happy little sigh

England – A Virtual Getaway for Tired Mums

March 12, 2014 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

I know their fantasies. Whispered in the semi-dark of their living rooms, or over coffee on our girls’ night out, they’ve confided in me what they really want. And I’m not shocked. Not one little bit. After all, it’s what I want too.

A hotel room.

A cup of tea.

And a book.

No one else. Nothing else. For one entire day.

And that is the true, wild fantasy of mothers everywhere.

Not only strange, unusual mothers, but average mothers, like you or me.

A mother who endures drafty showers because someone has burst in to ask her to tie on their ninja mask. A mother who rarely sleeps through till morning, and must nightly peal herself from bed and lurch through the house to lift and calm a teething baby. A mother who must clean a food-encrusted high chair three times every day.

And that is to say nothing of the raisins that get squashed on the bottoms of her slippers, the puddles of water and crumbs that appear as if my magic on her kitchen worktops, the mountains of laundry that move in cycles around her house, and all the toys that she must daily return to their homes on the shelf. The little fingernails she must cut, the beds she must make, the toilets she must scrub. The meals she must prepare, the dishes she must wash, the floors she must sweep.

This, all this, a mother must do. And how she longs to do it well! With joy, and patience, and grace, so that her children and husband and any guests who enter may be strengthened and comforted by their time there, in this mother’s home.

And yet motherhood is not a part-time job. It’s not even a full-time or a live-in one. There are no vacation or holiday packages. No weekends or nights off. And so it’s not hard to see why a mother—a mother like you or me—could get a little tired. Find herself longing for escape. A time of refreshment. A break.

Like hiding in the closet, maybe, with a bar of chocolate. A trip to the grocery store all by herself! Or that hotel, maybe? A trip, a real trip away? How about England? A country estate? Yes? Then come with me!

A virtual trip to England . . .

to the quiet and the green . . .

Hear the bird song. Smell the lavender. Let the grass tickle your feet.

1212

Stop at the tent for tea and scones. It’s all here for you, so enjoy!

There’s a concert, too. Did I mention?

Right here in the gardens, underneath the sky.

David Crowder Band. Ever heard of them? Listen, will you? to what they have to say . . .

How He Loves

He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions
Eclipsed by glory and I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me

And oh, how He loves us,

how He loves us all

And we are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way

Oh, how He loves us,

how He loves us all

Singer: David Crowder Band

Songwriters: John Mark Mc Millan

Hope you were refreshed by your visit. Come back any time.

For more than sunshine. More than chocolate. More than a new outfit, or a girl’s night out. His love is what strengthens. Renews.

Bask here for a while in the immensity of it.

For you will never find the depths of Jesus’ love.

Posted in Beautiful Places, Inspirations, Misty British Isles, Parenting - Raising Wee Men, Uncategorized, Videos - If You Were There | Tagged Avonlea Q Krueger, Christian Mothers, Christian Mums, Christian Parenting, David Crowder Band, England, English Country House Estate, English Gardening, English Tea Time, How He Loves by David Crowder Band, How He Loves Lyrics, Jesus' Love | Leave a Comment »

Dizzy – Still Moments for a Hectic Day

March 7, 2014 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

The movement leaves me dizzy, for fast was never a speed that I’ve done well. Though words can come fast (from my lips or from my fingers), my moving and living, I’ve always done slow.

And it’s caused me problems, a little more than once, all my ponderings and perhapses. For time is sovereign in this world of ours, and doesn’t often leave room for the extras. The smelling of roses, the sighing over music, the browsing of books. And so while I start out ambling through my day like a Sunday driver, I end up racing half panic -stricken to make up for lost time and reach this or that place when I’m supposed to be there.

No, life doesn’t give us time enough for wonder. No, not enough time at all. Not like I thought it would be, those days before my real children came, when I poured over Victorian homemaker’s guides, all those black and white photos of ringletted children sprawled out on quilts to watch the clouds pass by, or gathered round the fire while their mother darned their stockings and read from Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

While we have our moments, our moments of creativity and laughter and peace, it seems to me that every day is more like a race. A mad rush to cross off my list, and get through the cycle I completed just the day before (with a few things extra, if I’m lucky).

It’s a mad rush, a frenzy, and the movement leaves me dizzy. For all day, every day, I move things. Move crumbs from tables and high chairs, from countertops and floors. Move clothes from hamper to washing machine, from washing machine to dryer, from dryer to drawer. Move dishes from dishwasher to cupboards, from cupboards to table, and back again. And the toys, oh the toys!

I move people, too. In and out of cribs and high chairs, pajamas and nappies, car seats and prams. The boys, they move, too. Round me in circles at times, trailing behind them their tears, their bickering, their shouts, till I feel like they’ve bound me and I might just crash.

And I’m running and I’m rushing, taking glances at my list, hardly stopping it seems at times, to eat or drink, let alone to wonder. Ponder. Enjoy.

