A Blog of Few Words

I wish I could remember where I recently heard or read this:

“The fool speaks because he has to say something;

the wise man speaks because he has something to say.”

I’ve also heard when one wins a million-dollar lottery, the first thing to do is “become a millionaire.”  Most people who win huge lotteries end up losing the money very quickly because they lack the mindset or wisdom that would have gotten them there without that lottery.  The money falls through their fingers without the skill of knowing how to live with much.

These remarks have simmered in my mind since I made the decision to step back from blogging last October.  I needed to become a millionaire!  Rather, a master of my domain (as in home, not web address) and maybe even a writer. I wasn’t doing my most important roles well.  I knew I could do exponentially better with the time that was slipping through my fingers like quickly acquired riches.

I had a wordy post ready to share back then and never felt like following through.  So here I am checking into a dark and empty auditorium, wondering if this microphone is even on. Like that clumsy squeak piercing the emptiness, I’m stepping up to say, “I’m still here!”

I’ve been asking the questions, “Do I have to say something or do I have something to say?” and “How do I order the minutes in a day to get it said?” I think I’ve become more skilled than I was last fall in the daily management of life.  Writing is still something to figure out.  This blog will remain on the quieter side until that ever gets settled.  One thing I’ve frightfully concluded is that this writing thing isn’t entirely my own idea.  I’ve tried to get away from it and, for some reason, I don’t think I’m supposed to so I’m choosing to obey.

If I ever must leave here for good, I will say so.  But if it’s just plain quiet for a while, it’s because I’m working at becoming a mother in multiple facets since acquiring such fortune 12 years ago, chiseling away at mental marble, or just letting things sit until I truly have something to say.

Stuck in a Moment

While I’ve felt pressure to get on here and let whoever’s reading know where I’ve gone, I haven’t known what to say, nor had the energy to say it. Having such a small blog, isn’t it a silly thing to say in the first place?

However few, you matter much to me. Without a reader, words stand still. Since you are my partner in creation, I think you deserve to know where I’ve gone.

I joined National Novel Writing Month! Then, almost as quickly as I signed up, my words ran away.

I’ve written about 3,000 of the required 50,000 words. I thought I had a book in me, but when I sit down to write I am lost. To try to get to 50,000 words, there is no capacity left to post to a blog. I don’t know how to do both, but one thing I know for sure; it has been the busiest month of my life, ever. We are going to cut out some things for the month of December because I can’t breathe.


I’m stuck in a long moment. I think it’s been 5 weeks since I’ve posted anything. Interestingly enough, my last post was about asking for brokenness, and there is some.

I offer you my thanks and apologies. Thanks for sticking with me, for comments and telling me you’re there. Apologies for my inconsistency and inability to make this more than it is. My goal and vision for staying here is to inspire a few of you to see the story differently, empowering you to live life in Christ with a fresh vision and joy and the ability to imagine what’s true, but not yet seen.

I not only pop up today to say, “Hey, I’m here, stick around,” but really to express that I think this period of silence has a purpose. After 5 weeks of not posting and feeling incapable and empty, it dawned on me that this is necessary. It makes sense to need to be hands-off for a while and come back to the reality that this art is not all mine nor all up to me. Sometimes we need to sit back and let the substance of life fall around us before we have something to work from. I think that’s where I’m at right now.

To save yourself the need to keep checking back, use the subscribe button at the top right, or add this spot to your Feedly. I will go on with my life, studying planets and stars and the French Revolution with my children. You will do your thing too and still be notified when I have some pieces of life to share!

Thank you friends,


Standing up to Live

“How vain it is to sit down and write when you have not stood up to live.”
~Henry David Thoreau

I know better than to think you are living each day to check what I’ve written here. But I have an undeclared (which is probably a problem) goal of posting here twice a week. I haven’t met that goal for at least a week now so I wanted to pop in and share why.

“When the cat is away, the mice will play.”


I’m the lead mouse when my husband is gone on business.

He’s not a drill sergeant, like many often assume, but he brings a sense of order to our home that I don’t naturally exude. Almost all discipline that I put forth in my life is due to his patient and kind direction in wanting to help me succeed in doing what I do.

When he came back last time, I was lost in a cloud of frustration and resentment. It took me a while to figure out what was going on with me. Sure, it’s hard to be on your own when you’re not used to it, but the problem was not the “cat” being gone . . .

It was my choices while he was away.

So I’m challenging myself, because I realized, on my own, that I need to get my big girl pants on and be responsible for the time I keep wasting and wondering why there’s never enough.

I’m trying to stand up from my bed early in the morning when there’s no one’s lunch to be made at 6 am (which is usually the only way I will get my fanny out of bed). I’m doing this so that I can live my life, not just have life happen to me.

I’m trying to see my children, whom I have chosen to stay home for, and be with them instead of feeling the pull to write my latest thought down or feel resentful that I wake to their needs every. day.

I love this writing thing. It’s the only place I can really figure out what I’m thinking and share with someone. When I don’t put forth the effort to use my time well, I don’t get time to write, my kids get all of my time by default, and things don’t end well. I don’t want to give them my time by default, I want to give it freely. I’m learning to do that, one step at a time.

