What will they say of my much too old to wear shoes? What will they really think of the way I am? Should I try to impress them with my achievements? Maybe they will like me more if they feel sympathy towards me.

Foolishness. Is our worry not really our pride? We worry that our pride will be hurt by how others perceive us.

But the mind puts off worrying for that which must be worried about!

Am I right with God? Does my soul long for him? Do I seek to honour him with each breath? Do my friends know that without Christ’s atoning blood, the road ends in hell?

Pushing it away, we tell ourselves these false-worries are real concerns and those with eternal consequences can be dealt with tomorrow.

Quiet the conscience with the faith of father, brother, grandmother, aunt. It is not yours! It is not mine! It must be personal.

But we find the issues of non-consequence to be of greater weight than eternity.

And the mind, it’s a trouble-stirrer, when late at night in the dark, its voice shouts over my prayers so that the words float around disjointed.

Or when hands fold and eyes close, it’s a fake-innocent whisper to remind that it’s olive oil that you forgot to put on the grocery list and the dishwasher needs to be turned on and the outside light off and that birthday card still needs to be mailed. Oh think not that this is to help you remember all you forgot, but it is to hinder your words, your communion.

It needs to be done, the mind’s coax, and we agree and run off to do it before it’s forgotten again.

But would you lay down your life to mail that card? Would you face persecution in order to run the dishwasher?

Ridiculous.

Yet those tasks are placed above prayer. Daily, persecuted brothers and sisters die for this - to pray.

In the mundane day to day remember this is but a moment and then eternity. Prioritize.

These days are a shadow that passes over the ground and then is gone.

Let the mind worry for things which are worry-worthy. But do not let it become despairing worry.

Forget the pride, it is fleeting.

Christ will quiet the mind and heal the heart.

Breakfast is by far my biggest difficulty. No matter what I try, I can’t seem to stick with it.

Along with my mom and sisters, I’m taking a course through Goodness Me! called Lifewatchers. In a sentence, it shows you small things to change in your diet to live healthier. It started out with a breakfast recipe for a smoothie. I went home all inspired the first week and for the next 4 days, I made the smoothie. It had fruit (blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, strawberries), fats (oil), and protein (whey powder). I was on a definite roll…until I got the flu for a day. Since then, I haven’t been able to stomach the thought of the smoothie. Very frustrating!

However, not all is lost! After only two weeks of classes, I’ve learned more about healthy eating and living than I thought I would in the whole course. Although I haven’t conquered breakfast (I know…it’s the most important meal, blah blah blah!), I have been able to change some habits and have become much more aware of what we eat around here!

Here are a few things I’ve changed:

-Less snacking

-no store bought bread (piled full of gluten and preservatives). The recommendation was to cut out bread all together, but I decided not to since I don’t eat it very regularly anyway…and I love making bread in my bread machine!

- replacing potatoes with extra veggie servings (now we never eat potatoes that much, but now I like to make a huge salad with some meat instead of another potato or pasta dish)

- drink more water (4-8 glasses)

- I keep track of how many servings of veggies I get in a day (that doesn’t mean I get all I need…)

- I take fish oil! (straight. it’s not as bad as the books make it out to be ;) apparently it’s especially good for you if you never eat fish, since you miss out on the oils naturally contained in it)

Of course, I make plenty of mistakes and I’m not amazing at sticking to all of these guidelines, but it helps that there are five of us to keep each other accountable ;)

As I always have been, I’m looking for what you eat for breakfast so I can get some ideas! If it’s got protein (that’s why breakfast is important) and sounds somewhat appealing, I just might give it a try!

Re-posted from the archives :)

Other things to check out:

1. Found this on Tim Challies‘ blog:

Stories Of Change from Sojourn Community Church on Vimeo.

2. Does Jesus Hate Religion? Kinda, Sorta, Not Really. If you’ve heard some of Jeff Bethke’s poetry you may be interested in reading this. If you haven’t, you’d still probably be interested. A win-win.