Through the blinding light of these last few days—the unhindered light of the winter sun glaring off mountains of snow—I’ve tried to stand back and look. To breathe deeply and untangle the movement, the activity, and the noise. To find beauty, find truth, and remind myself why I do what I do. Where we’re headed, and why I dared to bring these little lives into the world.

For what is the point of making our home look peaceful and beautiful, if peace and beauty are not found in our hearts? And how can I ever find the strength to have patience in those moments of chaos, or have serenity, or joy, or wonder enough to pour out on my children, if I do not first take time to let myself be filled?

I don’t often have hours. For though I’d like it otherwise, busyness is the call of motherhood. But I’ve learned the importance of taking a few minutes—even five or ten—to feel God’s arms around me, listen to his voice, and ask his Spirit to fill me with his strength, his stillness, his truth.

Without him I so often end up on a merry-go-round of movement, my head spinning, and my day feeling as fractured as a mirror broken into a thousand colored shards, and I cannot think straight enough to put back the pieces.

And so that alarm gets set. A few moments to myself. I’m tired, yes, but those twenty minutes of quiet, just me and God, will make all the difference for the rest of my day.

I asked some friends to help me by sharing their favourite morning readings. Some are my favourites, too, and the others, I look forward to reading. A few are also available on CD, for drives in the car or mountains of laundry that need folded or ironed! As I said, I haven’t read them all, and so cannot comment on each one, but I’d SO love to hear your thoughts on ones you’ve read–or suggestions for more! Most can be purchased on christianbook.com

One Minute With God by Kathy Hardee
The Book Lover’s Devotional from Barbour Publishing
Running Into Water – by Angela Blycker
Jesus Calling by Sarah Young
Jesus Today by Sarah Young
Jesus Lives by Sarah Young
One Thousand Gifts Devotional Journal by Ann Voskamp
Near Unto God by Abraham Kuyper
Morning and Evening by Charles H. Spurgeon
Because He Loves Me by Elyse Kirkpatrick
Comforts from the Cross by Elyse Kirkpatrick
My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers
Surrender: The Heart God Controls by Nancy Leigh DeMoss
Hinds Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard
Crazy Love – Overwhelmed by a Relentless God by Francis Chan
Forgotten God – Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit by Francis Chan
Reading the Bible with the Damned by Bob Ekland
Expository Thoughts on the Gospels by J.C. Ryle
Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die by John Piper
Pierced by the Word by John Piper
Life as a Vapor by John Piper
Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ by John Piper
The Great Work of the Gospel by John Ensor
Streams in the Desert by L.B. Cowman
The Precious Things of God by Octavius Winslow
Spiritual Depression by D. Martin Lloyd-Jones
He is There and He is Not Silent by Francis A. Schaeffer
Reflections by Jim Branch
Victory Over the Darkness by Neil T. Anderson
The Great House of God by Max Lucado

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Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father.

Colossians 3:16-17

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Posted in Books!, Inspirations, Marriage - For Happily Evers, Parenting - Raising Wee Men | Tagged Abraham Kuyper, Angela Blycker, Ann Voskamp, Because He Loves Me, C.H. Spurgeon, Crazy love, D. Martin Lloyd-Jones, Devotions, Elyse Fitzpatrick, Expository Thoughts on the Gospels, Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die, Forgotten God, Hinds Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard, J.C. Ryle, Jesus Calling, John Ensor, John Piper, Life as a Vapor, marriage, Morning and Evening, My Utmost for His Highest, Near Unto God, Octavius Winslow, One Minute With God by Kathy Hardee, One Thousand Gifts, Oswald Chambers, Parenting, Philip Yancey, Pierced by the Word, Prayer, Quiet Time, Radical, Reading the Bible with the Damned by Bob Ekland, Reflections by Jim Branch, Running into Water, Sarah Young, Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ by John Piper, Spiritual Depression, Streams in the Desert, The Bible, The Great Work of the Gospel, The Precious Things of God, Time With God | 4 Comments »

Walking These Rooms — for Your Morning Cuppa (tea)

February 20, 2014 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

Dark mornings don’t call good mothers from bed. Don’t call good daddies, either. Not like beds, which call real loud. Hold us in their warmth and stillness, blankets wrapped around like strong arms that could shield us from every last thing we dread about the day. Entice us with our dream adventures, numb our bodies like a drug.

Yeah, it’s hard to leave that on late winter mornings, hard to meet cold floors with warm balls of feet, trade stillness for the swirl of to-do’s and the demands of little voices that never stop the long day.

And it’s easy to want to stop it coming, stop the start of another day. And too often this winter I’ve done that. I’ve listened to that call, counting times I’d been up in the night to comfort little cries, let myself stay a little longer, yanked the covers another inch higher, told myself that for today, whispered prayers, half-mixed with dreams and plans, would be enough. Enough to go on. To give me perspective. To put my thoughts just where they ought to be.

