The Sluggard Attempts To Arise

In which I try to be accountable and live out my resolution.

January: Get up at 7 a.m. every morning.

Even on weekends. Which means, accordingly, that I should,*ahem* (guilty cough), go to bed earlier.

                 
I thought, in this open Journal of mine called a blog, that I would use it to become more accountable and scheduled...even if nobody reads it.There's that strong connection with other people again...even if it is just a bunch of imaginary readers who are going to hate my guts if I don't live up to my own standards.

It worked.

 I used it to help psych myself into getting up at seven every morning (Okay, not every morning), knowing that I would be writing this at the end of the month, telling how well I did. Or how terribly.

It is a little difficult to pull yourself out of bed when outside, it's cold and the sun has not even come close to showing its light yet. Ugg.

You turn of the alarm, remember all your resolutions and your new fire for life...and doze back to sleep, dreamily wondering what day it is. Four minutes later,  you groan and try to pull yourself out of bed...an effort which looks, disturbingly, very much something like this. Yeah.

I would pull myself out of those cozy sheets, stumble over to my awesome chair, pulling a blanket with me, and blink as I do some reading, turned my laptop on, and start writing my emails and blog posts. Not exactly a chipper start. I was, of course, picturing myself a bonnie lass who would jump up, grab some tea, do some stretches while listening to classical music, exercise,  and be all showered and cheerful and ready for breakfast by eight. HA.

But hey, I was physically out of bed. Aim high and start small, right?

The habit is started. It will get easier. It is all a part of becoming more disciplined, living productively, doing hard things.

Prov 6:6-11, Prov 13:4,  Prov 31:10-31. These verses are also my fuel for rising early. Go on. *friendly poke* Read 'em.

Why We Must Get Up Every Morning

in which is a change of my heart, and a change of lifestyle.

I have always thought I was a people-hater. Extreme introvert.  Lady hermit.

I never liked crowds, I'm not a huge fan of parties, large groups make me nervous, and actually, a tad bit panicky. "Oh man, so many people...deep breath...don't make a fool out of yourself. (Inwardly hyperventilates)."

Therefore, I must just hate people altogether, right?

Way, way wrong.

Throughout my entire teenager-hood, I firmly stuck to this belief with uncharacteristic, stone faced stubbornness. I am an introvert, guys. I just don't like people. Go away. I like my own company best. Or a book. A book is good. End. Of. Story.

Except not really.

True, I dislike small talk, pettiness, superficial behavior, flirting, immaturity, and overall fake-ness.

But people. I love people.

I shocked myself when I faced up to this.  Introversion was the screen I hid behind because getting to know people is painful. It is ridden with sin. It often always hurts. Because when I get to know a person, I want to know their ins and outs and struggles and beliefs and dreams. (blame it on the INFJ personality). I want to really know a person.  I need to connect with them on something. I hate small talk, but because I decided that I didn't like other people altogether, that's what I turned to, more frequently than I would like to admit. I was, to quote a friend, "in a mental prison of my own making."

I wrote this last spring, and when I went back a read it recently, it rang so true with what I am realizing now:

"I am so selfish. I don't care enough about other people and I am very unhappy with that fact. I feel very guilty about it.

Most of the time, when I show concern or care for others, it is not out of real, true honest care for them. It is because I want that attention and care directed back to me. As non-sociable as I may seem, I still have that very human desire to be loved, cared about and held dear, precious. To be wanted. And that selfish, sometimes desperate craving pushes its way, slyly, into how I treat others. I have concern for someone, only so they will show concern back. This can be on the shallow levels of having conversations with coworkers about humdrum life, to deeper interactions with my family.

Love..it's unconditional. It does not pretend to be all concerned about someones suffering, just so that that concern will be retaliated later.  That's not love. That's not the love that God has for us, that I now wish to have for others.

I want to look at others and instead of thinking:

"I wonder if they like me?"
"I hope they thought I was funny"
"Do they really care?"
"Did I impress them?"
"Do they think I am being stupid?"

I put my mind on a much better path. That one is not going to get me anywhere. I want to find the best in people, and, having as much love as God does, forgive the worst.*

I have the desire to look at another person and enjoy them to the full, their personality quirks, the things that makes them, them. to be amazed at talent, not jealous. To find little habits that are cute or funny. To appreciate anothers sensitivity or intelligence. When I observe another person, I want to remember that they are a fallen, sinful human being, just like me, who struggle with gargantuan human error. Why do I always judge them instead of connecting, with the fact that we are both just terrible people without God?

