I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
   where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
   the Maker of heaven and earth.

Psalm 121:1-2

*          *           *          *          *          *          *          *          *

In case you’re wondering what this is about, click here.

I’m bidding farewell to these next seven things. The pair of pajamas was a gift I bought for someone years ago and they didn’t fit her. So instead of returning them like any responsible person, I tucked them away on a closet shelf and they’ve been hibernating until now. Also, there’s nothing wrong with the books I’m giving away — these were good books, but just two I know I won’t read again, so I want to share them with someone else.

Did you do any donating recently? Even if they’re just small things, it feels good to pare down.

Have a wonderful week,

Hello friends — it’s Delurker Day! Yippee!

That means it’s time, just this one day of the year, for those of you who read blogs without usually leaving comments (otherwise known as “lurking”) to de-lurk yourself and leave a comment!

If you’re a blogger, you already know that bloggers love comments. We really appreciate knowing that someone out there is reading, and comments are the main way we’re encouraged to keep on blogging.

Today for Delurker Day, I humbly ask you to do one of four things. Are you ready? Are you willing? I hope so.

1. For bold delurkers:

Leave a comment, even if you have before — tell me your name and what part of the world you’re from. Tell me how you came to visit this blog. It’s so easy to do — just go to the bottom of this post and follow what the directions say, step by step. Say anything else you want, like “I’m Joyce and I raise Water Buffalos in Topeka, KS, and I happened upon your blog because I typed the word ‘muskrat’ into Google” or “My name is Herb and I live in New Zealand with my wife and six birds, and I found your blog because I was searching for Three Irish Girls yarn.” Anything at all! I love details. Details make me happy.

2. For delurkers of medium boldness:

Just leave a short comment, like “Hi, I’m Denise from Manitoba” or “My name is Fred.”

3. For shy delurkers:

You could leave a comment and say “I’m Suzanne and I live in Estonia but I don’t want anyone seeing my information so please don’t publish my comment.” That would be fine — tell me you don’t want your comment published and I won’t do it. It will just be between you and me. Comments on this blog just don’t appear online — I have to publish them myself, and if you don’t want me to, that’s okay.

4. For delurkers who couldn’t possibly picture themselves leaving a comment, ever:

Perhaps you could leave your initials! Go to the bottom of this post, follow the instructions, and instead of your name, you could type “RS” or “PB.” That would be fine and no one but me would see. But I would be thinking the next time I was dreaming up a blog post, “I wonder if RS or PB will stop by and read what I have to say anytime soon! I hope so.”

So there you have it — four levels of Delurking Comfort for all kinds of blog readers.

Will you consider letting me know about you today, on International Delurker Day? If you comment here often or never comment on this blog, I would be so glad to hear from you.  🙂

Thank you so much for reading, and commenting, I hope…

One of the decorating blogs I read occasionally had a fun post recently, and I liked it so much I thought I’d do a post like it here. Have you seen this website called I Used To Believe? It’s about the funny and bizarre things we used to believe as children.

Here are a few things I used to believe:

When I was a child, I believed that our bodies grew larger and taller because they literally filled up with food. I thought that if you ate something as a baby, that food would be deposited in your feet. And then all subsequent food eaten would slowly fill up the legs, the trunk, the arms and the rest of the body, and when all that accumulated food reached the top of the head and couldn’t find any more room, the body stretched and grew.

When I was a child I believed that the past tense for the word cost was costed. I think I said things like “that record costed $1.06” until I was close to 5th grade.

When I was a child I believed that when my oldest brother Larry would take me to the beach in his Corvette, if I sat up high on folded towels in the passenger seat next to him, people would think I was his girlfriend. Never mind that I was 8 and he was 23 — I was convinced that the folded towel trick would make me look like his date.

When I was a child I believed that most villains in the world looked like stooped, wizened old men carrying big burlap bags. The bags were to put kidnapped children in.

When I was a child I believed that if I swam out into the ocean as far as I could, way past the breaking waves and out into the deep water until I could barely see the people on the shore, that very point would be a mile. And during my growing up years in southern California, I did this every chance I got.