3. Scrabble App. Okay so this isn’t anything new really, but it’s new to me. I love Scrabble, but Dan doesn’t. So now I can still get my Scrabble fix and he doesn’t have to suffer through a game. You can play up to fifty games at once with opponents anywhere in Canada or the States. I love it! Did I mention it’s free? It’s free. It also keeps track of your stats, so that when you get matched with people who are at your skill level. Of course the catch is you need an iPod or iPhone for it (although I think it’s made for Androids too? But I don’t know much about that kind of stuff) and I wouldn’t say it’s quite worth going out to buy one just to play Scrabble ;)

“Ummm…know what, Auntie?” he whispers it so I whisper back.

“What?”

“Ummmmm…” he’s thinking of something to say and I know he’s just stalling so while he’s thinking, I’m thinking.

This is great. This is something to write about.

Finally, after the clock ticks lethargically twice around its course, his face brightens.

“Mommy … trucks…stickers.”

That’s all I got. But apparently it’s the funniest unintelligible thing anyone has ever said and he clutches his stomach and bows his head in giggling fits.

I tuck his teddy bear beside him and pull up his blanket and kiss his little boy chubby cheek and he laughs again. So hard that I imagine if he was standing, he’d be there slapping his knee or holding his stomach like a child much older than two.

“That’s not how I go to sleep!”

He moves his teddy bear to the other side and giggles, “Like this!”

Duh. Obviously you can’t sleep with your teddy bear on the left side…I should have known that from the start.

I tiptoe out and close the door quietly behind me and I know that next time I see him, he won’t want to be tucked in like that and he won’t want a goodnight kiss from me and it makes me a little sad to think that he’ll grow up just like the rest of them and he’ll lose the cute innocence and replace it with real concerns, worries.

I wish someone had told me to savour childhood. Instead I rushed through it always looking ahead, forward to a time other than now.

And then when I realized it was actually over, I tried to fit on that pink tricycle again. And I tried to squish my too large feet into those yellow rubber boots.

I hung on with all I had and tried to re-find that joy in the simple. Went to build dams and catch minnows but the creek was dried up and gone. Went biking for raspberries but the plants were ripped out and there were only overgrown weeds in its place.

I wanted to find the ‘myself’ I had been then but she was gone and I’d been lost along the way.

I do not lament leaving childhood, but the loss of simplicity. When friendships were repaired by a hug and a clasping together of sticky hands and running to play again. When I knew only how to be myself and not to act differently to try to impress. When mistakes were made out of ignorance, not wilfulness.

What will he grow up to be? May his worries be great enough to cause a running to Jesus, but small enough to keep him from despair and great pain. 

Here is the form for 3 Words Entry 8:

I like a little bit of music when I read things. Unfortunately, I can’t embed a music player right on here. So if you want music while reading this blog post, just play the youtube video and scroll down. Enjoy!

Three Words Entry 6: package, carefree, twinkle

He sits in the center of the room, hands telling the size of the story. Leans forward to strengthen his voice and make sure it reaches my ears.

Will we all be together next year? Just like this.

When he is gone what holds us together except blood which flows much too thin here?

The whistle from the kettle interrupts the war stories. I run, struck by my trivial concerns. He divided 15 peas for supper with his sister and brother. Five for each. I pick the peas out of my mixed vegetables and scrape them into the garbage can which holds a shameful amount of wasted food.

We have heard these stories enough to remember them but I drink them in anxious to feel the experience.

What stories have been silenced? What have we lost, not willing to listen? This is a story meant to be told. Who can tell it?

That first chocolate when he was 13 came from the sky in a package and he split it again with his sister and brother. Closed their eyes and enjoyed the taste of freedom, liberty, luxury, peace.

He straightens out, looking at nothing, lost in another time. His face is thin and he looks more like an old man than I have ever seen him to be. Yet somehow I see the little boy he once was, running through the streets laughing. Then, fatherless.

And now, generations down, he stares at his own great-grandchildren. The oldest is 7. Hungry is just a word. Being scared is when someone you love jumps out and says ‘Boo!’ Bombs are not a part of her vocabulary. Innocent, carefree in the strongest sense.