I 1 Corinthians 14, it says to pursue love. You have to work for it, try for it, pick it up, make it a habit, make a painful continuous effort to love. Instead, we all just want to meet up with all the people that we relate to, decide who we like, usually for selfish reasons, and call it friendship or love.

That is just not what I am going to settle for. With Gods help, I am going to pursue love. And I am not talking about romantic love.

I am saying I want too love people because God loved them, and are worth something to Him. 

He gave some of them great senses of humor; talent simple tingles in others.

 He gave some a naturally sweet and caring demeanor. 

Some have great beauty, some amazing intelligence. 

He made some able to care for others and others, the ability to create pretty mind blowing things.

I want to clap my hands as I watch it all and delight in others. Purely, cleanly, with nothing more behind it than that I really am in awe of so many wonderful ways a person can be unique.

I am going to open up a long shut, sensitive door and be concerned when another is hurting, to feel their pain with them. Because that's what Christ does, and I want to be more like Him.

I want my love to be raw and open, susceptible to hurt** because I care SO MUCH about others. I'll say it again..loving like God. And I think I am finding out how that love works. How much more in-comprehensive Gods love is.

I want to be able to unselfishly stay up all night with a brother or sister who is hurting, not because I feel morally obligated or it will impress others when I complain about it later, but because I want that person to be comforted, to not be lonely. I want to be able to disregard "me time" because there is someone out there who needs a hand and I know with all my heart that God sees them as precious and special, noteworthy and important. I don't want to give it second thought when someone asks me to give of my time and energy. I want menial, simple tasks to be the greatest joy and fulfillment and privilege, because looking good or being popular, impressing others, is not going to fill that void. I pray this is a step closer to woman God wants me to be."

 When I wonder why I bother to get up, to make an effort, to keep  going...I must remember.

I must remember that there are over six billion people out there right now, every single one of them in need of love and forgiveness...in need of God. They need care and a friendly smile, they need light and encouragement and help. How on earth could I get bored with life and wonder what the point is?

If I look beyond my own little world, which, granted, has plenty of ups and downs and frustrations and struggles, I will see that those struggles don't have to consume me.

I must pull past those struggles and pains, show others that I am a flailing mess too, take their hand, and say, "lets get through this together, the way God created it to be. I will fall, I will sin, I will forget about you, but I will stand back up, confess that I did it wrong, and remember you again."

 And again and again and again.

There are over six billion people. There are over six billion ways to share this love and strength and struggle.

Pick a few methods. Pick a few people. Stick to them. Pick more, the older you get, never get bored.

1 Cor 13. Matthew 22:38-39: This is my manifesto. 

I will never run out of reasons to get up. Or reasons to give up, either.

*I know there are several issues connected with this, such as correcting a brother...that loving him is to chastise him. That we cannot look over a fellow believers sin, because that would not be true love. That is another subject that I must tackle for myself, but one thing at a time. Remember the waterfall?

**This is not to say that I just trust anyone, tell them everything. Sin is rampant, and I must be careful. But I must not hate people...I must hate the sin.

Will Someone Kindly Yell At Me?

In which is a struggle and the start of the solution to it. I wrote this out late one night last week when I was feeling a little frustrated with myself.

Somebody whip me. Poke me with a cattle prod. Yell at me.

"I'm asking. Please. Because I need a driving force. I need a fire lit under me. I would do that myself, but I am simply at a loss of how to go about it.

I am marvelous plan-maker. No really, I excel at it. My life is going to be profound and I am going to be just...a pro at all sorts of things. I'm gonna be smart and have adorable, perfect babies and never be upset with my future husband and never get stressed out.

I am going to make a world changing difference in all the lives I meet. I'm gonna stay perfectly fit and earn extra money with all those ingenious ideas and various skills that I have. I'm going to be a published writer someday and play violin in big orchestras and live this life packed to the rafters with achievements.

Pfffft. Yeah. Right.

I seriously get my own heart rate going just thinking about all this awesome stuff I am going to do.

Key word: going.

