Just a quick update from me!

Unfortunatly the " feeling a little unwell" of my last post has turned into a fully fledged tummy bug that is, as we speak, sweeping through the house :0(

Not so fun!

So here is a little wordless post for once which is nice :)

Here are some pictures of us lot out and about during these sunny days we've been enjoying recently:)

Better than pictures of the inside of my house at the momenet anyway smile ;)

A few links

Well...
I have been so very busy these last few days. I haven't gotten around to writing a new post so I thought I'd share some amazing, touching, beautiful and inspiring words from other's that I have come across recently.
Blessings to all xxx
Suzy

"Would you kids be quiet! I'm trying to seek God's will here!" @ Et Tu?


The Divine Mercy - Meet Momma, This Woman Who Radiates Christ @ http://halfthekingdom.org/wordpress/


Lists from a successful day @ Seeking Faithfulness


http://www.wordmadeflesh.org/learn/fall2005.pdf


The Past and The Pitcher @ Bring The Rain


seeing god in work

Two Little Girls

The baby is eating so much at the moment! she is such a little guzzler. For example this has been her menu so far today: 1 bowl of porridge, a bananna, 1 pot of fromage frais, half a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich, 1 bottle of juice and water and 2 bottles of milk!!! :-0 It's only mid-afternoon! This is more than I've eaten so far. It's so funny how she asks for her food too. She goes Gum gum, gum and pats her tummy :-)

She's catching up with Tilly, in size and development too which I think Tilly is rather indignant about as she keeps reminding us, " me a big girl, der a baba girl okay! "

Whenever "Baba" does anything Tilly feels she has to commentate. She feels especially inclined to comment when she thinks "Baba" is doing something she shouldn't of course. "Me been good girl, but no no no, baba, der been naughty girl Mummy look!"

According to Tilly "Baba" has been a naughty girl rather alot recently, even when "Baba" is not doing very much of anything :-)

Whenever Seraphina (Baba) smiles at Matilda, Matilda says. "Mummy Baba sayn deeeees." Or for those of you unaquainted with "Tilly talk" that'll be "Mummy, the baby is Saying Cheese"

I just know they are growing up so fast. I want to hold onto all these precious, funny, fleeting moments of babyhood as long as I can.

Et... Voila!!!

Marie over @ http://memarielane.com/ and Lisa @ Are We There Yet? got me all inspired with their self portrait idea.
So away went the dishes today and out with the paints and pens and crayons and pencils and tissue paper, bits n pieces and other random stuff me 'n' my girls found to stick over this rather bad picture of, well, it's supposed to me! Mmmm.
Emmy cut out and glued the flowers with Genesis 1 quotes all over it, Bujana made the orange finger paint flowers and Matilda just helped make a mess really heehee!
It was fun though.
Thanks for the idea Marie and Lisa!

snowstorm

photo uploaded from flickr by Johnny Blood's

The light died in the low clouds. Falling snow drank in the dusk. Shrouded in silence, the branches wrapped me in their peace. When the boundaries were erased, once again the wonder: that I exist.

Dag Hammarskjold

Markings.

ECLIPSE

During a solar eclipse.

The earth becmes shrouded in a meshed veil.

Darkness turns the day to night.

Yet the rim of the moon trembles with the concentrated rays of opressed sunlight.

Fraying the edges,

Like a resurection taking place behind a the stone of a tomb.

One sphere moves across the other.

Till the vacant, empty luna shell rolls away,

Without the reflection of the sun it becomes nothing.

It dissolves.

The sun defines it's soft, powdery surface, fragile and potmarked, worn.

Draws it out of the blue with it's warm breath.

I gaze at destruction, lifeless bodies, eyes wounded with tears.

Darkness eclipses so many lives.

Lord, may your light surround, embrace, overcome.

Myanmar cyclone relief


China earthquake relief

Details

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

(Matthew 10:29-31)

*

*

Today I've been thinking about the small things, the unoticed things... Details.

How many times do I miss the details.

There is a tree opposite our house. Since we have lived here I have watched it through the seasons.

During Summer it's lush greeness spreads outward and upward. Swollen green leafed open palms praise the blue skies.

During Autumn it's leaves curl into cupped hands, golden, waiting.

At Wintertime the tree is stripped bare, it's structure exposed to the elements. It's branches brittle and vulnerable looking, grasp out at the blank white canvas above. A prayer of supplication.

Now it is Springtime something glorious happens. Upon each new supple offshoot grows a white blossom that opens out into a small candelabra shape. The tree shimmers in it's new adornment.

From here at by bedroom window the plain white blossom of this tree seems overshadowed by the powder puff pinks and ruby red jewels of the cherry and Almond varieties which line our street.

