the midwife’s doula

ameliahousekeeperIt seems from time to time throughout my life there have been dramatic turns in the journey.  As if there’d not been enough of a dramatic shake up in the last year or so, or as if there weren’t enough plates spinning on the rods of life, or as if there weren’t enough responsibilities to attend to, an opportunity presented itself and over the last several months I’ve been studying to be a midwife’s attendant or a midwife’s apprentice.

And so it goes.

What I’d like to do in this section of my journal is to keep an account of the births I’ve been privileged to attend.  I’m an assistant for two local midwives, on call when there’s an eminent birth.  It’s been a great joy and great honour to be able to do this… and it’s only possible because my husband makes it so and my family supports this new endeavour.  I call myself a midwife’s doula bcz that’s pretty much my job—to do all I can to assist, anticipate, accommodate the midwives so they can efficiently do their job.  Considering the biblical word, doulos, Thayer’s defines δοῦλος or doulos as “serving, subject to: παρεστήσατε τά μέλη ὑμῶν δοῦλα τῇ ἀκαθαρσία, Romans 6:19. Then substantively, δούλη, a female slave, bondmaid, handmaid: τοῦ Θεοῦ, τοῦ κυρίου, one who worships God and submits to him, Acts 2:18…”

My heart is still for mothers—women in labour—and there are times I long to just be attending to them and not to my duties… as I’m more apt to be keen to this aspect than I am to the clinical side of birth.  However, the more I work “on this side” the more I value it, the more critical it becomes to me to be swift, accurate and attentive and the more serious I’ve become about the incredible privilege and humbling opportunity that’s been given to me at this time.

In this part of my entries in mama’s journal I’ll write about birth, observations and what the Lord’s showing me in all this — maybe for your entertainment — but mostly just to keep some sort of account of these days and what the Lord is doing in this season of my journey heavenward.

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TRRTI 3 – A New Chapter Begins

rnbw051004I could hardly comprehend what I was hearing.  My eyes hot with tears, receiving the heart breaking news that Wendy, our beloved midwife, had died.  Our precious, gifted midwife who had cared for me, battling with me in my hours of greatest need, prodding me on in the throes of labour and delivery — this precious woman who’d become more than a friend to me had been courageously battling cancer.  I hung up the phone in sorrow and grief.  How could it be that one, who’d been so mightily used of the Lord to deliver little lives into my arms, would lose such a battle?  It was hard to find joy in that battle, but she had it and she was radiant.  And so, there was a rest for her — the time had come for her to rest in the arms of the Lord.  It was a long, hard good-bye.

A short time later, the phone rang.  The newly familiar voice on the other end was apologizing for calling so late but didn’t want to wait until morning.  So anxious to hear the voice yet dreading what the call might bring, I said it wasn’t too late to be calling.

I could hardly believe the question I was hearing… were we available to come over and talk the next morning?  Mr. Weigley was telling us that they’d read our letters, received our earnest money and had prayed about the two meetings they’d just had — the first with us and the second with the other party who was interested in buying their home.  He shared that they didn’t want to wait to share their decision to accept our offer and sell the home to us.  Amazing news.  Looking back, I’m sure my thoughts were in a blur; the conversation continued a bit longer and we hung up after confirming an appointment to meet the next morning.

What had made them choose our offer?  It wasn’t a full cash offer — as the other party’s was. It wasn’t even a full price offer — as the other party’s was.  He told us that they felt the Lord would have them sell to us.

As reality was sinking in, we reflected on what had brought us to that place.  I’m pretty sure we never truly thought we’d be in that situation — negotiating a sale agreement, buying a home — a home of our own.  Not because it had never happened to us but because it had happened to us and we lost that house.  Losing that house was the first in a series of losses we experienced as part of failed business venture.  We needed to lose all those things; we needed that great reality check to realign our attitude regarding things and success and personal achievement.  Those losses were the greatest gifts to us.  We saw in those losses, the exceeding broad and deep love of the Lord for us.  He couldn’t allow us to go on the way we were — He had to allow us to go through extreme hardship and disappointment to show us His love was greater and that faith was the victory.   Had we not gone through those things, we’d never have understood what it is to wait on the Lord.