After I have satisfactorily planned out my amazing life , I will then go take a nap, read a fictional adventure book,  eat a snack, watch a movie....and oh would you look at that it's time for bed. I'll have to start on the theology book tomorrow. It's way too late to practice music. Oh, and there'll be plenty of time this weekend to write letters to people...

Apparently, strong desire to be successful and rise above, is not strong enough.

Because the procrastination desire is a MONSTER."


So I am on a mission. To find something, to find a way of living, that makes me eager to get up in the morning. That keeps me going when I feel like giving up.

And at the same time, I know that is selfish. I am not to live for myself. I am to live for others. And that is my answer right there. 

Funny thing:
  In writing this, and looking back in my notebook at previous entries, I found the answer to the above written frustrations...which, believe me, were really dragging me down in the dumps of late.

So that purpose, that reason to jump out of bed in the morning...that is a whole other post. One that will probably be my most emotional and real and open...with myself, not to mention any who are reading this.

It has been a one woman revolution for me. And it's still happening.

 And it's all God.

12 Fun, Easy Things To do in 2015

In which we make some fun plans for the upcoming months...just because.

Even though I have a million (Ok, eight) blog post ideas that are halfway written down,

  I couldn't finish any of them in time for my self-inflicted Monday deadline. 

I spent my weekend doing...other things. Possibly unnecessary things, like planning an epic adventure novel, taking personality tests online with my family, and reading. Also there may have been some nephews and a particularly adorable neice that distracted me.

But anyway.

Instead of a wordy post, I thought up something quick and easy, but hopefully fun.

You may remember I made some simple new years resolutions. But I also wanted to make a list of fun things to do in 2015, because I am a epic list maker and a constant planner of many grand ideas. (the doing part, that's...another thing altogether).

Who am I kidding? It's a bucket list. So I'm cliche. Shoot me.

1. Take a picture everyday of your summer this year. Try to make each one different and unique.

(This one is because I am buying myself camera, hopefully this June. A nice camera.)

 

2. Go buy a gift for someone. For a surprise. To cheer them up. Wrap it up. Make it nice. Put some thought into it. Make sure it's someone who will never expect it when you give it to them.

3. Write out a whole chapter of the Bible by hand. I am doing Matthew six.

4. Dedicate a whole day where you are consciously going to be other oriented. Compliment others, show random acts of kindness, listen to them. I know, I know, we should do this everyday. But you know we don't. Really try for at least a day.

5. Go for a hike. At least once. You may be surprised at how refreshing and rewarding it is.

6. Reread a favorite book. (Or several. I'm reading all of The Chronicles of Narnia books again. It's been eight years)

7. Make your closet look professionally organized. (This one actually doubles with my April resolution.)

8. Write a letter. To a friend, to Grandparents, to your future self, to your future spouse. Pick one.

9. Find reasons to get up early and enjoy life. (Blog post(s) on this coming later)

10.  Read at least one book you have never read before. (Not sure yet what this is going to be)

11. Make breakfast for dinner. Because Pancakes.

12.Pray for your future spouse. At least once.

(all photo courtesy via pinterest.)

A Secret Room And A Waterfall

In which I say please, please, do yourself a favor and go do what makes you feel this way:

When I write anything, at first, it's always loose ends and half baked plans.

I have this vague idea, this beginning, and I know that I must write to find out for myself, how it's going to look. What comes next, it's a discovery for me, just as much as you.

 I had one of those vague ideas this week: I wanted to tell you why you should start writing again, if you are writer. Or if not, why you should at least give it a try.

Because when I write, the world simultaneously calms down, comes into focus, and also grows loud and colorful and epic.

When I write, I remember what I am always forgetting. What is most important: God, and other people. They matter most when I write.

I write to stare my problems in the face and fight them, flesh them out.

But I also write to forget about my problems, get lost in another time, place, memory.

When I write, my thoughts stretch beyond myself. To think of something other than myself is a relief to myself, ironically.

When I write, I have the ability to step back, when I am cranky, depressed, hurtful to others, and look at myself and say "OK, where did you go wrong? What needs to change?"

I am pulling open a door inside my head. To a place: It's bursting with color, grief, fire, joy, pain.

And I open myself up, and just....revel...in the raw emotion.