I am young but not so young as to not notice his head shake when the five-year old refuses to eat the dinner. Not so young as to not know that he wishes he could explain what we ought to be grateful for. Not so young as to see his happy eyes when he sees we are happy too.

He is weak and old and what if this is the last?

What will we ever do without him to make us laugh? To say wise things that he does not see as wise? What now when these stories will not be told again? Do I know them all? Will I remember all?

I hug him just a little longer than normal and kiss his wrinkled cheek. He looks me in the eye and the twinkle is there.

Someday when you write your book you can use these stories and say they are from this old man.

Proudly, he touches my shoulder and I know I will do all I can to do exactly that.

Oh man, I wish I thought of that.

Where’s my notebook? That’s an awesome quote!

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been getting that an awful lot lately and it’s been fueling my writing aspirations…in my head. Actually sitting down and writing is a different story. I’m always waiting for more time…which, I know, is never going to come. If anyone has time, it’s me. And somehow I still can’t make proper use of it.

Image from http://myshinyideas.files.wordpress.com

The other day, I looked into Canadian publishers and read up on the publishing process and all that. I came across Write! Canada, a Christian organization that hosts a writing conference each June. I’d heard of it before, but since I have been in school for the last 15 Junes (and prior to that I was probably just learning to physically write…) it was never an option to go. Unfortunately, it costs about $400 to go.However, they host a writing contest and the winner gets free entry to the conference.

Anyway, if I wait until next year, the sad part is that I get bumped up an age category (an obvious disadvantage, in  my opinion). So maybe, I’ll start slaving away before the February 15 deadline and turn in something worthy of a prize.

Okay, so that was not what I imagined this post was going to turn into. SO back to my main point about thoroughly enjoying a book and feeling like writing down every awesome thing about it…

I just read a book called After Anne (recommended to me by my dear friend Amanda). I loved it. I didn’t have high expectations simply because it’s got one of those light pink stickers on the side declaring it to be inspirational. I don’t mind those books, but when I’m actually looking for something inspirational, I don’t usually tend to look there.

After Anne is about two very different women who become best friends while each dealing with major struggles of their own. I think part of the reason I really liked it was because I could relate extremely strongly to the one woman, Libby. Libby is wants to be a writer, doesn’t have many close friends, is very cynical etc. etc. (I won’t go giving away all my negative characteristics now :) )

The back of the book says this:

“Libby: If someone would have told me that first night I met Anne we would end up being best friends, I would have told them they were nuts. Pure and simple crazy. What didn’t I like about Anne? It’s easier to say what I did like. Her scarf. That was about it. Her canary yellow scarf. If it had been tied a little bit tighter, I might have liked it even better.”

“Anne: I knew the minute I met Libby she was someone I would like. It never occurred to me that night that we would become the friends we did. But right from the start I knew there was going to be a bond between us.”

That’s all I’ll quote, but let me tell you this:  there were plenty of times where I almost jumped up and grabbed my handy dandy notebook and fresh sharpened pencil and started writing down quotes and what I liked about After Anne. The only reason I didn’t was because I didn’t want to put the book down.

Oh and yes, a new blog theme. What do you think? I like the featured image option. Sorry for the unrelated image linked to this post…I didn’t know what else to do :) Isn’t it a nice picture though? Taken by Jess S.  :)

The streetlight peers in the window

Yellows the night, adds a bit of bright.

But not to my dreams where I’ve been

Silencing screams, and drowning in streams.

The heavy black blinded my eyes

Panic attack, sobs hold me back

I’m caught; there’s no escape

I and my thoughts, completely distraught.

Petrified by visions unexplainable

Outside now and upside down

A sudden peace in my dream

Terrors cease, nightmare flees.

But on waking, what turmoil

a heart breaking, its toll taking.

Always dreading the night ahead

For its same predictable dream

But each time again, it terrifies

Then ends in foolishness

While I wake in fear.

Here is the form for Three Words (6):