It was, in part, those losses that led my husband to determine to never take out a mortgage again — that if we were to ever have our own home, it would be a miracle.   So, all the while we prayed for that miracle, the Lord was building our family; He was building our faith and trust in Him.  The years were often hard and many days were financially difficult on that long road.  But as challenging as they were, they were also sweet years of growing our family and watching the Lord miraculously provide what was needed in each season.   It seems strange to me now, but it’s as if we zig-zagged our way through most everything.

Living in many different rental houses and making them home, we found ourselves growing comfortable in that house not far from here.  As with every place we’ve lived, the circumstances of our moves have always been interesting and for many different reasons.  When we called on the ad in the paper, the voice on the other end of the phone was a familiar voice to my husband.  The irony was that the homeowner was a pool customer and, as such,  readily accepted our application to rent the home nearby where we had been living, just off Seattle Hill Road.  We moved into the that house with three children and by the time we moved out eight and a half years later, we had both a growing swimming pool business and a growing family of eight children.

Out of the blue, our friends had made, and we accepted, an offer to be the caretakers of the Dubuque home they owned.  It would be a huge change of pace for us to live “out in the country” in a home with lots of space and room for the children to run and play.  We’d never have chosen to move had our friends not made their offer to us.  By anyone’s measure, it was obvious we weren’t thinking of moving, let alone looking for a place.  We were settled in and managing the space of that home fairly well.  That, and we’d become familiar with our neighbours and the location worked well for our family — in addition, had we known that it would turn out to be so very short-term, we’d likely never have made the move.

I can see now that we only moved away from that long time residence to the next place — brief, though it was, so that the Lord could do a greater work of faith in us.  The new chapter would begin with a dinner reservation.

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TRRTI 2 – A Good House

rose08aAs if we hadn’t stayed long enough already, I had to ask if it were possible for me to call my husband to ask him to come and see the home we’d just fallen in love with.  I paged him and he returned the call.  The owners were so gracious as they welcomed him in to walk through what had already become home to me in my heart.

He could see it, too.  But he was also sensible enough to have presence of mind to be realistic. Not that he’s not a bit of a dreamer from time to time, he’s just got a much greater grasp of reality than I do sometimes.  It’s a good thing!

After a bit of small talk, walking the property and discovering there was more to see, we made arrangements for our parents to come have a look.   I followed along behind my husband as we left the home and traveled back to the rental house.

Two days later we’d repeat the process of walking through the home, ooing and awing our way through each room, noting the fir floors, the woodstove, the clawfoot bathtub, the windows on all four sides of the house.  I imagined where we’d put the bunkbeds, the crib and where the children would play.  We stood in the the spacious kitchen and looked out to see the tire swing hanging from the magnificent willow tree in the yard.  It was as if the gift was unfolding right before our eyes.

Again, just as it had two evenings before that one, that warm glow of the evening sun illuminated the house and it all seemed surreal that we were even there considering such a place.  Standing outside in the driveway, Dad confirmed what we knew in our hearts already, This is a good house.

I can see and hear him in the theater of my mind as I write this — it seems like yesterday.  I trusted his opinions and judgment, I valued his thoughts and treasured his prayers.  I knew he understood far more than I could see at the time.

It seems the next few days felt like an eternity.  Waiting.  We were waiting for the next step.  What would it be? When would it happen? What would we do?  The Lord was instilling in us an uncomfortable but necessary discipline: waiting and trusting in Him.

The owner of the home asked us to prepare a letter detailing our thoughts regarding the home and reasons for our interest.  This request was simple to answer and our reasons flowed as easily and effortlessly as the river that runs through this town.