But creaking crib and cracking door always break the silence, and it all ends.

And so I start the day running, running late before I’ve hit the floor. Little things to be done–today like everyday–and so it should be no surprise, and yet I find myself overwhelmed, feeling fragile, incapable, and just a little bit insane. And then it’s not just my feet running, not just my hands trying to get it all done. My mind’s running, too, over what I’ve done wrong to make things turn out this way, and what I must be missing to leave our life feeling so fractured, so unharmonious, so flat.

Grey skies and that blue snow, these thin walls and the bitter cold, they hem us in like prison on those days. It’s a prison, and I’m running so fast, feeling so stressed that I miss three dozen precious little moments of my little men’s lives. Can’t see the beauty all woven through my day. Can’t see those sparkles of light, though I know my little men see and feel all the greyness of my frustrated tears.

And on those days even the words won’t come, though I sit down to write. Words, which have always been with me, forming patterns, rolling round my mouth as I make sense of world. Because on those days there is no sense, and so the words, they just don’t come.

It’s a hard thing, too, in the evenings, dragging myself away from the dreams of Pinterest, the drama of television, the softness of the couch. It’s a hard thing when the wee ones are down and my tea’s not cold, and I can put two sane thoughts together without any little voice to interrupt. It’s hard to leave that stillness, brush my teeth, climb into bed. But it’s worth it. Worth the rest. Worth the energy I’ll have next morning to be the first one up, with time to find some stillness there in the almost light of a new day.

His compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness.

~ Lamentations 3:22-23

Because though I’ve heard it, I still need it. I need it every day. Need to hear the voice of Him that made me, hear just whose I am, and what I am, and why. I need truth. Love. Strength. Light.

And so early to bed (and then to rise) is a worthy goal. Because good mothers need rest. Good daddies need it, too. And more than that we need to pause a minute (or a few), and reach out to take the hand of the One who walks right with us (though we sometimes forget it) through every hour of our day.

“I like breakfast-time better than any other moment in the day,” said Mr. Irwine. “No dust has settled on one’s mind then, and it presents a clear mirror to the rays of things.”

~ George Eliot

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Posted in Books!, Inspirations, Parenting - Raising Wee Men, Uncategorized, Videos - If You Were There | Tagged Abraham Kuyper, Avonlea Q Krueger, Bible Reading, Journaling, Long Lie, Morning Devotions, Near Unto God, Sleeping In, Writer's Block, Writing | Leave a Comment »

What I Learned from Downton Abbey – what I don’t want to forget

January 17, 2014 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

It’s ba-ack. As if you hadn’t noticed, whether you wanted to or not. Whether you’ve been glued to the TV on Sunday nights or feel like screaming when you realize that yet another of your friends is still in mourning over Matthew Crawley’s untimely death, you must be aware that Downton Abbey has returned.

Downton Abbey,which garnered 9.5 million viewers for its debut episode of season four in the UK, and 10.2 million in the USA, making it the highest-rated premiere for a drama in PBS history.

Downton Abbey, that period drama lover’s ultimate feast of the eyes, the ears, and the imagination.

Oh, the costumes, oh, the settings!

Oh, the dialogue, oh, the quotes!

And we cannot help it, can we, if even just a little, stepping into the shoes of Mary, upstairs, or Anna, down. Can’t help but feel their small triumphs, feel their pain.

And it’s a little bit of all of this, I’d say, which drew me to Great Britain in the first place. Which always made me so pleased to be living there. The great natural beauty of that greenest of islands, and how history has dotted the countryside with its castles, and its churches, and its woods. And how you can hardly pass through a small town or village without passing by the birthplace or resting place of some literary genius who has brought to our language rich stories, and phrases, and words. And there is something, something about the tiers of society, the division of the classes, which has formed Britain through the centuries, and which has always drawn my curiosity and admiration. Not the exploitation of children and women and minorities, and the horrors that these abuses brought. But the idea that in this world, in this universe, there is something grander and finer than anything most of us know. Something worth giving our lives to. Something worthy of our allegiance and respect.

The idea of servitude is quite foreign to us here in the West. We see it as our right to aim for the top, make our voice heard, and live as we please. But it’s a thought, isn’t it, that most of us will never be the giver nor the recipient of such humble loyalty and devotion as there is between Mary and her Anna. Between Lord Grantham and his Bates. Perhaps between us and our spouse we might know such a relationship, but probably not even then.

And I can’t help but think, as I open up my Bible, read the words my eyes have passed over so many times before, that there might be something to that idea of servitude and fidelity. Something for me now, today.

It can be easy to think of God’s commandments as simply a good idea. An admirable option. We remember to see Jesus as our best friend, our older brother, but forget that God is a consuming fire, a King who requires our submission, our unquestioned obedience, our all.

He won’t ever force His will upon us, for a slave is not what He seeks.

The choice–to follow or to run–is, and always has been, ours.

