Lilley of the field

So this isn't about gardening, but oh well. After writing that post about writing about garden I realized I was almost finished with my last book of summer and I would want to post about them. I am horrible at remembering what books are about and this helps when I write about them. Also, I like to keep track of my favorite books so I can recommend them when people ask. So.... here we go. I first read A Father to the Fatherless: The Charles Mully Story  by Paul Boge. This was given to us by Aaron's mom. She just went to Kenya on  mission trip for 2 weeks and visited the Mully Children Family. Charles Mully is a Kenyan man who went from complete destitution and abandonment by his family to riches. Then he met some street children who had been just like him and felt compelled to help them. He adopted several and that began the MCF. He gave up everything he had for these street children. It is an organization that has grown and now they take street children in and teach them abo

So I've had this inner dilemma for a while now about this blog. I love to write, but I just have so much trouble now feeling freedom to write anything here. It's not because that many people read it necessarily, it's just that people can and do once in a while and well.... I'm just conscious of that. I once would post my blogs on Facebook, but some of my world's are colliding too much there for me to want to post things so personal and vulnerable. I have a blog to write stories and to be vulnerable and to encourage others and I don't want to stray from that. So I've thought about if I should keep this space, just write like every 2 months like I am doing or turn the focus to something more specific. But everything I think about something different, it just doesn't make my heart sing. For instance: A Teaching Blog- Sure I could post pictures of my classroom and cute things we're doing, but I don't really want to do that and there are plen

I remember talking with her back when we were in high school as she thought about who would walk her down the isle- whenever that day came. Which of course seemed so far away at the time. But it came. Those church doors opened and every eye turned to see her radiant face and delicate lace white dress as her dad's brother walked her down the isle. The vows were taken, rings exchanges, and kisses given. And then there was a grand celebration. As she slowly spun around on the dance floor under the twinkling lights with several father-figures in her life in lieu of the traditional father- daughter dance, I could only think about how faithful God is. About how He can take anything and make good. About how beautiful it is to see friends that come to follow Jesus and then to see how their journey unfolds over the years. About friends who saw me come to follow Jesus. I stood off to the side with my husband surrounded by long time friends from high school and thought about each of t

I'm holding that book with those thin gold outlined pages in the dead of night reading out loud because I've woken up wide awake and full of fear. I hate that. I hate that I stub my toe on the same rock over and over- fear. But I read the words aloud until my heart calms down. I settle myself back into bed with the music on my iPad playing through the headphones and into my ears and mind. Because sometimes, you gotta sing your way into the truth . I hear Him say, Y ou're safe. You ran to me and you are hidden in my strong tower .  Filled with peace,  good tears leak out of my eyes and into my hair as I lay on my back in bed. Rising the next day, I go and place my feet on holy, prayer-filled ground . It doesn't take but three minutes of sitting there and I realize. My words come out fast on paper, my prayers of repentance. Because only in seeing how we can't do it alone although we try so hard, can we believe we need a Savior. After reading seven prayers ov

So I gave up social media for a week to begin my summer. Well, yes I am posting on my blog and realizing that is social media technically, but what I really meant was Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest. My fingers fly on autopilot when I have even 15 spare minutes. Gmail.com to facebook.com to pinterest.com. Close that and tap the Instragram app. Muscle memory is amazingly strong. Do something over and over and it becomes a habit, you don't even need to think about it. Let your fingers run over those ebony piano keys for several years and those chords and scales will become like breathing. I remember laying my fingers on a keyboard in middle school computer lab and painfully practicing touch typing. aaa sss ddd fff. And now, I barely think about where the letters are on a keyboard until I stumble upon a word that is uncommon and long. And somehow now when I have 15 spare minutes I fly through those website and apps without even thinking that I may be able to do something more p

We crawl into our bed together after a long, yet fulfilling day. We turn to each other and quietly and tenderly read the vows we wrote and recited this day 3 years ago on a bright May day. This night, 3 years later, we are tired, achy, and in love. I marvel at this extraordinary love- this extra ordinary love. It's the real thing. Our anniversary was not filled with candles, wine, and fancy food as we smiled longly at each other over dinner. There were no goggly eyes and butterflies. There was real life- the one we've carved together. There was grit and laughter and joy. We spent our evening supporting children in our community, in my school, standing bravely in the spotlight while their little knees shook and the innocent hearts beat fast and they sang and danced their hearts out at our Talent Show. We looked at each other in the dim lights of an old gym and I thought- there's no better way to spend our anniversary . Sometimes I want the candles and the wine, but mo

