Life is full of major milestones. Births, graduations, weddings…These are times of great celebration, times of gathering together with those who love us most and marking the event with lots of laughter and love.
And then there are those other milestones. The ones that don’t necessarily get earmarked as “special” until much later, when our minds revisit them and we smile in memory. They may be words spoken, moments shared, or just a meeting of the mind.
We had a few of those milestones this past week. Four of the “littles” in our life came to spend a week and we heaped up a great big pile of those “other” milestones.
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I’ve never been one to enjoy the thrill of a fast moving car. I’ve had the occasion to find myself in one a time or two. Buckled up tightly, I hung on for dear life as I was tossed to and fro, whipping around turns as the outside world passed me by in a blur. I am older and wiser now and would never choose to be in a fast moving vehicle. But my life can feel like one at times, as I am whipped to and fro, backwards and forward, taking sharp turns and enduring sudden starts and stops. On those days, life passes me by and I wonder where the day went.
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“I’m ashamed of my wife! I’m ashamed of my daughters!” My dad’s drunken voice jarred my birthday-eve sleeplessness. It wasn’t the first alcohol-induced tirade I’d overheard, but it was the first that specifically included me.
I remember thinking, “I’m only 8 years old. What I have done to be ashamed of?”
Six weeks later my mom picked up my my sister and I from school in the middle of the day and we were soon on a bus from Michigan to California to “visit” my grandparents. I didn’t know I’d never live in Michigan again.
I didn’t see my dad for the next six years.
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I’m a self-proclaimed neat freak who is drawn to the messy. 
Yeah, before you say it, I know. I’m a walking dichotomy.
In college, a clean dorm room was a must. Curling iron and hair dryer cords were wrapped and put away. Makeup brushes nestled inside my Caboodle, and dresser drawers were always pushed shut.
Down the hall, I had two friends who were just the opposite. Their dresser was covered with hair rollers and lip-gloss tubes. On the mirror, they wrote with eye pencils. Books and papers were sprinkled on their desks, and yesterday’s clothes could probably be spotted somewhere on the floor.
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Recently we have had birds try to build a nest in the wreath hanging on our front door. Each time I open the door there are tiny twigs on the porch from their failed attempts.
This reminded me of an experience we had a few years ago when our determined feathered friends were more successful. Day after day I would remove partially constructed nests only to open the door to new ones again and again and again.
Well, you can see who won! One beautiful morning, I opened the front door and found a completed nest and these three little eggs.
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“In the beginning, God created….” Genesis 1:1
In school, creative arts are often listed as ‘electives;’ in our adult life, they’re called ‘hobbies.’ Yet the very first thing we learn about the nature of God is that He’s creative.
I never considered myself particularly “creative.” In my mind, that word was always equal to “artistic,” and because I couldn’t paint or draw I figured it didn’t apply to me.
Looking back though, I see a creative thread that’s run through my life–it just didn’t meet my narrow definition of the word.
My mom started teaching us cooking basics when were in elementary school.
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It was the bottom of the last inning, in what had become a very competitive matchup between two girls’ youth softball teams. The score was tied six to six. It was our opponent’s turn to bat. If they scored, our team would inevitably lose the game. If not, we had another opportunity to hit, which meant the chance to win our very first game.
Their first player hit the ball and got a base hit. Their second batter came up to bat. She hit a long ball which made its way to the outfield. One of our players ran after the ball, picked it up and ran toward the infield.
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This is a post I wrote for Counting My Blessings about a year and a half ago. I thought it might be worth sharing with you here at 5Min.
I began my morning by reading Psalm 117 and 119 as God had led me to set my thoughts on the center of His Word.
Psalm 117 is the shortest chapter in the Bible, and Psalm 119 the longest.
Look with me for a moment at the words of Psalm 117:
Praise the Lord, all you nations;
extol Him, all you peoples.
For great is His love toward us,
and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever.
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