But if we give but half a heart, half a life, how can we expect to fully receive all He wants to give us?

Be guided as He wants to guide us?

Be blessed as He wants to bless us?

Know Him as He longs to be known?

And after all, though God calls us to be His servants, it is not in the servants’ hall that He wants us to dwell.

When chauffer Tom Branson of Downton Abbey married Sybil, the family were eventually forced to put aside his former status for the sake of their daughter. They even stopped calling him Branson, let him sleep upstairs in the big house, and gave him a say in the running of the estate. But in the truest sense of the word, he never became fully a son, an heir.

It’s different, though, with us and God. He calls us His children. Wants us close.

So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are his child, God has made you also an heir. ~Galations 4:7

Being a servant, yes, God calls us to that, but it is not something that He has not done himself. His entire life on earth, right up till His death for us on the cross, was spent in service to us. He gave the ultimate sacrifice, showed His faithfulness to the last.

So that is where I’m starting this January, this new year.

I’m throwing out my old New Year’s List.

Starting with a new:

1. Unquestioned obedience.

My face like flint.

It’s a step of faith, this giving of myself, giving my all in the day to day.

And it won’t be easy.

But with a God who is LOVE, who has already given all for me, I have nothing to fear.

For the Lord God helps Me, Therefore, I am not disgraced; Therefore, I have set My face like flint, And I know that I will not be ashamed.

Isaiah 50:7

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Posted in Downton Abbey, Misty British Isles | Tagged A Life of Surrender, Anna and Bates, Devotion, Downton Abbey, Downton Abbey Season Four, Downton Abbey Season Four Photos, Faithfulness, Lord Grantham, Loyalty, Matthew Crawley, New Year's Resolutions, Social Class Divisions, Tom Branson | Leave a Comment »

Oh, WHAT have we done? Another year over, a new one just begun . . .

January 11, 2014 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

There was a long list of bad this Christmas.

Like the enormous branch out back that fell and crushed my poor lilac bush. The ice storm came (that was before the arctic vortex and heaps of snow), and I guess that big old tree got a little too burdened down. Couldn’t take the stress. Couldn’t take the weight. So down it came.

The rest of our Christmas, well it was mostly the same. A little too much heaviness to bear.

Plenty of decorating and buying and wrapping and baking and carol playing and even praying beforehand, all meant to create the perfect day, but sometimes all the planning in the world will still leave you with a mess.

Sometimes you plan but get it all so wrong.

Sometimes you plan but it’s out of your control.

That ice again, lovely as it was, had it’s wicked way.

Treacherous driving conditions.

Night out with the girls for a chance to laugh and de-stress? Canceled.

Many thousands without heat or power.

Christmas Eve service at church? Canceled, too.

Mum hosting Christmas dinner? Nope. With two days to plan, it’s going to be me.

But there was more . . .

A mix-up of the name-drawing.

A gift for everyone under the tree? Well, not quite.

Keys locked in a running car.

Tired children put to bed on time? Think again.

A tummy bug moving slowly through the house till we all had our turn.

All of us there round the Christmas table, feeling right as rain? No, not that either.

Sometimes you plan but get it all so wrong.

Sometimes you plan but it’s out of your control.

Yet all this, all this we could have easily born with a nervous laugh and with making due. All this we could have born if only a frazzled mix of folks from different parts of the country, different parts of the globe, hadn’t all been tossed together, till from our botched arrangements surfaced pain, sadness, regret from weeks, months, years past.

Like my lilac bushes, it seems we, too, can be frail.

Tender.

Like the flowers. Like the grass.

Tender,

so that when love and fear come together,

like with family and with friends,

we feel an aching in our hearts

and a burden just too much to bear.

Too much to bear alone.

And it all seemed such a sham. The presents and the tree. The music. All the talk of joy and peace.

Because sometimes you plan but it’s out of your control.

And sometimes you plan, but there’s something deeper, something realer, that you missed.

All our shattered plans for Christmas or for life, they can really shake our souls, leave us wondering how to hope.

How to hope, or why.

Leave us wondering if the New Year will bring us more of just the same. And if you’re anything like me then you’re tempted to whisk out a sheet of paper and start making lists, ask yourself what went wrong, and start planning so the future will be better.

As if we could fix ourselves, fix our families, with a list.

The only thing is, sometimes you plan but get it all so wrong.

Sometimes you plan but it’s out of your control.

New Year’s resolutions? Yes, I’ve got them. Organized drawers, eating kale, and the like.

But this year what I’m planning is complete surrender.

Submission like I’ve never known.

All I have, all I am, all I dream, brought to the feet of the only One who will never get it wrong and never let me down.

Because what my family, what my world, what I am missing is more of Jesus.

And because it’s only is His will that we can ever truly be free.

I’m taking His list. Making it mine. Turning my life right upside down.

And I’m starting with the Word.

Because not only is the Word with God, but the Word IS God. (John 1:1).