When I was a child I believed that babies came to families because the mommies and/or daddies prayed for them, and God graciously answered. When I was little my mother told me she prayed for a little girl and that God sent me. I loved that idea. I still do.

What did you used to believe when you were a child?

“Every human interaction offers you the chance to make things better or to make things worse. To decide to make things better can cost you bundles of self-interest. To decide to make things worse generally feels a lot more powerful. The only problem is that the power rolls away from you like a rogue wave, as the person you slammed into finds someone else to slam into, and so on, and so on. The good news is that you can set off the same sort of chain reaction with unwarranted kindness.”

Barbara Brown Taylor, from An Altar in the World

*         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *

In the midst of a small campaign to give away one thing per day in the year 2012, I also have a few new things to show you that I will never part with.

I like water. I try to drink some every day. That means when I’m out running errands I often take a water bottle from home with me so when I’m thirsty I can keep hydrated with something good, and not impulsively decide to buy some kind of sweet coffee concoction or smoothie with 10% fruit and 749 calories. Here is what I now carry my water in, a travel cup from my dear friend Pat, who’s a fellow SAG.

I’ve never had one of these kinds of cups, and I love it. Most of all I love the thoughtfulness behind it. Pat knows the cardinal story, and in giving me this gift she is helping me hang on to hope. Do you have friends that help you hang on to hope? I really hope that you do.

It’s not that things are truly hopeless, it’s just that every so often I lose my clear view of hope, and need help getting back on the hope wagon.

Pat gave me a boost back on that wagon with this cup. Thank you Pat.

Next, I have a new B.

To be honest, I never had an old B. But that’s not the point. The point is, my niece Lauren and my sister-in-law Debbie sent me this for Christmas.

It’s the first letter of our last name, and it’s about the size of a book. The left side of the B is the spine of a dark blue Bible. Attached to the spine with a taupe ribbon (perfectly matching our living room) are three old keys, with the words “memory, life, and love” engraved on them.

The B is completely covered in scripture. You can click to enlarge the photos if you like. There are pertinent verses and passages pasted all over the letter.

When I opened the gift my eyes filled with tears, because this was such an amazingly thoughtful gift from family members who know what’s important to me, and made something to underscore those very things. I felt known, and loved.

They sent me this letter B to help me hang on to hope. Or to hang on to the Author of hope. 🙂

We put the B on the mantel and it will always be a blessing.

Thank you, Debbie and Lauren.

Right before Christmas I received a package in the mail from an old friend. Shari and I met in Junior High School in West Covina, CA, and were in a couple of classes together with this teacher we both still love.

Shari is a gifted artist and photographer and you can check out her beautiful photo blog here.

Imagine my surprise when I opened the package and received a large framed print of a photo Shari took of a cardinal.

The day it arrived was the sort of day when hope seems distant or faint. After I gazed at it through tears for a few minutes, thanking God for the timing of this stunning gift and for giving me friends who remind me to keep hoping, I went straight to our kitchen tool drawer and found a hammer and nail.

This breathtaking photo hangs on a prominent wall near our den, where we walk past it and look at it many times a day.

Thank you, Shari.

How grateful I am for friends and family who show their love and care in such personal, thoughtful ways!

I love this quote by Emily Dickenson:

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.”

Today I can hear that wordless tune being sung, and see the brilliantly colored feathers of that thing called hope that’s perching in my soul.

And my friends and family help to make sure the tune of hope never stops at all.

What helps you hang on to hope?

Here are the seven items (one per day) that I’ve donated this week. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, click here.

(I read yesterday in Colossians chapter three, about six other things the Lord wants me to be rid of:

“But now you must also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices.”

I fear I can’t just toss these in the back of my car and take them to my local Goodwill, however.)

Here are the tangible things I have duplicates of, or items I know I won’t be using anymore; I’m so happy to let them go to other places where they will be enjoyed or better utilized.

I know those three metal bowls aren’t really one item, but hey.

