From the Heart of Eve & Renewing the Sabbath

Grampa's Ornament

Grampa Plainview suffered cancer for three years before he died in 2006, three days before Christmas. Because he lived several states away, the Plainview children didn't get to say goodbye.

When we were pulling out our ornaments for the tree this year, I found an ornament Eve made sometime shortly after we lost Grampa. No one ever knew she made it. I suppose it was a her special secret gift. It was a special secret gift for us this year.

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Eve's Rag Doll: Day 1

She beat me to the punch. I intended to make all the girls handmade rag dolls for Christmas, but Eve was inspired to make her own, so I didn't stop her. She worked on part of it today.

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Renewing the Sabbath

I spent the day trying not to move too much. I think yesterday, I may have eaten something that didn't agree with me, so my insides have been all knotted and twisted up in protest. Mr. Plainview took up my slack and cooked dinner, then he retired early.

The girls and I opened the next window on the Advent calendar. Since tomorrow evening is Sunday, the activity is the second candle lighting. We'll read Scripture and create a new prayer list for the week.

So, the house is quiet now, and everyone else is in their bedrooms trying to fall asleep. James returned just a few minutes ago from an out-of-town outing with his best friend's family. The Christmas lights are glowing in the windows. The Christmas tree, nativity, stockings...all are in their places and radiating festive cheer.

On my mind is the Sabbath. Last night's reading was from the book of Deuteronomy, and how God created the Sabbath as a holy day of rest.

We never have been a family to observe the Sabbath in the traditional sense, or in any sense, really. As far as everyone else is concerned, it's the last day to relax before the busy week begins on Monday. For me, it's usually about making sure the laundry is done and the lesson plans are prepared.

The scriptures last night gave me a lot to think about. I was really impressed by the way God ordered rest not only for His people, but also for the servants, the "strangers", and all the livestock. The Sabbath, whether it was a Sabbath day or a Sabbath year, was meant as a time of rest for the land, too. It seemed the whole world grew still on those days. I could even envision a sky absent of birds; perhaps the wind itself did not blow and the waves did not crash on the Sabbath.

What I cannot envision is myself doing nothing on Sundays. I cannot imagine serving cold meals all day long, not putting things away, not making the bed when I get up, not loading the dishwasher at the end of the day.

On a normal, busy day, the thought that usually follows me to bed is the thought of all the things I didn't accomplish, even despite all the things I did accomplish. I cringe to consider the thoughts that might nag me if I go to bed having left a day's dirt, dust, and disorder.

What I can envision is a day of a restful heart, mind, and spirit.

Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Matthew 6:34

I can willingly devote the day to remaining in an attitude of prayer and walking with Him no matter what it is I'm doing. I should aspire to this kind of mindfulness every day of life, but especially on Sunday, because the Sabbath is holy.

Keeping the Sabbath holy was never much of a priority for me until I read Moses's account in Deuteronomy. Strangely now, after all these years of mothering the household and trying to do what's right, I find myself called and compelled to give Sundays back to Him.

Tonight, I'm not quite sure what a proper Sunday might look like, but I'm sure He'll show me soon enough.

Advent Activities: December 5 & 6

Advent Activity, December 5th
Drink eggnog!

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Advent Activity, December 6th
Make fabric angel ornaments.

Lord, teach me what to say.

Advent Activity, December 4th
Cut-Out Paper Chain Garland

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Answered Prayer: Lord, teach me what to say.

10 And Moses said unto the LORD, O my LORD, I am not eloquent, neither heretofore, nor since thou hast spoken unto thy servant: but I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.

11 And the LORD said unto him, Who hath made man's mouth? or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? have not I the LORD?

12 Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt say.

Exodus 4:10-12

I thought my Social Anxiety might get the best of me today when I had to give a second parent advisement session on essay writing. The session last month went well, judging from the feedback after the fact, but I walked away feeling scrutinized and traumatized, though I knew it was all in my head.

This time, I'd been dreading the speaking engagement all week. It's not that I didn't know my topic through and through, not that I didn't feel a deep purpose in sharing what I've learned. It was worry about presenting myself well and providing the information in a way that could be understood and absorbed. It's hard for people to understand a person and absorb what she's saying if the speaker's stumbling over her words, shaking from nervousness, and pausing because she's forgotten where she was.

I had a long talk with God about that. My intentions were good, and I felt I truly did have something of value to give, and I wanted to give that presentation, because I knew it would help other moms who have trouble teaching their kids to write. So why all the anxiety?

