6 comments | published by Linda | November 24, 2010
It didn't scare me, it was where I wanted to be. The storm held the drama, so that's where you'd find me. When I heard the sound of the rain pounding on the roof, I ran through the front door, across the lawn and into the center of the street. My hair would slowly wrap around my head, and stick to my face, as my clothes began to feel like armor that draped across me. The wind pushed and pulled, I laughed. I danced. 

There's something magical about a dance in the rain. The unpredictable winds, matched by the inescapable down poor, it's all good. The finale was the best, as I would watch the rainbow wrap across the sky, I was reminded. I knew He was reminded. I smiled.

I now watch my kids run into the storm. Thoughts go through my mind as I watch them dance of the extra laundry, and puddles on the floor that would be ahead, but the dance is worth it. They are fearless in the storm, it's all good.

Pointing their eyes to the arch in the sky, I want them to be reminded. 

No matter how hard the storm may blow, they can trust, they can know, they can dance. The rainbow, although untouchable, is something they can hold onto. They can trust him through any storm that he brings. He has made a promise, and they can dance.

People often long for what's at the end of the rainbow, or somewhere over it, but for me, it's somewhere under the rainbow. That's where you'll find me.

Posted in Play Room, Attic    |   Tags: Somewhere Under the Rainbow
3 comments | published by Linda | November 07, 2010

Whenever we brought it with us, we were slowed down. I grew up spending many hours in the backseat of a dark blue station wagon.  As we traveled down the highway I remember the tug of the white trailer we pulled.

Consistently residing in the slow lane, I watched out the window as others passed us, and wondered what it would be like to move so fast. 

With the trailer, steep hills and mountains brought risk and fear. Mom and Dad would discuss the scenarios of possibilities as I would listen, and picture what could happen. Creeping upward, our car shook. I shook. If only we didn’t have the extra weight, we’d travel easier, and maybe the mountains would be fun.   

How quickly we hitch up a trailer of worry and fear, and drag it behind us. We are slowed down, and watch as others pass by with ease. When a trial comes before us like a mountain, our trailer shakes. We shake. So simple to let our mind wander into the pictures of what could happen. 

Why bring it? We must daily unhitch the stress and worries that can drag us down, and make the mountains we come to seem overwhelming. Better to fill our minds with thankfulness, and trust in our Lord.

If we notice we have hitched it up again, we can make a choice to break free, drive fast, and arrive on that mountain top. Travel light.

Posted in Attic    |   Tags: Travel Light
2 comments | published by Linda | October 25, 2010

She sits alone in a room filled with silence. Her mind takes her back through pages of memories, covered with all she has done through the past ninety seven years. Busy days spent completing lists, accomplishing goals, achieving dreams and doing tasks are behind her.


Always having found her value and pride in all she has done, she slips into despair. Unable to do, all that is left now is to be. Is that enough? Is being enough for me?


I can think of my Grandma and clearly see how she became lost in performance instead of knowing that our Lord loved her just because she was. I think of her as I busily hi-light the tasks on my list. I am humbled, and reminded. 


Doing is important, there is much we can do to please our Lord. Likewise, there is something wonderful in being who God made us to be, and simply enjoying his presence. We are enough as we are. 


Focusing on him, and just being his child, enjoying his presence through our days pleases him. Remembering the importance of being gives us value and purpose that will fill our pages with sweetness, and never end.

Posted in Living Room, Attic    |   Tags: To Do or to Be
2 comments | published by Linda | July 03, 2010
I thought she was crazy. I was only eight and to her, my joy was paramount.

She had a front yard that was covered in ivy. The ivy stood over a foot high, and was shaped with curves and partly covered with a trellis. A pathway off to the side led to the front door.

My Grandma showed she loved me in many ways, but one of my favorites was how she broke the unspoken rules in order to watch me laugh.

One day, that was never repeated, she let me swim in her ivy. I spent hours swimming through the leaves, smashing down branches, as I laughed and sang in my personal green pool made of ivy. Grandma sat in a lawn chair watching me. I figured she wanted to be careful not to let me get lost in the deep end.

