Tag Archives: simple pleasures

Job 19:25

I’m reading the Bible chronologically.  I’m following a reading plan found here www.bibleplan.org/ch/niv  Did you know that Job lived before Abraham? 

This morning I sat down with my cup of coffee and my Bible to listen to Job whine a bit.  As if he didn’t have much to whine about it.  His entire family was killed, he lost everything, and then he was stricken with sores and illness.  And while he was down, his so-called friends came and kicked him.

But during all of his suffering, he remains committed to God.  And as he suffered through this time and longed for death, he claims in chapter 19, verse 25, “I know my redeemer lives.” 

This song blessed me to tears today.  May it bless you too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9p4G2GbPYQA

 I know my redeemer lives. 

Continue reading “Job 19:25”

When Life Gives you Rainclouds……..

My husband sometimes says he feels like life is kicking him where it counts. Those aren’t his words however, he’s much more blunt than I.  And even though I don’t own a set of “where it counts”, I’m finding myself doubled over in pain. 

When my husband’s life gets hard, I imagine a cartoon boy, his hands in his pockets, his head cast down, the sun is shining around him, but he has a dark, stormy rain cloud hanging over his head.  If he walks to the east, the rain cloud hovers above him.  When he turns to go to the west, the rain cloud moves with him.  Even as others sunbathe on the beach or run through meadows of wildflowers, he cannot escape his rain cloud.  He goes through life with a raincloud and no umbrella.  I think I must have seen this cartoon a long time ago and have recently dug it out of the file cabinets of my brain.

The last couple of months, the cartoon boy in my imagination has morphed into a cartoon woman.  A thirty-five year old woman to be precise.  One possibly on the verge of a mid-life crisis.  One with graying hair, a bad memory, and love of pound cake.  Whose name starts with an A and ends with a NGEL. 

My preacher says something like, “If you’re not presently going through a storm of life, you’re either coming out of one, or about to head into one.” 

Tonight, in the midst of my whining and moaning and the poor pitiful me’s of life, I took 2 ibuprofens to kill the pains of existence (I’m a real risk-taker, eh?) and decided to take a hot shower.  I dried off and my towel smelled so fresh and clean.  A simple pleasure.  I put on my night clothes and crawled under my covers at 7:15.  Another simple pleasure.   

I opened my Bible, and even though God didn’t jump off the pages and scream profound revelations directly in my ear, I received peace and a bit of serenity.  Or perhaps the ibuprofens were kicking in. Har Har.

Then I read part of a memoir called “A Three Dog Life”  about a woman’s struggles to make a different life after her husband receives a traumatic brain injury and loses his memory. 

And then I felt ashamed of myself. 

As I sit in my bed, under my covers, comfortable and safe and healthy,  I am reminded no matter how awful and bad I think my life gets, it’s a walk in the park compared to others who have been dealt a far worse hand than I.  

I am reminded that no matter how heavy and dark my rain cloud appears, “He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.” Matthew 5:45 

And I am reminded that rain allows for some beautiful harvests. How am I to grow and change and become a new creation without it?  “Sow for yourselves righteousness; Reap in mercy; Break up your fallow ground, For it is time to seek the Lord, Till He comes and rains righteousness on you.”  Hosea 10:12

And I just wanted to share this with you.

Find your simple pleasures.

May God Bless You,
Angel

Simple pleasures

I’ve Got Mail

A single joy of mine is walking to the mailbox.  It’s not too far, but far enough.  Just down to the green gate, then just a bit on the county road to the highway where three boxes are lined up waiting.   We get no mail out here yet, we haven’t fowarded our address, so a questioning person might question my actions of walking to the mailbox.  But it appeals to me.

Most days I walk to the mailbox, open it, cluck my tongue at its empty womb, close it, and walk back up the county road to the green gate back to the house.  However, my daily walk found the mailbox fruitful the other day when I found my new ubscription to MaryJane’s Farm magazine.  I quickly sat down and devoured it.  Here’s an excerpt I’d like to share:

The Gift
by Alisen Payette, Missouri

I have learned a lot in the past eight years living on our small Missouri farm.  I hae always loved food, but participating in the planting, growing, harvesting, and storage has caused me to appreciate it in a different way.  I have come to say that my favorite thing about farming is sitting down to a completelyy homegrown meal in the middle of January.  Just this last winter, I realized what a gift this lifestyle has truly been—and the awareness came in the form of a pie.

With each fork-filled bite, I tasted more than the pie…it was an experience, a memory.  I looked at my neighbor, who had created this savory dessert to close an amazing meal.  I thought of her pigs who had lazily watched her work the warm days of summer…they became the lard she rendered in the cool of the fall…which eventually helped create the rich, flaky crust that danced among my taste buds.  I thought of the rhubarb, carefully tended, harvested, and prepared by her hands.  As fresh cream slowly melded with the juice of the pie, I thought of the cow from the nearby farm who was led from the field to the barn and back again.  I felt as if I were eating a gift wrapped in love, hard work, and true appreciation for the food itself.

Gosh, I wish I could describe how this writing makes me feel. 
I have such dreams friends….