Well, I asked God to take my nervousness from me and to give me the words to be clear, amicable, and thorough.

He gave me all of those.

The session went swimmingly. When all was said and done, it felt less like a "presentation," and more like a moms meeting. That is what I envisioned for the session, and I've been so grateful there are no lingering bad feelings or anxiety to follow me through to the next presentation.

Winter Sew-or-Buy & The Colonial Spirit of a Single Gift

Winter Sew-or-Buy

The temperature has dropped straight through the ground. To a lot of people up north, 48 degrees isn't that bad, but I'm frozen to the bone. And I have no winter clothes.

I don't know how I made it through past winters. Leggings and thermals under my skirts, calf socks and boots, lots of layers, gloves and scarves. That's not going to suffice this year. My intolerance to cold is worse than it's ever been. A quick trip to the grocery store near about did me in.

Eve has outgrown all of her winter clothes from last year. Even Love has outgrown Eve's clothes from last year. Alice and Claire are getting the older girls' hand-me-downs, but all are still in need of boots and thermals, because they've all outgrown or worn out what we had before.

To Sew or Buy:

• quality thermals
• wool socks
• heavy skirts of wool blends, corduroy
• solid cotton underskirts
• pantaloons
  
• knit wool hats
• thick gloves
• fleece pajamas
• a wool-lined coat (for me)
  

I could feasibly knit socks and hats. I could make the skirts, underskirts, and pajamas if I can acquire the fabric.

However I go about it, I need to go about it soon. I think we're done with warm weather for the year.

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The Colonial Spirit of a Single Gift
(Photobucket image: "Handmade doll" by claudiakuba)

Learned an interesting fact today about Christmas in Colonial times: Children often received only one gift for Christmas.

We are in a national recession; I wondered aloud to Mr. Plainview tonight how feasible it might in the future to somehow go to only one gift for each child.

After all, we do spend the rest of December celebrating in special ways. The Advent calendar allows for a fun family activity each and every evening. Add to that the delicious holiday treats and meals, the Christmas performances, the arts & crafts.... Why shouldn't gifts play only a small part (literally) in the holiday?

I believe, in order to make that transition, we'd have to do it gradually, over the span of several holidays throughout the year (birthdays included), and we'd need to emphasize the grand pleasure of all the other Christmas aspects. We're lucky in that we homeschool and don't watch a lot of TV. The kids are not overexposed to the gross bombardment of commercials, and we never, ever, ever go into toy stores, and rarely into the toy section of the supermarket. There's no need for them to feel any grief over all the toys that are out there that they cannot have.

Listening to the Christmas passages of Little House in the Big Woods, I think we were all lulled by the description of Laura's Christmas gift rag doll, "Charlotte." I can see how grateful the girls would be if they received a special, beautiful doll for Christmas instead of something plastic and superficial, like an Easy Bake Oven or a new video game.

At least that's what I think. I wonder if, in reality, they would appreciate such a simple gift. I suppose there's only one way to find out.

Thoughts on Job & This Old Bible

Thoughts on Job

Since I haven't had a routine devotional in a while, I decided to poke around BibleGateway.com for some Bible study resources. At this point, I'm not all that interested in reading full blown devotions; I just want some quality time in the Word, to hear God, to be with Him, and to hear what He has to say.

I chose to go with the Chronological Bible Reading Plan (61 days). This plan is perfect for me right now, because it'll get me reacquainted with the Word and orient me as to the arrangement of content. Kind of like reading the Table of Contents in a new book and then skimming over the subheadings.

Once I'm done with this plan, I think I'll pick up My Utmost for His Highest. Or not. I'd love to do an in-depth study of Romans again.

But I'm into Day 3 of the chronological plan. Tonight's reading was from the Book of Job.

The thoughts I found most astounding:

• When Job's friends saw him, they didn't recognize him for how badly he'd been marred by disease. They were so overcome with grief at only the sight of him, they sat with him in utter silence for an entire week, because they could just feel how deep and dark his despair truly was. Regardless of what transpired later in the book, these friends genuinely loved Job. They shared his pain. If we all had friends that close....


• When God finally relieved Job's agony, He accepted him again so quickly, expediently. Almost every chapter of the Book of Job portrays the man's misery in great detail. And the chapters of God's monologue...powerful and overwhelming. Yet, toward the very end, Job repents and glorifies God. Job spoke only five short verses, ending with "Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes," and immediately, God accepted him.