We each wrote a letter detailing our thoughts and tucked earnest money into the envelope. Not wanting to be late for our appointment to give him our letters, we made sure to arrive early.  We knew there was another party interested in the home and they, too, had an appointment just a bit after ours that same evening.

I wish I had a copy of those letters, for now I cannot remember exactly what we wrote.  I know we detailed many of the things I’ve written here, and I’m fairly certain I shared the list I’d made and how many specific answers to prayer we’d seen in this home.  Incidentally, I remember wanting to convey that our offer was not being made in hopes that we’d somehow “meet in the middle” or that we were withholding a bit of what we had.  We were making the offer we felt we could afford to make — one for which the bank had pre-qualified us.

We sat at their dining room table, shared our thoughts and our prayers for whatever the Lord would have in all of this.  Knowing the other party would soon arrive, we really just wanted to make our way out as quickly as possible.  It seemed the wisest thing to do.  So, handing our letters to them, we again thanked them for their consideration and kindness to us and showed ourselves out.

Giddy as children on the first day of school, we sat talking at a table near the window at The Cabbage Patch.  It’s funny that we chose that restaurant – the old house made into a dining establishment had a similar appearance and charm to the home we longed to buy.  It had old fixtures, creaky and uneven floors, floral wallpaper and lace curtained windows.  Somehow spending time there that evening in what surely had once been someone’s home — maybe a home to many different families through the years — made me long for the old house under the willow tree all the more.

We shared our pie and drank our coffee and returned home to the rental house in time to tuck our children into bed. And to wait.

I will never forget that night; we received two phone calls — two of the most astonishing and life altering phone calls we’ve ever received.

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The Road Runs Through It – One

willow-70895_1280I sat at the end of the lane… studying the view, I was imagining the location of the road.  It hadn’t actually hit me until that moment that the road would run through our land.  Through all these months, I knew there was the possibility of the road running through our land but somehow I’ve been insulated from the reality of it.  That, or perhaps I’ve just remained in some form of denial.

Hot tears streamed down my face as I slowly made my way down the lane and pulled into our driveway. Parking the car in my very familiar space, I sat for a moment contemplating what I’d just imagined and let the reality of it all sink in for a bit before I gathered up my groceries and made my way up the back porch stairs and into the old farmhouse kitchen.  I could do this blindfolded and not miss a step.

From the first day I saw it to this day, I’ve loved this house.  For nearly two decades, this house has been home to me — not just a home to me, but home to me.  With all its memories, all its quirky aspects, all its charm, all its flaws and beauty, it’s home to me.  It’s home to us all.

A little slice of heaven… the garden of Eden… the welcome home.  These are all descriptions friends and strangers alike have used to describe this hundred year old farmhouse that sits down the lane under the canopy of the magnificent old weeping willow tree — this little slice of heaven with its flowering plants and fruit trees, gardens and birds, hydrangeas, lavender and hummingbirds sipping the nectar from one of the several feeders strategically hanging in different window locations all around the house. These are but a few of the things that make this home the incredibly wonderful place it is.

Perhaps it’s also the many, many imperfections that make this home so endearing.  Maybe it’s all the history wrapped up in this home.  I don’t know.  But whatever it is, this home’s got something that can’t quite be described.  Sometimes it’s just a feeling.  Maybe that’s what I love about this home so much: the way it feels.  Maybe that’s what it was, the first time I saw this home, maybe I loved it because of how it felt.  All I knew at that moment was: it felt like home to me.

That summer evening was warm and bright as we drove down the lane in our old family van.  I don’t know what the children must’ve been thinking, but I imagine it was getting tiresome day after day to hop in the van to drive around searching for a home for our family.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I was taking in all I was seeing.  I was utterly amazed by the beautiful weeping willow tree beside the house.  And land! Land all around the house!  Imagine that, we’d prayed for land and here was this old farmhouse surrounded by so much land.  At the time I didn’t know that the property itself was just an acre – a little slice of land under the big sky in the Snohomish valley.