 I let myself feel in there. There are  no walls guarding me. I am exposed and real and the truest I will ever be. I am honest.

When I write I am a vulnerable, yet unstoppable and intelligent. I have touched the world of souls and thoughts and emotions, things that I can't feel on my finger tips or hold in my arms. Something I can't buy.

I am heart pounding, I am grand worlds filled with incredible things.

I am quiet contentment, in all its fullness and flavor.

And when I need to, I close that door as much I can and focus on the rest of the world. I have a job, I have responsibilities and important people to be with. But that door... it's always open a crack, lighting up how I speak, what I do.  When I don't write, it does shut...almost all the way. And then things get dusty and boring and sleepy. 

When I write I can't do it fast enough. It's like my thoughts are a waterfall, and I am standing at the bottom, getting drenched. Catching only a fraction in a jar. I am aware of the other water racing by me, it's loud and wet and pelts me relentlessly. But for all of me, I can't catch it. And like a waterfall, it will never be the same way twice.

You who write will just get it.

It's why the artist paints. The reader reads. It why we create and build and brainstorm.

Being creative, putting together something, editing, and, in the case of a blog post, adding some pictures for interest, changing up fonts and word placings...it turns something on up there. It lights things up.

It is a gift to be fully enjoyed.  God gave us this. How dull things would be otherwise! 

So, go write.

Go wake up that delightful brain of yours, and write.

About whatever pops into your head at the moment.

About something you are struggling with.

About something you are thankful for.

About anything.

Who cares if anyone reads it? I try to keep that mentality when blogging:

I don't care if anyone reads it, I am just glad I wrote it.

(By the way when you guys do show that you have read it, it makes it that much more special. I do love getting responses.)

I Love You: Blue Fire In my Veins

  In which is a very small story I wrote once, about a very weighty subject. 

 

 1:I want my voice back 

2: I want my family always to be happy 

  

  Dear Dairy,

 Those are two things I hurt to have and probably won't ever get.

We do get along better, after I got back from the hospital, but they're still the same old them. They all tried to learn sign language for me, but I usually resort to pen and paper. They like that better. 

  I never really thought I talked much back when I could talk, but now that I can't, it's strange how quiet the house seems, despite my brothers bickering, like they are right now. I can hear them, loud and clear. Ever since that addicting video game, they've done nothing but fight over it. I would go see if I can break it up, since mom doesn't want to deal with it anymore, but they won't listen to me. Ha, There's nothing to listen too. 

Dad just entered the argument. His big voice makes up for my nonexistent one. I feel bad for daddy. He works so hard for us, and it upsets him when we argue. Especially tonight. 

You see, He wants to take the canoe out to the lake tomorrow, and go fishing, just like good old times when none of us kids were annoying teenagers. He just told mom about it at dinner...she wasn't to happy about the whole last minute thing. I had to tell her I would make lunch, and help dad load the canoe, for her to finally agree to go. And she still isn't happy. 

Now, dad feels bad about it, mom feels bad about it, and Mark and I are doing most of the work for it. That's OK, if it will only show them I love them. My kid brother Adam is the only one who's really looking forward to it. 

I love that boy. He's only 7, and I guess it's kind of strange that a 15-year old girl would enjoy her little brother that much, but I do. He is a colorful, sunshiny kid. He makes my silent world loud and happy again. I don't know what I would do without that troublesome little nut. Probably shrivel up and die from unhappiness. I'm not sure why, but every time his freckled face occupies the room, the atmosphere loses all its tension. Except when he's playing that game. 

Well, I had better go get things ready for that “fun” day tomorrow.

 Signing off,

          Angela         

                                                        *********************

  

 It's hot out. I try not to touch the sides of the big metal canoe, for fear of getting burned. I wave to Mom's tiny figure on shore, reading a book and looking pretty relaxed. That makes me feel better. At least she is having a semi-good time.

 I hear a contagious belly laugh from Adam as we row out so deep, I can't see anything but blue underneath us. He had a fake worm in his fingers, getting an insane amount of enjoyment from wriggling it like it was alive. 

"Angie, it's going to eat me!" He giggles.I can't help but smile, just because he found it so funny. Mark and Dad grin, too. Just because he was smiling. And happy. Carried away with his own antics, he started tossing the worm in the air, juggling it back and forth. It falls in the water with a plop. 

