I have a few unfinished blog posts saved that I would like to start working on, and maybe this will be the week for that. But since there are already ten appointments on the calendar for this week, maybe these drafts will go unfinished for a while longer. I just never know around here.

Here are their prospective titles:

Forenoon Repast with the Droops
The Bank of God
The Clown Birthday Party
Humiliation on the William A. Irvin
Half as hard and twice as good
Ugly Brown Shoes
When Crumbs are a Feast
Isn’t Selfishness Fun?
Angel Unaware
Once Upon a Toile….

In the meantime, here are this week’s seven items that have now left the building:

Most of these books I enjoyed very much; some I already have another copy. One book I was surprisingly ambivalent about considering how loved it is by one of my very reliable recommenders. And one book was so awful that I couldn’t wait for it to be over. Seven things less in this house, as part of my effort to give away 365 things in 2012….it feels good.

Do you have a blog? Even if your blog is already listed in my sidebar, would you leave a comment today with your blog link in it, or even a link to one of your favorite posts, so we can all enjoy it today?

Thank you so much for reading, and God bless your week….

Yesterday Mr. McBoy came over for his two-hour Friday time at Grandma’s house. He and I finished reading Treasures of the Snow a couple of weeks ago, and have now begun reading Banner in the Sky, which I’m very excited about. During Sara’s last year of home schooling she and I read 54 books together, and Banner in the Sky was one of them. I almost didn’t read it — the cover and the first words and the subject matter didn’t interest me, but I’m so glad I did. It was one of those amazing books that touches the heart and when read aloud, inspires from the listener these words, “Will you pleeeease read one more chapter??”

Mr. McBoy and I sat on the living room couch as I read the second chapter aloud, and he was absolutely transfixed. I had tears running down my cheeks as I read — in Chapter 2 already! Each book I read to him has a theme we’re focusing on, and Treasure of the Snow’s themes were forgiveness and how to open the door of one’s heart to Jesus. The themes from Banner in the Sky are courage, endurance and resourcefulness.

Then we went over the Bible verses we’re memorizing together. We drilled each other until each of us got them right, and high-fived each other when we did. This month’s verses are: “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” from Psalm 139:13-14.  I couldn’t help thinking about the word “knit” in that Psalm, and how appropriate that is for Mr. McBoy’s family, as his new baby brother or sister grows bigger and stronger until he/she makes her appearance this summer.

Mr. McBoy and I talked about his hockey team, about the wood he carries and stacks for their family’s wood stove, about his two much-loved dogs Rosie and Lucy, and the book he was reading the previous night right before he went to sleep. Somehow I think Dr. Proctor’s Fart Powder doesn’t have quite the lofty themes as Treasures of the Snow and Banner in the Sky, but I can’t say for certain since I haven’t read it. Yet.

Then we worked on some brain training games from Lumosity. A friend told me about this and I downloaded the app so I could have something productive to do while I sit in the many doctor’s/dentist’s/podiatrist’s/ psychiatrist’s waiting rooms our job requires. Turning 50 and finding that the mind is more sieve-like than ever before has been disconcerting; going through the exercises with this app has been fun and even helpful. Of course Mr. McBoy’s brain is just fine, and his scores were fantastic and I think he had fun with it.

We also played two games of Farkle before his daddy came to pick him up, and he whooped me. Then we sat and worked on place value for a few minutes, so he could easily write the number one hundred million, four thousand seven, filling in the digit places with the correct zeroes. He certainly has a head for math and can do a lot of complicated figuring in his head already. Mr. McBoy always leaves me with a hug that makes me so glad I’ve lived to be a grandmother.

Last night Michael and I watched the movie “Of Gods and Men” and I found it intense, inspiring and fascinating. Michael slept through most of it so I can’t be sure we share the same opinion. At one point he woke up and asked me to put the movie on pause and change it to channel 37 so he could briefly check the score of the Minnesota Timberwolves basketball game.  🙂

Just a few minutes ago Michael left with his good friend Steve for Shell Lake, Wisconsin, where they’ll be staying overnight at Steve’s parents’ house and ice fishing on the lake. They have a portable shelter they pull out on the lake, and they sit inside of it while they watch the small hole they’ve drilled in the ice, waiting for a walleye to swim by and take the bait. Zzzzzzz….

Today, all the grandbabies will be coming over (with their parents) to celebrate Clara’s 10th birthday, which was yesterday. She requested that I make one of her favorites, Green Macaroni and Cheese. You can click here to see my world class recipe with photos — it’s very gourmet.

