Prompted By Grace

promptedtowritebanner

Today’s post is Part of a 31 Day writing series where I will choose moments from my life and let them be my writing prompt for the day. There will be days, like today, that are just everyday kind of days and you think of things to write that aren’t quite ready to be let loose and so you sit down to write one thing, but when you start typing your stream of consciousness takes over and you find yourself writing a lot of nothing, but if you read between the lines, it says a whole lot of something. (you can breathe now.)

cropped-100_3395.jpg

As a writer there are times when the page is blank and you need  inspiration fast. Other times, there is such a whirlwind of scattered thoughts blowing around on the backside of your mind that it is hard to narrow your focus.  There are even times that you know what you are supposed to write, but you do everything you can to procrastinate, hoping to be let off the hook.  Then, there are the times that you just want to be funny and shoot off a string of clever one-liners and call it a day.  But, somehow that doesn’t seem fair to your reader.  Especially, if you were really profound, or something the last time they read your words.

cropped-cropped-hutch.jpg

And so, you decide to embrace the chaos of the day – the tired, sitting deep in your bones, that demands something be done – and give your readers what you’ve got and hope that it is enough.

Because, after all, Today was just an ordinary day, with a to-do list  that shuffled things around, still begging to be checked. Today was just an ordinary day that checked items off another’s list with the promise of more checks tomorrow.  Today was a day for realizing that you can’t be all things to all people and still be you.

In those weary moments, thoughts were formulating in your subconscious mind like a parallel universe writing it’s own story. That’s when you realize that the only way for it all to make sense is to give the story to the master storyteller.  It’s His story to write, you are just a character that doesn’t even know what comes next.

And that’s okay. Because His grace is enough.  

His grace will help you find your sense of place.

cropped-100_2135.jpg
“Grace and peace be yours in abundance through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.” 2 Peter 1:2

Prompted by Grace,

Teresa

Prompted button.2 collage

 Note: In case you read this post on 10/3/14 and notice that it looks slightly different, it was edited on 10/4/14 because in retrospect I wasn’t happy with how I left it. And the title was changed.  th.

Advertisements

Simplicity Unwrapped In The Dining Room

PicMonkey Collage.2

Last Tuesday I shared with you how I love the concept of Simplicity and I wrote about finding simplicity unwrapped in the Kitchen.  I will be joining Emily and others for Tuesday’s Unwrapped.

100_2426.2

Today’s post centers around my little French Country Dining Room. That has been a thorn in my side for a while.  I had a dream.  A dream of simple grace. My grandmothers wooden table with the muslin table cloth my mother made for it in the seventies (with blue fringe around the bottom) and cane chairs painted white.  I would have a white large mirror (the one I found at Home Goods was gone when I went back) leaning against one wall and possibly a piece of white painted furniture for storage etc. The walls would be a shade of white and  the ceiling would be painted Martha Stewart enamelware blue. My accessories would be a combo of French Country and shabby chic.  It wasn’t all planned out because, of course, part of the journey of decorating is in the unknown – the part that happens over time.

Well, it happened. Over time.  The chaos, the misdirected decor and the clutter. I wish I had taken a picture this morning.  But, if I’m being totally honest, a part of me is glad (if you change the l and a around you get a totally different word. glad I caught that).  I am glad that you didn’t have to see the mess that had become of my little dining room.

Oh, I do have the enamelware blue ceiling and walls that are bleached muslin. I do have the dining table with the fringe on the bottom table cloth.  I do have the cane chairs painted white.  Ok, so only two of them made it under the paint brush. But, we were on track.  And then we moved out of our apartment (our other home) and had to squeeze a lot of stuff into one house. So, I had to add my dark bookshelves to the dining room and an extra chest of drawers and a bench.  And the look was a little more eclectic and not the simple grace of French Country and Shabby Chic that I had intended.

Then, we sorted through an estate of a family friend and acquired more junk lovely stuff. Then I helped my cousin go through some of my Aunt’s things and acquired a few family mementos.  My dining room became hoarder central (and my kitchen counters too, if I am going to be completely honest).  Seriously.  So, today in addition to doing some basic cleaning, I decided it was time to get the chaos under control. I thought it was time we unwrapped simplicity in the dining room.

PicMonkey Collage.proverbs31.17

I found a home for everything (not all in the dining room), did some rearranging of accessories, pulled out a quilt of my grandmother’s to make a topper for the muslin table cloth and what I was left with was a little bit country and a little bit shabby (not so much French or Chic).  But I did unwrap a lovely gift. A gift that was more than simplicity.

100_2427.2

A gift that brought order, a gift that properly displayed  memories. A gift that brought balance because now I can walk through the room without worrying that my friends and family are going to report me to the hoarder police.

I also learned that simple order is more important than a specific decorating style.  I still have a dream, but in the meantime I am enjoying the simplicity of a gift unwrapped.

I will leave you with a few more pictures of my little shabby country dining room with it’s enamelware blue ceiling.  (Keep in mind that these pictures were taken after dark by a non-professional photo taker.)

100_2421.3

100_2437.2
Drop-cloth curtains, blue ceiling, garden bench, grandmother’s quilt and another of her quilt tops on the chair.

100_2431.2

100_2432
This quilt of my grandmother’s is all done by hand, at the time of her death my grandparents had been married for 73 years that was 10 years ago – I am guessing this quilt is probably 75- 83 years old. The enamel wash basin on the table has a light blue rim, I found it at an Antique shop. It is the center piece for now, subject to change when something better comes along. The linens on the back of the chairs were from the estate of a family friend.

100_2434.2

Unwrapping in grace,

Teresa

If We Live

Little House 010.1

“Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
                                     And Immortality. ”                                                                                                                          Emily Dickinson

We live our lives in fragmented pieces and unfinished sentences.  We struggle to be what we think we are supposed to be – what we think others expect of us. We listen to the cacophony of voices around us clamoring to be heard and forget to stop and listen for the one, still voice that matters.

Some die too young while they’re right in the middle of the clamor, and they leave other’s to figure out the pieces of their lives.  I believe if they could come back they would tell us to forget the pieces, forget the chaos, forget expectations of others.  Instead, they would tell us to slow down, let the sentences be finished.  Listen to the one who knows us best.

Soul living begins with listening to the still voice in the quiet of our heart.  It requires a down slowing and an attitude of waiting, of clinging to the good and settling into peace. Making room for love and living.  Realizing that living your faith, making time for others, savoring the everyday is far better than existing to chase a dream that you can’t take with you.

Since the first of the year, it seems that we have had one funeral home visitation upon another.  A couple of these were men who died too young.  Both my age, one in a car accident and one in his sleep.  Both Christian men who loved their families.  Seeing them in pictures with their families and hearing others speak about them was a testimony of lives well lived.  Lives that made room for love and living.

Death is no respecter of age, and it will come to all.  When my time comes, I want those left behind to be able to say that I listened to the Still Voice, that I settled into the Peace that only he can give. I want them to see the finished sentences.  I want them to know they were loved by my living.

Little House 010.2

Living in Grace,

Sadie