I meant to post a Thanksgiving post. I really did.
But then I settled down and actually started to enjoy the holiday season…and forgot. Ya’ll forgive me, though, right?
I figured I would post a bit of a random post today. Give you a little glimpse into my little, imperfect, but totally more than adequate spaceand life. It isn’t nearly as fabulous as all the studio pics I see on other blogs, but I love it because over time, it has come to reflect me and us. *sigh* Do you have a space in your home that is so comforting and familiar and great that you don’t really care what people think of it? That would basically describe how I feel about my studio.
I homeschool my 9,7, and 3 yr. old at this table, cut out patterns, print on fabric, pin, sew, paint, and color. Games have been played here and messes have accumulated here occasionally that would boggle the sane mind. I love it.
And yes, that is a lamp without a light bulb or shade. I know. But it just wouldn’t be my desk without it.
Can’t overlook the big band vinyls played and the many portions of chocolate chip mint ice cream that have also made their way here. And to my waistline, but we won’t go there.
I’m present and feeling so grateful and content and hopeful. Not so much, I suppose, because circumstances have changed, but because I have changed. All of these feelings are here, right now, because of weeks and months of praying through the dark, the dim, the unknown. And out here on the other side, because of choices well-made (how often can I say that?), I can truly enjoy a season full of doing-withouts that are miraculously turning into got-something-betters.
Do-withouts are:
Costly, fancy gifts, crazy shopping sprees, fancy tree, new clothes, designer decor.
Got-something-betters:
Thoughtful, carefully chosen, hand-crafted gifts, no shopping sprees (I get to stay home and read and sip hot cocoa-hallelujah), a tree full of hand-glued-and-glittered ornaments, the careful touch of the little ones I love with every fiber of my being, restyled thrift store finds, decor fashioned with ingenuity, not my pocketbook.
I have always been a simple person at heart, but I love these opportunities, that, although somewhat forced upon me, allow me to back up and breathe and actually enjoy a season that, for me, extols the reality of a babe, in a manger, his mother and father having nothing, but imbued with the bravery wrought through their faith in God.
They had nothing, but actually had everything.
So sorry this is on short notice, but wanted to get the word out. Check out my friend’s blog and Thanksgiving giveaway. She’s got some great art, and is giving one print away. But, you’d better do it now, ’cause the drawing will be held tomorrow, Wednesday, November 25th!
Here’s her giveaway link – check it out!
and a sample of her work…
*photo courtesy of Tim
I am sure that you, my dear readers, have been able to catch from some of my previous posts that we, over here in StopLights Land, have been experiencing some of the notorious fallout from the oh-so-not-over-yet recession. The last year and a half has been a bit brutal for our little family.
First it began with a steady decline in accounts my husband was able to obtain. We figured it was one of those slumps that happens to small businesses every now and again.
It wasn’t.
That steady decline pretty much turned into your basic “bottom fell right out” scenerio.
He went from having work to, literally, no work in just a matter of what seemed like days.
One day we were “pinching pennies” to make the paycheck spread, and the next day we had no paycheck to spread. No pennies to pinch.
My love started waiting tables at the local pizza joint, late into the night so we could pay our utilities. This brilliant, handsome, accomplished professional was waiting tables and pushing pizzas to take care of his little family. I so love that man. He even worked kitchen some nights making minimum wage, slogging through order after order, coming home reeking of grease and garlic. He has never complained. Men who work hard at miserable, thankless jobs and don’t complain about it are so hot, aren’t they? Just my two cents.
I wanted to be able to help, but with home schooling our littles and being heavily involved at church, there were no extra hours for me to find a job. I suppose I could have given up sleeping, but we never felt that was a valid option. I know, sleep is so overrated, huh? ha.
Anyway, I decided to begin a deliberate and rapid adjustment to being poor. I had been in this place before. It was familiar and not altogether uncomfortable. So, I started selling stuff. Tried using my skills as a seamstress to do some custom work from home. It worked for awhile until we realized the kids needed me more to be emotionally accessible than they needed me to be a cash cow.
After awhile we had to make more hard decisions. The health insurance had to go, and we had to pare our weekly food budget to an eighth of what most other families were spending. Beans, rice, lentils, oatmeal. Occasional meat. Some milk. I’m not saying this to get pity. We don’t need it or want it. But sometimes it helps others to not feel so alone. ‘Cause being poor can be very lonely. We have had a couple of extremely kind and faithful friends who never let it faze them. Others moved on and that’s okay, too.
The bottom line? God has provided for us in so many ways I can’t even number them. He has provided through those faithful friends mentioned above, and through little miracles, and through a change in our hearts that enabled us to bear this burden better, and more faithfully.
A little backstory:
When Tim and I were married, he was an engineer at the bottom of the food chain, trying to work his way up, and I was a just-recovering-from-a-serious-illness girl who had used all her savings on treatments and doctor visits and living expenses, with no job. The week before the wedding when Tim came to pick up my things to take back to his place, he was incredulous. Every scrap I owned, clothing, decorations, music, personal effects, fit into four egg boxes. The sum total of my material possessions. Four cardboard boxes. No furniture, dishes, whatnots, to speak of.
Contrary to what many might feel when they read that, I remember being happy, and very, very content. I had nothing, but at the same time I felt like I had everything.
You know what? There have been some really hard times lately. But it seems that I have, once again, found that contentment that I knew so long ago. It’s a bit paradoxical, but it seems to be more accessible in the lean times than in the fat. hmmm. Interesting, isn’t it?
It has also made me realize how remiss I have been in the past. When was the last time I took note of a family with real needs and dropped off a box of household goods and food? Someone did that for us. I need to remember that it can’t stop with me. With us.
And, last but not least, I do have encouraging news to report. There has been an ever-so-slight uptick in accounts. My hubby is reasonably busy with both his designing and his pizza pushing. We are still in the tunnel, but we can smell the fresh air. I won’t be sorry to see the endless bags of beans go away for a bit, but I don’t ever want to forget what I’ve learned.
This is where the rubber meets the road, people. No legislation can do this. This living, breathing thing called ‘caring’.
My thanksgiving challenge is this: In the intervening two weeks before Thanksgiving arrives, find someone who needs you and help them. Open your eyes, open your ears, pay attention. All the government programs in the world can’t make up for the delightful surprise that someone cares, personally, about you.
Be that person. Please. Go get some non-perishables and even some chocolate, definitely chocolate, and sneak it onto someone’s front porch. Or, like another friend of mine did, leave a gift card to a local grocery store, along with some already-paid-for tickets to a local event.
And when you do, don’t do it with pride, because someday you may be that person in need. You may be the one needing that life-saving breath of hope.
Pu-leeze. We just finished raking a .74 acre of leaves. Three times. I haven’t even planned my Thanksgiving menu yet. I’m still reconciling myself to naked trees.
And I am usually one who gets that tree up as soon as the leftover turkey dressing is stuffed in the freezer.
I guess I had better put on my running shoes and try to keep up.