With a high, piercing shriek, he is in head first after his new-found toy.

 

I panic. What was he thinking? He can't swim! He hadn't bothered to put his life vest on. Stupid. Stupid, wonderful little kid I can't live without. We all stare in frozen shock as his feet disappear down into the dark blue of the lake. I dive in after them. 

I kick down, force my eyes open. It's murky, it stings. But a thought just keeps ringing in my head, “ can't lose him, can't lose him, find him, find him, find...” 

 I let out a bubble of air. The pressure starts in on my lungs. I thrash around, groping, looking, feeling. I'm getting deep, and still no Adam. Just blue below and a lighter blue above. I go deeper. It feels like I have been down here for minutes. I can feel the slowing beat of my own heart in my ears. Three thumps. I have only been down here for seconds. Calm down, Angela. You know have plenty of air left. 

Keep looking.

 Something brushes my ankle. I grab it. It's a shock of that curly thick hair of his. His arms flail weakly. I look at his face. Brush that red hair out of his eyes. They are squeezed tight, shut against the cool water. At least he is conscious. He opens one eye, finds my gaze. I try to give him a reassuring look. But we're down deep now. My heart begins to go faster with fear. It grows louder, bigger, feels like it's exploding in my chest. My lungs are bursting, too. 

 I remember Adam's crooked smile, of all things. I had to see that smile again. I pushed up again, holding Adam tight. I put my hand on his chest. Was I imagining his heart beat, or was that deafening thumping all me? He can't have had much air in him when he screamed and jumped in. Can I fill him with air? I have to try. 

I hold his face up. 

  Put my mouth to his.

     Breath out, everything out, of my aching lungs.

 I feel his little chest expand slightly under my grasp.

 For a skinny little boy, Adam is heavy. I try to kick upward. I just go lower. He is dragging me down. It's like pulling a bag of bricks up. I put my hands around his little waist. Concentrate. Go up. The water starts to look a cloudy black. No, not the water. My eyes. My eyes are doing this to me. I shut them. I don't need to look anymore. I have him. 

Every muscle strains itself upward. It works! It hurts worse that my throat did after I lost my voice, but I'm going up! A little more. Kick again. 

Keep going.

 Arms shaking, I push him up, up, up above my head. It pushes me down more, but I don't have the strength to pull myself up anyway. Hurts too much. I hold him up, just a little higher. Are we even close to the top? My body burns hot with pain. Every blood vein in every limbs lights up like a match, pulsing with blue heat.

 I want it to stop. 

I am on fire under all this water.

  My air is gone. Adam gets even heavier, so heavy I want to collapse into myself. Suddenly, violently, his weight is whisked upward. The shadow of the canoe is over me.

The fire in my veins is gone now. I feel pleasant, dreamy. My eyes are wide open again. I watch sunlight above me, see bubbles break those rays of light into a hundred different shades of blue. 

Adam will smile again.

 He will talk. 

He will be sunshine,

   breaking into glorious colors,

      for everyone to bask in, and smile back.  

 

                         ********************

The little church was filled with people he didn't even know. But he wanted to tell them. About Angela. About love. About something he couldn't even understand, but that filled his heart up to overflowing.

Adam lowered the microphone. Looked over at the shiny coffin, covered in flowers. A picture of a smiling Angela sat atop it, facing him. She was making the I love you sign with he her hand. 
 He squeezed his eyes tight, but a tear came out anyway. He wiped it away.

“Angela loved me,” he said. His voice was shaking. He brushed away another tear. “ Angela loved me, and I never showed her I loved her. She was so nice to me. I made her laugh. A lot. But...and...”

 He stopped, trying to breath evenly. All those people, looking at him. They were all crying too.  HE ran off the podium. Put his sleeve over his face, trying to cover his sobs. Ran out the doors.

 Out back, he sobbed into his mothers shoulder.
 “I wish I could have showed her I loved her. I never showed her that I loved her!"

                       ***************** 

 Okay, so this story just came to me one day, when I wanted to write about how love is what you do, and not what you say.

 You can say I love you, or I care about you, all you want, but when it comes  to giving people your time, your money, your care, yourself, I felt strongly that we do not show it enough.

