cinnamon sticks

Cinnamon sticks ride the lazy waves on the simmering water as their spicy, warm fragrance sifts through each room announcing that Fall has arrived.

The bare, carefree wooden planks in the family room have settled under the warm fleece of the Alpaca rug. Balmy colours of summer have been replaced by cozy, wrap-yourself-in-warmth blankets.

Naked toes and bony knees of my children have retreated under covered shoes and warm cotton clothes.

Brand new backpacks' bellies are expanded full with wooden pencils boasting scuff-free red tops; crisp, white paper begging for scribbles and scrawlings and tiny shoes that ache for excited feet to fill their soles.

I stare at my calendar and try to prepare myself for all the important firsts...first day of school, first friends, first teacher, first wave good-bye, first lunch away, first night at home telling me tales - that I did not witness first-hand. 

And this is when the truth settles deep into my heart: these are their firsts - not mine. 


I have lived a lifetime of firsts and there are still many more to discover. Tomorrow is a new day... I just need to decide what to do first.

A look back at this week in thanksgiving for many firsts I got to experience for myself, and through my children:

857. My first homemade apple pie (I think I like this pie making thing...)
858. Packing my daughter's new backpack.
859. Counting down the days with my son until his first day of kindergarten.
860. Tiny pink ballerina slippers for my daughter's first dance class.
861. First time planning our women's bible study brunch.
862. Watching an outdoor movie at Leah's house with all the kids snuggled warm.
863. Daughter's first eye exam (she passed ;)
864. First colours of Fall.
865. First time I called my neighbour to send my son home for dinner. (so very grown up!)
866. First time my son crossed the road without me by his side.
867. First glimpses into who my little ones are going to grow up to be.

mighty to save

This past week I have been living both ends of the emotional spectrum - and God has been with me in my actions, reactions and consequences.

His love wraps around me in times of turmoil, doubt, fear, anger - insulating me from my own self. It is because of His unconditional presence that I am able to see His light when shadows threaten to overtake....

851. My very first homemade saskatoon berry pie.
852. Kids who live such simple truths.
853. The strength to take things day by day.
854. Birthday celebrations.
855. Son's homemade birthday card for his daddy.
856. God's word in a melody that my heart needed so desperately to hear.

simply waiting

Lately I have been thinking a lot about the simple life. I wonder if things have become too fast, too easy, too instant. 

Grandpa turns 91 next month. So much has changed over his lifetime.  

Have things become easier? Or, have we too easily let things become us? 

There was a lot of waiting in times past. Waiting, in turn, birthed time for rest.

Now, my efficiencies have eroded the delicate balance between work and play. More technology screams for more attention. Hours burn quickly under the heat of the now.

Waiting - like clothes drying under the hot summer sun - is a lost art.

I often forget why I am rushing in the first place. It is like the beating of my very heart is tied to Father Time's own wrist. Tick. Tock. Invisible handcuffs that hold me down.

I long to be released from time's merciless hold.

My eyes set on Grandpa's quiet hands. His hands are etched with lines of his own battles with time.

I think he has drawn them quite well. 

Rather than clutching to do lists and to gain lists, his hands are rested in prayer. Words of thanks and praise delivered simply from his lips, heart, and hands.

These lessons, that come from God's own hands, are the ones I want to pass onto my children:  patience, tenderness, rest.

I prayerfully wait, watch and listen for the lessons.

"May the favour of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us— yes, establish the work of our hands." Psalm 90:17

Photos: clothesline hung at the Young farm, barbed wire lost in time, Grandpa's resting hands, my son resting his hand in his great-grandfather's palm. 

Freeze-Framing Life over @ Claire B

shooting stars

Shooting stars interrupt the brilliance of the sparkling galaxies - and we, who are bundled up against the cool summer night and gathered close by the glowing embers - are awed into mono-syllabic exclamations of the meteor shower. With our necks tilted back and our eyes trained on the praire skies - we cannot help but gasp at the wonder of God's heaven-lit canvas.

And as I gaze upon the tens upon millions of stars in the sky, I am humbled that He knows my name and continues to light up my world with His blessings....

