Magic Swiffer Wand

I'm allergic to dust. So, wouldn't that mean that I'm allergic to dusting, too? I say yes.

But allergy or no, I still have to dust when I clean house. Mainly because I have no children living at home to give that menial task to. Where have the years gone? When did those chore-children grow up? (The large young man in the corner bedroom doesn't qualify to be a duster. He is the lawn mower, garbage taker outer, clean your own bathroom, and whatever else we don't want to do, man-child). 

Although I tend to dust the living space of our home pretty regularly, there is always the "outskirts" of the home where dust gathers. I personally think when I swipe the fireplace mantle with my swiffer dust wand, the little molecule monsters hurry and float their way to spaces undusted. Say--perhaps my office?

Over the course of my 40's (I'm in the final stretch this year) I allowed a lot of dust to gather in my soul. 

Side note: I've heard that 50 is the new 30. I'm praying that is true.

I'm not a doctor but I'm pretty sure every woman feels like some alien has taken over her body during the 40's season of life. Our mother's would call this the change of life...I call it the alien years. I think Peter must have been addressing his mother's generation when he said:

Beloved,  I urge you as aliens and strangers to abstain from fleshly lusts which wage war against the soul. 1 Peter 2:11

In case you hadn't noticed, mid-life women become aliens and strangers. I'm sure my husband and kids had moments when they asked: Who is this woman? Trust me, we (the middle-aged woman) wage war in our souls for sure!

After war, the dust begins to settle. That's when we soldiers of the menopausal mess pull out our magic swiffer wands and gently attack the cob webbed corners of our soul. When I clean house, my wand happens to work best when accompanied by music. Hence, dusting the corners of my soul needed music.

In the midst of my war, my daughter gave me a lovely sign that inspired this blog post. But for me, simply playing music wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to BE music.

In a day and age where churches have allowed trends to push choir and special musical performances right out the door, I’m thankful the leadership at Cedar Park Church sees things different. I know the three major performances I’ve been a part of (Christmas, Easter, Patriotic) have ministered to others, but truthfully, they ministered to me more.

The passion from our directors, Don and Lily Wolf, challenged us to be better singers. To not settle for getting the notes and words right, but to push to make those notes and words resonate the message of Christ to believers and non-believers alike.

My interpretation of Don’s passion? We aren’t just singers. We are ministers.

There have been testimonies come in where seasoned Christians and their unsaved neighbors alike allowed the swiffer wand of music to swipe away at the dusty corners of their souls.

We all know that after we dust and clean house, inevitably it will become messy again, but for now, I’ll sit back and enjoy the cleanliness.

Then sings my soul…

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His Eye is on the Sparrow...

...and Three Boys and a Dog.

The Parker's Boys*

Zachariah, Gabriel, and Benjamin all have a story to tell, they just don't know it yet.

Zach: Almost 8 years old. Adopted just before his first birthday and protected from a life filled with things a child should never see or endure.

Gabe: Just turned 6 years old. A miracle child conceived within a womb that was never expected to carry life.

Benny: Three years old and has a different legal name. He has lived in three different situations. His mother and father, his aunt and uncle (the Parkers), and his grandmother have battled for his future in their own way. None of which have permanent custody.

Abigail (the dog): Their guardian.  She is forever at their sides, eyes and ears alert to their every move. Even when she is worn out, she will haul herself from the comforts of lounging to follow close on their heels as they head off on a new venture.

Jeremy and Danielle Parker are clinging to God and doing what they can on a day-to-day basis to teach and to train these boys (and Abigail) to fulfill the purpose God has for them.

And someday I hope to be the one to tell their stories as they unfold.

Romans 8:28-29 "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose. For those whom he foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers."

*This photo was taken on my phone when Les was invited for a recent fishing venture/visit at the Parker's home. This edit/filter from my PicsArt app gave it the perfect Norman Rockwell feel. I plan to print it and place it where I am reminded to pray for the Parker Boys' future and God's plan for them.

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Mr. Preston's Daughter

Growing up stuck in the middle of sisters could really be a burden to a boy. Girls can be so annoying. When the moving truck pulled up a few houses down the street, I jumped on my bike and raced over to see if they needed any help. In my ten-year-old mind I truly did plan to help and be neighborly, but what I really wanted to know was if there were any boys moving into the female infested neighborhood.

You can only imagine my disappointment when two girls emerged from the mini-van. After dismounting my bike in my typical hop and drop motion I sauntered over to the man of the house, stuck my right hand out like Daddy taught me, and welcomed Mr. Preston to the neighborhood.

That day I stuffed my selfish disappointment over the lack of Mr. Preston’s ability to produce male offspring and hauled boxes for the newcomers. My sisters…? They showed up later with warm gooey cookies and by the end of the day were besties with the Mr. Preston’s daughters.

Throughout the year our families began to join together in neighborly activities: Bon fires, fishing, picnics, swimming. One time we all went camping at the ocean. Out of boredom, I flopped myself in a grassy strip full of tiny daisies. I proceeded to pick one, slit my thumbnail through the stem creating

an “eye” to thread another daisy stem through like Mom taught us. After chaining a few together I finished it off and headed back to camp.

