In A Field

Can I just say how thankful I am for the invention of the modern washing machine and dryer? These were not the "good old days". Of this I am pretty sure. Doesn't this look like fun? I wonder what was going through her head while she poured the water from that bucket? The laundry here is piling up. Literally. Wayne caught up with the laundry before he left for Wolfville on Monday. He's very efficient at doing laundry. He is like a machine. He folds each load as it is finished, organizes the piles by child and in order that they are to be put away. I, on the other hand, am not. In fact, as I type this a full hamper of clean laundry is waiting for me beside the bed and another one stands by the dryer waiting to be filled. I do enjoy folding laundry, but I do not like to put it away. It's funny how different Wayne and I can be. He's task oriented and I am more carefree, doing things when I feel like it. This drives him mad. The house looks like a bomb went off, Ma...

Today Abby is home from school with a rotten cold. She and I were sitting on the bed learning how to play a Johnny Cash song (I'm determined to learn to play!!), I got thinking about how much music has been a part of my life. I began to look up songs on Youtube that my Mom would sing with my Dad accompanying her. Anne Murray's "You Needed Me" was one I remembered fondly. I cried like a baby while I listened, I'm sure Abby thought her Mom was losing her mind. Going back into my memory with a song makes it feel like she hasn't really been gone all that long. "Time After Time" is another song that causes me to stop and remember. I used to listen to Cyndi Lauper sing it, but I prefer Eva Cassidy's incredible voice. It has a haunting melody, a good one to listen to on days when a good cry is in order. What I liked about it were the lyrics. I always thought of this as a song between Mom and I. That it was for us. She would sing some of the ...

As I mentioned earlier, I don't recall ever NOT believing in Jesus. However I do remember the morning my father burst into my bedroom exclaiming to me how his life radically changed the night before. His face was beaming. Something was different and my 10 year old sensibilities knew that. He showed me a book, I believe it contained the Gospel of John and also a prayer of committment at the back of it. He told me, "Angie, this will change your life". I guess that's when I "officially" walked through the door of faith. My faith has been an odd thing at times. For most of my life I've lived under the law even though I was supposed to be free in the Spirit. I was (and still struggle not to be) legalistic. I had lots of knowledge...so I thought. Some of it I actually learned for myself in the Bible. Most was just information I gleaned from pastors, Sunday school teachers and fellow believers. My image of God was flawed. Greatly. I believed in Him, I even som...

Imaginative prayer has changed the way I pray and how I worship Jesus. It's praying with all 5 senses, taking myself to a place that was significant and special to me at some point in my life, via memory. As a child I spent many hours sitting at the top of a field by my house. I could see all of Goshen around me, the many hills and fields. I would pray here. Talk out loud to Jesus and just spend time with Him. Now as an adult I'm doing the same. When I enter into prayer I ask the Holy Spirit to direct me to Jesus, that I may know Who He truly is and not just the image I have compiled from many years of Sunday School. I imagine what the sky looks like, the colour of the grass, the way the wind is softly moving in the trees, what the air smells like and even what it tastes like. I meet Him here and He is always glad to see me. Sometimes when I see Him I fall to my knees and thank Him for loving me. Other times I have taken His hand in mine and traced the scar. I've also reach...

My sweet girl. She is beautiful. I'm crazy about her and in awe of who she is. How did I get so blessed to have this wonder of a girl in my life? I try to tell her what she means to me, how she's impacting me. I don't remember many words of praise from my childhood. The ones I did receive were treasured. I want words of affirmation to be common to her and to all of her brothers. I want them to know where they stand with me, even on the days when I spend more time ranting and less time listening, holding, cuddling. There was a time not so long ago when I hated who I was as a mother. I could hear myself speaking (yelling) and in my mind I would be saying "please shut your mouth, Angie, just please stop talking.". However, that is not the case any more. There are days when I still wonder, really, God, really, you thought I could be a Mom to 5? They are happening less and less. Most of the time I am loving it and who I am finally growing up to be.