And it’s living, and it’s active, and it knows me, too (Hebrews 4:12).

I’m going to see what I’ve been missing.

I’m going to learn to love and live

like Him.

This is January.

The first day of the rest of my life.

Join me as I discover.

You won’t look back.

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul.

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Happy Little Sigh

Finding beauty in the everyday

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Posted in Holiday Cheer, Inspirations, Making Memories | Tagged 2014, Bible Reading, Christmas Fail, Ice Storm, Icicles, January, New Year's List, New Year's Resolutions, Snow Pictures, Surrender, The Book of John, The Word, Winter Photography, Winter Pictures | 6 Comments »

Murky Solstice Minds & LOVE for Advent

December 21, 2013 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

The darkest day.

I always remember.

The least sunshine. The least light.

Winter solstice.

December 21st.

And after this, I’m counting minutes–approximately two each day–until the hours stretch to bring the golden light of the summer sun. But for now, when I feel more than a little sorry for those Narnians and their ever winter never Christmas. When even the icicles hanging outside the kitchen window, and the layer of ice coating everything else, when even they can’t shine, my brain can feel as cloudy as this murky winter light.

Still, sometimes I see it–the beauty of eternity that begins today. These little souls, my little men, and the treasure that they are.

Other days I hit the floor running,

some crazy dance from room to room,

glancing occasionally at the clock,

and imaging the utter shock

my friends would feel if they ever stopped

and saw the state of this house.

On those days I find myself, at least once,

pausing–the whirlwind of Cheerios and Lego and foam swords and four little men swirling all around me, a now cold cup of tea in my hand–wondering,

what, oh, what, is going on?

There must be something, something I’m missing,

or it wouldn’t be

like this.

But what?

A little sleep, to be sure.

An intentional effort to count blessings

and sing praise

and speak truth.

Yes.

All that.

All that, and just a little more time

with Jesus.

Because though I have 2 million distractions, though the crumbs, and the laundry, and the children cry out to my clouded, foggy, weary brain, though the weather is bleak, and though I carry sorrows and disappointments in the deepest chambers of my heart,

none of it

should be an excuse.

An excuse to raise my voice or declare my dissatisfaction or remain in a dark, murky mood.

Because eternity begins today.

Our eternity began the day we were born.

And for those of us who love Jesus

that means counting those blessings,

speaking those truths,

and no matter how we’re feeling,

choosing to live like Christ.

The new year is coming.

Isn’t that a shock?

And what sort of year, I wonder, is it going to be?

I have my hopes and have my dreams,

but I realize that what I need

more than anything

is to spend more time with The Word.

With Jesus.

Pouring over His commands,

reading and re-reading his life

until His words and His ways and His will,

which are all Him,

become more of who I am, too.

For there is no better way to know what we’re missing.

There is no better way to bring into the darkness of our lives and minds

His perfect light

than to know Jesus.

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Let’s remember not just the manger but the cross. The purpose of Christ’s arrival on our planet. The depth of His LOVE.

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For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. ~ John3:16

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Love came down at Christmas
Love all lovely, love divine
Love was born at Christmas
Star and angels gave the sign.

Avonlea x

Find me on . . .

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Happy Little Sigh

Finding beauty in the everyday

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Posted in Holiday Cheer, The Inklings | Tagged Advent, Always Winter Never Christmas, Avonlea Q Krueger, avonleaqkrueger, bloggers of instagram, C.S. Lewis, Christmas, Christmas decorations, December 21, DIY Snow globes, finding beauty in the everyday, Forest Christmas, Happy Little Sigh, happylittlesigh, LOVE, Narnia, Parenthood, Picture frame wreath, Winter Solstice | 2 Comments »

Hearts in the Snow & JOY for Advent

December 16, 2013 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

I’ve heard it before.

So often my eyes glaze right over.

A stable, not a palace.

A manger, not a throne.

Yes, I know.

The King of the Universe,

our God,

here, on earth, in a human body.

A small one.

A cuddly bundle,

all silky skin and baby breath.

With his big brown eyes

and wee legs kicking.

A little baldy.

Or maybe an absolute

mop of curls.

But reading the words,

writing them down,

my mind still can’t grasp it all.

Because there’s a door, and though the Light shines through all around it,

it’s black, and it’s shut, and I can’t seem to turn the handle to see what’s inside.

And you wouldn’t think that anything could blind it,

make those beams seem a little less bright.

But somehow, the twinkly lights and inflatable Santas,

somehow, they all just DO.

Because after all, the whole world’s singing it. Belting it out like it’s no big deal.

Silent nights and angels singing.

Little towns and receiving our King.

And so of course–of course–it’s hard to awe.

Hard to grasp.

But what I can see with those golden beams shining–

when I cup my eyes to shut out the rest–

is the wonder, absolute wonder

that God would care

at all.

That He’s in love,

so in love,

with us, with the world,

that no matter what we say

or do,

no matter how hard and fast we’re running

in the opposite direction,

He’s there.