I bestowed the daisy crown upon my mother’s head of dark curls and kissed her on the cheek…just because.

That’s when it happened. Our eyes connected and she smiled. The oldest of Mr. Preston’s daughter’s face glowed. My heart raced as if I had just hop and dropped my bike after a fast trip to buy ice cream at the corner store. Only better.

I’ve decided I like hanging out with my sisters and their friends, especially Emily Preston. Who looks rather lovely with a daisy crown, if I don’t say so myself.  

*These pictures were taken at Pacific Beach, WA with my phone on a latte run break from a ladies retreat I was ministering at. I enjoyed the few moments of solitude, and the story began to brew with each snap of the phone shutter.




In case you want to learn how to make a proper Daisy chain:

How To Make a Daisy Chain on Howcast

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On the Verge of Beauty

We've had a few wonderful sunny days in the beautiful Northwest. Spring arrives and warm sunny days blend into warm rainy days. (Hey....it's Seattle) Which makes the grass grow faster and the trees change with equal dramatic flair.

Winter's here are long and grey. The deciduous trees are bare and branchy and rather ugly. But when spring warms the area, everything begins to be on the verge of beauty.

Take this sticky little tree for instance. All winter long I barely noticed it, other than trying not to let its branches scratch the cars in our crowded driveway.

I almost missed the green buds forming, but what really delighted me was about a half dozen pink pretties poking out of their leafy cocoon. With anticipation I watch the little dogwood tree, waiting for it to burst into a lovely pink array of glory.

Sometimes we have seasons of winter in our lives that seem to last forever. Whether its finances, jobs, family illnesses, instability... the list could go on, but I've never known a winter that didn't have a spring follow it. The trees won't remain barren beyond their dormant season.

Although sometimes we feel like the bare branches of winter, take hope in the fact that spring is guaranteed to come and we will be on the verge of beauty too. I'm watching in anticipation for many of you to burst with your crown of beauty.

"...and bestow upon them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair." Isaiah 61:3

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Red-Breasted Sentinel

* see below

Thump.

Dot spit toothpaste in the sink and wiped her mouth.

Thump.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and rolled her eyes.

Thump.

“Alright already. Can’t you see I’m working on it?” Dot’s tough skinned feet shuffled along on the worn linoleum floor.

Thump.

Bent down under the kitchen sink, she retrieved an old ice cream bucket with a grunt. “I’m gonna get a BB gun if you don’t knock it off.”  She glared at the mud splattered kitchen window. An idle threat at best.

Even though she knew it was coming, the jumped when the crazy robin came at the window with another thump. He had been at it all morning but more consistently after she got up and around. This time he grabbed onto the window screen with his claws and stared at her. Dot squinted in return.

“Pest,” she turned to head towards the door. The robin fluttered around to the porch banister and cocked his head. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you… Pest.”

The air came alive with the news that the plump old woman had emerged from behind the window with the sought after bucket of seed. Branches bounced above the birdfeeder from the movement of critters flitting among the fir trees while she ambled barefoot across the dew laden lawn.

She filled the feeder and tossed a handful of seed under the trees. A fat squirrel scampered down the trunk unafraid of the human less than six feet away. The furry critter swiped up a couple sunflower seeds and scurried back up to enjoy his treat.

Back inside, Dot leaned on the kitchen sink with her morning coffee in hand and watched the activity in her back yard. Birds of various types swooped in to have a turn at some early spring food. Meanwhile, the robin who pesters her every time the feeder is empty, sat perched on the rail keeping an eye on the feeding frenzy occasionally tilting his head to watch her through the glass.

When things settled down, the robin flew off into the trees.

“Well, everyone seems happy now.” Dot backed away from the sink, sipping her coffee. In all her years, she never ceased to be amazed at the self appointed, red-breasted, sentinel.

***

* This picture was taken through my kitchen window. Not the best quality so it posed a bit of a challenge to edit. The red-breasted fella flies into my kitchen window, sliding glass door, and dining room window every time the bird feeder gets low.  I never see him enjoying the seed. He did this last spring, too. I fictionalized the story using my beloved Dot character from previous short stories over the years.

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Phone Photography

It seems every where you look, people are taking and sharing pictures from their phones. It has become a photography phenomenon.

Recently, I saw a news story where a professional photographer with tons of expensive equipment decided to put together a book of shots taken using only his cell phone. He showed how he would adjust the pictures with an app he created on his phone to give them artistic flare.

I'm not a photographer, but I do have an artistic eye. I'm one of those weird creative sorts, hence the gum wall cover photo on my facebook. I'm always snapping pictures with my phone because I tend to forget my camera a lot. I love capturing things I "see" through my mind's eye.

So where does all this bring me? I've decided I needed a fresh new angle to blog from for awhile. The story on TV about the phone photography inspired me. My goal is to take random (or intentional) pictures with my android phone. Edit them using ONLY apps on my phone and uploading them to my blog.

I'll plan to kick the writer brain in gear by creating a story (true or fiction), a devotional, a poem... or whatever comes to mind.

I hope you will pop in and join me in my phone photography endeavors, or better yet, be inspired to participate in your own way. Let those creative brains do what God intended them to do. Make the world a brighter place

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