1,500 women gathered in a chapel. Outside, snow flurries danced in the bitter wind. Inside, the warm glow of the chapel’s soaring wood ceiling. Chocolate covered pretzels, and coffee, and light. Smiling faces, and candle-lit carols, and friends. And the speaker had so much to say–so many good things to inspire and help us on. But there was one thing that struck me–sat like a burning weight in the deepest part of me. She spoke of the Armor of God, and of the Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. (Ephesians 6:17). THIS is how we do battle with all that threatens to undo us. THIS is the weapon we must take into our hands when darkness starts to close in. The Sword of the Spirit–the Word, which is Light, and Love, and Truth. I took up the challenge this morning, and this is the passage to which I was drawn–
Yet I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will take me into glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
This is the picture I’m holding with me as I go through the day–the picture of my Father, who is Ruler of the Universe, yet who has stooped to hold onto my hand.
HOPE
Avonlea xo
happylittlesigh.com
Finding beauty in the everyday ❤
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
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
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
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Happy Little Sigh
Finding beauty in the everyday
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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
happy little sigh 