixing grain. Puck and Pansy always stand expectantly on the step of the feed room, licking their lips and nibbling imaginary savories at the very idea of the coming grain, while the sheep hold back politely, knowing their turn will come next.

Once the animals were fed and mineral trays restocked and water buckets changed out—and stall doors bolted against the occasional breakout which can become a real free-for-all—we fed the dogs and played with them for a while. I think it’s their favorite time of the day, as well. Diana always looks so sad when we finally leave her at the gate for the night, but Juno has usually already assumed her post of regal watch, enormous white paws folded, noble head erect, ears pricked to the slightest sound. We chased our Aussie Caspian back across the yard up to the house in the bat light, and came in to a kitchen cozy with the welcoming scents of our dinner.

We always enjoy a good recap of the other’s day over supper, and Philip invariably gets a play-by-play of who I’ve talked to and what I’ve done and what I’ve been thinking as I’ve gone about my home duties. (He already knew I’d talked to Gretchen for he’d heard her voice on the answering machine!) I love these dinner talks, this acquainting of one another with the hours we’ve spent apart, and the long, rambling trails of ideas that usually stem from them. And afterwards the last cleaning of the day—the very smell of the rose countertop spray that I use makes me think somnolent thoughts—and the last polishing of the kitchen to greet me with a cheerful aspect in the morning. I really am a nut about leaving a clean kitchen behind me when I go to bed. I think it probably stems from the days when we were remodeling and I switched on the light in the mornings for eight months to bare sub-flooring and makeshift plywood countertops! I almost want to blow a kiss at my kitchen now, I love it so much, and it’s been nine years since the great overhaul!

Just a simple, homely day, nothing spectacular or particularly interesting, beyond the kitten my friend Ashley found in a potted plant in her backyard or the excitement of wrapping up a few last details of our upcoming trip to England or a package from L.L. Bean in the mail! But that was the beauty of it—just an ordinary day. As I was wiping the counters after supper and putting the last things away, I reflected that this was just the very kind of day that I used to imagine as a girl when I dreamed about my future. The life of wife and homemaker is very dear to me, and I consider it an honor and a joy to create a home that Philip wants to come back to at night. Not all Mondays are as simple and straightforward as this; candidly, most aren’t. But the ones that are serve to remind me with a quiet joy why I love what I have chosen to do with my life, and why I’d not change my place with that of a queen.

photography copyright Griffin Gibson 2009

The rest of the week…

• Tuesday in the Writing Life by Elisabeth
• Wednesday in North Idaho by Chantel
• Thursday at the Little Pink House by Gretchen (with series introduction)
• Friday in Sunny Southern California by Ashleigh
• Saturday at Castleberry Farms by Jeannie
• A Peek into Your Day by YLCF Readers

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

Mondays are our “day off”—meaning our family-owned and operated produce and antique store is closed.  Usually, I try to do laundry on Mondays—but this last Monday we were making a produce delivery to Town, and a trip to Town with a capital T always ends up taking an entire day, no matter how hard we try—especially being that we only make it there about once a month.  So this week I did laundry on Tuesday—it dried quickly, the weather warming more each day this week!  Wednesday found Dad and Marlys at Farmer’s Market as always, while Ruth and I helped Merritt open the store for the day.  And that brings us to today, Thursday, July 16, 2009…

Between our big Buff Orpington rooster and the little person kicking inside me, I usually wake up frequently from about four on each morning.  This morning, though, Merritt and I had both managed to fall back asleep until nearly seven-thirty.  At which point we began our day like we try to every morning: whichever of us is most awake prays, then Merritt gets up to feed the chickens (the rooster’s crow having intensified since 4 a.m.) and move irrigation pipe, while I relish a few more moments in bed, wishing (as I squint, my glasses being far from the bedside) that I kept a large print Bible on hand for early mornings.

When Merritt makes it out of our one-room house and off to work without Ruth awakening, I either steal a few more moments of sleep, pull on a sweatshirt to go water my sunflowers and herbs, or sneak outside with my laptop in hand to try to check email and read the day’s blog posts.  (Lately our next-door wireless “fast internet connection” has been reaching nearly to our front door, which has made keeping up on my internet to-do list much easier!)  This morning I opted for the laptop, and nearly finished writing a post for ylcf.org.