Yet yesterday, walking home my daughter reached up and pulled one of the little blossoms off in her hands.

Looking closely, I was amazed. Although plain white on the outside, inside each petal had it's own distinctive colour. The spectrum of colours was amazing. I literally couldn't find one single blossom alike!

It was as if each flower had been individually painted by hand with it's own custom colour.

All different and unique yet part of the same tree.

So today I thank God for the details.

The small, the unrealsized beauty, the little offerings, the things that go unoticed on the outside yet shine with the handiwork of God at their centre.

For God's greatness adorns the centre of the smallest petals.
In quiet, unoticed places his love blossoms.

"But thou, when thou mayest pray, go into thy chamber, and having shut thy door, pray to thy Father who is in secret, and thy Father who is seeing in secret, shall reward thee manifestly"


The Thousand Gifts

Sunshine on a rainy day!

The Thousand Gifts

The label "Gratitude" in my sidebar is part of a new set of posts inspired by Ann @ Holy Experience One Thousand Gifts list.

Today I'm thinking...
As I watch the rain slide across my window, melting the cars, and the trees, and the overgrown grass in my front garden. That I mostly think of writing my gratitude list at the end of Sunny days not the begining of rainy ones!


The sun creates evaporation. Our spirits soar. We can let go! Raise our open palms to the light!

Yet the rain seems to become absorbed into the pores of our soul. Clouds hang heavy, the day darkens beneath them.

The sunlight sheds light, uplifts, defines the contours of life, brings out the individual colours of nature, inspires. We can go outside, run, leave our cares in the laundry basket!
Whereas the rain, smudges the lines of life. Confines, makes us stay inside. Restricts our plans, makes us look within the rooms in our hearts as well as our homes.


My day today, reflects a little hidden sunlight from muddy puddles. As the rain hits my window and fragments the debris of thoughts and plans and ideas into droplets on windowsills.


I want to thankyou Lord for this rainy day! It reminds me that it doesn't have to be sunny and warm for your light to shine, guide and heal. I don't have to always see or feel your light for it to be there.

Thankyou for this little house, our shelter. The rooms are a little messy, worn by memories and growing souls. Nothing matches, there's always something that needs fixing! Yet I love it, because it's home, and all the imprints of our living here remind me of what it is to be a family.

Thankyou for treasures collected by little hands, shells, shiny stones, feathers and fircones, stored in egg cups and china bowls.

The colourings and pictures taped on the walls, because Tilly is so proud of herself every time she looks a them and points "me draw, me draw!"

The books stacked on the piano, pages and pages of words, well loved and well read.

A ragged, comfortable chair, big enough for a mama and baby to sunuggle up with one of those books on.

A small garden, that was nothing but weeds and rubble surrounded by chicken wire when we first moved in. Now has a swing, three black and white rabbits, a slide, some flowers and a few vegetables thanks to a few helping hands and some busy afternoons working up a sweat!

Thankyou for the laundry! Yes I actually mean it today. Each little vest and sock and dress, all belonging to a little soul, that God has blessed into my life.

Thankyou for homecooked smells from the kitchen. And the vegetable peelings left behind. By a little girl who cooked her first meal all by herself. When did she grow up so quickly!

Thankyou for two little babies keeping eachother awake with laughter even though they were meant to be sleeping! Through my tierd eyes I couldn't help but smile.

Thankyou for the quarreling, learning, growing pains, of children being, living, finding their way toward you together.

Thankyou for sisters who are finding the truth of themselves through the laughter and tears of eachother. Growing into girls that can, live with differences, share together, create together, work together, care for each other.


Thankyou for your light in the darkness Lord,

Your kingdom which grows within through both Sunlight and rainfall.

Shoots of green pushing out from the earth. Bringing forth life from within.

Each little Flower

A poem that my 10 year old daughter just wrote on her blog!

each little flower,

each little petal,

Have a purpose to make this world a happier place.

So dear God help us to be like,

each little flower,

each little petal.

Mary in the month of May

Wisdom 7:7: 19:7

For she is the brightness of the everlasting light, the unspotted mirror of the power of God, and the image of his goodness.....And being but one, she can do all things: and remaining herself, she maketh all things new: and in all ages entering into holy souls, she maketh them friends with God and prophets.

*

*

*

You found grace and how vast a grace it was! So vast it utterly filled you. And this fullness was so immense it continues to pour down like a torrent on every living being.

Saint Peter Chrysostom.

*

*

*

From the beggining, the virgin represents us all in her person. It is as if God awaited in her the response of that humanity to which he wills to unite himself.

Dom Colomba Marmion

*

*

*

Until Mary had recieved love,

Love was first wild and then was tame:

Mary gave us for the lion a lamb.

She illuminated the darkness

That had been somber for long ages.

Hadewijch of Antwerp.

