Our September began with a gift. We were able to spend time as a family with extended family at a place very dear to us.
The kids found all sort of “nature studies,” and I accidentally had about 14 acorns rattling around in my dryer at one point in time, because I couldn’t seem to find them all.
I like to think their laundry now has a rustic woodsy smell, and fortunately, that rustic woodsy smell did not turn into a burnt crispy smell.
Although we did have a morning time go down in literal flames this week.
It is what it is. Man, talk about humbling and panic-inducing. Welcome to the hot mess express, folks.
We’ve been given the gift of another autumn in Minnesota. While it gives me all sorts of “Why?” questions, it also gives me grace. Autumn has always been my favorite season, followed closely by the first 37- to 40-degree day in spring when you can fling your windows wide and air out the whole house.
This season of preparation finds me quietly knitting and crocheting a lot. I finished an afghan for Million, as I mentioned, and have the yarn for three other afghans at the ready. This week also brought on a lot of vegetable chopping therapy for me. I finally decided to accept God’s will for our family’s winter residence this year, and I began to chop and freeze all of the veggies for a month or two’s worth of mirepoix for soups this fall and winter. It’s something I do every fall. Then we were gifted a bunch of small apples from my parents, so I made a batch of applesauce for breakfasts. No photo. Woops.
I’ve been teaching the kids to bake bread this past month. Million and Jubilee have had their lessons. Aslan hasn’t quite mastered the art of standing still long enough for a lesson of any sort in the kitchen, but I’m hoping to teach him some basic chopping skills so that I can continue preparing vegetables for the harvest season.
I’ve been pondering humility a lot lately. It’s been cropping up in my devotional readings, in songs that I listen to, and in daily life. Because living life as a sinner, comingled with sinners, is humbling. It’s humbling that I don’t know everything that my kids feel I ought to know. It’s humbling that I still struggle with some attitudes of my own that I thought I’d killed off long ago. It’s humbling being both a mom and a teacher to my kids and not always getting the right “curriculum” on the first try for what my kids need. More on that in a different post. It’s humbling to fail. It’s humbling realizing how very little I know and how much I need Christ every day.
And that’s where my heart is: in this transparent, humble stage. It’s humbling that so many have come around us and trusted in God’s capacity to work in us and through us in France. And it’s humbling to present myself, the dreams I had for my future, my longings as a burnt offering to God. It’s humbling that I am not the Holy Spirit and cannot convict my children of their sin. And it’s humbling that I continue to try (and fail).
In this season of constant humbling, I’ve found comfort in a few verses.
Proverbs 15:15 All the days of the afflicted are evil, but the cheerful of heart has a continual feast.
A reminder that my perspective on life can be a powerful tool.
James 3:17-18 But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.
A reminder that even when I’m “wronged,” (because I’m OBVIOUSLY never the one in the wrong, right? Hardy har har…) I need to make sure that my character is filled with the traits of wisdom. Am I being peaceable? Gentle? Sincere? I so long for a harvest of righteousness to be sown in my life (and my children’s.)
In this all, it’s also humbling to post these thoughts and send them out into the world and even imagine that they’ll be read by someone.
I am so grateful for you here. I’d love to hear from you to know what you’re learning and how you’re growing in this season of life right now.
Till next time,