I hear singing...

I hear singing

Her voice a bubble

of certainty

and hope

rising

on the breeze

Into the blue unknown.



Poem doodle (thanks to LL for the idea:)

Just do the next thing

Just do the next thing.

Do it with all the love and purpose you can.

Without thinking further

Off into the distance, where

input must equal output

income balance outcome

and the expectation of something better somewhere

someplace, somewhen ... else

can only ever underestimate

the aching sweet

beauty of the

"just now"

I have here with you.

JOY (a post revisted from the archives)

Happiness.

There are definitely two kinds.

The first kind is conditional.

The second kind is unconditional.

What does this mean?

Well the first kind is dependant upon my external circumstances. It is integral to what I have and what I am able to do.

It's about my own expectations and how I live up to them. It's about making my own rules and sticking to them (however suffocating they may be). It's about setting my own standards and trying to live up to them however different they mey be from God's standards and priorities for my life.

It's all about satiating that which I am unsatisfied with instead of finding contentment with what I have been given.

In real terms, it comes down to having a long hot soak in a bubble bath as opposed to the typical mummy's military shower at the first light of dawn!

It comes down to being able to read through a novel uninterrupted on a Sunday afternoon as opposed to the same dog-eared half chewed ABC storybook, for the tenth time before lunchtime.

It comes down to doing as I want, when I want and having what I want how I want it.

Parenthood challenges this definition of happiness. It shakes the foundations of this building and knocks it clean to the ground.

Once the dust has cleared what is left in the debris is the second kind of happiness.

The unconditional kind of happiness.

This kind of happiness looks a little different from what we have come to suspect. It can take a while before we recognise it:0)

This kind of happiness lends itself more to the word joy.

God Blesses this kind of happiness :0)

Joy finds miracles in the ordinary.

Joy finds the sacred in the everyday.

Joy sees the beautiful painting before the mess on the kitchen table.

Joy sees the rainbow instead of the rain

A few little words on Joy

It is the consciousness of the threefold joy of the Lord, His joy in ransoming us, His joy in dwelling within us as our Saviour and Power for fruit bearing and His joy in possessing us, as His Bride and His delight; it is the consciousness of this joy which is our real strength. Our joy in Him may be a fluctuating thing: His joy in us knows no change. James Hudson Taylor

Any one can sing in the sunshine. You and I should sing on when the sun has gone down, or when clouds pour out their rain, for Christ is with us. Anonymous

Joy is not the absence of suffering. It is the presence of God. Robert Schuller

Joy is prayer - Joy is strength - Joy is love - Joy is a net of love by which you can catch souls. God loves a cheerful giver. She gives most who gives with joy. The best way to show our gratitude to God and the people is to accept everything with joy. A joyful heart is the inevitable result of a heart burning with love. Never let anything so fill you with sorrow as to make you forget the joy of the Christ risen. Mother Teresa

Joy, not grit, is the hallmark of holy obedience. We need to be light-hearted in what we do to avoid taking ourselves too seriously. It is a cheerful revolt against self and pride. Our work is jubilant, carefree, merry. Utter abandonment to God is done freely and with celebration. And so I urge you to enjoy this ministry of self-surrender. Don't push too hard. Hold this work lightly, joyfully. The saints throughout the ages have witnessed to this reality.... You know, of course, that they are not speaking of a silly, superficial, bubbly kind of joy like that flaunted in modern society. No, this is a deep, resonant joy that has been shaped and tempered by the fires of suffering and sorrow; joy through the cross, joy because of the cross. Richard J. Foster

Happiness depends on happenings; joy depends on Christ. Anonymous

Where others see but the dawn coming over the hill, I see the soul of God shouting for joy. William Blake

“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law (Galatians 5:22)”

These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full. (John 15:11)"

JOY

Jesus Others Yourself

(Jesus: first, others: second, yourself: last)

I will choose to linger...