Grandma was very proper. She always dressed immaculately, and her home could have been viewed in a home magazine, yet on that day, my smile was what mattered to her.

Years after, we still laughed as we looked back. It took about a year for her to bring her yard back to life, yet she had no regrets, we had a memory we would always hold onto.

As my kids now ask to play with Playdoh, paint, or to build a fort in the living room, I think of the clean up that will be necessary after. There are those activities that make a mess, cause a ruckus, but make them laugh. Do I make their joy paramount? What matters most to me?

My Grandma is no longer here with me. I miss her laugh, her deep love for me, and how it felt when she looked at me. This reminds me to carry on her joy as I now raise my children, and let them swim in the ivy.
Posted in Attic    |   Tags: Swimming in the Ivy
3 comments | published by Linda | April 15, 2010
Proverbs 16:9
"The mind of man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps."

After finding the perfect area of dirt by the trailer, my creation was about to begin. On my knees, I reached out across the dirt. With the side of my hand, I carefully scraped the roads. My rusty cars and trucks sat beside me waiting for their turn. I continued with my design and work until my imaginary world was complete.

My Dad loved to camp. Even more, he loved to drive. Never knowing what was ahead, I knew he held the wheel, so it didn't matter.

Spending hours playing with my cars in the dirt, I pretended. Until my Dad packed up our things, and was ready to move on, I was setting up, and enjoying camp where I was. 

We make plans, and build our lives where we are. Time passes, seasons change, and God moves us according to His plan. He directs our steps. Aren't we glad?

Making the most of every season He blesses us with, we don't know what's ahead, but we do know that He is holding the wheel, so it doesn't matter. 
Posted in Attic    |   Tags: Setting up Camp
7 comments | published by Linda | March 26, 2010
Whah whah, whah whah whah whah"... Charlie Brown's School Teacher

I would unroll my flannel lined sleeping bag, and spread it out across the shag carpet on the den floor in preparation of the much awaited episode of "The Peanuts". Something about watching Snoopy and the gang brought me smiles and peace. I remember how the words of the school teachers were never understood, almost as if they were too boring and monotonous to be important.

Years later, I noticed my children standing only a few feet away from me didn't seem to be aware that I was talking to them. I was probably repeating myself with some instructions they were uninterested in. It is always a pleasure to be the only one to hear your own voice in a room filled with little people who should be listening to you. I've used this as a scale to measure my communication when the audience I'm trying to hit is unaware of my words. Resembling Charlie Brown's school teacher is not a goal.

I've visited friends homes where the talking and laughter was so robust at the dinner table that it seemed no one took a breath. All chiming in at the same time, they found complete delight in hearing from the others and getting their opinion in when they could. It was clear their family was strong, they were close. I also have childhood memories of visiting a home where everyone went to eat their meal in their own room. They were busy with their own interests, seemingly uninterested in each other.  

Keeping strong communication lines open to my children is imperative. Having constant conversations with them about life is necessary. Even when we seem to debate about a subject, I am certain that when they are confronted on the issue, my words will be there, and they will stand behind them. 

Everyday I want to prepare for the daily much awaited episode of my children's lives, and have open ears and clear words to bring them smiles and peace. 

Posted in Kitchen & Dining, Play Room, Attic    |   Tags: Peanuts
2 comments | published by Linda | February 12, 2010
Isaiah 26:3
"You will keep him in perfect peace. Whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You."

It was bedtime, but the sun was still out. It was summer. Resting in my bed I watched the sun shine through the sides of my window shades. My window was wide open and the breeze would pull the shade to the screen, then release it again. The sounds from the neighbors house poured into my room. I smiled. 

My neighbors had a pool, and it seemed when it was time for me to go to bed, their fun began. I listened to the splashing, the laughter, the sounds of plastic plates and tin cans against their tables. There was no cause for fear, no mysteries in the quiet. I was in the center of a party. No one knew I was there, but I was a participant none the less. 