*

Her eyes are eyes of gentle pity, wondering sadness, and with something more in them, something which makes her younger than evil, younger than the race from which she sprang: Although she is, by grace, Mother of the world, and mother of grace, she is also our littleset and youngest sister.

Georges Bernanos.

O glorious and happy faith!

O permanent and safe refuge from the storm of time!

The mother of God is my mother!

Saint Anslem

Springtime is a long feast for Mary, our mother. It is both the Spring of the year and the Spring of nature. Mary is the spring of the world and the spring of grace. The spring is the season of flowers, and she is the flower.

Abbe Meynard.

Isaiah 66:12-13

12For this is what the LORD says:
I will extend peace to her like a river, and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream; you will nurse and be carried on her arm and dandled on her knees.
13 As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.

Transfigured

Is it a choice? Between the ordinary everyday, mundane, routine. Or the dream that brushes past me like a cool breeze. The light which gently draws me from sleep, the love that raises me up from the ground.
Is it a choice?
Is it possible for everyday moments, mundane routines, responsibilities, hopes, troubles, joy's, sorrows, sacrifices' be raised up by the dream itself.
A prayer that integrates into the everyday hours. Enlightening, illuminating, transfiguring the moments of giving, loving, recieving, being, crying, sharing, suffering, praying, living.


"and leadeth them up into an high mountain apart by themselves: and he was transfigured before them.
And his raiment became shining, exceeding white as snow; so as no fuller on earth can white them" Mark 9:3-4.

PEACE ( a few thoughts revisited)

www.flickr.com/photos/jaudris/

When we think of peace, many things come to mind: Peaceful activities: Strolling in the park, laying back on a favourite chair with a good book, relaxing with a glass of wine (or two) on a Summer evening, day dreaming,
...maybe even sleeping.

Jesus said to his disciples “My peace I leave with you. My peace I give you. A peace which the world cannot give. This is my gift to you. Let not your heart be troubled or afraid."

" A peace which the world cannot give" Is a kind of peace that cannot be sought and found without Jesus.
Often, it seems, the peace of Jesus is found amid the most "un-peaceful" of moments. Like an eye in a storm it is a breath of stillness at the centre of what often seems to be relentless activity. I have often reflected upon this type of peace as a mother of four young children. When a newborns feeding schedule wrenches you from your sleep frequently throughout the night it seems contrary to find peace at such times. But how many mothers recognise the overwhelming peace that swells from within when holding a little one close in the quiet hues of dawning light.

There is the touch of God in the abandonment of one's self to another.

Often the peace that Jesus offers us is hard won. It is not something that can be recieved passively, it has to be received actively. Through giving of ourselves to others. As by giving of ourselves to others we receive grace. By acting in service we receive peace.

The constancy of Jesus peace, navigates the strongest currents. Sets our compass, shepherds our course. A gentle yet strong resonance demarcating the perimeters of the "straight and narrow" path.

Yet peace, I think, has it's prelude in the darkness of faith. It is the birdsong in the first moments of dawn before the sun has yet risen .

Peace leaves everything in HIS hands.

And I am reminded of this,

"And He sat down and began teaching the people from the boat. 4 When He had finished speaking, He said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” 5 Simon answered and said, “Master, we worked hard all night and caught nothing, but I will do as You say and let down the nets.” 6 When they had done this, they enclosed a great quantity of fish, and their nets began to break; so they signaled to their partners in the other boat for them to come and help them. And they came and filled both of the boats, so that they began to sink "

Nets broken and boats sinking in the deep. Boats and nets, a livelihood. A way of living passed through generations. from father to son. Memories, stories, trade. Everything that could be depended on.

Yet.

"When they had brought their boats to land, they left everything and followed Him."

An act of faith had caused something to happen that changed Peter, James and John forever. They could never go back.

Peace means a giving up of something. Something that defines. To let God's light to seep through the hard outlines of ourselves. Like ink across an etching.

Psalms 147:14 "He maketh peace in thy borders, and filleth thee with the finest of the wheat."

Before I had children I had more time, more money, more so called freedom, many different choices and a lot less responsibility. Yet there was no peace.

I struggled, I searched I pressed on. I filled my days with things, and questions, and wishing and waiting, and then more things...

Peace. can only be held in an empty cup.

To empty out the baggage of my needs or at least the things I thought I needed. Meant letting go of .... everything.

When I take a few paces back, re track, in search of something of my own to retrieve, like broken debris washed up on the shore. I see, it's only me trying to hold on to the fraying seams of control once more. Peace is a gift. I receive with open hands and open arms. Arms ready to let go of my own understandings and embrace His understanding. Arms ready to give out. Hands, empty of my own need to possess. Cupped and ready to receive the sacrament of His peace.