I will choose to linger
on that little face just a little more tonight.
These moments add up.
They are the brush strokes of a bigger picture.
If I choose to rush along, getting things done and forget to linger on those features. They will change and I will have missed them. The way they are, just for today. Tomorrow, somehow
they will be different.
I will deliberately, stroke your cheek and tell you what you mean to me. Look in your eyes for longer than I normally would
as I lay you in your cot tonight.
Your sweet pixie grin and sparkling eyes. The feet that run about all day, so fast
I can't keep up with them.
I will choose to linger
Elongate the time we have on the evening of the 781st day since my eyes first gazed into yours. That difficult birth. You came out blue and barely breathing, your little hand numb from a damaged nerve.
And now, you have so much joy and spirit and energy.
You dance in the sun, and splash in the puddles. You know how to really live!
So now as I sing you a lullaby, I will choose to wait one minute more, take it to another verse.
Because each and every time I let that moment linger.
Time slows down.
And I get the chance to really know who you are just a little bit more.

Remembering what truly matters... "Post it " notes to myself...

Being right with Jesus before I try to be right with anyone else.

Taking off the shackles of the mind. Sinking down into the still waters dwelling in the heart.

Remembering that peace increases with trust, whatever the outside circumstances

Taking life without the frills. Eating simple. Mind, body and soul.

Reaching out to touch the truth in the kind of beauty which comes unadorned.

Not forgeting that it's the the inside of the cup that needs the most attention.

Welcoming the outsider into my heart. The one who opposes me. The one who threatens me. The one who other's reject. See how the reflection in another's eyes is deep within a part of my own self.

Embrace. Love.

pHOTO : My hand after spending a morning planting, painting and play doughing with the girls.
Real, true, unpretty, but touched with the fabric of the everyday life I love and embrace.
Better than a french manicure.

Counting Blessing,...

With inspiration from the 1ooo gifts list over at Holy Experience...

I'm counting mine everyday...
in faces of joy,
giggles,
sisters becoming best ever friends,
kicking up grass in the garden playing tag,
the laughter (and tears) that come with growing, learning and forgiving one another on a daily basis.
Seraphina's funny faces,
Matilda's funny expressions,
Bujana's sincere heart,
Emmy becoming a beautiful young lady before my eyes, strong, certain of her beliefs yet full of gentleness and compassion for everyone.
Listening to Emmy read chapters of "Little Women" or "Hinds Feet on High Places" or her favourite parts of the Gospels while I sew in the evenings.
Cuddling up in on blankets and cusions in the garden in the afternoon with Bujana reading stories and picture books.
Listening to shrieks of joy as 3 littlest girls splash in the cool of the paddling pool.
Hearing my husband read fairy stories to my youngest girls behind me right now, with gentleness and fun and silliness, giving each character a funny voice, stopping now and again to chat about the pictures... "look Tilda this princess must be you, she's all in pink"
The soft breath of a summer breeze against the curtains.
Lavender oil foot rubs for the girls after a bath time.
The girl's summery, patterned printed dresses blowing on the line in the afternoon.
The prayers and love of true friends who accept me just as I am, flaws and all.
My mother bringing sweet peas from her garden for us today on a surprise visit, as she does, , and when she does never forgetting to bring little treats for the girls in brown paper bags ( jelly babies, raisins, trail mix, white sugar mice or berries)
Emmy's maple and lemon sponge pudding with custard after Sunday dinner.
Chatting with my "little big" girl about this that and everything else, listening to her thoughts.
Sitting out in the garden in the evening with my husband, sharing the day, laughing about silly things and amazing at the blessings God has brought us.

With love for a friend. "The Passion is in the letting go"

The passion is in this letting go.
You will find
yourself again, beautiful, shining
full of life.

A soul grows in the dark
of the earth, giving itself away
piece by piece,

stem, sepal, seed,
Becoming smaller time and time
again, becoming
pollen drifting,

and the gentleness of rain, the warmth
of sunlight in the morning
after a bitter night of frost.

The melting snow, white
petals unfolding,

Opening

Becoming.

True.

Beautiful.

Shining.

Full of life.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I feel an deep ache. It hits me suddenly and without warning. In the middle of washing up, or the moments of quiet, the shade of blue of the sky.
My heart hangs heavy, pangs silently, a sudden outburst of rain fills my eyes.
I feel like mercury pushing the clouds out of the corner of the picture in the Spring time Primavera But I can only chalk blue skies with my mind. My thoughts are a clear meadow, but my heart is a sunken valley where the rain pools.
Yet there is sunlight all around me and flowers in small hands, so many gifts.
It's only the undrawn picture, the unfashioned memory which falters my smile. It is the one small hand I will never touch. The little body I will never hold, the smile I will never see,
and I mourn it.
I grieve for a little child I never knew, yet know more intimatly than any in some ways. Because now she enfolds my soul in the wings of prayer as I once held her little body beneath my heart.