823. Celebrating my mom's birthday with Tuesday's with Morrie dinner theatre.
824. My husband and I laughing at our ignorance while shopping for my son's hockey equipment (to be fair, we are both basketball players).
825. Cash to pull us through to the next paycheque.
826. Adding another mark on our children's height chart.
827. Watching my son do his 'wiggle' dance to the music of Tim McGraw.
828. Hiding under blanket tents with my daughter.
829. Strong arms of my husband around my shoulders.
830. Dark clouds that backdrop late summer's colours.
831. Son who writes a 'P' for packing on our calendar - he was most excited for the weekend camping trip.
832. Borrowed books on how to plant my own garden next spring.
833. Fifteen foot wooden table set with the finest camping indulgences.
834. Welcoming hugs.
835. Breath-taking scenery to enjoy.

836. The sounds of children giggling as they adventure with their Lady Wanda and the Duke.
837. Frizzy, messed up, early morning hair on my little girl.

838. Great grandpa coming for a visit.
839. Picking wild saskatoons in the late August sun with my mother-in-law.
840. Hearing stories of chance meetings and life-time loves.
841. Sparklers in the hands of children on a dark August night.
842. Shooting stars across the Alberta night sky.
843. Soft words that capture the imagination of children.

844. Games of chess according to my daughter's rules.

845. Peanut butter, milk chocolate, marshmallow (with a dollap of raspberry jam) smores.
846. Hot tea on a cool night.
847. The sighs of my children as they sleep beside me in the tent.
848. Eagerness to pick some more strawberries.
849. My dog sleeping in the shade after a day of running.

850. Husband's smile.

rhythm of time

The August sun pours its golden splendor into the green grass, purple flowers and tanned skin that sway in my backyard to the rhythm of time lost on a carefree day. Freshly cut blades of grass cling to the tiny arches of my children's feet as they joust through their fabled land of kings and queens.

Cool evening breezes gossip about autumn's pending entrance and rumours of red, orange and yellow treasures that will fall from the arms of the trees.

Moments are caught in frames, only to be released by the colour-infused inks that paint the pictures of days gone by.

But through every season, every moment and every breath - there is but one constant: His grace. Like the beat of my little heart, God's grace is life-giving and purposeful.

Today I count the graceful beats of my maker's very own heart:

806.  Plans to celebrate my mom's 55th birthday as a family.
807. Watching my son run up and down the aisles at the sports store.
808. Father and son going for a skate together.
809. My first batch of homemade strawberry jam!
810. Grandparents to come over for a Sunday visit and playtime.
811. The wide open mouth of my sleeping daughter.
812. Opportunity to enroll my kids in sports they want to try.
813. Extra long weekends with my husband.
814. Opportunity to rest.
815. Good books to read and ponder.
816. Freshly mowed lawn.
817. Inspired words.
818. Refraining from judgement.
819. Steps to recovery.
820. Kids discovering dinosaurs with grandparents.
821.Fellowship with great friends.
822. Cool evening breezes flowing through my window as I drift to sleep.

higher joy

Summer scents and fresh breezes carry my soul to higher joys...with thanksgiving, I count God's blessings:

791. Scrumptious, fresh, organic strawberries handpicked by the loves of my life. A little bit of sunshine to taste when the days get cold.

792. Visit with Grandpa and Grandma. Watching Grandpa playfully joke with our server at the restaurant. Admiring Grandma's witty comments.
793. Wrinkled hands, wringing hands and innocent hands holding tight during prayer.

794. The fresh air carrying the scent of adventure around the farm.
795. Homemade vegetable minestrone soup ready for tomorrow's crockpot.

796. Excitement to make my own jam (for the very first time!) and stock up on fresh, locally grown fruits and veggies at the Farmer's Market. Not because I have to, am guilted to, or should - but because I really want to!!
797. Knowing that I have great friends who are such positive influences on me.
798. Husband who does all the little things - because he wants to.
799. Children fast asleep after a perfect day.
800. Eight hundred already?? God is so GOOD!!!!!

801. Creating a birthday party for my son's Ted E. Bear. My son informed us that it was Ted's 6th birthday and we needed to celebrate. So we went to the backyard to have a bonfire and smores in Ted's honour. What a wonderful memory.

802. Plans to make some homemade pies. Meg and Leah -what have you done to me?? *grin*
803. Permission to feel and heal.
804. Interlocking ankles before drifting asleep beside my husband.
805. A grace-filled life.