Winter brought quiet, darkness, and windows that were closed. Silence and shadows left just enough space for my imagination to fill the room. Sleep waited. Without the story being told to me as I would drift off, it was my turn to create. Where would I go? What would I choose?

God offers peace. Every night is in His design. If my mind is fixed on Him, peace and joy encompass me. When my mind slips, I fall. If allowed, my fears and anxieties will put on a party around my bed. The choice is mine.

Summer shows what winter can offer, if I'm listening. There is no silence with God. No darkness that threatens to overtake. The splashing of the summer water clings to my mind, reminders of the sun that is promised in the frozen winter.

I will leave my window open. There is no cause for fear, no mysteries in the quiet. I'm in the center of a party, and He knows I'm here. 
Posted in Master Bedroom, Attic    |   Tags: Around my Bed
1 comment | published by Linda | February 01, 2010
Psalms 112:1-2

"Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who delights greatly in His
commandments. His descendants will be mighty on the earth; the generation of
the upright will be blessed."

If I knocked at their door, there would be no answer. If I mailed a letter, they would never receive it. If I dialed their number, they would never answer.

My Grandparent's house is empty. Their kitchen is bare. The fireplace that once gave so much warmth is now cold. Yet for me, I rejoice as I hear their laughter in my children, and see them peak at me through my children's eyes.

At times I can smell the scents from their kitchen, or hear the crackling of their fire in the shadows of my memories. The absence of their presence leaves me somehow hollow as I recall those days they filled in my childhood.

How I would love to curl up on their sofa, close my eyes and just listen to
their laughter and conversations, yet the only way I am able to feel their presence now is in the fullness of my memories.

I long to place my baby in their arms, and watch their expressions. I now see that what you make of each moment is creating the memory you very possibly may lean on in the future. These are pictures you will replay in your mind with a desire to bring those times back, to remember, to celebrate.

Grandpa and Grandma will be introduced to my children through my childhood memories. They will be described to my children through the child in me. Also, the woman I've become has much to do with what they invested in me.  

Our God is glorified through families. He protects and builds His children through many generations. It is my prayer that one day I will have grandchildren who remember me the way I remember my Grandparents. I hope they will hear my laughter in their children, and will have learned by my life how to love and adore their God as they visit the shadows of their memories.
Posted in Attic    |   Tags: Shadows of my Memories
6 comments | published by Linda | January 09, 2010
Titus 2:3-4
“Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children.”

I still visit when I need to remember. I close my eyes, yet I can clearly see. My mother’s kitchen from my childhood has been forever imprinted in my mind. From the purple speckled counter tops to the wooden drawers and cupboards with round metal handles, it has never changed. The little rectangle window provided a view of the front garden, and the street where we lived. Mom always loved having fresh air blow in, so the window was always cracked halfway open to provide a soft breeze. A little wooden spice rack which held small glass jars filled with different types of seasonings hung close to a white wall clock in the shape of a flower. I remember in the evenings when her work was finished in the kitchen for the day, Mom would leave the stove light on to lighten up the kitchen just enough.

There’s nothing quite like stepping through the front door of my home after playing out front in the cool evening hours, and feeling the warmth wrap around me, and smelling the dinner cooking in the kitchen. I was quick to kick my shoes off, and feel the shag carpet beneath my toes. I was home.

I now have the privilege of being a mother to six children. My counter tops look different from the ones I remember in my Mother’s kitchen, and my window displays a different view, yet I know my daughters and sons will remember. It is now my honor to create warm smells that will come from the kitchen and draw my family to the table in those evening hours. Although my jars are not the same as those in my memories, they hold spices, just like Mom’s. To keep my home warm, filled with music and delicious smells for my children to take in when they walk through the front door makes me smile, as I stand ready to listen and love.

I’ve been told that when a soldier has been wounded, that often times his last thoughts would be of his Mom, his home. He may not remember what the view from the kitchen window was, but rests in his memory of what was inside.

I pray my children will visit when they need to remember. That they will call upon those memories to know my love. To close their eyes, and clearly see.
Posted in Attic    |   Tags: Coming Home
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