I have other I Love You short stories floating around in my head, covering other aspects of love. Coming soon, I  hope.
Blue Fire in My Veins will probably be the most serious, don't worry. 

The sacrifice of a life is a rather drastic example, I know. But it kind of reminds me how someone gave His life for all of us, even though we are not worth it. 

Single And Not Sorry: 3 Reasons

In which you find out reasons why to be happy, really, actually, happy, and single.

Have you ever felt that thrill of a great idea or a thought, clicking into place, and suddenly the world was a better place? 

I did.

 I hurriedly scribbled them out in the nearest notebook, before they got away from me and I couldn't catch them again. That was months ago.

It's actually these scribblings that sparked my blogging desire again:

"Where am I at? I am an adult, not married, living with my parents. I have a job and some hobbies. 

Mostly, I guess you could say, I'm being grateful that I am not married. 

Yes. You read that right.

So, SO many people I know, young ladies all of them, spent their single years ultimately unhappy, always pining for marriage, forever bemoaning that they weren't being loved the way they wanted to be. They wanted to feel fulfilled, escape their current family lives, their parents...many different reasons. Marriage was the biggest thing in their lives. The desire to be unconditionally loved had a massive pull on their hearts.

Not for this girl.

Don't get me wrong. I would love to be married. 

That would be indescribably great. It is going to be a wonderful thing, to be someones wife.
To find a companion is something my heart really does ache for. I admit that my heart is tugged by that same longing...come on, who isn't?

But.

I am on a path to find joy, great joy, in singleness. I refuse to spend the relatively few years I will have in singleness, wishing that I was not single. I would regret that so much, I know I would! 

Why pine for companionship when I can use my time to be there for those who are lonely, in need of a friend?

Why waste my brain on sour discontent?
 When I can be squeezing more productivity out of the day?
 Thinking about all my blessings? 
Learning useful skills for when I am married?
 Becoming the me I should be?

Marriage is beautiful. It's holy. Sanctified by God. For right now, though, my thoughts are on other passages in scripture that make me so, so thankful that I am single. 

 Paul wrote a letter to some people called the Corinthians. To the unmarried, and the widows, he says, "It is better that they remain as I..." He, being unmarried. 

Why? 

"If a virgin marries she has not sinned.  

Yet such will have trouble in this life, 

and I am trying to spare you."*

  This passage fills my single heart with such

   contentment as can never be conveyed to another with words! 

I don't believe that this passage is meant to make us feel bad about being married. Rather, take it as a way to be encouraged in your singleness. 

Now that I have that great joy established, I ask myself: What can I do and where can I go with being joyfully single? 

"The woman who is unmarried, and the virgin, 

is concerned about the things of the Lord, 

that she many be holy both in body and spirit;

 but one who is married is concerned about the things 

of the world, how she may please her husband.

 This I say for your own benefit, not to put a restraint 

upon you, but to promote what is appropriate

and to secure undistracted devotion to the Lord" *

Later, Paul says that in his opinion, he thinks an unmarried woman is happier as she is.

Happier. As. She. Is. 

In the future, I hope to be able to read the the New testament with particularly the eyes of a single person, with this very joy in my mind, and seeing where that will take me. 

I am both intimidated and excited by this!

Are you a fan of lists? Me too. To Sum up:

1. I don't want to waste my singleness. I want to grab every single (bad pun intended) opportunity that is open to me, so that:

2. I can befriend others, share time with them, enrich their lives, consequentially, enriching mine.

3. I can be a holier person. 

Because I'm also a fan of complete openness and honesty, let me tell you, I'm not there yet. This is me on my way to becoming content with God's love alone. 

And I'm a firm believer in the fact that once I am actually content with Gods love, only then will I be ready for a companion on this earth.

Until then? I will find joy in my solitude. 

*wondering why I don't have Bible references? Its all in 1 Corinthians 7. Go read it.

25 Reasons For Eucharisteo

In which you learn a new word. Eucharisteo.

Eucharisteo – yoo-khar-is-teh’-o.

 Verb. Greek.

Definition: To be grateful; to give thanks.

 Yummy. New words are so delectable. And this one is a lip smacker, peoples.

You and me...we could stand to be a bit more thankful.  Today is just another day where I need to get over myself and look at the world again as a really, really awesome place.

