A Snow Storm and a Grateful Heart

I love snow. I love how it looks falling from the sky. I love how books like 'Snowflake Bentley' teach you that no snowflake is the same. I love how it puts me in right thinking with Christ and his creation. I love how it's still and quiet outside, yet inside is bustling and full of life and action. The opposite of summer in a beautiful way. 

My husband would probably tell you that he liked the snow today because the land needed the moisture and he prepped all day yesterday so he didn't have to be out in the weather today. 

Except, he did have to go outside today because the cows flipped the hay ring upside down and decided to lay in their food instead of eat it. 

So, we all did chores this morning to make sure they had food through tomorrow. 

I had to pinch myself because my kids are so stinking adorable and I got to be out in the snow. 

Happy New Year! 

smell, a place of comfort.

It's always this time of year that really pokes the memory bear for me.

We went to the sale barn to pick up some cows last weekend, and that room was chalk full of aroma. 

Aka - manure. 

And while I didn't mind it, it did get me thinking about smells being tied to memories. And I thought I would share a few of my own favorite ones. 

A barn scent reminds me of childhood chores, playing in the hayloft and horses. When I walk into our barn as an adult, I am flooded with sweet memories of imagination, family time on Sundays and hard work. 

The car exhaust makes me think of winter and the crunch beneath my snow boots walking to a car that my Dad (or brother) had started beforehand so the rest of us weren't freezing on the way to church. Unless we were running late, which - was most of the time. 

Office buildings trigger deep memories of hugging my Dad after he got home from work. His dress shirt fresh with the scent of computers and a lifelong career that wasn't fulfilling to him personally, but showcased his faithfulness in doing the next right thing that would provide for his family. 

Yankee Candle's 'Macintosh Apple' scent that was lit on the stove at Deb German's home, signaling the sweet gift of hospitality and the labor of a clean kitchen. 

Wood burning comforts me in a way that Shane's house on the hill did when I would visit him on the weekends during college. His embrace and that wood stove were a place of belonging for a girl who didn't know what path to take for a future career. 

Certain makeup scents remind me of my Mom's dresser and her confidence.  CoverGirl blush, concealer, earrings and lipstick were a reach away at all times. I loved watching her get ready, always ending the time with, "I'm cute today!". 

Breast milk smells take me back to sweet moments with Rhett in the middle of the night, and not so sweet moments of spit up that humbled me as a new Mama. 

Aren't our bodies incredible that a smell can trigger all that? 

Thanks, God. I'm grateful. 

daylight savings thoughts

I've been learning a lot about seasons and weather patterns this past month - how transition comes about and why we lose precious hours of sun during the autumn and winter seasons. It's fascinating (and something I most likely learned in elementary school that I've forgotten - and of course my sponge brained husband remembers learning it in 5th grade) - but as an adult it takes on a whole new meaning to me.

You see, every single thing about seasons is intentional. Carefully and meticulously crafted.

The crisp air, the overcast skies, the earlier sunsets.

It's all held by our Creator who does nothing without intention and purpose.

And when I feel my own self wanting to complain - I'm reminded that there are lessons and purpose that are being handed to me.

One of my favorite authors, Christie Purifoy once said "will you receive what this season has to offer?"

Instead of missing the summer nights and yearning for spring to come early - I think I'll shift my focus to the present season being handed to me.

Preferably in a cute ceramic mug.

P.S. No, I'm not really sure what those salt lamps do except create a stunning glow in my kitchen - and yes, I will need reminded of this post in a March snow storm.

Happy Monday!

the first snow of the year.

I should start with saying that I'm a sucker for the first snowfall of the season.

Call me a snow romantic!

And usually I've been the only one in our home who likes the white fluffy goodness. In years past, Rhett would cry that it was hitting his face and Shane would say, "Guess he's like his Dad."

And I would sob into my pillow at night.

Jokes! Though, I would wonder if Shane was brainwashing him when I was sleeping.

But this morning?

While perched on the stairs, peering through the staircase spindles - I hear a raspy morning voice say, "Snow?!"

Rhetts excitement to go outside and run in the snow was unlike anything Shane and I have experienced with him - we were all laughing and smiling so big that our faces hurt.