Wide eyed, we all eagerly walked up the steep front steps, across the porch and through the heavy old front doorway.  I remember being overcome with  love for this house.  Making our way through the sun room,  living room, dining room and into the kitchen, I felt like I was stepping through time — imagining the decades of memories within its walls — the joys and sorrows this home’s surely known.  All the blessings and benefits a home could provide seemed to be some sort of fragrance in the air: that indescribable old-home smell.  I was mesmerized —  our little children were so as well.  I’ll never forget our oldest daughter, as she walked through this home that day, holding the hand of a younger sister and with the delightful innocence and joy only a child possesses, she exclaimed that it was the most beautiful home she’d ever seen.

We stepped out on the back porch, probably wishing we could sit on the porch swing.  Having made our way all through the home, the children walking hand in hand and I, five months pregnant and carrying a one year old, attempting to convey our gratitude to the owners at having been given the opportunity to walk through their home.  I smile at the thought of what a sight we must’ve been that evening.

The sun was low in the sky by that time and cast the most beautiful, warm glow through the windows of the old farmhouse.   Windows on all four sides of the house.  My mind began to flood with gratitude to the Lord for the answers to my prayers, for the desires I’d written on my list were right before my eyes.  In my notebook, I’d written out a list — a list of all the things I longed for in a home.  Making that list wasn’t an original thought with me — it was a suggestion my sister-in-law had given me when we began looking for our home. We looked at house after house and kept running into dead ends and higher prices than we could afford.  So, I finally took her suggestion and began writing a list of all the things I wished for in a house the Lord would provide for our family.   All the while, I prayed He’d provide and show us the home He had for us.  That list was written in faith and with sincere hope for what I thought we needed for our growing family.  First on the list was a willow tree.  Bedrooms for the children. Windows on all four sides of the house.  A porch. Space for the children to run and play.  Space for a garden.  A claw foot bathtub.  I believe there were a few more things on the list, but at the moment, I can’t recall what they were.  I hope one day to find the list, surely it must be tucked away in one of the many boxes of old papers and journals I’ve saved through the years.  I’d love to see whatever else I’d written — but one thing I know, the Lord has surely answered beyond what I could have asked or imagined.

I remember thinking in the moment that it would surely be the most difficult news to convey to the children that we simply could not afford this home.  By most standards, it wasn’t expensive as homes go, but for us, financially, it was enough out of our reach  that it may as well have been simply a dream.  Heavy disappointment weighed on my heart at the thought that we’d not be able to meet the financial criteria.   It was such a strange feeling to remain compelled to continue hoping for the home to be ours — though it appeared we couldn’t meet the terms,  the house seemed to fit all of our dreams.

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He’s writing my story…

teacuppamelaEvery day, year after year, God’s writing my story.  Every day,  whether or not I can understand the circumstances I face, He has a very good plan for whatever I face. And regardless of my comprehension, His plan is for my good and His glory.

I believe this not only because His word says so, but also because I have seen His work and His glory has been continually revealed in His work in my life and in the lives around me.  This isn’t one of those God’s Word says it, I believe it, and that settles it! sorts of statements.  Truly, it doesn’t matter if I believe it or not: if God’s Word says it, that settles it.

But by God’s grace and mercy,  my seeing or experiencing God’s work affirms His work to me—it affirms His purpose in me.  That’s one of the precious angles of the Lord I appreciate so much.  He loves me so much that He affirms His work and reveals it to me.  In some of the darkest days I wrote in the margin of my Bible next to different texts that spoke to my heart things I could not articulate nor utter.  But the Word was so real to me — so living.  And now, looking back at those notes in the margins and the accompanying dates they were written, I can clearly trace the Hand of the Lord in what’s been accomplished or experienced in and through those events.