The house quiet, Ru slept in until eight-thirty.  Our night owl needed it after yesterday!  The first thing she usually does upon getting up is to stumble bleary-eyed to her high chair.  No cuddling, no potty—nothing until she’s eaten.  This morning was no exception.  We shared banana and cold cereal for breakfast.  Then Ru snuggled with Pooh Bear while Mommy got ready for the day.  Just about then, Merritt got home from moving irrigation pipe, ready to grab a quick bite of breakfast and go open the store.  Poor Daddy, with a pregnant wife and a growing daughter he rarely has company for breakfast when he’s changing pipe each morning!

The big “to-do” on my list today was going to town (town with a small t) to get our church directories printed.  Somehow it always takes a while to get out the door with Ruth, and this morning was no exception.  I ran back in the house at least three times, to grab cheese sticks, some board books, and her blankie—none of which one can go to town without!  (She already had her pink toy cell phone in hand so she was good to go on that account—a girl’s got to be just like Mom, you know!)

First we had to go over to Papa and Nanna’s to get a box to mail a wedding present to newlywed friends (congratulations to Garret and Melinda—wish we could have been there!).  When we got there, my sister-in-law Marlys decided she’d join us in our trip to town.  While I packaged up the box, Ruth begged some fresh fruit smoothie off her “Auntie Mouse,” but got more on her shirt than in her mouth.  Such things disturb my perfectionist daughter in the extreme!  When we finally got out to the store, her daddy wanted to know what all the crying was about that he’d heard on the telephone a few minutes earlier!  We gave him goodbye kisses, convincing Ruth we’d come back to work at the store later that day (as much as she likes to press the pink “Total” button that makes the cash drawer come out, we needed to get to town—and she was missing a shirt!).  A quick stop at home to grab a clean shirt for Ru, and we were finally on our way.

In addition to the print shop, our list included two banks, the post office, the library, the glass shop to get screen for our new screen door, the week’s sale items at the grocery store (orange juice and shredded wheat—plus the weekly purchase of 2 gallons of whole milk!), and then biding our time at the thrift stores until the church directories were read to pick up.  It was easy to spend extra time in town today because it is the week of the annual sidewalk sale.  However, I must admit, that very fact made me kiss my husband a few extra times before we left, and drive a little more carefully.

It was just three years ago, this same week in July, that Marlys and I came into town on Thursday to sell baskets at the sidewalk sale.  While we were in GoodWill today I heard the fire siren go off, and I couldn’t help myself—I grabbed my phone to call my husband.  But then I saw it was twelve o’clock.  The fire siren always goes off at noon, Gretchen! Later in the afternoon, though, it went off again, and soon the ambulance drove past.  Marlys and I looked at each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking.  Three years ago, we’d watched that same ambulance drive down the same main street headed the same direction.  And three years ago, it had been going to get my brand-new husband, Marlys’ brother, after a welding accident on the farm shattered his leg and burnt his arm.  “I just talked to Mom and Dad, Gretchen, don’t worry,” Marlys reassured me today.

But I called Merritt anyway.  Just to hear his voice.  Just to know he was okay.  Some memories are still too fresh to handle that much deja vu. My hubby reassured me he’d hardly moved from his chair behind the counter at the store.  And I told him all about the finds we were making.  While my heart was quieted in thankfulness that he was still okay.

Marlys had found a maternity shirt for me at GoodWill—not on the maternity rack where I was looking, of course!  She’d noticed the “Bundle of Joy” tag on a shirt stuck right in with the regular shirts, and it fit me perfectly (not to mention being 50% off for the sidewalk sale!).  Then Marly hit the jackpot at the yarn store, finding enough sale yarn to make a sweater (just the thing one wants on a ninety-degree day like today!) and I found leftover greeting cards for 50 cents each, giving me ample opportunity to replenish my dwindling supply of birthday cards.

Quite done with our shopping, with a very tired and hot little girl, not to mention feeling rather tired and warm ourselves, we called the print shop.  But when they said to come back at two, they meant 2 p.m. sharp!  So with fifteen more minutes to kill we stopped in at the other thrift store.  I found a hardcover first edition of Born Free which I’m quite sure is worth at least the dollar I paid for it!

Our church directories finally in hand, we took Marlys back to her house then stopped at the store to see Merritt.   Ruth hand-delivered the apple fritter we’d bought him (he’d told us to get lunch if we needed it—aren’t apple fritters lunch?).  But the girl must be farm-raised, because she much preferred cherries to the doughnut!