This is not the blog to come to for 3 tips on time management, make-ahead sack lunches, or best app reviews. But I can point you to some like that . . .

Since my last wasted week of Hiro gone on business, I read Mindset for Moms by Jamie C. Martin. I think she stole the first chapter from my thoughts, I related to it so exactly. If you’re needing to reset your mind (which I’m thinking needs to be done as often as setting the table), give it a try, it’s worth the five bucks!

Skimming the Deep

Sometimes my thoughts are too much to handle.  As I write them, I feel weight.  Maybe they wouldn’t weigh as much if I didn’t post them out in space where “who knows?” is reading.  But even my journals, that only I have read, have been weighty at times so that’s probably not what I’m burdened with.


The “Whos” in my own “Whoville,” they must be what I’m afraid of.  The ones who know me, but also don’t.  They don’t get the depths of my heart unless its the right time and place.  When they do, I feel like I’m just a little weird.  So why do I have this bulging need to write if my thoughts are weighty and, for some, a little weird?  There’s something that still wants out.

Writing is an exposing art, if you are writing the truth.  Could be I don’t like the truth about me.  I’m a dreamer.  I’m not content with looking at life from the surface.  I like the deep places, but sometimes they’re scary (there’s some yucky, slimy things down deep), or just . . . weighty.

The sea too has some scary things in it and the further you go, the water weighs down, even crushes.  It consists of depths which have yet to be discovered and I don’t believe all ever will be.  There are “jewels” hidden that have been seen and enjoyed only by the eyes of God.


Is that the way with my heart?  Are their jewels there I will never find?  Are they there just for Him?  Does He find pleasure there?  I’ve heard He has set eternity there . . . Is that how deep my heart really goes?  So I will never understand it?

Or is it that deep so that I will keep searching?

My thoughts even before I write weigh down and my words are lacking, only skimming the foam of the waves.  There is more down under I am unable to mine.  With the weight and few words, why write?


In this moment, as I write, I know why.

I mine the depths of a heart that’s never completely been my own.  And when you know there’s more to it there’s a reason to keep searching.  Have we ever had to be told there’s more?


Eternity is long and to have the joy of seeking His treasure for just as long gives me courage to keep facing my deep yet incomplete thoughts.  After all, the more I dive, the more I discover, not of myself, but of the Captain of the Sea.

Psalm 107:23-24  
Those who go down to the sea in ships, 
Who do business on great waters;
They have seen the works of The Lord
And His wonders in the deep


Ecclesiastes 3:11
He has made everything appropriate in its time.  He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end.  

Meet Me on the Bridge

Welcome to my new little spot! I have something just for you . . .

Madeleine L’Engle wrote in Walking in Water,

“The reader, viewer, listener, usually grossly underestimates his importance. If a reader cannot create a book along with the writer, the book will never come to life . . .

In reading we must become creators, . . . imagining the setting of the story, visualizing the characters, seeing facial expressions, hearing the inflection of voices. The author and the reader know each other; they meet on the bridge of words.”

When I say thank you for reading, I’m saying thank you for meeting me on the bridge, for giving birth to the words that somehow peck forth from my fingers. You make it all come alive and I do not create alone.


So thank you, a thousand times, for coming away with me here. I’ve got a few posts in queue, but have moved some of my favorite posts over from my last blog to get started. Perhaps you’ll enjoy reading my About page for now?

With high hopes for many gaps in my words to find bridges,


Slipping into Tomorrow

I took this photo in the frost of February this year.  It bothered me that I could only capture it this way.  Why doesn’t a snowflake last?  The beauty of it, forming as it falls through the atmoshere, only to land and many times not be noticed for it’s specific, individual design.  Just quietly adding itself to the pile of other flakes, before it melts into the dirt again.

At every year’s end, it’s a day like any other, but the feeling is heavier that a whole 365 days have slipped by.  Why doesn’t it last?  That giggle, a look in the eye, quietly overhearing a little voice perform for an invisible audience, not knowing that I am the audience enjoying her from the next room.  Joys I can’t hold onto and often won’t remember, every day keeps slipping through the fingers, mostly unnoticed for it’s specific, individual part of the Story, before it adds itself to the pile of the year before, “2011.”
But if God collects my tears in a bottle, surely He is collecting up my joys 100 fold and the moments I just can’t hold onto–many times the best ones happen when there’s no camera.   I’m learning to soak them in and let them be collected elsewhere when I have no shutter to click.
So we melt into a whole new year of moments, all slipping through our fingers and some from our memories, but collected and cared for by the Loving and Ever-present . . . and one day perhaps He will share them with you all over again.  As the days and years go by, I look forward to a day when the joys never cease and no longer slip away.
You have taken account of my wanderings;
Put my tears in Your bottle.
Are they not in Your book?
Psalm 56:8
You will make known to me the path of life;
In Your presence is fullness of joy;
In Your right hand there are pleasures forever.
Psalm 16:11