Dark days or heavy trials are interesting things… I feel so isolated and helpless in them sometimes — even though they are the very things God uses to broaden my understanding and deepen my message — or to add to the story He’s writing.  So many times I look back now and see that I was going along making a mess of my life—though I didn’t know it or think it at the time—and God has miraculously taken the messes I’ve made and reworked them into a beautiful testimony of His faithfulness.   Not a testimony of my cleverness to make it through this or that trial.  No.  Simply, His work to redeem what was hopeless and make it into something He could use for His glory.

I see more and more that’s why we go through trials——–trials prove the Lord strong on our behalf.  Trials demonstrate to us our great weakness, our great need — and His great love.

I used to fear “the next trial” so much because I used to think that trials were given to us to prepare us for harder or more difficult trials in the future.  And that sure put God in a peculiar position, didn’t it?  As if in good times He’s a good God, and in bad times He’s an austere God — as if He’s got a tally sheet or a punch card keeping score on everyone.  That’s not an accurate understanding the merciful Lord.  While the “next thing” might indeed seem a harder thing to face than the one face previously,  God’s not locked into the box of dealing in varying levels of hardships or trials for His children.   But I do know this—-He surely is a Master Pruner, a Master Gardener cultivating in our lives the very things we need in order that we will be either more useful to Him or that we will be strengthened in faith to bring His glory.  And He uses trials to develop whatever angle of  Spiritual fruit lacking or needing to be revealed in our lives.

The story He’s writing is a beautiful story — because He is good, He is loving and He is merciful — even when the story seems to have deep, dark valleys and rocky places.  I have come to see it is in those places the fruit is sweetest and the story is dearest.

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to be somebody.

teacuppamelaO, to be somebody———-the deep heart-felt need of most every body:  to be somebody.  Maybe not a big somebody or a sensational somebody, but a somebody.  Somebody that matters.  Somebody that means something to somebody else — maybe a somebody that means something to A LOT of other somebody’s.

Heartfelt cry; heartfelt longing:  I just want to be somebody that matters. Or, more specifically,  Somebody that matters to somebody else.
We see people all over the place making a difference, living lives of significance and we think:  man, o man, I wish I were somebody like that, doing something like that—to be somebody that does things like that!  Those people seem to have something… something about them, something going for them — they seem to have it all together.  We look at them and wish we could figure out how to be like that: an important somebody.

Instead, we look at our seemingly insignificant lives and think we don’t have what it takes to be somebody.

Have you felt like that?  You know, I’ll bet that lots of ‘somebodies‘ feel like that, too, sometimes.  Maybe you are a somebody — and you feel like that.

Did you know that, no matter how you feel,  you are a very important somebody to someone?  Yes, truly,  you are a somebody to SomeOne.

I had to come to this point of recognition several years ago.  It was at a very low time of my life — probably the lowest season I’ve ever experienced.  I had so desperately wanted to ‘be somebody’ — to be somebody important, intelligent, accomplished… a somebody.  And through a series of events that my whole focus had been wrong—somewhere along the way in my walk with the Lord, I’d lost sight of His perfect plan and purpose for my life and I began to live and think as though whatever it was, it was not enough.   What I desperately wanted was to feel like somebody who mattered and instead of simply living in light of God’s word and His work that I already mattered, I strove to work to be a somebody.   But all the while — in His gracious lovingkindness,  I mattered to Jesus.  And all my  striving and longing to be somebody was already answered on the Cross.  I needed to see that.  I needed to go back, to put myself at His feet and die there at the foot of the Cross.  And I did.  And that’s where I truly realized that I was somebody to Him.  Somebody who mattered to the only SomeOne that matters: Jesus.

In light of all this, I’m able to be diligent to press on.  O. don’t think I’m never tempted to be somebody great, to wish I had it all together or whatever.  I still see lots of somebodies doing all sorts of great things I can’t or don’t do — somebodies making a difference in life that I can’t or don’t make.  But these have become “flags” for me — and I know I must stop and heed the warnings.  If I seek to be or do what they’re doing, then I completely miss what the Lord has for *me* to be or do.  See what I mean?  It’s the same for you… you may feel that same deep longing to be or do something great.  If you’re not being and doing what the Lord called and designed you to be and do, then that longing to be somebody (else) you have will never be satisfied — and all the stuff you think, say, do or gather will never satisfy that longing until that longing is simply to be and do what you’re designed by  to be and do.