After the party is over I will go to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription, do a load or two of laundry, attempt to tidy up my messy office that I never seem able to keep organized, and figure out what to fix for dinner.

With Michael gone overnight I have a pleasant picture of what my evening might look like. After I clean the kitchen I’ll put my plaid flannel nightgown on early, light this candle in our bedroom because it smells amazing, turn on some soft music, work on my CBS lesson, play a game or two of Words With Friends on my iPad, and then settle in for a few chapters of a good book. Which book? I don’t know — I have a pile to choose from on the side of our bed. And then I will write for a while in my gratitude journal, and drench my mind in all the ways that God blesses, helps, challenges, loves, instructs and provides for His people. That I am one of them never ceases to amaze me. His mercy knows no limits.

How about you? What will you be doing this weekend? I hope yours is blessed beyond measure….

“Lord Jesus,

I am blind, be thou my light,
ignorant, be thou my wisdom,
self-willed, be thou my mind.

Open my ear to grasp quickly the Spirit’s voice,
and delightfully run after his beckoning hand…

Fill me with peace, that no disquieting worldly gales
may ruffle the calm surface of my soul…

O that I may love thee as Thou lovest me.…”

~Prayer from The Valley of Vision

Recently, as Sara and I were looking through some old scrapbooks, I came across the photograph below, and was instantly transported back to September of 1981, when I turned 24 years old.

Two months earlier in late June of 1981, I had left the warm state where I was born and raised, and moved to northeastern Minnesota. I was concerned about the coming winter, since I knew it would be cold and snowy and I had never known cold and snowy.

Two months earlier I had married a man I’d only spent time with once. To see a poem I wrote about all of that, you can click here.

Two months earlier I was not pregnant. In September of 1981, on my 24th birthday, I was.

My first year in Minnesota was glorious and horrible. I was so happy to be married to Michael, but I was so sad to have left all the friends and family I had known. I was hopeful about owning our own home someday since Minnesota’s real estate prices were more affordable than SoCal’s, but a little leery about renting a house in an “interesting” part of town. I was so grateful to be able to stay home with my two little girls instead of working full time, but I wondered how we’d make it if Michael’s work was often seasonal. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, I guess you (or Dickens) could say.

On my 24th birthday I was in the kitchen making dinner, with music playing on our stereo and my little girls playing in our side yard. It took me a while to register that a horn was honking outside, and I went to the living room to look out of our large front window.

This is what I saw:

Michael, my husband of two months, in his work truck, just coming home at the end of the day from his carpentry job.

When I saw the spray-painted sign he had made and tied to his ladder rack, and when I envisioned him driving several miles home with that message attached to his truck for all to see, I laughed and smiled from ear to ear. I asked him to stay put while I ran inside to find a camera.

Thirty years have passed. We no longer live in that rented house where our daughter was born. I’m not afraid of Minnesota winters anymore. I am blessed with wonderful family and friends. And of course that truck bit the dust long ago, and it has been several years since Michael has done that kind of work.

But…he still calls me Honey.

Donating one thing a day may not seem like much to others, but it seems significant to me. Each time I go through and choose seven items for the week, it seems like the house feels lighter and more spacious, even though most of these things weren’t seen to begin with. For those who have no idea what I’m babbling about every Monday, you can click here to read about my commitment to getting rid of 365 things in 2012.

Here are this week’s donations.

Juggling pins:

I know, most of you don’t know that I can juggle a bit. I’m not great at juggling with pins, so I’ve donated these. I can only juggle three balls for about a minute, so I will never be a professional juggler. (I do think I’m moving into the realm of being a professional jiggler, however.)

A working blender, donated to a deserving family whose blender just broke:

I have no idea where this little bag came from — it’s been in the toy boxes for years, and the grands don’t play with it:

Same for this little toy:

I don’t even own the laptop computer this was purchased for years ago:

I feel like if we’re not careful, our house will start to slowly lift from its foundation into the air, from all the dead weight I’m getting rid of, sort of like Carl and Ellie’s house in the movie Up:

If you had an uninterrupted hour right now to work on gathering things from your house to donate, what two items would be at the top of your list?

A dark blue cookbook prop, a thermos without a cup, a clock I love that no longer works, an old glucometer in a black pouch, child security things for cabinets, lightbulbs that don’t fit anything in our house, and a round box with fruit on the lid.

These were all hidden away in a high kitchen cabinet, out of sight and out of use. Now they’ve been donated and that cabinet is almost empty, and hopefully someone will be able to make use of these in some way.