• The book ends on a most beautiful thought...I felt like my heart would just burst with joy: "So Job died, being old and full of days." Full of days.... Full of days blessed by Almighty God Himself. I cannot imagine....

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This Old Bible


The Bible I have now is the same soft-bound leather, giant print that was given to me when I was about ten years old. The pages are falling out in clumps, several pages are torn, but none are missing. The margins are scribbled with notes in blue ink, and lines throughout are starred, circled, and underlined.

I love that Bible. It's a part of me now, but each time I read it, I have to hold it so carefully by the spine so I don't lose any part of it, or what's left of the binding doesn't rip and come undone.

I've considered investing in a new Bible, but I don't think I could. It wouldn't be the same. This Bible from my childhood is almost like a cloth wrap for my faith. It holds so many tears of pain and joy, answers to tough questions, stories that made me happy.... It would be like putting away all the years of my life walking with the Lord. If I had a new Bible, my mind would always return to this old one. It feels like home.

Thyroid-related Infertility?

Putting together the pieces of my spotty health over the last five years and wondering why--after all this time--we haven't found ourselves expecting another.

For more than ten years, I was the family joke: "Fertile Myrtle." Every time I called a family member and said, "Hey! Guess what!" the response was invariably, "You're pregnant." Even when I wasn't.

Over the past three years when we were "trying" but not really trying, nothing. Just couldn't figure it out.

I did some research on the symptoms I've been having lately. I suspected my thyroid, and the search results included all of the same old signs: intolerance to cold, insomnia, dry skin, irritability, etc.

But then, the word jumped out and crushed me: infertility.

What???

That would explain a whole lot. It's quite possible I haven't been ovulating at all.

I read it. The possibility is 100% based in fact. But the only way I could know for sure is to see the doctor, and then get a referral to an endocrinologist, because every family physician I've ever seen has less of a working knowledge of Hypothyroidism than I do.

So, I don't know for sure, and this is worse than knowing it's true.

Stepping from the Brush: On Repentance

Someone's been fervently praying for me. I can feel it. I can always tell when the Holy Spirit floods into my shadowed encapsulation, begins fighting off the darkness, and then fills the gaping wounds inside even though I've been too weak to pray for myself.

He has, He has.

For many months now, I've felt as if I've been walking along the overgrown edge of God's path, beyond a fenced barrier. I've cut my feet on the thorns, had to claw my way through thick vines and branches to stay close enough to His road so I can still see it.

And I've been mindful how smooth the soil is on the way He paved for me, how it will always lead to His lighted city, no matter how dark the valleys or how steep the hills become on the way there.

Someone has prayed a break in the barbed wire, and I stand here with a clearing wide enough to squeeze through, and He waits there, just an arm's length away. All I have to do is walk toward Him, and the rest of the journey will be safe and secure.

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It's better for me to wait a while before I seek the company of other faithful Christians. We're all flawed, but at this fragile juncture, any pressure or accusations or negativity from other believers could be detrimental. Not that I am easily jaded, but I'm easily turned against myself, and self-loathing and self-punishment is NOT God's way.

Repentance is indeed sorrowful. The process of being broken is painful in its own way, but the sense above all others is a predominant love and adoration, a deep gratitude to Christ for making me whole.

When I'm genuinely repenting, the feeling that overwhelms should not be self-hatred, should not be an unholy shame that would drag me farther away from God instead of toward Him.

It's so easy to fall victim to those falsehoods and lies. I think most Christians are well-meaning, and they want more than anything to share the brokenness and the victory that follows it. But many folks get caught up in what they believe is an established process, that a person should go into salvation on one side looking like filth and come out on the other side looking like them.

Spiritually speaking, yes--we do come out of the other side of salvation with a clean soul, washed by Christ's blood, ready to be presented before the throne. But the flesh...life...the every-day...that takes time, discipline, determination, self-control, willpower, practice.

It's almost as if I'm recovering from an addiction to fleshly living. It's a fragile time. I'm vulnerable and exposed. I need to steep in the Spirit, strengthen my bond with Him, allow Him to build me up so when the time comes for me to reenter fellowship, I'll be strong and secure in Him, impervious to the lies that may rob me of my confidence in Christ's profound sacrifice.

It begins with prayer. It began with someone else's prayer for me.

I can pray for them, too, and even if I don't know who they are, God does.

And then I can pray for myself.