confessions

Once upon a time, there was born a little blue-eyed brown-haired girl.
With the most darlin’ smile that you ever did see
She had her momma’s eyes and her very own strong will.
she grew up fast and stole her momma’s heart and her momma’s MAC mascara.

then she moved away and waves of pain crash broken.
Broken. into.

And blue.

So her momma lost her way.
And took her grieving to the rail and to the needles
and prayed to sew healing in every stitch, wishing hands to lead the way, and wine to show Him true.

It would not be rushed.
Healing always takes its own sweet time.
And the soul would hardly seem to mend.
There were so many stitches to go. Endless rows of mended heartache.
And those loops in blue were no accident.

Like reflections in the cup.

Like water washing clean.
They tell a story all their own.

How we labor so diligently for days and weeks and years,

and wonder if it matters at all?

Will it ever be more than a heap of yarn?  Will food and laundry nourish a life?  Can bread be His body broken?

And finally, mercy gives way.

Heartache becomes forgiveness.

Stubborn melts to grace.

Tangles of yarn slowly take form of a sweater.

Years of meals nourish a body like years of love nourish a heart.

Redemption rushes in and finishes the work.

And it did matter.

Every little stitch.   All the countless hours.

Every kindness.    Even every tear.

Hoping, begging, praying that she knows—-

just how very much she matters.

And that she will feel in the blue-—- the warmth of  a mother who loves from the broken place

and the peace of a  Father who forgives.

Happy 18th Birthday sweet Caiti.  I pray you’ll find joy in the best things.   {and fyi: all the best things are broken}

and maybe i’ll have the sweater done by Christmas.

you can’t rush these things, or so I’m told!

from Madeleine L’Engle’s  Walking on Water, reflections of faith and art via heaven and nature sing

It is chastening to realize that those who have no physical  flaw, who move through life in step with their peers, who are bright and beautiful, seldom become artists.  The unending paradox is that we do learn through pain.   The world tempts us to draw back, tempts us to to believe we will not have to take this test.  We are tempted to try to avoid not only our suffering but also that of our fellow human beings, the suffering of the world, which is part of our own suffering. The artist cannot hold back; it is impossible, because writing, or any other discipline of art involves participation in suffering, in the ills and the occasional stabbing joys that come from being part of the human drama.

I am sharing these words with my friend Emily at Chatting at the Sky.  Her blog is beautiful as are her friends, who all gather to tell their gratitude stories on Tuesdays.

1. I’m taking my cues from Jessica. I love so many things about her but it’s our mutual love for Brett Favre and the Vikings that warms my heart the most.
I wrote on her blog today
“I could almost resort to hanging a poster-sized copy of this on my bedroom wall.”
I’m one of those crazy girls who loves football. And I do have a teeny crush on Brett Favre. {I think Steve has a man-crush on him so I don’t feel so bad.}

We’ll be watching tonight as they take on the Saints.
I’ll probably be knitting and blogging and reading at the same time. But I’ll give it my undivided attention when #4 is on the field.
Go Vikings!  Go Favre!

2. I finished the laptop case. It’s a bah-yoo-tee! Nevermind that I seldom leave the house and so really don’t have much need for a laptop case. That’s beside the point. I think I’ll schedule a mini-excursion just so I can put my laptop in it’s cozy case and travel.

3. The girls and I are reading Voyage of the Dawn Treader.   I’m reading this. Which means we are in C.S. Lewis heaven.  Steve’s already read it and everytime I lay it down, he picks it up and reads a few pages. I think he’s a little jealous.  He always gets jealous when I spend time with Lewis.   He’s dealing with it by reading this. Just call us geeks. Geek is the new cool.

Here’s a quote to tempt you:

“The beauty of the female is the root of joy to the female as well as the male, and it is no accident that the goddess of Love is older and stronger than the god.  To desire the desiring of her own beauty is the vanity of Lilith, but to desire the enjoying of her own beauty is the obedience of Eve, and to both it is in the lover that the beloved tastes her own delightfulness.  As obedience is the stairway of pleasure, so humility is the—-“

Read it one more time.  Consider yourself tempted.

4. I’ve made a few new recipes lately from my favorite cooking magazine “Cuisine at Home”. You must please consider adding this to your cooking arsenal. If you’re like me, you’ll finally get around to buying it two years from now and then frantically try to find all the old issues. It’s that good. Trust me.  Go add it to your ‘to do’ list.  I’ll wait.

5. Before last week, I bet I hadn’t added more than 2 new blogs to my reader in 6 months. I’ve added ten in the last two weeks. I won’t share them all with you now but just out of curiosity, have you found any bloggers that made you go, “Where have I been, under a rock?”  Here’s a couple for your perusal.

like mother like daughter

flowerpatch farmgirl

6.  Since my life has changed so drastically in the last three years,  I’ve come to realize how incurably we insulate ourselves from truth and beauty and goodness.   There are certain things that inevitably bring us closer —–to earth, to home, nearer to Him;  suffering,  regular  communion,  taking care of children, using our own two hands.     And then there are those things that further separate us:  consumerism, success and all those things (even church) that can steal our time away from those we love.  Sadly,  I am feverishly drawn to the latter category at times.    And I’m often bitter and resistant to embrace suffering and my duties to my family.

But sometimes, in the beautiful moments…..

I see it.   The reason He made me and why He is not content to let me live with less.   He loves me and He alone knows what I need.    And perhaps it is That love that will continue to strip away those things which prevent me from seeing truth.

7.  And there’s one more thing.

I’ve discovered the deliciousness which is Nutella.

On a bagle.

It’s almost more wonderful than I can fathom.

Don’t try to talk me out of it.   It’s too late.  I’ve ordered clothing the next size up.

Favre probably likes it too.

Amen.

someday i will look back at this precious gift.
and this is what i will remember.
her clinging—-arms tight around the neck— while we read, while we memorize, while we learn.
and my selfish longing that she would stay in her seat and be diligent.
has melted to this.
as the heart melts into repentance.
hopeful that for one more day—- she’ll find her place and her comfort right here.

it’s all so fleeting. don’t let me squander away this need in her to hold on.

and my striving for my own place, my own significance, my own life
…….has found its’ voice in her.

and so i cling too.

and we find our purpose
together.
one day
one heartache
one joy
one year
at a time.

hold on.

and never let go.

Happy Birthday Emme!
You are my joy and my sweet 10 year old monkey. Thank you for turning my world upside down.
I give you my love and my days,
momma

You take a video of her, of course.

The girls are memorizing the books of the Old Testament. I happen to have been a first prize Bible drill winner and highly impressed their young strong minds with my mad skillz. Forgive the lack of makeup, the dishoveled left overs of yesterdays’ hair style and the fact that I’m clinging tightly to my morning coffee. Forgive me, I’m a dork, alright. But I challenge you to try to beat my swift 16 second recitation. My kids think I’m a genius. And I was tired of saying it over and over for them, so now they can just push play.
We are easily amused at the Wadsworth household.

Post Edit: Y’all are far too kind about the whole make-up thing but let a southern girl tell ya, it’ll be hard to ever break the make-up habit. And further more, lest you think that’s the natural me, what I meant by ‘no make-up’ was that I only had powder, blush, concealer and brow groomer on. Make-up is to me what hair was to Samson.

Which brings me to my next point. I showed the girls the following video after we studied Samson today. Because I’m not the only parent who is a dork. Amen.