Boo's Baby Bird

When I woke Bujana this morning she rubbed her tierd eyes and told me of the dream she had been having.
"I had a little egg that cracked open and out popped a little chick from it. The little chick thought I was it's mother because I fed it and gave it water and let it be free." But Mummy" she added a little sleepily, " I now need to go back to sleep so that I can find it before it flies away!"

Reflections on caring for a sick child....

I have just laid Matilda down for a rest. We have had a bad night, well it is now a couple of bad nights.
She has, over the last three weeks gone through two courses of antibiotics for recurring ear infections, from last night she is now on her third and strongest dose for a chest infection. I have been watching her most of the night as the medication is not bringing her temperature down properly and much of what medicine and fluid she does take she vomits. I fear that she has become somewhat resistant to the antibiotics as well. We took her to the hospital under advice of the GP, last night. They said she should come back in 48 hours if she isn't any better and that until the antibiotics have a chance to work the best place for her is at home. Part of me is relieved, part scared, am I doing everything right? A question that keeps rebounding round my mind.
So it has been a constant stream of tepid baths, mild camomile teas served in her beaker, cool flannels wiped over her body, stories, lullabies, medicine, vitamin pills and lastly an old remedy of egg whites in her socks which we used last night as a last ditch attmept to bring her temperature down from 40 after she had had all the doses of medicine we could give her. Remarkably, and I say this sincerly as I could not understand how such a strange remedy might possibly work it did actually bringt it down to 38.8 within 15 minutes!
I can only thank my husband's mother who, according to my husband is a " one woman natural pharmacuticul company" There have been many old remedies reccomended from her that I have been pursuaded to try ( such as applying salt on minor burns, underlining minor here, serious burns would need more conventional treatments of course) have you ever tried that though? I tell you it works!!! This is just one example of many may I add!

Looking at my Tilly's sweet face, peacfully sleeping here beside me my heart hurts.
There is a strange feeling of emotions stirring within me. One is fear, cold and clear. That primal, instinct that burns like a fever in itself, gnawing deep down. Shuddering both hot and cold. Yet there is also, strangly, a constant and peripheral sense of peace. Hovering over the heaving waters, that stream and break over me as I tend her. Somehow I 'm being shown in ways I don't truly understand that He is watching, He knows, He hears, He is near. I am so grateful for my faith at times like this, it is the most precious gift. It is times like this that it is really brought into clear relief for me to see. That by imersing myself in His Words, His Love, His Counsel even when I have not felt any immediate consolation is all a preperation for the parched times when I really need to drink deep. Somehow all these things store up in a well within, I think. Somehow I have always felt a profound sense of His presence as a comforter whenever there is illness in the children. I find illness in the children very hard to cope with at times, yet it is at these places, I find Him reaching out to me, His hand upon my shoulder, gentle, still, quietening my mind and my heart. I can't explain it other than there is an almost tangible sense of His presence in the room. This was especially true last night, when I lay next to Tilly, my hand stroking her hair, listening to her breath against me. Her lips scarlet, her face pale, her body like a little hot water bottle simmering under the single cotton sheet.
She was asleep, but her eyes opened once in a while, almost as if she were checking that I was still there. "I'm still here sweetie. Mummy's got you" words almost prayed, in the tepid light.
And she smiled. In her sleep she caught me with her and she smiled. And then another emotion swelled up and rolled over me. One of complete gratitude. I was so thankful that I could be priveliged enough to care for her when she needed me most. That I could be there for her, even as she slept. These moments in a way were a gift to me that brought out everything that matters most into the light, even in the darkness of this bedroom surrounded by sticky medicine syringes, tissue paper, wet flannels and beakers of water and chamomile tea.
And then still something more began to sink into the ebb and flow of my thoughts. Something that made me see with a sudden chill of perspective.
I began to think of all the little ones in this world right now who have no one to wipe their brow or lie down beside them as they sleep, or read them stories to distract them from their discomfort, or rock them gently with a lullaby, over and over and over again till their eyelids droop and their shivering bodies surrender into a healing bath of sleep.
Little ones that have no medicine at all to bring them through endless feverish nights.
And then I prayed, not just for my sweet Tilly but for all the children who are sick in the world right now. Tilly will recover from this bought of sickness, yet for some children in other lands, far from the shores of medical centres, hospitals, new treatments and loving arms, there is no recovery, even for the simplest of illnesses.
And that is an ache I cannot heal within me, because it shouldn't be there. I think He puts the ache there to help me remember this. So I pray, because it is the only medicine I have for this ache.