As is the case more often than not in the midst of summer, lunch was quite late.  And since longtime family friend and now next-door neighbor Katie usually cooks dinner for us Wednesdays and Fridays (our Farmer’s Market days), most welcome as her help is, it leaves us with few leftovers in the fridge on Thursday!  Ruth ate mashed potatoes and cheese and nibbled on an onion.  I ate mashed potatoes, cheese, and some thin slices of sweet onion on top of two sliced tomatoes fresh from the farm garden.  Merritt got home by three—Marlys having grabbed a quick bite and gone out to the store to give him a break.  I fried up some summer squash to go with his potatoes—no danger of ruining his appetite for dinner this afternoon!

Then it was nap time for everyone.  Or at least so we told Ruth!  In a one-room house, it is hard to convince a little person to go to sleep when everyone else is up!  As soon as she’d finally started breathing evenly (after some dancing around on the mattress just to settle down after that stressful day in town—plus some standing on tip-toes to spy on Dad and Mom!), Merritt and I snuck outside to put a new screen in the wooden screen door he’d found at an auction a couple months ago and had all painted (red to match the chicken coop and soon-to-be-painted front door) and ready to go.  Putting in screen is more stressful than one might think, but we finally got it done without it breaking!

Merritt went back to close the store for the day.  I watered my herb garden, having noticed my sage wilting despite the soaking rain three days previous.  Then a certain little girl woke up from her too-short, too-late nap in rather sad spirits.  Our daily “best-laid plans” of having the house picked up, dishes washed, and dinner on the table when Daddy gets home from work went quite awry today.  I’d planned a light, no-bake dinner considering the late lunch.  But after Ru clung to me, having to sit on the counter next to the sink while I washed eggs (they always lay in “hen’s dozens” of eleven instead of baker’s dozens of thirteen!) and dishes (Ru was far past her usual trick of grabbing my legs to turn me around to face her instead of the sink!), I got the chicken pieces cooked up in soy sauce in the skillet, then threw them in the freezer to cool…and we sat down and read Pooh books until Daddy got home.

I chopped up the fresh bok choy while listening to a speed-read version of Eloise Wilkin’s Poems to Read to the Very Young. Ru turns the pages so quickly you only get about two lines of each poem read before it’s on to the next! Saving aside a few pieces of chicken for Ruth, I tossed the bok choy and chicken with some sesame dressing, sesame seeds, salt, and pepper, and we sat down to dinner.

While I did dishes, Ruth “helped” Daddy hang the screen door. (She thought she should write on the door just like Daddy had when he was marking where to screw the handle on!) Then we all came inside to cool down a bit with a bowl of ice cream. Merritt read from Frog and Toad Together—having appropriately landed on the story of Frog and Toad eating melting ice cream cones! Tonight Ruth decided that sharing ours wasn’t enough—she got out her own bowl (now in the bottom drawer where she can reach them—the original idea being that she’d learn to help set the table, but it has turned more into a way to ask for food without talking!) and opened the silverware drawer in obvious need of a spoon. After her bite’s worth was gone, she brought her bowl back to us showing its empty state. After one more bite, she proceeded to swirl the spoon around in the bowl to get a bit more flavor on it, then licking it and swirling it again!

All sticky with ice cream, Ru and her rubber ducky took their nightly shower, which cooled them both off considerably (at least Ru—I rather guess the ducky was cooler before the shower started!). Then Merritt headed out to change the irrigation in the alfalfa fields once again—a twice daily ritual for most of the summer (pretty much whenever he’s not cutting or baling those same fields!) that takes anywhere from two to four hours out of the day, depending on how it goes. Now I’m hoping that my too-tired little girl, fortified with a sip of milk, another hug, and covered once again with her blankie, will settle down to sleep before her daddy gets home—otherwise bedtime will be stretched out even later once again.

And I’m spending my evenings like I spend most of them—watching the fields to catch a glimpse of my husband, waiting to see the lights of his vintage truck driving home. Sometimes it’s in the hammock, sometimes it’s in this lawn chair catching a bit of an internet connection, sometimes it’s from the window. But always I’m thanking God for another day…another day with the ones I love…another day here in our little once-pink house…

Tomorrow brings us to Friday, the day we prepare our CSA boxes for pickup, and another Farmer’s Market. I’m sure I’ll be helping Merritt at the store a good part of the day, while Ruth takes a nap at Nanna’s and helps Aunt Marlys bake bread for the CSA boxes. Saturdays are a bit slower because we’re not scattered in so many directions—but the store is usually busier than ever. Then comes Sunday, the day of rest—it’s fellowship with the believers at church and then a Sunday afternoon nap before we start it all over again on Monday…

The rest of the week…

• Monday at the Farm in the City by Lanier
• Tuesday in the Writing Life by Elisabeth
• Wednesday in North Idaho by Chantel
• Friday in Sunny Southern California by Ashleigh
• Saturday at Castleberry Farms by Jeannie
• A Peek into Your Day by YLCF Readers

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.

