Blustery Monday

The North Wind Doth Blow

No snow forecast, but it is indeed a blustery Monday.

 Sustained winds of 20-35 mph roar through our wee cove and even the biggest of our trees sway like twigs. 

I tell myself they've stood for this long, surely they'll survive this, too. 

But, it all depends on the root system.

***

Makes me realize that without my own strong root system, I could easily be toppled when the storms of life roar through my being. 

Oh, that I might be rooted in love. 

His love. 

Which One of These is Different?

These are all significant places in the story of Rayne's Faith.

 Only two have a name.

The first person to send me those names will receive a signed paperback copy. 

Kindle version up for preorder on Amazon 

Releases January 31

What Fragrance Becomes You?

She stepped toward the door, then turned back to him and gripped his hands. “I can smell Martha’s climbing roses—the ones by the kitchen door. You know why?”

He didn’t know why. Neither had he noticed. “No. Why? I’m sure there’s a lesson for me in this.” 

“Before the storm you had to go to the rose to whiff its sweetness. Now it’s been hail pounded and windblown and it perfumes the air. The fragrance was there all the time, you see—just took some bruising to release it.” She kissed the palm of his hand. “Sleep well, Rayne. Tomorrow is a new day.”

  Esther was right. Tomorrow would be a new day, but never again would he greet the morning with love in his arms. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Carolyn had always smelled like roses.

***

Question of the day: After you've gone through the storm, wronged, pounded, bruised—

What fragrance becomes you?

Another excerpt from Rayne's Faith. Kindle version available for preorder from Amazon. Just type my name in the search box. 

ARE YOU HOLDING THE ROPE--OR A 'NOT' IN THE END OF IT?

Rayne straightened and widened his stance. “I don’t need to figure it out, Esther. I delivered Mrs. Manning as you requested, and came home to find out my little girl has been allowed to go barefoot and run around the yard unattended, picking flowers with the promise of giving them to her mama.”

“And that’s bad because?”

“You see how she walks, and you don’t think it’s bad to let her roam outdoors alone? She can’t run, Esther. She can’t protect herself. And no matter how many flowers she picks, she can’t show them to her mother.”

“Stop! Stop with the can'ts. Don’t you know by now that a can’t is a can with a big old not tied to the end of it? And you’re the one holding the rope that keeps that not tight.”

***

Question of the day:  

Whose rope are you holding today?

 Are you holding it in prayer...

or keeping a 'not' tied? 

P.S.--This is the cover and an excerpt from book #2 of my Another Spring trilogy that will release next week. 

Preorders for Kindle version or up now on Amazon. 

If my stories don't encourage you, then I've failed in my passion as a writer.  

Don't Throw Away the Throw Away

For most of the summer, this fern sat on my deck.

Then, when they predicted frost, I brought it into the house.

But my wee cottage is...well...wee, and there was no good place to keep it so it would get light except under the lamp.

 And to thank me for bringing it in from the cold, it began to drop stickery little thingys that I couldn't detect while walking barefoot into the kitchen for my regular evening snack until they were embedded in my heel or between my toes.

SO

I sat it back out on the deck to allow it to die a slow death, thinking when I had time, I'd relegate it to the timber.

However, it taught me a great lesson. For you see, it accepted its lot gracefully and rather than to become ugly and bitter, it showed me that even in it's dying stage, it was beautiful.

Now the stickery thingys turned gold, and they sparkled through the frost, and remain golden even under the blanket of snow. 

I wonder what opportunities I've missed because I've dismissed something of beauty while I chose to focus on the 'stickers'. 

And what bothers me more--

How many times have I become that sharp object rather than choosing to 'die' graciously to self. 

PRICELESS AND NOT FOR SALE

A small collection of yellow-ware occupies a shelf above our refrigerator. 

And behind that hangs a wooden hand-painted tray my mother purchased at a roadside stand near Raton, New Mexico in the middle 1940's.

Nothing displayed is worth much in today's market

Yet, everything you see in this picture holds a precious memory.

Thus:

Pricless 

and

Not For Sale.

Change = Perspective = Choices

I'm sure I didn't realize how very quickly things would change when this picture was taken. Five of the six grands all heaped together watching a movie. 

If only—

Same grands--but oh! the changes.

Now I have choices:

I can lament  they are nearly all grown--no more spring break sleepovers, no more toys found under the couch when they've gone, or the stray sock stuffed behind the couch cushion.

OR

I can be eternally grateful they all know the Lord as their Savior; that they all still love one another; and that they still will pile onto a couch to humor their grandma. 

I have no idea what the future holds for each of them--or how that future will affect us. 

But this I DO know.

He Who holds the future knows!

And that's good enough

because

HE IS ENOUGH!!

Corners. Underneath. And Other Unusual Places.

I don't follow the norm when it comes to decorating. I'll never win a prize in the doing--but I truly want our wee cottage to be a welcome, "go ahead and look under and in the corners" type of place. 

It's so easy to display our 'best' selves at eye level. That's not all bad. We needn't hang all our dirty laundry on the line. But I want those who enter our tiny little home to want to sit and stay awhile because what they see surprises them--corners full of little vignettes that call for conversation; 

Arrangements underneath to remind people that not everything worth looking at is on top. To surprise them how fun it is to discover something 'below' one's normal line of vision.

An embroidered picture found at a flea market, hung at an odd level beside my funny little slip-covered wingback chair--my 'comfy' spot'--in hope that the guest will read what it says and feel 'comfy' and welcome.

And an invitation to make them feel at home!!

One rule:

What goes on in our wee cottage, stays in our wee cottage! 

Two words:

Welcome Friends