Dear Lord,

Please be the rocking arms,
The gentle hand,
The cool towel, The soft song,
Be the,
Comforter,
For all who suffer,
Both within and without.
The child with the fever,
The mother with the fire of fear in her heart,
The little one whom no one
watches over,
May Yours be the face
That they see
When they open their eyes
in the empty darkness
Of soft sleep
May Yours be the face,
That they see.
The hands that will touch,
That will heal and
restore,
and renew.
In the morning light.

In Jesus's name
Amen.

My Bujana Grace

The name Bujana comes from an ancient illyrian river running between Albania and Kosovo ( now called the Buna).

It flows through Shkodra, the town where Tani was born, toward it's end in the turquoise tides of the Mediteranean sea.
Bujana's second name is Grace.
How telling a name can be! Bujana, our little daughter has been a flow of grace in our lives since the day she was born December 26th Boxing day 2003!!!

The best Christmas present I have ever had, I have to say :0)

The grace she brings to us undulates, trembles, springs, refreshes, rushes, twists, turns, meanders and bubbles with life and joy.

This is our "lil Boo".
Full of life, filled to the brim with exuberance.

When she was born the first thing I noticed about her was her sweet almond shaped brown eyes and her sticky out ears!

At night Tani would often seranade her by playing a little lullaby on the guitar. She always loved music so much and would often respond to it by moving her arms, clapping or babbling along.

She has always loved music just like her Daddy.

We couldn't belive it when she started to talk at a year using full sentances!
By 16 months she was already negotiating and barganing deals by asking for

"doclat 'uttons" ( chocolate buttons) whenever she had been particularly obediant!

(What can I say? She's her Mummies girl lol ;)
Once she reached a year and a half she had even started to argue back!
Whenever she was asked to sit at the naughty step for being the cheeky little monkey we've come to know and love, she would simply say...
"But I'm only a baby" In her sweetest most innocent voice.
She is a little character.
Her personality is so strong and individual.
But what I love most about our Boo is her heart. She has a heart of pure gold!
She loves her sisters to bits and cares beautifully for the baby. She adores her animals and cries whenever her sisters hurt themselves. She even talks to the insects and plants in the garden with a gentle , soothing voice and always makes sure her baby doll has a blankie (blanket) before she goes to sleep!

At Easter I was telling the girls the story of Jesus and reading passages from the bible.
When I looked up at the end of the reading I saw Boo staring at her little hands resting upon her lap, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
" I love Jesus so much" she said.
" I don't ever want him to be hurt Mummy"

She always says a lovley prayer before bed when she asks God to care for all the people she loves because "they are so lovley to me"
And then she asks God to help her be a good little girl before thanking him for " the beautiful world with all the lovley creatures"

She has a beautiful little heart!

Sometimes she reminds me of a little bear cub with her brown curls and eyes, her chubby cheeks and little round, button nose, all curled up in a chair with her etcha sketch or a story book with lots of pictures.

When I look at it it's true. Grace and miracles were something she brought us as a gift from heaven when she was born.

If she were a flower she would be a wild poppy.
Red, lively, joyful, bright, cheery, delecate, soft, rare. A real Splash of colour.
She paints patterns all over the blue sky. Like drops of water mixed with sunshine. She is a rainbow!
I love my Boo.

And Christmas wil always be extra special because it's her birthday too :0)

Collecting Scraps

John Muir:

Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life.

Blaise Pascal

The least movement is of importance to all nature. The entire ocean is affected by a pebble.