The Pleasure of Purity – Few books contain a chapter with as much power to impact your perspective of marriage as Feminine Appeal.  Carolyn Mahaney packs the truths from all my favorite books on marriage into one chapter entitled “The Pleasure of Purity.”  But that doesn’t mean single ladies should skip it!  The chapter on purity has plenty to say on fleeing temptation—and that applies to everyone.  Plus, it will give you a beautiful vision of the way God designed marriage to be, so very different—and so much better—than what our culture promotes.  (Wives, look for a more in-depth review coming to the YLCF’s Just for Married Ladies blog.)

Our conquest of sin begins with a deliberate resolve to set our hearts and minds on things above.  As we contemplate what Christ has done for us, we will be compelled to pursue purity for His glory. (pg. 90)

The Honor of Working at Home – In a chapter which could cause many in today’s world to bristle, Carolyn deals biblically and honestly with the call to be busy working at home.  She is quick to point out that feminism has failed to deliver as promised—yes, it has done its job of undermining the role of a homemaker, but neither has it given women happiness or fulfillment in the work force (pg. 103).  Yet if you’ve ever paused to come up with some other answer to the question of your occupation than the happy declaration of “wife and mother”, then you know how many of us are still affected by the poison of feminist thought patterns.  But the management of our homes—under the guidance and support of our husbands—is designed to give us happiness and fulfillment!  Carolyn comes down strongly on the idea of “co-responsibility”, making it very clear that the man’s primary role is provider while the woman’s primary role is manager of the home.  Yet she also uses the woman of Proverbs 31 to illustrate that it is quite biblical for a woman to contribute to the household income.  I thought her exhortation to single women was especially applicable to many of the readers here at YLCF (as is Carolyn’s article at CBMW.org and this article from Boundless):

I can understand how easy it would be to make the school or the workplace the priority in your life.  Yet the call to make the home a priority extends to all women, no matter your season in life.  Even now you can discover ways to make your residence a home, cultivate the domestic arts, and prayerfully consider how to use your home for outreach and care to others. (pp. 104-105)

The Rewards of Kindness – Carolyn’s definition of kindness is “a sincere desire for our husbands’ and children’s happiness.”  And just as self-control (nor in fact any of the seven attributes of a godly woman) is not attainable in our own strength, kindness can not become a part of our lives if we do not rely fully upon the help of the Holy Spirit.  Highlighting the hindrances to kindness—anger, bitterness, and judging—Carolyn also provides the biblical solutions.  Being kind brings us a reputation for goodness: What are we known for?  How are we described by others?  Is it our kindness or our style of clothing which attracts more attention?

This reputation for goodness begins at home.  At the heart of our commission to do good is the well-being of our family members.  Our husbands and children should be the primary beneficiaries of our good works. (pg. 128)

The Beauty of Submission – In the final trait listed in Titus 2:3-5 we find the most debated: submission.  But again, Carolyn handles it with candid grace.  She clearly states that, “Scripture makes no allowance for male dominance or male superiority…  Neither is submission a position of inferiority or demeaning in its application” (pg, 137).  She also makes it clear that the submission is not to all men—or even any other man who might seem more worthy of honor or respect than our husband—no, our submission is to be only to our own husband, then to God.   And nothing is a more powerful commendation of the gospel to an unbelieving husband than a submissive wife.

If we embrace [God’s] plan for our lives and purpose to obey His commands, He will develop in us the beauty of submission.  He will enable us to trust Him to lead our husbands to lead us. (pg. 152)

And the preface to it all in Titus 2?  It’s a “call to action for the older women,” says Carolyn.  (Which is why the expanded version of Feminine Appeal includes study questions for groups large or small.)  Paul commands us: “Teach what is good, and so train the young women” (Titus 2:3b-4a).  And as we state in the YLCF values, every woman is an “older woman” to someone.  It is your responsibility, it is my responsibility.  Let’s not only teach what is good, let’s live it out in our day to day life, commending the Gospel for not just the world, but also our family, to see.

(Note to parents: “The Delight of Loving My Husband” is a fabulous chapter for readers of all ages.  The only chapter moms of younger teens may want to preview is “The Pleasure of Purity”—but even that is very tastefully written and includes issues that moms need to be discussing with their daughters as they reach the appropriate age.)

©2010 Young Ladies Christian Fellowship. All Rights Reserved.