There are many times when anxiety aches and troubles overwhelm and I can't find peace however hard I search amid the chaos and discord. Yet there is only one way through on the path where I feel my way along, stumbling and straining and reaching out. Faith. Faith in the darkness. Faith that can take over and steer me through the tumult. then My little boat seems to still and the storm around me seems to calm. And once again I am hauled ashore.

"He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still." Psalm 107:29

" And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm."

Peace be with you today.

A Quiet Place

A Place where I can gently pause.

Take a breath,

Refresh

My soul.

Growing

I love to garden. It has become a passion of mine.

I love to look out of the window in the morning and see new, tender, translucent green shoots strain toward the strengthening Spring sunshine.

I love to plant seeds in moist black earth.

Dark as a tomb, and wait.

For tiny specks of leaf to find their way to the surface.

Curled and fragile.

Tenacious.

I scuff through the wilting pages of glossy gardening magazines, glancing over images of "low maintenance" gardens. Designs founded upon, concrete, clean lines, gravel, and chrome.

Minimalistic. Easily controllable.

I appreciate the work and design, the unfussy structures, the curves and contours. Reflections that meditate upon, punctuated space.

Indentations and pauses, order and sublimity.

My own garden is a slightly more "naturalistic" affair. A necessary unplanning of. And a few last minute ideas thrown together by. Scattered seeds. Into the dust.

I plant.

I watch,

I wait.

Clashing coloured petals fall and fade randomly. Daisies and buttercups freckle the grass. Wildflowers, mix with hybrids and even a vegetable sprout or two creeps in amongst them now and again.

Our lettuce crop did so well this year, I ended up planting half of the plants into the flowerbed. I just could not abandon them to the compost heap!

A place where my thought takes root. In the mulch...

And muted shoots grasp out beneath,

Clean lines, concrete and gravel.

Like thread veins,

Soft undone, green stitches, open the seams.

Emerge between.

The cracks in the slabs along my pathway.

Do we see our souls this way at times?

Something that we wish to keep low maintenance.

Do I look for an easy blueprint of a design. That I can manage without trouble. Keep clean without effort?

Around the edges,

Over the surfaces.

Along the borders.

Can I alone achieve a perfect design for my soul's garden ?

I try, I try.

To keep the corners swept and the pebbles in place. And the damp rot under old wood hidden from sight.

And life just keeps on growing from the rubble. Whatever is pruned back springs forth life.

Just like the house.

Where whitewashed walls stay clean just long enough for them to become the newly prepared canvas of a child's sticky masterpiece.

I am undone. By my own efforts.

The design cannot be mine.

My ideas of Perfection , are not perfect in themselves. For they only lead back to myself.

A place of little perspective.

I have to give my craving for order and symmetry back to the source,

of Growth itself.

Alone, I am a stagnant pool.

Living water pours itself out,

moves,

channels through valleys,

erodes rock and stone,

cascades down mountainsides, filters through granite.

Until it eventually,

Returns to the sea.

Nothing that is alive remains a still life.

A perfect picture can only be completed by the hand of an artist.

And what it creates, is but a gift,

Nature moves forward.

It spills itself out and decomposes so that new life may grow, strong and healthy.

I am reminded of these words.

"And Jesus said unto him, Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head."

As soon as one part of the garden in my soul is clear another emerges, more overgrown than before.

Like tides washing up more debris onto the shore than they sweep away.

So I notice the driftwood ebb against my soul.

Tilled over and over. The earth of our hearts. To reveal the roots of weeds at times, At times the roots of new Spring seedlings.

I spent close to an hour this afternoon propping up sunflowers, sweet peas and beans upon canes with bits of string.

Yet what props up my soul as it grows in search of light?

God's word,

the arm of a friend,

a little kindness along the way.

The Hope, of the seed,

The Faith, of the gardener,

The love, of the sun and the rain and the moist earth.

Providence.

My hands are discoloured from the work of the day. They have taken on the tinge of the earth. Green, musty, sooty.

The process of tending growth leaves it's mark on me.

Imperfect, Straining, grasping, straggly are the shoots, yes.

Yet still,

Somehow, still,

Growing.

And now some scraps form our garden!

A few corners of my home. ( A scrap by scrap glance)

Says it all.

New projects!

Beatrix Potter,Still a children's favourite.

A pastel portrait of my irish paternal grandmother at 21. She lived to be 103.

Emmy's clay jug.

Kitchen windowsill. With a fircone found by Bujana on a trip to the park!

This blanket was crocheted by my Granny and has wrapped up 3 generations of babies!

Emmy's present for her littlest sister's first birthday!

Tilly and her apple!

All I can say is. There are alot of girls in this house!

And Girls = sparkly stuff!

Prayer beads for small hands