taking in the trash.

Okay.
I am going to confess. I've had a wish, a tiny dream: of all things, for a trashcan.
A nice stainless steel one, that's bigger than the tiny thing I have under the sink.
But, j'ai une petite budget - and a nice trash can, would be a splurge.
Who would spend gobs on a trash can!? I have been tempted no doubt....
Only a Fool.

But today, when I got home from a trip to see my parents - there it was at the bottom of my stairs - newish, just the size I had researched, and stainless-beautiful-steel! Cast away because it was broken at the hinge - but oh, so fixable!

I actually jumped out of my car - and thanked God. yep, I was wooping in the drive...
Speaking praises to the One who already knows I like stainless best. And that some of you like plastic, and others have never thought of such a thing.
The Lover who pours His God-Fool love and grace out over broken, trash cast-offs and aways.

Fixer-up, never-giver-upper.
Today, I'm so thankful for all the many ways He loves the rumpled and shines up the dull.
Woot!

the light of Life.

It's snowing and I have my rain boots on
and I smile thinking about this:
If I were at work, I would be thinking - assessing, 'wow, this person is not dressed appropriately'
and make judgement. Intervene.

Hee =) I'm nobody's patient today, under the scrutiny of my Holy God who loves me.
Today, these boots are just bringing me joy - these hand-me-downs with diamonds and hearts.
I smile.

My uncle is sort of a legend when it comes to duck-boots, and I'm not trying to perpetuate that... I'm not for annointing rubberboots.
But, I'm thinking about His gifting Self. How those silly boots are a gift. How He brings joy. How He bestows the simplest treasures only a fool child's eyes can see and heart can hold.

I giggle at sparkley things. I keep bubbles in my purse.
I like to laugh, really loud and hearty - until tears come, because why laugh just a little when you mean it.
And I love Jesus Christ.
Because I'm overcome in His foolish love.

He says He's the light of life. And that the dark in us and of us, doesn't get it. The laughing Messiah who brings joy in the midst of real sorrows. How can a chuckle cast away all of our fear-stained longing for change?
His smile weighs hearty in the victory celebration of the soul. His hand slaps to His side to the rhythmic clap of my boots that call out to puddles to jump in, though the day is sunny - melting the white.
He laughs for His Kingdom is come, and there is joy. Though tears still stain our faces, and pain will pierce our hearts, and times are unhappy - the Joy King sows seeds of His Kingdom in the simple and blinds us with light that makes us know and grow in joy.




Please join me dear ones, and sharing a joy treasure or two.

much peace.

(P.S. It's over half November, and who wants to contain Christmas-ness any longer? Not moi.)

no more want.

my life consists of the fluttering of paper.

the pages of Word,
the print-outs of new knowledge - of ideas,
of observations,
of inspired hopes,
of disillusioned reality.

I am reading, reading, reading - for Life, for work, searching for conceptualization of what will become my thesis.
What will be hours, blood, sweat, strain and passion: poured over in conversation and rumninated over in the mind;
What will begin to describe current reality and hope of future.

He helps me climb, what seems insurmountable. Right now, I just climb up from my knees and open my hands to open the pages, and open my mind and heart to embrace His way. No farther than He guides, no more vision than Hope. No more want than His peace.

This is my journey prayer.
Amen.

woolying up.

the air is cool
leaves mostly on the ground,
wet from early snow,
the others, with colours fading cling to the trees.
Winter is coming.
guess I'd better wooly up ;)


It's November 1st.
The first day of the global charity fundraiser, Movember, raising awareness and funds toward Prostate Cancer.

Quiet and insidious, prostate cancer can become well developed before becoming (if ever) symptomatic.
But, it is effectively detected with routine screening.
Many of the men I care for are in the end stages of this disease, which progresses from organ to others, and bone and brain.


Love your man.
Love men.
Embrace the Mo. Grow one if you're able, or compliment someone who can.
They may look funny, or hairy, or... creepy,
but recall our deep kinship through Christ, care and advocate for them.