J. Lubbuck:

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky is by no means a waste of time.
-

We have been collecting Scraps....
Simple words of thanks, for simple joys. This is a child's way of communion. Pieced together into a Sunday afternoon scrapbook. Pages filled with the wonderment of details. Stiched together, little by little. From the details in nature, to the familiar ways of those dear and close, or the well worn pages of a well loved book sitting cheerily uptop a pile of even more upon the table. Scraps woven together by strong, stitches. Stitches, hand sown with love and care. By His hand.
For this is a gift He gives. A gift that transcends circumstance. A simple gift for all who Hope in Him. A binding of thankfulness. A prayer that weaves in and out of the din and the clatter and the noise just in the same way as it does the peace, of silence and the glinting of icy sunlight between the branches of winter trees.

Scraps of fabric woven together to make a life. Piece by piece. A life for Him, with Him and through Him.
Fragments of beauty, love, joy, memories, voices, dreams, green grass, laughter, songs, sunlight, quiet rain, falling leaves and budding blossoms.
With a thankful heart ready to embrace a love that can turn all things to grace.

And Why not visit lovely Ann's lovely peaceful place for gentle encouragment and inspiration. And many others who are walking in the way of thankfulness over at the GratitudeCommunity...

pIECES Of oUR daY

As the brittle and stark days of winter leave trees bare against granite skies. Emmy captures the last blinking glimpses, lingering gazes and fading traces of Autumntime.
Here is our day through her eyes.
With the pictures she found.
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A sycamore leaf surfaces from the birdbath.

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Early morning shivers, blue and crisp as any day in early spring might.
Clouds rustle against the trembling edges of emerald green Bayleaves.
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Details, flutter, pause, wonder, glint. Unassumingly. Washing the days in their own colours. Defining the hours, with their own outlines.

As afternoon wanes, birds chirrup amongst the naked branches of a sycamore tree.

Emmy's candle made of the leftover's of candles, a glass ramakin, some essential rose oil and... Glitter...of course! Will it be lit today? Or saved for tommorrow :0)

Books undercovers! A few favourites ready for an evening read with little ones.

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Lot's of "helpers" making a mess, *ahem* I mean a set of birdfeeders of course!

And here is what you will need, so Emmy tells me:

• 2 and a half cups of wild bird seed.
• half a cup of raisins
• 1 packet of lard
• Lots of wiggly. wriggly messmakers!
• 4 sturdy twigs donated by a kindly nearby tree
• 8 pieces of garden string
• A dust pan and brush and a nice big bowl of soapy water for the floor afterward ;0)

One last picture to share as the pieces of our day scatter gently to the earth like the last of the Autumn leaves. ~

A day with Matilda

Tilly "washing" her little toy dog!

She loves to wear her "Bella- Mina" (Ballerina) dress all day ( everyday) :0)

This week we have started learning phonics! And the best place to start? The begining of course :0) So here is the letter A!!! Both upper and lower case! We have found lots of animals and other things to colour in that start with the letter "A" Online. Letter A Printable Activities Animals A to Z
"and then we found a couple of great sites online for signing. Here's a really good one....
babysigns Which I'm starting up with the girls this year.

Here Tilly signs the letter

"a"

For
apple ( lower two pictures!

And here is the painting she made with Bujana to go along with our bible story for this evening. "The lost Sheep"

SACRIFICE ( A post revisited and updated :0)

(c) Tomo Yun www.yunphoto.net/hl/photobase

It is in a womans nature to want to nurture, protect and care for those around them. I've been thinking about this for a while now.

Sacrifice is the way of a Christian life. It is a beautiful aspect to our faith.. The beauty is that when we give we are really only giving a little of something up in order to recieve a part of something so much greater.

Yet, sometimes (at times) even the giving of ourselves can be done for the wrong reasons. We can overly focus on one thing or another and this in itself can weary us. We forget that this is a sign that we are not leaning upon HIM enough. Either by seeking HIS word, praying or doing the thing HE wants us to do even though that thing in itself may seem less important or rewarding or noticable or grand.

"Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls."

I remember when I only had two girls instead of four! I would get so tired all the time. I was wearied, much more than I am now. Looking back I was not taking HIS Yoke upon me but my own carefully crafted one. The one of " a perfectly clean and well presented home" The one of
"looking especially after my appearance" and the one of "Taking on responsibilities" outside the home which although seemed like they were the right things to do, were in fact simply feeding my sense of personal fullfillment. They were serving my identity, not my soul and not my God.

