Several weeks ago, I sat in a back room of the church amidst some storage shelves, music stands, and VBS material. Though the walls are cinder block, the seating leaves something to be desired, and the carpet perches on concrete, it’s been a good place for me.
It’s a good place to have a think.
My daughter and I have a message for oppressed women around the world: You are priceless.
Today, on the other side of the world, a woman woke up having no idea she was anything to shout about.
Considering the way he treated her, the way her boss looks at her, all she’s ashamed of, and the money she doesn’t have for a bank account (if she had one)–she’s had too many messages to the contrary.
Though you’ll always be able to reach this site at agenerousgrace.com, it’s been wisely recommended I change this blog’s name in order to better to reach my target audience. I’ll always welcome readers of both genders and all seasons of life–yourself included.
My content will remain largely the same.
Today, I’m waiting.
I experienced a significant high last June when I secured a wonderful literary agent. (For those of you not in the publishing world, that can be one of the hardest parts. Major win!) I’ve submitted book proposals now to publishers. And now, I wait.
I’ve written openly about how challenging it’s been to come back to America from Africa when I didn’t feel ready. (At all.) I’ve thought a lot about everyday faithfulness, hoping to live the life of a quiet radical. And as I’m waiting for a “yes” or a “no” after some significant “no’s,” waiting does its usual stirring up inside me, questions bubbling to the surface, the silt making things opaque. As I thought the other day about the possibilities ahead, the prospect of hope felt like something was cracking me down the middle.
Yesterday, my friend got a dog.
Now, for most of you, you’re thinking, this is not an auspicious start for an insightful blog post. But then I would tell you that she literally has teared up when reading airline rules about transporting a pet. I’d mention that when she was grieving a major transition in her life a year and a half ago, she brightened at thinking she could finally get a dog. She’s researched shelters extensively, and talked to me about the benefits of getting a dog from a no-kill shelter, and about how pitbulls are discriminated against.
I talked to a man a few weeks ago whose perseverance I’ve gotta admire.
He was in a bad place–really hurting. So he called a local support group (get this!) six times, when his message wasn’t returned, to get connected to the help he needed.
It’s a light-bulb moment for me.
Already tried the Christmas-movie-night-while-stringing-popcorn tack? Exhausted your board game tournament ideas? Sent your kids outside till they’e sledded their little hearts out? Here are a handful of easy-peasy ideas to abet Christmas Vacation Chaos.
Hey.
I don’t know how you found time to read this. But then again, it’s possible you were hoping for a sliver of personal time. (The short people in your house are maybe sleeping.) Maybe you wanted to be reminded you’ll make it through this. Um, and that everything in your house will not always be sticky. That there is a REM cycle in your future.
And that you’re not alone.
Today I’m in the mood for something meaningful. So this free printable is for both of us. A professor in college had us read this together as a prayer to begin every class–and it’s not a bad way to direct my mind.
Enjoy a free printable today of this ancient prayer by St. Francis of Assissi.
One thing I picked up from my Christmases in Uganda: All the glitter and hype of Christmas does have a purpose beyond the secular.
God created seven feasts for the Old Testament Hebrews, which clues me in; these occurred in the same seasons. Maybe the Israelites knew Hadassah made the best matzoh, or Great-Aunt Hephzibah made the best lamb broth, or that the air was filled with chaff after harvest. Heck, Jesus’ big debut was making wine from water for a wedding. The Bible ends with His own wedding. God’s the pinnacle of our joy, of our feasts and revelry. And I think He uses our senses—the whiff of evergreen; the clam dip (it’s a Breitenstein thing); the twinkle lights; Jack Frost nipping at your nose—to cement our minds to what we can’t see.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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