Have you decided to get rid of a few things in your house this year? Are you trying for one per day? If that’s too many to think about, might you try for one per week?

It’s not too late to join us. What kinds of things have you given or tossed so far?

“Being in a hurry.

Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me.

I cannot think of a single advantage I’ve ever gained from being in a hurry.

But a thousand broken and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing…

Through all that haste I thought I was making up time.

It turns out I was throwing it away.”    

Ann Voskamp

*         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *         *

Our oldest pooch Edith will be ten years old soon, and even though she seems happy and chipper, she’s showing her age. She doesn’t like to go up the stairs anymore. She’ll do it, but she sometimes acts like her joints are stiff, and it’s becoming more of an effort. Millie, on the other hand, is still acting like she has gazelle blood in her.

The last time we took the dogs to the vet for vaccination boosters and checkups, serious Dr. Lee felt Millie’s back legs thoughtfully and asked me, “Does Mildred do a lot of running and leaping?”

Wondering how he knew this is exactly what she does in our big back yard I said, “Why, yes, yes she does.”

He pointed out the impressive definition in her Schnauzer quadriceps and commented with quiet admiration, “Mildred is quite a well-muscled dog.”

So you can imagine what we say about her when she comes and lays next to us on the couch at night. We palpate those notable quads and say in a deep Dr. Lee voice with mock seriousness, “Look at these legs. This is a well-muscled dog.”

Edith, not so much. Edith’s diet has not changed, but her body seems to be doing what many middle-aged women’s bodies do, and she’s developed a little belly pooch. The pooch has a pooch, I guess. And no one would ever marvel that Edith is a well-muscled dog. She trots and sniffs when she’s outside, and she still jumps at the television if she sees anything four legged appear on the screen, but leaping and gazelle are not words we would use in the same sentence with Edith.

So along with old age comes napping, or so I’ve been told. Edith is definitely into taking at least one nap per day, maybe four. Recently Michael and I were in our bedroom having our quiet time together and Edith wanted to be on his lap. As we read out loud and prayed for our family and many of you, Edith fell asleep. She was a Schnauzer Schnoozer. I had to get a picture.

See how she even matches our bedroom decor? And the sides of my blog? Does your dog match your bedroom decor or your blog? Does your husband wear t-shirts that match your animal? No?

Oh.

I told you we needed prayer.

A long time ago a friend who loved her dog as much as I love mine said this, “I think God gives us our pets to increase our joy.” I’ve always remembered that, and I think it’s true. All these little goofy tidbits about Edith and Millie make me smile and revel in simple things.

I’ll try to think of something nondoggish to write soon.

Have a blessed Tuesday!

Well, January reared her frigid head last night and our temperatures dropped many-something degrees. It’s supposed to be -2° tonight, or -19° Celsius for my two across-the-pond readers. And as I’ve mentioned a few dozen times on this blog, January is usually our coldest month, and it can get down to -30° sometimes.

I know we’re supposed to live in the moment, but these kind of January moments are always hard for me. I spend most of each January waiting for each January to leave.

If you read my post about giving away 365 items over the next year, you saw that I threw out a big pile of grocery receipts. Pen gave away a funky pair of feather earrings.

Today these are going:

Four tiny, old candles the size of shot glasses. They were stored away with Christmas decorations and we had them out on a side table in the living room last month, and I kept asking myself why.

I wouldn’t light them because the flame would be so close to the thin glass I was afraid they would crack. And I am not into babysitting little candles these days, so I think their usefulness has been used up.

Pen is going to be so good about re-purposing and recycling the things she’s donating, and I will certainly try. But I’m throwing these candles in the garbage, and don’t feel a bit of sorrow about it at all. If you think I should, let me know.

Today I took one look at these and said, “Er, no. They must go.”

I’m trying to decide if these could count for January 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th. I guess the week ahead will tell me that. We have several couples coming over tomorrow night for Life Group from our church, I have a sick gal home today, and I have an important report to start work on, so perhaps I’ll lean toward letting these four candles count for four days.

Have a wonderful week, and thank you for reading…