Once Upon a Time

Last snowed in Sunday, we accidentally became reminiscent  over old homemade newspapers, paper dolls and a cassette tape.

The first were a study in early computer experimentation, complete with cut and paste clip art.

The paper dolls were more artistically creative, as well as a frightening look at how many children a ten year old considers realistic to birth.

And then there was the unmarked tape, which contains all seven scenes of "The Coughing Closet Case," plus an epilogue.

Of course, it is amusing. Our squeaky, little girl voices raised in giggles. The story is also a little alarming. At one point our 'mother' urges us to go back to sleep. Even if there is a spy in the closet, "the door is locked and you will be safe until morning."

It's also a mini-study in sibling dynamic. I was given to introducing far fetched story elements, or verbal tangents that included what dresses our characters would wear to school tomorrow. Abi had final word on the plot twists which survived and developed. Millie on the other hand, once feebly tried to introduce a mysterious floor creak, and was promptly brushed off by the rest of us. "You probably squeaked it yourself."

But things change and we change, and in the end, the only fact the held true was the end. After a conclusion which involved making a charitable donation to the army; we finished with the most churched of all touches. A warbling, poorly harmonized version of the three fold amen.

It's totally not normal. And for some reason, it felt just right.

xo ~Liv

I'm Not Afraid

When I was littler, most of life was a fear dot-to-dot. It didn't take much. I was afraid of thunder storms. Santa Claus. Martyrdom. Drowning. Something hiding under my bed...or worse, creeping up the stairs.

Some fears, I have found, you conquer slowly through determination. Santa Claus for example, although I might admit I still haven't quite got over it. 

Other times, I've just realized one day that the thing doesn't terrify me anymore. Thunderstorms used to have me immobilized in the middle of the living room, but then suddenly, I was standing on the porch loving them. Go figure.

Either way, one of the delights of my grown up life so far, has been enough awareness to identify  and overcome fears. Afraid of planes, I can choose to get a grip and walk down the aisle to buckle up. Still scared of drowning, I can decide to put on a bathing suit, walk into the lake and trust it to float me. 

Or, I can learn to walk out side after dark.

First time was a restless night when I just meant to walk the orchard then go in. But the stillness of winter had me, so I went to the top of the hill and touched the tree line. I only stopped once, holding my breath in panic because I thought the thumping of my heart was something galloping across the field behind me.

Second time was when Millie and I built a snowman on Christmas Eve, while Dad blasted music through the window. It started to rain, strangely warm and we ran away from the house's lights to lie in the snow. 

Then once Dad and I tried to walk off dinner by a trip up to the old bonfire site. Windy and crunchy and cold, but still quiet. 

And like every other time fear goes, it leaves a present behind; this time the sight of night sky unblocked by house or trees or hill. 

What surprised me wasn't the moon or stars, but the fact that when they are clouded over, they still glow. No matter what, the horizon's a muddy streak with something trying to shine from behind. The moon's a vague light, just a fuzzy spot in the darkness; but always, there is enough to see by.

Make of that what you will, but I see the pictures of those after dark excursions clearly in my head. No matter how dark, there is always a light to come home in. 

And in that, a reason and hope to overcome fear. 

~Liv

This December

Listening: to the Beach Boys Christmas album.

Eating: gingerbread men that the children decorated yesterday. They look like something from a
Sci-Fi movie.

Thinking: about a mini-road trip this weekend.

Deserving: nothing, but in Christ, receiving the world.

Cheered: by twinkle lights and coming home after dark.

Wondering: When the clouds will roll away so we can see the sun. For real!

Inspired: by the people around me.

Thankful: for every single breath.

Merry Christmas, friends!


~Liv

V is for...

In the quest for authenticity, we sometimes go to the low points. To share the glory of the Gospel, we magnify our struggle.

Yet there are days when we must only preach victory. Not so we feel falsely secure in self strength, but to remind ourselves we are secure, for real. 

It is the ultimate truth, the final word, and in our tunnel visioned life of failing then praying for grace, we don't see it. We hope for squeaking by, when really, can we say victory enough?

And in the end it would seem, victory looks much like the nitty-gritty. It goes as low and "him exalting, self abasing, this is victory."

This is victory.


~Liv

What is kind, looks stern.

What is love, looks harsh.

What is simple, looks complicated.


Human-fashion, we hang upside down and look at the world askance, wondering why it won't make sense.

Do we have the eyes to see clear?

Are we truly asking for the Truth?

What if it proves us wrong?

But the sky looks better above us than below. Ask Him to keep it there. He's the only one who can.



~Liv

The Rearview Mirror

It's not the copper hills or blue sky in front that holds me in the Fall.

It is behind, in my rear view mirror, and how the leaves dance behind me as I drive.

They seem possessed with a joy.

But I still keep my eyes on the road ahead. It does not do to dwell in what is past.

Let the Graces that are gone, dance out their dance. And if God keeps us on the road, there will be more sunshine to stir the leaves in.

The glances back on how His bridges hold will keep us living well. And living well, will keep the view in my mirror gentle - slipping through the Autumn air.

 

~Liv

 

When people clustered around, wondering who Jesus was, I did not think I was among them.

They are the others, those doubters.

Yet like so much of life, it is crowded on the moral high-ground and if I'm honest the question comes back at time.

Is He or isn't He?

It is the question for every hour. For every troubled time. And funny, but it occurs to me that the question also becomes the answer. The answer I prod myself with when my mind wanders to worry.

In forgiveness, can you do it? Well, is He forgiveness or isn't He?

In love, are you consistent? Well, is He lover or isn't He?

In courage, do my knees buckle? Well Olivia, is He Lord or isn't He?


Because if He is Jesus the Messiah, then He is Jesus the King and He alone can strengthen and comfort and love and encourage.

Does it feel like His arms are really just rushing wind as you fall? I will not argue...but I can ask.

Is He or isn't He the one who can catch you?

Yes.

Then wait awhile. He is there.



~Olivia