I’m learning this each day.  I’m learning what the Lord had in mind for this girl… and when the deep longing feelings crop up — the longing to be somebody — I am learning to look at my circumstances and seek the Lord’s purposes in them and to turn my eyes heavenward instead of inward.   I’m nobody inward… but heavenward, I am somebody.

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Today You Have Today

teacuppamelaOn the wall in my kitchen hangs a plate that has imprinted the saying:  Today you have today.  It hangs there every day… every day I walk through the doorway below it and rarely look up see that plate — or any other thing that hangs on the wall, for that matter.

Isn’t it interesting?  Many things in our lives we see — but don’t really see — every day.  And every day these things are before us and could remind us that we have opportunity to do things today — each day — to recognize, to act upon, to remember things that are important — you know, the people and things that our walls sort of memorialize or showcase… photographs, quotes, awards, treasures of days gone by.

Things on our walls should be more than a memory… more than a decoration adorning a space in our home — though they are or do these things.  They should be daily reminders of what God’s done, how He’s worked and what He wants us to remember — not just for the past, but for the future.  And the only day of the future I have to live is today, for today is yesterday’s future.  In a moment I could be gone… in a moment everything around me could be gone and the only thing left would be what I did with all the today’s the Lord has given me.

He’s only given me my today’s — but I live them in light of yesterday and in light of tomorrow.  Does that make sense?  Things done in my yesterdays affect or have consequences today.  This is so important for me to remember as I live out each day because, as this is true, whatever I’m doing or deciding not to do today will have an effect on,  or have consequences for, tomorrow.   It’s easy to forget this truth if we just keep walking through doorways and never look up.

Today you have today.

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trusting God

teacuppamelaMany times through the years, the Lord’s placed me in situations or I’ve been faced with circumstances that I felt I had no preparation or no strength to bear.  Only now as I look back do I see that it was specifically for those very reasons the Lord allowed or arranged those things.  I’ve come to see that that’s His gracious mercy—His mercy to show me love and His graciousness to carry me through–though I remember that I sometimes felt like I was all alone at the time.

I remember early days of caring for babies — the season filled with long days and short nights — and I thought I’d never be able to get everything done or get everyone fed or get everything washed or… whatever else I know I must’ve fretted about.  But even in those very wearying days, I could see glimpses here and there that the Lord was caring for me—cared for everything that concerned me.  I saw His miraculous provisions—you know, those things that came “just in time” or gifts or clothing in just the perfect size for this or that child; food — precisely what was needed at the time.  O, the marvelous ways the Lord has provided! I wish I’d written more things down so that I could read them today. 

The blessing though, in all of this, is that He imprinted on my heart the assurance that I could trust Him.  All those things added, precept upon precept, line upon line, to my faith and trust in the Lord.  He’s shown me over and over that it is good to go through hard things—O, it doesn’t seem so at the time—not at all!  But it is good—we need what the hard times teach us–we need to be thrust into situations we’d never choose but will always be grateful to have the sweet fruit on the other side of them.

Have you noticed, that sometimes the very sweetest women are the ones who’ve experienced the greatest trials and hardships, the bitterest sorrows?  I think when we see sweet faith we’re seeing the fruit of a long walk with the Saviour.  I got to thinking… tonight I sure want to finish well… to have a long walk with the Saviour and that sweet countenance that only comes from a life dedicated to trusting God.

