Home sweet home

Ah, where can I start?  I've  been on sensory overload for the last week.  It's hard to believe that it's only been a week since we packed up the little Jetta, piled in and headed out on the extended road trip that brought us home in time for Thanksgiving.

Home to little sisters, running out to greet us with bear hugs.
Home to lights shining cheerfully, beckoning us in.
Home to a delicious dinner that had been saved for us travelers.
Home to Dad and Mom and all thirteen of my siblings, my siblings' spouses and their kids.

Laughs and hugs all around, stories from the road, pictures to be shared, memories to be recounted.  Peace and warmth and love and then a whole slew of work to be done in preparation for the forty-two guests at the Thanksgiving table.

Ironing table cloths and folding napkins became a game.  Mountains of dishes a challenge.  Music and harmonies seeping out every corner of the house, sometimes even the same song at the same time in the same key!

Windows were washed, food prepared and consumed, floors swept and vacuumed and swept again.

And then came the phone call, announcing that our sister-in-love was in labor. 

Thanksgiving for family, and all that the word means.
Thanksgiving for the opportunity to be witness to the miracle of my newest niece's birth.
Thanksgiving for Jesus, loving me in spite of myself.
Thanksgiving for the awe and wonder of life here on this earth.  And I'm told that Heaven is even better than this!

"I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet simple things of life which are the real ones after all."  Laura Ingalls Wilder

I'm beginning to learn that she is right.

Time

It's daylight savings day, so naturally time is the subject on my mind.

The clock in the kitchen is ticking away, marching on in a steady rhythm. The house is quiet, and I'm settled in next to the faux fireplace with a cup of coffee and my bible and journal. I realized just then how I've missed this.

I start writing in my journal, taking in the beauty of the quiet morning, grateful to be experiencing it.

#down comforters
#wood stoves
#rainy days
#morning quiet

"How long has it been?". The question crossed my consciousness like a whisper. "How long since you've risen before you absolutely had to on purpose?"

#soft promptings to get me out of bed
#open conversations with the other baristas at the coffee shop.

Being thankful for the conversation about valuing quiet time that I had yesterday reminded me of the conversation I had earlier in the week with another girl who doesn't believe; mostly because all of the Christians she knows are total hypocrites.

For some reason, I couldn't get that conversation out of my head. I kept playing it back, wondering if I said enough or too much, praying that she would see Jesus in my life.

I claim to be a person who seeks and follows Christ, who has a personal relationship with Him; but truthfully, that relationship has not been my priority. Entertaining myself, keeping busy and getting "enough" sleep have been on the top of my list.

"Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

This quiet whisper was really starting to interrupt my solitude, so I thought I'd better give some thought to figure out what it was all about.

My time is the single most valuable thing that I possess . (And who really possesses time anyways? That's like possessing air or steam or the wind)

But, above material things, above my bank account or my favorite jeans, I value my time. And I'm finished with investing it into me. Lord knows I don't need any help turning my heart in that direction any more. I love myself so much there's almost no room for anyone else.

My relationship with Jesus and His most precious creations. That's what I want to treasure. That's where I want to invest my time.

#the extra hour we got today to spend on my newest pursuit, instead of sleeping it away.

Awestruck

I was driving to my sister's house and took a turn off on a whim.  The road winded in front of me through the forest, through the fog and rain.  I'm sure it wasn't the best day to go exploring, but I had time and a full tank of gas.

When I parked my car beside a lake, the rain had let up.  Silence reigned supreme.  The normal rustling and chirping noises of the forest were stilled.  The sound of my car door echoed off the trees, breaking the silence for a moment before being swallowed up in the fog that shrouded the lake.

I'll tell you, in those minutes I spent outside of the car, I felt incredibly small. 

"Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth."

The forest was towering and impenetrable by light, the lake seemed endless as it faded away in the gloom.  

"He's so great

And I'm so small

Jesus holds me 

Lest I fall

He's the ruler 

Over all

He's so great

And I'm so small."

Feeling awed and slightly intimidated by the greatness and power of God, I got back in the car and headed back down to the highway.

It reminded me a little bit of when Moses was begging to see God's glory and God said, "I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, 'Yah' in your presence.  I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. But," God said, "You cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live."

Then, God, knowing the fullness of His glory was too much for Moses, chose instead to protect Moses while giving him a small glimpse of Himself.

Truly, the heavens are declaring the Lord's glory.  All of creation testifies His power.

1.) He's So Great - Written by Ron Hamilton 2.) Exodus 33:10 - Probably written by Moses

Unworthy, but considered worth dying for.

For an outsider to read this blog, I'm thinking they would probably get a biased picture of who I am - but then again, skimming over my posts today I noticed that the most commonly used words were "grumpy" and "coffee."

(Okay, I guess it's not such an inaccurate representation after all.)

My name is Merrie Grace, but when I was a toddler (and a child, youth, teen and, lets face it, even sometimes as an adult) my family called me Grumpy Grace.   I can grumble and complain like you've never heard before.  (Of course, it's only when I have something very valid to complain about... like, cold fingers, cold toes, no firewood, cold weather, grumpy people and bad coffee.)

I drink coffee almost every day, sometimes twice a day.  I like to tell myself that it's not because I need it, but because I just love the way it tastes, but that's not completely true.

I procrastinate like nobodies business.  I don't like folding laundry or doing dishes.   I don't put away my clean, folded laundry (that somebody else cleaned and folded for me), I'm disorganized and I hardly ever follow the rules.