Eyes waiting to catch ours,

hand outstretched.

That He doesn’t just sit there

high on His throne,

calling, whispering

into the moments of our lives,

but He came down to join us mortals.

So close He could cook us breakfast

(like maybe toasted fish on the beach?),

so close He could kneel down in the dust

to wash the sheep dung from our feet.

He went to those lengths

because for some strange reason

He loves us that much.

Now that is something to wonder over.

Something to feel happy about.

That is a God we can worship.

A God who deserves our very selves,

who deserves our hearts.

What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
yet what I can I give him: give my heart.

~ Christina Rossetti

Avonlea x

Find me on . . .

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Happy Little Sigh

Finding beauty in the everyday

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Posted in Holiday Cheer | Tagged Advent, Avonlea Q Krueger, Christina Rosetti, Christmas Carols, Christmas Lamb, Christmas Music, English Carols, Happy Little Sigh, happylittlesigh, Hearts, In the Bleak Midwinter, Jesus, Joy, King, Manger | Leave a Comment »

The heart of it all & PEACE for Advent

December 7, 2013 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

We arrived late morning, just in time to see the tail end of the die-hard Black Friday shoppers toss another piece of plastic in their over-laden carts before struggling to maneuver them to the check-out.

I couldn’t help but wonder,

did they even like that stuff?

Did they need it?

Or had they been tricked?

But I was there, too, of course.

I was there, or I wouldn’t have seen it.

I was there, and armed with the page from the paper that showed the great deal on the bathroom set I was after. Bathrobe hook, hand towel loop, toilet paper holder, plus a few more.

And wasn’t I excited to keep the hand towel off the floor, where the children always leave it, and keep the toilet paper roll out of the toilet (or so I hoped).

But of course those items were just one of many on the long, long mental list of things I’d like for the house.

And of course once we’d stopped at the mall to let the children burn off some energy at the play area, and I took a stroll past H&M, I began think about my other list. The list of things I’d like for my wardrobe.

It’s intoxicating, you know, the mall is.

Every sense assaulted from every side.

Starbucks coffee, cinnamon rolls, perfume drifting from the department stores. The feel of silk, and faux fur, and leather. Nat King Cole crooning, and the Salvation Army bell jingling. The displays of clothes and furniture all looking so perfect, so much better than anything we have at home.

Couldn’t a person just get lost in it?

Caught up in the frenzy of buying

and trying

to fill the hole inside.

And while I went home looking forward to the giving

of the few gifts I picked up,

I also went home aching,

asking,

feeling anything but PEACE.

Because I know, though I never quite believe it,

that I am blessed beyond measure,

and that the more I have, the more I will want.

And though I tell it to my children,

what Christmas is all about,

and though we’re finding more ways of giving,

more ways of loving this year,

I find it’s still easy

to miss the point.

To miss the heart.

To miss PEACE.

I love the Christmas season.

Love it more each year.

Love the baking,

and the making

of sugar cookies,

paper snowflakes,

a wreath for the door.

Love candles glowing bright,

and singing Silent Night.

Love spotting a red cardinal

perched on a branch of lacy snow.

Or holly berries, and their leaves of thorns.

But what I needed on that day,

and what I need on this,

and what I desperately want my children to see,

is that the point of Christmas,

the heart of it all,

is found in His heart.

In the heart of Jesus,

and His love for us.

In His love we can let go of all the trappings,

all our unwritten lists,

all that haunts us in the wee hours of the night,

and we can simply rest.

Cling to Him, and be at peace.

“For He Himself is our peace.”

~Ephesians 2:14

As you light your second Advent candle this Sunday, remember the PEACE we have through Jesus. Hear Him whisper, “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.”

Avonlea xo

Happy Little Sigh

Finding beauty in the everyday ❤

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“The Holly and the Ivy,” King’s College Choir, Cambridge University, England

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Posted in Holiday Cheer, Videos - If You Were There | Tagged Advent, Cambridge, Christmas, Compassion International, England, English Christmas Carol, Giving at Christmas, Jesus, King's College Choir, Peace, Real Meaning of Christmas, Second Sunday of Advent, The Holly and the Ivy | Leave a Comment »

A Different Kind of Thanks

November 27, 2013 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

One year.

That’s how long it’s been since we came here, to this old yellow house by the river.

A year ago, I stood looking up at the sky through the hole in the kitchen roof, counting on two hands the days till the baby would come. Trying not to care that I had to wash my dishes in the bathroom sink. Lay out our meals on a cardboard box.

At the storage unit in town a high cliff of boxes contained our stuff from two different continents,

two different lives.

I tried, but I never did find the baby clothes in time.

At night, on a borrowed computer, we tracked our stolen laptop round the city. Then lost hope when it left the state.

It had only been a year.

One year before that since we’d come back.

Started life again in America.

And even when life’s good, a person might have to mourn a little over that.