And then to celebrate we made some chocolate chip muffins.

Being home for moments like this make my heart so grateful I feel like it could burst.

Just another ordinary Tuesday at the slate house.

but no jelly.

Rhett is the sweetest boy I've ever known.

He's rowdy and ornery and all things boy. And then he's sensitive and quiet - asking me if he can pray for me when I'm hurt, and comforts me when he can tell I'm sad about something.

And like all 3 1/2 year olds, he's quite adamant about getting his way 100% of the time.

Around here we have sandwiches a few times a week for lunch (sometimes dinner, too) and as soon as Rhett realizes that we're having sandwiches he says this exact sentence:

"Mommy, I want a peanut butter sandwich I just don't actually want jelly on it."

To which I respond -

"Ok! I'll make you a peanut butter sandwich."

Two minutes later:

"Mommy I just don't want jelly on it. Ok?"

When I'm making the actual peanut butter sandwich:

"Mommy, I just want peanut butter, not jelly on it pease."

This has happened every single time.

Sometimes even when we just talk about food, he reminds me that he doesn't want jelly!

The funny thing is, I've never forgotten his request. Never even gotten close to putting jelly on his sandwich. The first time he told me he didn't like jelly and didn't want it - it was like concrete in my brain.

Then the other day when this whole cycle was repeating itself once again - I was hit with a realization.

I do the same thing with worry and God.

"Dear God. I'm worried about (insert crazy imaginative thought that scares me half to death). Would you please help me rest in your love? I know I can trust you with my future. I'm going to lay down this fear and let you carry this burden. Amen."

5 minutes later the same worry returns. And I pick it back up fearing that maybe God didn't hear me. Or maybe he forgot.

And all of the sudden I realize that I've been praying about the same worry for a month. For three months. For half a year.

I'm just like my son, thinking that if I don't constantly remind the Lord of my worry, that he'll forget about it and then it might happen.

When I continue to pick up that same worry everyday, it's like me saying, "I don't know if you're going to remember this - to protect me from this - so I better carry it so you don't forget about it."

Remember, God? No jelly please.

And the best part of this realization is that even better than knowing God will never forget a single word that I mutter to him, is the fact that he actually knew and knows that I would have that worry long before I did.

So instead of picking that worry back up and letting it settle back into my heart and mind, thinking that I could maybe somehow take care of it and control it - I release it back to the foot of the cross and move on. Gods will and his plan trump anything I could ever even muster. Am I willing to let him surprise me?

He already knows about the jelly. And he's got this.

eye candy.

Shane and I were talking the other day and figured that we've been holding hands since 2003.

2003! Before we got our school permits. And our act together.

16 years later and I still think he's the most attractive man I've ever seen.

P.S. We still don't have our act together.

summer mornings.

If you know me, you know that I love living in the midwest where there are seasons.

Something about the reset and trying new rhythms makes me all giddy and excited - but even more, I love it when those rhythms bring a deep joy that is unexpected. 

My favorite thing about this summer? 

Mornings. 

I've tried to become a morning person for as long as I can remember, and I'm not saying that it will never happen - but 7:00 seems to be the time that my body finally agrees with the alarm clock that it's time to get out of bed. 

When the time comes for me to go downstairs - I'm greeted with coffee and a front porch that beckons me to come outside. 

And she doesn't take no for an answer! Bossy thing. 

So I start the washing machine and open my screen door to plant truth in my heart and mind. 

And just when the machine is done - I come back outside to hang clothes on my clothesline. 

Ahhhhh, the clothesline. Even just looking at this picture makes me exhale. 

It's like yoga on a rope! Or something like that. 

And getting dressed in the morning isn't complete without my newest accessory. 

Have you ever worn an apron? It's life changing!

I'm convinced Mary was wearing an apron when the angel came to her and told her she would carry the Son of God. 

Maybe that's dramatic, but just believe me and start wearing one. 

And then usually Rhett wakes up, comes to the front door and tells Ellie not to eat his breakfast before we cut zinnias. 

Which I've learned, is also one of my favorite things. 

But also I sweat a lot during the cutting process because he's 3 and I love flowers. 

Excuse me while I go apply more deodorant. 

Cheers to mornings!