I adore attention.  Like, absolutely and obsessively adore it in an unhealthy sort of way.

I'm not disciplined, not very diligent and definitely not determined.

I give up on people.

I stay up too late when I know I need to get up early.   I sleep through most of my predetermined quiet times.  I talk myself out of working out at least twice a day.  

I often don't respond to my emails or text messages.

I'm afraid of the dark.

Insecure.

Jealous.

Foolish.

Unworthy.

And yet, in spite of all my flaws and inconsistencies, with my weakness and fears, I am LOVED.

I'm the most unworthy person that I know and yet, He, knowing my heart better than I know it myself, counts me worthy.

I saw a tweet on twitter about loving a person while hating their sin.  The author commented that to say that was the same as saying "I'm going to love you but reserve the right to hate what I want about you."

I got to thinking...  Does my sin actually hurt God?  Or is He bigger than that?  I'm exploring the idea that the reason God makes sin illegal is because it hurts me!  Just the same way that Dad made playing in the street illegal and Mom wouldn't allow me to use the stove until I was big enough,  The Law is built to protect me, and breaking the law hurts me.

It doesn't give me leave to hate other's lawlessness, but rather to be sorrowful for them.  If God is bigger than their sin, does it really help Him to have me hold the grudge for Him?

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God loves me.  All of me.  I want to learn to love others with that same kind of love.

What Taco Bell and Waltz Music Have In Common: And Other Unrelated Ramblings

Waltz music is comfort music; and Taco Bell is comfort food. Especially the bean burritos.

After stopping in at a random beachside coffee shop this morning we parked up the street from our new secret surf spot (affectionately named, "The Spot," among other things) and walked down towards PCH, longboards and wetsuits in tow.

"How sweet it is to be loved by you!" My dad was singing to himself as we walked down the sidewalk.

"Wow, God! It sure is!" I commented in my head, just noticing the warmth of the sun on my face and smelling the salt air.

If it sounds like I'm trying to make you jealous of how awesome my life is then you probably read into it right, but thats not the point. Besides a few moments of peaceful serenity (read: the whole time I was in the water, the afore mentioned observation and maybe two other brief periods of reflection) I spent most of the day bouncing back and forth between stressing out and being irritated at situations that were out of my control.

Coffee, surfing and lunch with some of my most favorite people in the world was not part of my plan for the day. I was supposed to be on my way to Idaho like, yesterday. My plan didn't include the numerous delays an setbacks that we ran across.

My plan wasn't near as good as God's plan is. That's what I'm noticing right about now. I'm kinda jealous of the awesome day I had. I just wish I would have given my plans over to God sooner so I would've been able to see how good I had it.

About Daddy.

I was tired, grumpy, hungry, tired and grumpy.  (Those traits tend to go together a lot for me.)  I'd been sitting in traffic for an hour and a half to get to the beach where my family was camping.  My day of thankfulness turned into a nightmarish day with anything and everything going wrong.  (Which wasn't all together surprising, seeing I had flippantly resolved to be thankful for anything and everything.)

When I pulled up in front of our campsite I snapped at my sister, pouted, and felt sorry for myself.  I know I'm not painting a pretty picture here at all, but in the interest of honesty, I want to tell the whole truth.

My dad was quietly observing my bad day and my bad attitude (Okay - my temper tantrum) from the get go.    He walked up and announced that he wanted to go get coffee and did I want to come? 

If anyone was less deserving of a coffee date with Dad at that moment, it was me. Seriously.  I'm not being modest here.  I was behaving like an absolute spoiled brat.

He actually wanted to hear my whole list of anything and everything I had to be thankful for - from the 3am wake up call to falling back asleep and being late for work.  Wrestling an old lock after I'd already realized I was extremely late, fighting traffic, a hectic day at the office.  He really wanted to hear it. 

He pulls me into random hugs to tell me that he loves me. 

He skateboarded alongside of me for two miles because I wanted to go running and it was already dark out.

He gave up an entire surf session to get me standing up on a wave.

Besides the part where he works and sacrifices to keep us all fed and clothed, he really cares about the little things - the ones that make all the difference in the world.

"Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake?  If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" - Matthew 7

I've been overwhelmed lately thinking about how good my earthly daddy is.  As good as I've got already, the scope of my Heavenly Father's goodness - well, it's incomprehensible.

When I'm not allowed to be miserable...

Everybody loves the Monday right? At least everybody loves to complain about the Monday. And a Monday with me working having a nasty head cold while my family is camping at the beach for the second consecutive week definitely seems like something to complain about.

All day I was determined to be miserable, and all day, without fail, it seems like God was trying to show me reasons to be happy.

Random strangers making conversation, time to actually sit down to breakfast, cheerful customers on the phone, my extremely cheerful coworker, the employee at Subway asking "how's it going, beautiful?" in his awesome South African accent.

The South African accent really clinched it for me. "Why do you insist on sending awesome things across my path while I'm determined to be miserable?" I whined to God.

"If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"

"I know what you need before you ask."

So later on when Siri could understand me better with a head cold then she does under normal circumstances; when everyone I encountered everywhere I went was extremely helpful, taking time to joke and make small talk; when I acquired an unexpected car-pool for the long drive down to the beach, all I could do was roll my eyes.

That was my miserable Monday. I wonder how Tuesday will treat me? Anyways, as miserable as I was on Monday, I'm determined to be thankful on Tuesday.

When I told my dad about my resolve for gratitude, he laughed.  "Be careful what you wish for!"