Over the loss of a country. Of a way of life.

Even without break-ins, and police, and counting loss.

And that’s exactly what I did for a while.

I counted my loss.

Sobbed over them like a teenager with a broken heart.

It was all too surreal, and I didn’t know where to begin.

And I can’t say when it happened.

Can’t say just exactly when

I felt the great relief of letting go of it all.

All the stuff.

All the demands I had for my life.

For years, I hadn’t dared draw too near. Not close enough to rest my head there on His knee.

I didn’t dare.

There wasn’t peace.

Then one night I dreamed.

He carried me in His pocket.

All linen and white.

And I was small, and I was safe,

and I went with Him through His day.

The roof has long been fixed.

I have a kitchen, and it has a sink.

Slowly, slowly, as we’ve done before, we’re making this house into a home.

But when I find myself surveying it all,

feeling pleased about the way the sideboard looks,

and the curtains, and the chandelier,

I remind myself

what I really have to be thankful for.

What I have–because of Jesus–that nothing and no one

can ever take away.

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“Don’t let your happiness depend on something you may lose.”

~ C.S. Lewis

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For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

~ Romans 8:38-39

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A Very Happy Thanksgiving to You

Dear Readers!

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Avonlea x

Find me on . . .

Instagram/Facebook/MeWe @happylittlesigh

Happy Little Sigh

Finding beauty in the everyday

For Literary Inspiration for your HEART & HOME and a PERIOD DRAMA in your inbox EVERY Friday sign up here!

Posted in Holiday Cheer, Inspirations, The Inklings | Tagged C.S. Lewis, Fresh Start, Happiness, Thankfullness, Thanksgiving, The Love of God, Victorian Postcards and Clipart | Leave a Comment »

When It’s All Just Tiring & Tedious

November 25, 2013 by Avonlea Q. Krueger

Another week begins.

Outside, a change has come.

A bitter wind that those bare, black trees just can’t hold back.

My hands are raw like a nurse’s, from all that hot scrubbing.

Because though it’s Thanksgiving week here in America,

for me it will be another seven days of much the same,

if I want to look at it that way.

Loading and unloading

dishwashers,

washing machines,

wee ones in and out of beds.

Washing and scrubbing

walls,

floors,

toilets,

faces,

feet.

It’s sacred ground, you know, my home.

Sacred, with Jesus here.

Beside me as I labor, as I stoop.

Just as He did, right before He died.

Servant-like, He washed all the black off His disciples’ feet, just like He’d wash their hearts.

Just like He washed mine.

And so it’s sacred work, too, that I do.

Washing little hands, little feet.

Not easy. Not easy not to pipe up about what’s fair, and who’s pulling their share of it, and what I need to be happy.

No, the work’s not easy, and it goes on and on.

But what’s easy, really easy, is to go looking for something to give a bit more meaning to it all

when the sacred is disguised as tedium.

I know it’s not there, yet how often I go looking

for something to fill that deep, deep hole.

And yet I know, when it comes down to it, where to be filled.

Filled up and overflowing.

Where I can find the strength to serve and keep on serving.

And I can’t afford not to take the time each day to be filled up,

filled up and floating on all that love, all that grace.

He’s here. Beside me.

But I need to turn and look Him in the eye.

And as I scrub, I need to look them in the eye—my little souls.

They won’t sleep under this roof forever.

And while I’m kneeling, sometimes I’ve got to remember to keep them there, pull them to my lap.

Lean with our elbows on the windowsill to see what’s what.

With our eyes, trace the shape of those big, black trees,

the colours in the sky,

catch some geese in flight,

work together on our smile lines.

Acknowledge the sacred.

Because it’s right here.

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She rises up as morning breaks
She moves among these rooms alone
Before we wake
And her heart is so full; it overflows
She waters us with love and the children grow

~ Andrew Peterson, “Planting Trees”

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“It was November–the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.”

~ L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

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❤ For literary inspiration for your home & a PERIOD DRAMA in your inbox EVERY Friday sign up here! ❤

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Avonlea x

Happy Little Sigh

Finding beauty in the everyday ❤

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Posted in Inspirations, Videos - If You Were There | Tagged Andrew Peterson, Anne of Green Gables, Autumn, Cup of tea, Geese Flying in a V, L.M. Montgomery, Lucy Maude Montgomery, Morning, Motherhood, November, Planting Trees, Servant heart, Thanksgiving, Washing feet, Winged Migration | 4 Comments »

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Homemaking inspiration from literature

I know their fantasies. Whispered in the semi-dark of their living rooms, or over coffee on our girls’ night out, they’ve confided in me what they really want. And I’m not shocked. Not one little bit. After all, it’s what I want too.

A hotel room.

A cup of tea.

And a book.

No one else. Nothing else. For one entire day.

And that is the true, wild fantasy of mothers everywhere.

Not only strange, unusual mothers, but average mothers, like you or me.