Dozens of things gone so far in 2012, dozens more to go. I do realize that these posts about paring down make for immensely spine-tingling reading. I hope you’re able to handle it. I know I’m actually quite thrilled.  🙂

My mother used to love birds. When I was growing up we had two canaries, Mr. Clean (who wouldn’t stay out of the water cup in his cage) and Apricot (because he was a pale orange color). Then we had a Mynah bird named Ringo whose cage was in my room. Ringo enjoyed raw ground meat and pecking my mother’s cuticles when she cleaned his cage. We also had a pair of finches we called Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee, because they finished each others’ sentences. One said “deedle deedle DEE!” and the other would always immediately answer, “deedle DEE-dle.” About four hundred times a day.

My husband also loves birds. When I married him I hardly ever paid attention to birds, but living with him for thirty years has changed that. We have had three cockatiels (Rosie, Chester and Walter) and one canary (Harriet).

We don’t keep birds as pets anymore, but we feed the wild outside birds a lot, and even our grandchildren love to watch as chickadees, jays, juncos, sparrows and nuthatches make frequent visits to our back deck.

Here are some birds of the world (found online) I’ve marveled over today…

Meet your average Green Honeycreeper:

A Lady Gouldian Finch:

A Mandarin Duck:

This is a Lorikeet:

A Guianan Cock-of-the-Rock:

A Polish Chicken:

A Flamecrest:

Lady Amherst’s Pheasant:

Wilson’s Bird of Paradise:

Bleeding Heart Pigeons:

A Resplendent Quetzal:

And this is the Blue Footed Booby. Click here to see two Blue Footed Boobies do their very slow and simple mating dance. I think even I could do it. (Don’t tell Michael though.)

And my favorite bird of all, the Northern Cardinal. (For those who might not know why Cardinals are special to me, click here.)

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?   

Matthew 6:26

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Thank you for stopping by, and have a wonderful weekend…

I would guess that most people have been in that place before. Feeling like things are so bad, so unfixable, so far gone, that you can’t see any hope no matter how hard you search for it.

If you’re the naturally optimistic sort, maybe you’ve never truly despaired of life. Or maybe you can only remember one time when the thought crossed your mind that you’d be better off dead. But if you’re someone who could be Vice President of the Pessimist’s Club, then you may have had many times in your life when you were ready to call it quits.

I tried to take my life many years ago. It wasn’t a cry-for-help attempt, it was a real, carefully plotted out time-to-die plan, and I almost succeeded.

I was fourteen years old.

Someday I will tell the story of how I almost ended it all. It’s not a topic I visit very often but I’m not afraid to share it. It’s part of my history and I freely speak about it if I feel nudged and if it could be helpful to someone.

Today I want to share about what we can do when life is really hard and we can’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. (Disclaimer: this post should not be taken as the whole of advice we might need when life is difficult — some folks might need to get professional help such as a doctor or a trained counselor or a pastor, and do so right away.) 

I was born with a melancholy temperament, which means I feel things deeply, tend to over-analyze, can have much compassion and empathy, revel in details, can be creative, tend to be critical and nit-picky, and usually see the glass as half empty rather than half full. The other part of my temperament is choleric, which is often defined by bossiness and pride, a take-charge attitude, and someone who can get the job done while forgetting the feelings of others. For me, the combination of these two temperaments means that when one part of me is feeling low and hopeless, the other part of me tries to grab me by the lapels and give me a good shaking and a firm talking to, and tells me harshly to just quit blubbering and shape up.

The melancholy me thinks the choleric me is really mean and uncaring. The choleric me thinks the melancholy me is a wimp and should just get over it. It can be a bad combination.

When life gets really hard and the enemy of my soul pitches a tent on my shoulder so he can hiss his poison in my ear, it’s my melancholy nature that let’s him stay there for way too long. I have learned a lot in recent years about how to take my thoughts captive and replace the lies with truth (see 2 Corinthians 10:4-5), but that doesn’t mean satan gives up for very long. It’s still a battle. But here are a few things to do when life gets so hard it makes death looks easy:

1. Cry out to God for help. You’ve heard me say this before, but I can’t emphasize this enough. If all you can do is weep and whisper the name of Jesus in between your sobs, do it. Whisper the Name above all names, over and over again. That is deep prayer, when it’s coming from a place of total helplessness and humility.