Jeremiah 6:16 Thus says the LORD, "Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, Where the good way is, and walk in it; And you will find rest for your souls. But they said, 'We will not walk in it.'

Eventually, and somewhat conversly with nothing left inside to give I felt myself become even more burdened, even more incapable.

God does provide us with the strength to continue on our ordained path when we need it. He is our rock and fortress when we become weak. Through faith and obedience we are given the grace to endure struggles in life. But sometimes we try to take our own ways instead of his.

Our nurturing, protecting and caring starts to involve issues such as control, pride, idolisation. An attempt to recreate the ideal, picture perfect life that our minds and hearts desire and aspire to instead of allowing life itself to mould us gently.

"Abba Abba Father. you are the potter we are the clay."

We have to allow those gentle rivulets of turning clay change us slowly. If we try to speed up the wheel our whole pot will collapse!

If we are taking on more than we can handle it may be the case that we are not listening to that still, small voice of God within us.

It maybe that we are trying to plough our own field without the necessary tools instead of Gods field where every tool is provided when needed.

By stepping back a little we allow others the opportunity to flourish and grow. My husband and children all help with the chores around the house. I do the largest proportion, which is only fair as I don't work outside the home, however my husband is as hands on with the little ones as I am. As a wife and mother my duties don't stop at 5 pm and as a husband and father my husbands don't either.

If I as a wife and mother take over every responsibility from childcare to household chores am I not robbing other members of my family of the chance to learn how to serve in love and grace within their home. It warms my heart to see my little ones eagerly clamber up the stairs, polishing rags in hand in search of any piece of wood they can find to shine up good as new : )



Robert A. Heinlein: "Do not handicap your children by making their lives easy".


I take great pleasure in watching the older two care for their youngest siblings.


"There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One is roots; the other, wings." Hodding Carter

The impression of Jesus related within all of the gospels is one of resounding peace. The time for every eventuality was pre-ordained, he knew this and did not contest it. And He wanted to give this same gift of Peace to us too.

"And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary has chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her."

I believe God means for all his people whether they be, young or old, male or female, both within the realms of family and community, to work together in praise and servitude for him as well as each other.

Even the best of intentions can come undone if they are not in keeping with Gods plan.

Sometimes all we are asked to do is take a breath.

Inhale his word;

receive his grace.

Here is a great link on the subject from The Flourishing Mother called Take my yoke I found the other day :0)

Blessed be your Name

And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.(Isaiah 35:10)

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For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.(Isaiah 55:12)

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Sometimes I look at my life and I feel so overwhelmed. How did I get to be so blessed?
Everyday is filled with grace in some way or other. Yes, there are struggles and tears and trials amoungst the joys and wonders but there are gifts.... Hope, Faith and Love! Transforming and transfiguring all into a song of praise!

Praise that finds a voice to sing with even when the tears sting and the heart aches. Still and silent. A waiting praise where hope flickers once more from the dowsed embers. The ashes of all sorrow. A flame of Love brought to life by the oxygen of a faith in something greater, and more wonderful than we may ever behold. And there is beauty here.

For the whispers of clouds Bring grace and blessing in abundance. And behind them the sun still shines on and on.

All is written by His hand. All is planned " Every hair is numbered" and peace dwells in the sanctuary of His word, that formed the beautiful world, His breath that gives life to all, the children's smiles, the eucharist, the sun that rises in the morning.

There are times when life is really full and bursting at the seams... it seems! Yet droplets of joy sparkle across the whole picture, right to the frayed edges and muddy clots of running colour.
Droplets like Moments, intermissions, silences, pauses, undulations, cadences punctuating the movements of life.
And I think of this song : ( remember toturn off the blog music at the bottom of the sidebar to hear the clip :0)

For life is like a poem.

And my poem is a Poem of Praise. The hope, the mess, the crazziness, the tears, the fears, the wonder, the joy. Blessings. In. Abundance.

And I give Thanks.

Beautiful girls enjoying their books before getting ready for bed.

A new composition on a Sunday afternoon.

Trying so hard with her little wooden needles and ball of moss green wool :0)

These two are best friends :0)

And one funny little baby girl who keeps trying to take a ride on her toy cars, and trains and .... now it looks like it's this poor caterpillar's turn :0)