This, all this, a mother must do. And how she longs to do it well! With joy, and patience, and grace, so that her children and husband and any guests who enter may be strengthened and comforted by their time there, in this mother’s home.

Like hiding in the closet, maybe, with a bar of chocolate. A trip to the grocery store all by herself! Or that hotel, maybe? A trip, a real trip away? How about England? A country estate? Yes? Then come with me!

A virtual trip to England . . .

to the quiet and the green . . .

Hear the bird song. Smell the lavender. Let the grass tickle your feet.

Stop at the tent for tea and scones. It’s all here for you, so enjoy!

There’s a concert, too. Did I mention?

Right here in the gardens, underneath the sky.

David Crowder Band. Ever heard of them? Listen, will you? to what they have to say . . .

How He Loves

He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions Eclipsed by glory and I realize just how beautiful You are And how great Your affections are for me

And oh, how He loves us,

how He loves us all

And we are His portion and He is our prize Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss And my heart turns violently inside of my chest I don’t have time to maintain these regrets When I think about the way

Oh, how He loves us,

how He loves us all

Hope you were refreshed by your visit. Come back any time.

For more than sunshine. More than chocolate. More than a new outfit, or a girl’s night out. His love is what strengthens. Renews.

Bask here for a while in the immensity of it.

For you will never find the depths of Jesus’ love.

Share the Beauty

The movement leaves me dizzy, for fast was never a speed that I’ve done well. Though words can come fast (from my lips or from my fingers), my moving and living, I’ve always done slow.

While we have our moments, our moments of creativity and laughter and peace, it seems to me that every day is more like a race. A mad rush to cross off my list, and get through the cycle I completed just the day before (with a few things extra, if I’m lucky).

I move people, too. In and out of cribs and high chairs, pajamas and nappies, car seats and prams. The boys, they move, too. Round me in circles at times, trailing behind them their tears, their bickering, their shouts, till I feel like they’ve bound me and I might just crash.

And I’m running and I’m rushing, taking glances at my list, hardly stopping it seems at times, to eat or drink, let alone to wonder. Ponder. Enjoy.

Without him I so often end up on a merry-go-round of movement, my head spinning, and my day feeling as fractured as a mirror broken into a thousand colored shards, and I cannot think straight enough to put back the pieces.

And so that alarm gets set. A few moments to myself. I’m tired, yes, but those twenty minutes of quiet, just me and God, will make all the difference for the rest of my day.

One Minute With God by Kathy Hardee

The Book Lover’s Devotional from Barbour Publishing

Running Into Water – by Angela Blycker

Jesus Calling by Sarah Young

Jesus Today by Sarah Young

Jesus Lives by Sarah Young

One Thousand Gifts Devotional Journal by Ann Voskamp

Near Unto God by Abraham Kuyper

Morning and Evening by Charles H. Spurgeon

Because He Loves Me by Elyse Kirkpatrick

Comforts from the Cross by Elyse Kirkpatrick

My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers

Surrender: The Heart God Controls by Nancy Leigh DeMoss

Hinds Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard

Crazy Love – Overwhelmed by a Relentless God by Francis Chan

Forgotten God – Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit by Francis Chan

Reading the Bible with the Damned by Bob Ekland

Expository Thoughts on the Gospels by J.C. Ryle

Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die by John Piper

Pierced by the Word by John Piper

Life as a Vapor by John Piper

Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ by John Piper

The Great Work of the Gospel by John Ensor

Streams in the Desert by L.B. Cowman

The Precious Things of God by Octavius Winslow

Spiritual Depression by D. Martin Lloyd-Jones

He is There and He is Not Silent by Francis A. Schaeffer

Reflections by Jim Branch

Victory Over the Darkness by Neil T. Anderson

The Great House of God by Max Lucado

Colossians 3:16-17

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Share the Beauty

Yeah, it’s hard to leave that on late winter mornings, hard to meet cold floors with warm balls of feet, trade stillness for the swirl of to-do’s and the demands of little voices that never stop the long day.

But creaking crib and cracking door always break the silence, and it all ends.

And on those days even the words won’t come, though I sit down to write. Words, which have always been with me, forming patterns, rolling round my mouth as I make sense of world. Because on those days there is no sense, and so the words, they just don’t come.

His compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness.

~ Lamentations 3:22-23

Because though I’ve heard it, I still need it. I need it every day. Need to hear the voice of Him that made me, hear just whose I am, and what I am, and why. I need truth. Love. Strength. Light.

“I like breakfast-time better than any other moment in the day,” said Mr. Irwine. “No dust has settled on one’s mind then, and it presents a clear mirror to the rays of things.”

~ George Eliot

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Share the Beauty

Downton Abbey,which garnered 9.5 million viewers for its debut episode of season four in the UK, and 10.2 million in the USA, making it the highest-rated premiere for a drama in PBS history.

He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions
Eclipsed by glory and I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me

And we are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way