Don’t be discouraged if the blinding light of angels doesn’t immediately fill your room, or if your mood doesn’t lift right then and there, or if the person causing your grief doesn’t fall at your feet completely changed. I have yet to experience quick answers to such cries for help. God is not constrained by time and He is (maddeningly) not in a hurry. He is into doing things His way, and they’re always the right way. When pain is so deep it’s hard to understand why comfort doesn’t seem to come the second we plead for it, He is teaching us to wait on Him. Cry out, talk to Jesus, tell Him everything, and in faith, carry it all to Him and leave it there. Ask for His miracles and be willing to do what you’re supposed to do when that revelation comes.

2. Wait three days. Don’t drive off the cliff today. Don’t stroll the aisles of sleep aids at Target or Walgreen’s tomorrow. Don’t let thoughts of guns and razor blades stay in your mind longer than a nanosecond. Don’t do it. Wait. Call a friend. Call a sister. Call a pastor. Call a crisis help line. Take a walk. Read your Bible. Put on some worship music. Watch a decent movie. Cook a meal. Pet your dog. And keep asking Jesus to give you the strength to put one foot in front of the other, keep living one more day, one more hour. What good is waiting going to do? Believe me, waiting three days can make all the difference in the world. Why? I don’t know exactly why, I just know from experience that when you’re feeling like you’re done with life, you should wait. Wait on God. I think God might have a thing about waiting three days too. Consider Jonah and also how many days Jesus was in the tomb.

3. Start a gratitude journal. Or if you’ve already started one, get it out again and start writing. I have kept gratitude journals at various times in my life, but until I read Ann Voskamp’s unforgettable book One Thousand Gifts, I never really saw the transformative power behind that kind of spiritual discipline. When I wrote down what I was thankful for before, I was merely writing down what I was thankful for. My husband, my children, my eyes, my independence, my faith, etc. Now when I open my gratitude journal, I number each thing I record, and I view each one as a gift directly from the hand of my heavenly Father to me. I picture His nail-scarred hands giving each one to me, personally.

If I believe nothing is random, and as a Christian who believes the Bible I do believe that, then a deer walking by my office window in the moonlight isn’t just a deer walking by my office window in the moonlight. It becomes a deer walking by my office window in the moonlight because God willed it so. Because He knew what pondering His wonders would do for my soul, for my mental health, for my perspective, for the strength I need to carry on each day.

Very recently a large deer with a huge rack of antlers strolled by my office window as I sat in the dark. The moonlight softly lit the snow around him to a barely perceptible periwinkle color, and he was five feet from me as I watched his dark silhouette. He stopped to nibble on the peony branches and decided they weren’t worth a second bite. He strolled languidly across our front lawn, paused at the big rock with the peace sign on it, crossed the street and found another kind of bush more to his liking in a neighbor’s front yard. Because I am becoming more practiced at watching carefully for the gifts God gives to me every day, I sat in the dark and the quiet, and exulted. This was a gift to me from God, with my name on it. He extended His hand and said, “Julie, this is for you” and I took it with reverence and awe and thanks. He loves me enough to give me hundreds of gifts each day. And I’m going to notice. And I’m going to thank Him. And I’ll write them down to help myself remember that when things get dark and when life gets hard, He’s still up to something. He’s still at work in my life and in the lives of those I love so much. He can be trusted.

And when you write down the things you’re thankful for, number them. And don’t hesitate to thank God for little things. When I write down even the smallest of gifts, something shifts in my heart, soul and mind. A bit of strength comes. A bit of hope. Just enough.

What if you’re having a hard time thinking of things to be grateful for? I understand that. I think of people like Joni Eareckson Tada who have lived with quadriplegia for decades and can’t blow their noses or brush their teeth by themselves. Yet she finds things to be thankful for. I can too.

I can see color this morning. Thank you Lord that the deep cardinal red on our living room pillow brings a bit of pleasure.

I can wipe spills on our counter this morning, with my own hands. While standing on my own feet. I thank you Jesus.

I can pee!

No bombs went off in my neighborhood last night. Write it down.

I have teeth in my mouth to chew my food, and not one of them hurts.

Write one thing down, then another. Ask for eyes to see, and ears to hear. And then write down what you see and hear, and realize they are gifts from God….to you.

When you keep a gratitude journal, gifts multiply. Saying thank you to God for a precious daughter then blossoms into thanking God for the way her eyes look at you when you tell her how proud you are of her, or thanking God for the way her neck smells when she hugs you good night, and the nose to smell her scent with, or of how unique her handwriting is, and how she wrote “I love you Mama” on a handmade birthday card, or how graceful she walks and what a gift it is that she can walk, or how trusting she is, and how God is using that to teach you to trust Him.

Saying thank you multiplies blessings. Complaining obliterates them. I know this.