I miss writing more often here. But there are those times, those seasons when words just don't come. I wish they would- but they're not. Instead, the few I have are etched into the pages of my personal prayer journal lifted up to a God who hears every word spoken and not spoken. When words just don't come it gives space. Wide-open-green-pasture-wildflower-growin' kinda space- the kind of space I could probably use more of. Words don't change lives, the God of the universe changes lives. The Word who became flesh changes lives. My emptiness gives him space to fill with His glory and praise. My emptiness and lack of words gives him space to speak tenderly and softly to me and for my ears to actually hear Him. My emptiness hums quietly with a tune only the Spirit knows. I guess I'll just have to embrace it when words just don't come. When words just don't come, it gives time. Watchin'-the-sun-set-while-sittin'-on-the-front-porch-sippin'-

I didn't think I needed Jesus today. On Easter of all days. I woke up with the bright sun shining, life bursting with possibilities and new joys. Of course, I didn't say those words out loud, but I acted that way because something unthinkable happened on Easter. I actually sinned. I said and thought selfish thing before we actually even arrived at church. Somehow I was frustrated by that. I thought, I am a new creation. The old has gone and the new has come. Today is a different day. It's Easter. I am supposed to be holier today- more selfless from this day forward. Only there sin came breaking in again. My earthly nature creeping through those cracks in this little jar of clay. This morning as I sat in church and sang songs of praise with my brothers and sister, I contemplated the rugged cross that hung before us and before the communion bread and juice. Believing in Jesus isn't the end. It's really the beginning. Easter is not the end- it's the beginn

Remember how you jumped out of the car at 7:30 on a Friday night ready to hike into the woods and set up a tent for the night. Remember how 8:00 rolled around and then rolled by and you still hadn't found a flat spot to lay your weary head. Aaron trudged on way ahead of you forging the way. Then the sun started starting sinking, sinking so low and slow all you could do was hope there was a flat spot soon. Remember how you didn't think you'd make it up that mountain so you recited Bible verses until you couldn't remember any more. Then you sang songs. Remember how you got worried that maybe you should have taken the trail down to the river with more campsite than the trail to the ridge line. But then you remembered that God can redeem anything so you prayed he would redeem this night hike. Remember how you could barely walk 15 feet before you had to catch your breath- yet up that mountain you went. Remember when you thought you would settle for just sleeping there on

It's been a little quiet on the homefront here. Well homefront meaning blog, not homefront-life because homefront-life is pretty busy. But I came across these gorgeous pictures today and it was terribly inspiring and I felt like I should share them here in case you hadn't come across them. Take a look at these 44 photos from a collection called Lean In . They are of women in contemporary work and life and I love them because it captures the simple everyday life of these ordinary women. They are white, black, asian, indian. They are young, old, and in between. They are tall, short, skinny, and stocky. They are moms, sisters, wives, friends, daughter. They are stay at home moms and working moms. They are soldiers, farmers, engineers, teachers, and executives. There is something in their faces that shows courage and contentment. I like everyday life. I like seeing the mundane be beautiful. I like seeing one second, one smile, one laugh caught on camera be important. Be mea

It’s is 100 th day of school. Students are 100 days smarter. Teachers are 100 days crazier. Little did I know that they would announce A Teacher’s Dream: early dismissal . The snow is coming. Actually the storm is coming- and it even has a name: Leon. It’s kinda funny how they name storms. These poor storms are given a bad rap even before they hit the earth. They are personified in the same way we label ax murders and burglars. This “deadly” storm “assaults” and “slams the south”, “snarls traffic” “leaves thousands stranded,” “roars through the southern United States,” and   “brings disaster”. It’s a “nightmare” out there apparently. Well, just dress him up in orange, snap a mug shot, throw him in jail, and call it a day folks. But I’m just not seeing it. Outside my window, gorgeous, gentle, peaceful snowflakes are floating to the ground creating a blanket of white. This is an assault? a slam? a nightmare? Perspective. I’m sure I could ask the husband who

Alright all, I have some BIG NEWS!!!! Here’s the backstory: Last October our class went to the Greenville Zoo and played at Cleveland Park right next to it afterward. We were inspired by the wheelchair accessible playground. Our kids could freely move about, play with the toys, and go down the slides. Our little special ed playground right outside our room is quite pitiful. It consists of one plastic climbling/slide thing which only 1 out of 7 students can actually get on, a few wooden benches, and a broken sand digger. Most of my students are in wheelchairs and have limited gross motor skills. Two of my students in wheelchairs can get out and climb around, but get dirty and put that dirt in their mouth too! So I went home that weekend and searched around until I found the Lowe’s Toolbox for Education Grant which awards between $2,500 to 5,000 to schools nationwide. I had three days until the deadline. I drew up basic idea of plans for an improved playground and applied quickly

Fling wide heaves gates. Let the cool crisp air of the winter and the low sun shining through the trees revive my soul. Let me be the only one walking in the woods. Let me hear the crunch of the frozen earth beneath my boots. Let me laugh, cry, pray, wrestle, and breathe. You are El-Roi. You are the God Who Sees Me.