 Millions of things around me, in all there softness and wetness and warmness and coldness, in there bigness and smallness. And thank God, I get to be a tiny part of it, watching it all. 

A Portrait of Grace is going to get to 1000. Maybe I can too. Working on praising Him in the best and worst of times is something this generation needs to do.  

  

What am I thankful for? Right now? Today?

1. Soaking in a hot bath. On a snowy day. 

2. A Dad who has the patience and know-how to fix stuff. Like my computer. And the freezer. And Mums sewing machine. (which was my fault. Oops)

3. Having the time to get lost in a book. 

4. Roast beef sandwiches. With mustard. 

5. My ipod. Nuf' said.

6. Learning delicious new words.

7. That happy, exhausted feeling when you feel like you really earned your dinner and a good nights sleep. (Shoveling snow will do that to ya)

8. Watching movies with my family.

9. Cozy PJ's, thick, soft winter blankets on blistery winter nights.

10. Reading myself to sleep. 

11. Peanut M&M's

12. Epic movie soundtracks that pump you up for hard work. (did I mention shoveling snow?) 

13. Having a mental bucket list.

14. Snow covered mountains.

15. The brain God gave me. Sometimes idea's  go tumbling through my head and I can't seem to keep up...but you know, I wouldn't want it any other way. 

16. When some one turns a thought into something memorable and beautiful. 

17.  Exercise. 

18. Fresh fruit. 

19. Late nights.

20. Early Mornings. 

21. Looking forward to the day. 

22. Knowing there is always something to be thankful for. 

23.Winter apple body wash. Smells so good. All fresh and clean and cozy. Sound a little too girly? good. I like girly.

24. Rereading old books, re-watching old movies that take me back to a younger me. Good times.

25. The contented feeling of finishing a list. *wink*

I was going to write about being un-apologetically single, but so many other blessings took up my time today, (Pretty sure I mentioned snow already) that will have to be Fridays post. 

Climbing Up to It, Part 2

In which we embark on a little journey together...Where I hopefully become calmer, wiser, and a stronger christian...and you become excited to do the same.

Photo credit http://www.grantordelheide.com/

Don't roll your eyes when I say it: New Years Resolutions.
Are you sick of that one? Yeah...Me too.

  To quote a friend:
" I mean, come on, they like never last past January."

But I'm only going to do one in January.
And then one in February.
And then we'll work on March...See where I'm going with this?

Apparently, it takes anywhere from 21 days to six weeks to 66 days to just, months and months,  to form a habit. I'm expert because I just googled it. Nobody really seems to be sure.

So I'm starting small. Giving myself a month to improve myself in one way or the other.  And I wanted you to know because when I've tried the resolution thing in the past and told no one, it didn't last for a week. Pathetic, I know.

Some of them, I really do want to make a daily habit. Others, well, they are just things that I need to get done. I would be thrilled if you joined me.

Here are the first six months. Once I've come up with six more, I'll let you know.

(And hey guys, I'm open to suggestions)

January: Get up at 7 a.m. every morning
Even on weekends.Which means, accordingly, that I should, *ahem* (guilty cough), go to be earlier. 

February: Only Pinterest on Mondays.
Lemme explain. I am a bit of a Pinterest addict, and it wastes time. I can't do it so much anymore without feeling guilty, Since Mondays are my day at home, this will leave so much more during the rest of the week for other things...like blogging for example.   

March: Get the hardest three things of the day done first. 
According to Pinterest (don't judge me) the most successful people in history got up early and tackled whatever was most difficult about their day first. Since theoretically by this time I will be up a seven all the time, this one should give me plenty of time for the rest of the day. For what? We'll find out.

April: Rid myself of at least one thing, every day.
I'm talking clothes, unwanted beauty products, random useless pens, my ipod (I don't even remember how I ended up with some songs on that thing.) And I don't even want to think about a certain pile   of receipts, pay stubs, and bank statements. 

May: Purposefully encourage/uplift a different person.

Every. Single. Day. 

   This one is going be a habit.

June: Read my bible every single day.
Because if I am going to be brutally honest with you, I don't. And I really need to study it. I miss out on thankfulness, cheerfulness, being content to my core, seeing the world in a sharp new focus everyday...all because I am lazy and don't read it.  

I'll be checking in at the end of each month to tell you how I did.