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blind faith

teacuppamelaBlind faith… I’ve heard that ‘phrase’ many times in my life and as a believer, I’ve applied it many different ways.  I’ve determined to have blind faith when I didn’t think there was any plausible way of doing something, getting something, going somewhere—except blind faith.  I’ve understood ‘blind faith’ when what I was hearing/reading just seemed to impossible.   I’ve read of unbelievable co-incidents (not coincidences) and have had to trust them with ‘blind faith’ because there is/was no other explanation for them.

Where does this term blind faith come from?  Well,  in the absence of doing a google search or a wiki quarry, I have one place to seek deeper meanings of things—yes, the Bible.  So, lately I’ve been just camping in a section of the book of John.   I’ve just set up house there, reading and rereading different sections of chapters.  One of the most powerful chapters for me, besides chapter 15, has been chapter 9.  I’ve been reading it over and over… gleaning new things every time.

I ponder over and over, verse 1 — actually, the first part of verse 1: “And as Jesus passed by, he saw….”  Immediately, I recognize that there is no place, no time where Jesus doesn’t pass by… hasn’t passed by… won’t pass by.  There is nothing He doesn’t see.  This profoundly touches my heart and life—there is nothing that concerns me that Jesus doesn’t know—and there is nothing about my life that He doesn’t have a purpose for.  If I believe His Word, and I do, then I must believe that it is true that “all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.” –Romans 8.28

It is this inexplicable truth, this marvelous truth, this unfathomable truth that so often trips me up, eludes me, confounds me:  that God sees me, that He loves me and that He has a plan and purpose for my life———-that I matter to Him.  O, that I would grasp this!  So often, in my self-centered puniness, I fret that I don’t matter to this or that person.  But, truly—is it important that I matter to them?  O, it makes the days seem easier if I do matter to people—but my continual feast and delight ought to be that I matter to God.  It strikes me that if/when I grasp that I matter to God—that Jesus passes by and sees me—then whatever else happens, I can know that He has a plan for it, He has a plan for those He’s placed in my life, for the work He’s given me to do, for the things He’s allowed to happen to or around me.

Deuteronomy 33.27-29  says, “The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms: and he shall thrust out the enemy from before thee; and shall say, Destroy them.  28  Israel then shall dwell in safety alone: the fountain of Jacob shall be upon a land of corn and wine; also his heavens shall drop down dew.  29  Happy art thou, O Israel: who is like unto thee, O people saved by the LORD, the shield of thy help, and who is the sword of thy excellency! and thine enemies shall be found liars unto thee; and thou shalt tread upon their high places.

And as Jesus passed by, He saw……… and in blind faith, I take His hand.

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refocused

teacuppamelaThis site’s undergone many changes and renovations through the last five or six years and I’m finally getting it to be a bit more of what I originally hoped it would be.

I’ve had the A Christian Home website for nearly 15 years… it was a labour of learning and love for many years –actually it’s a bittersweet thing because, I only recognized many years into it that it that my enormous amount of attention was distracting me from doing what I ought to have been doing here in our home—much to my grief and tremendous regret.  I had to come to the place of seeing that writing about homemaking or whatever is not akin to actually passionately investing in family and homemaking.  In the last several years as I’ve regrouped, prioritized my home, family and time, I’ve been working at seeking/keeping a balance of this first priority of my family and what it must be.   The work/website is still dear to me even with its antiquated style and gazillion dead or broken links.  I hope to address all of that one day, but for now, I’ve decided to narrow my passion focus and get some things written down that might be of inspiration to my daughters one day and for Christian sisters in the Lord who might be seeking encouragement as the days get darker and more antagonistic in our society.

My other site, The Welcome Home, is a very eclectic gathering & collection site where I very occasionally post news of the day or society along with whatever’s happening at the time… articles and helps for mothers and homemakers.  It’s a site I hope to maintain more efficiently some day, but as I continue to seek to be careful with internet time and media distractions, I’m wanting to be more discerning where I spend my time—thus, this site, this mama’s journal, is really more my passion and I hope that in sharing this journal, you’ll find encouragement to press on in faith.

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