What if I’m wrong? What if all these things I’m thanking Him for are random, and He didn’t really send the deer for me and didn’t really give me healthy teeth, and it’s all about chance, heredity and flossing? Well, okay, maybe someday I’ll find out I’m wrong. But I would hate to find out someday that He crafted 10,000 or 1,000,000  or 10,000,000 gifts just for me, and I went blindly on my way and complained, or ignored them. I’d rather be found thanking than not.

I don’t know when God will intervene in your situation, or mine. But until His answers come, I am going to do whatever it takes to gratefully receive these breaths, these heartbeats, these moments, these gifts that He gives me, and live.

Seven more items have left the house this week as part of my effort to donate 365 things in 2012.

Michael and I owned income property off and on for years. Our last building was a big Victorian five-plex that Michael worked hard on, but we sold it when his Parkinson’s began to affect his energy levels.

I used to keep our income property records in these specially ordered books, and I found six of them in a desk drawer last week. They’re way past the seven year record retention time recommended by the I.R.S., so out they go.

And the little purple zippered wallet has never been used — that was donated to our local Goodwill.

The schnauzer on the couch stays, though.

I was deep in thought the other day while driving, and I realized that my husband Michael has been responsible for many important introductions in my life.

Michael introduced himself to me through the mail in 1981. I had never heard his name, and I came home from work in Anaheim, CA one day to find a letter from him in my mailbox. Three months later I married him.

Michael introduced me to Minnesota, and showed me what it takes to live in American Siberia. It’s been thirty years now and I’ve never looked back.

He introduced me to what kindness and strength combined look like in a man. I had never seen that before.

He introduced me to Sorel boots and Mukluks.

He introduced me to my love of birds.

He introduced me to kohlrabi.

He introduced me to venison.

He introduced me to the remarkable feeling of being loved no matter what I looked like, what I weighed, or how I behaved.

And Michael introduced me to the music of Keith Green.

Are you familiar with Keith? He was an amazing and talented young man who decided to wholeheartedly follow Jesus after searching for truth for years, and his life and music subsequently impacted many lives. Not everyone loved Keith, however. He had the often annoying habit of being loudly outspoken about his faith.

When Michael and I were getting to know each other through phone calls and letters in 1981, he sent me an LP record album (ancients that we are) by Keith Green, and I was hooked after one listen. I had never heard contemporary Christian music before.

Over the years Keith’s music meant so much to Michael and me that “our song” is one of Keith’s songs. It’s called “You Put This Love in My Heart” and you can listen to it by clicking right here.

In this song Keith was actually singing about how he felt about the Lord, but Michael and I related the words to each other, and we still get a little emotional when we hear it today. It came on in the car the other day while we were driving somewhere, and Michael reached over and took my hand and smiled knowingly. Then his eyes filled with tears. Keith’s music does that to you.

Also, here’s a link that will tell you a little about Keith’s life and untimely death — it’s worth reading and you can see a short video of him playing and singing.

We pulled out some CDs by Keith Green several days ago and are being impacted all over again. Somehow his music doesn’t seem dated to me — it seems as fresh and powerful as it was thirty years ago, and it challenges me and softens my heart. Listening to his music makes me want to love the Lord more than I do. His songs give me hope and scrape a few scales from my dull spiritual eyes. They put things into perspective for me, and they beckon me to draw close to the Lord. I need all of the above.

So, I would like you to have some Keith Green music too!

If you would like to have a fabulous CD of Keith Green’s music (pictured above and entitled “Keith Green – The Ministry Years – 1977-1979”) all you have to do is leave a comment and answer this question: Are you familiar with Keith Green’s music? Yes or no answers are just fine. If you are familiar with his music you could also share which one of his songs is a favorite of yours.

Now, let me address those of you who would like this CD but are hesitant to leave a comment. You might be thinking but I’ve already won something from this blog and I want to give someone else a turn, or I live in Australia (or England or New Zealand or Antarctica) and I don’t want Julie to have to mail me something from so far away, or I don’t want to be greedy, or some such unacceptable reason.

I want everyone who wants one to have one. I would be delighted to send this brand new Keith Green CD to every single person who asks, and I hope you all do ask by leaving a comment, okay?

Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy; writer, mother, sloth or fly; painter, baker, wet or dry; grandpa, whiner, far or nigh. Okay? This is for you.

I look forward to sending out many copies of this brilliant CD by Keith Green. Comments will be taken until Monday, January 30th at 10:00 a.m. Central Time, and CDs will be mailed out to every taker next week!

I promise you’ll be blessed.