A fragrant aroma.

Maybe having sweet baby V was the catalyst that brought it all to mind, but since she has been here and we have been enjoying her, (oh so enjoying her), my mind has wandered to my friends who are not around to enjoy her.
You know, the ones I have lost contact with for one reason or another.
Some of those relationships needed to go, as in they were not healthy; most likely not healthy for either of us (I am not too proud to admit that I might be toxic to someone: as they say, "Not every student is for every teacher" and some friendships are like that too. I also know I am not universally appealing).
And some relationships have just run their course, which is the way life goes. As my mother always said, "You are friends with someone for a reason, a season, or a lifetime."

But what about the other ones? The ones I sometimes pine for? The ones that had been so sweet and life-giving during their zenith, but then----fell away?

Really, there is one in particular. We met in a theatre dressing room. Long story short, we were in a play together and had never met until we opened the show (amazingly enough), when I was walking by a dressing room during a quick costume change and she grabbed me and said, "Come plug me in, would you!?"
See, she was the star of Bethlehem and had a light-up costume :) It sounds corny, but was really dazzling in the darkened theatre.

And that was all it took. We became fast friends. Best friends fast.

I moved away (like always) and we kept it up. I would go visit her. She would come visit me.
So the distance didn't keep us apart.
We shared clothes (joked that we should call ourselves the Sisterhood of the Traveling Closet) and liked the same men (but thankfully never dated the same men!) and did photoshoots in outrageous costumes (because we both believe that even adult women need to play dress-up every now and again) and I cooked for her and she taught me how to do hair and makeup and I went to see her in all kinds of shows and she laughed at my jokes (because, as I once told her, "I am the funny one; you are just the laugher." "Just? Just? But where would your hilarity be without me to laugh at you??! No where. The funny ones are not funny without the laughers," she reminded me. And we both laughed.).
It was a great time.

And so when the fade started, it caught me by surprise. I didn't think our friendship was fade-able.

Was it because we didn't live by each other to influence each other anymore and be interested in the same things? Was it because we got other friends? Was it just life happening? Was it the Lord?

See, all that time, I had been delving into the Word and my faith and really wanting to know the Lord.
And I guess, while I was away, she was delving into....other things, I suppose.

We kept being amiable. All of our conversations over the phone were now ending with, "We should keep in touch more!" instead of the usual, "Ok, I'll probably talk to you tomorrow!"

Until one day.

*Sigh.

I hate those days.

I was in her city for some reason and so made a point to see her.

And I left with tears in my eyes knowing we would probably never speak again.

She had told me that she no longer believed as I did. As we both had.
That made me sad to hear, but I didn't think that was just enough grounds to stop a friendship. I have all kinds of friends who I am not on the same page with about all kinds of stuff.
She didn't feel the same way, though.
She didn't want the negative influence I brought into her life. She said she didn't need people who believed as I do in her life.

She said she had no place for me anymore. We were at that proverbial fork in the road; she went one way, I went----well I continued going in the direction we both had at one time been traveling.



I remember being sad that she wasn't around to meet Hubbs when he and I were dating. And I remember being sad over the "vacant spot" there was at my wedding.

And now that Vivy is here, it makes me sad again. Sad that she doesn't know I am a mommy.

There is a passage I have read recently that brought all of this full-circle in my mind.
"For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life." (II Cor. 2:15-16)

I always like the first part of this verse, that we are the aroma of Christ. Just spreading his "scent" all around. Oh how I want people to "smell" the Lord on me, as an amazing perfume that fills the room.
That's what I want.

Isn't it funny, though, how sometimes the Lord uses us in ways we don't want to be used?

Like, I would have preferred if the Lord had made me smell to her like the aroma of life to life.
I don't want to smell like death to her. I don't want her to see me and my life as putrid, rancid, a thing unclean.

*Sigh.
Again.

I don't get to choose that, though. I don't get to choose how the Lord uses me in the lives of others.

It's in these times that you can think, "Oh, well maybe I don't have to stand up for Christ like that. Maybe I can sugar coat things. Maybe I can be more universally appealing." For there is something in my nature that doesn't want what I believe to be rejected. I don't want to me the baby that gets thrown out with the bathwater. I don't want to be cast off.

Sometimes it's a harsh pill to swallow when you see playing out that Jesus said, "I did not come to bring peace...but division." (Luke 12:51)

The humanity in me makes me wish I wasn't the divider he used.


Simultaneously, though, it all makes me long for the day when I have eyes to see as he does. When I can see how spreading around the aroma of death to those who are perishing is still a fragrant offering to the Lord. For the day when I can begin to comprehend all that he is doing and how he is weaving all of these journeys together into something that pleases him.
But until that day, when I can see glimpses of how he sees, I keep on. I keep on believing what he has said in his word, not backing down from telling the truth in love, and ever-increasingly so praying for those who the Lord may be using me to cast around an unpleasant odor to; praying that someday the smell for them will change.

Take heart, Wolfies, if God is using you in someone's life in a way you wish he wouldn't. Regardless of how he uses you, if he is using you your life is being an offering to the Lord.

Round Two (or Three).

Themes seem to recur in my life.
Maybe I haven't learned their lessons yet so the Lord keeps bringing them around?

After you have a baby the doctors tell you to "take it easy for a while."
That's a pretty ambiguous phrase. How long is a while? Isn't "Easy" kind of a relative term?
What exactly do they mean by "strenuous housework?"
Really, it was all very curious to me.
So basically for the first couple of weeks I just did nothing but stare at my baby, and I mean, when she looks like this, how do you blame me?

Doing our morning devotions.

I hope she always sleeps like this.

But after a few weeks of staring at the baby and luxuriating on the sofa, you do start wondering what the balance is between soaking this baby stage in and realizing that life just keeps on going...and I have to go with it.
How is a new mom to proceed with life?!? The prescribed six weeks of rest was getting a little long, I felt. I mean, even to ME six weeks is a little excessive.
Eventually, I just had to get off the couch.



Now what?

Friends and family and church members had been so generous and sweet as to supply us with meals, so I didn't need to cook yet. I had scrubbed my baseboards and floors at least three times in the week or two prior to delivery, so they were still looking pretty good. I wasn't supposed to exercise yet, so that wouldn't be getting me moving. Hubbs always mows the yard, so I didn't need to do that. I wasn't supposed to lift heavy bags of rock or soil to get my container garden planted, so that was out of the question. I am afraid of dogs, so I didn't want to walk my new baby around in suburbia (aka "We have pets, not children" land). I am new to town, so I didn't have any best friends I could just drop in on. We don't own this house, so I couldn't paint anything or rip anything out. We only really have a front yard, so I didn't even feel comfortable just going outside and sitting.
Yikes.
"Ah!" I thought. "I will go pull weeds in the landscaping!" But then I remembered that this is a rental and the land lord has chosen the easy-to-maintain "rock garden" for this property.
So there were no weeds.

Blast it all.

And for the first time in my life I didn't really have anything I could do. Nothing needed to be done.
And that will make anyone feel pretty melancholy.

Typically in my life early June had been a bustling time! Planting gardens, weeding flower beds, harvesting early crops, cleaning and painting and priming and getting everything all ready for summer, being outside all the time to enjoy the warmth! You have to do it now or it doesn't get done! And even when I hadn't owned my own house and didn't have those types of things to do I was either moving and unpacking and setting up shop (like last year), or making all kinds of weddings happen (as in previous years), or packing up to head to the Pacific Northwest or the Middle East or wherever.
None of that was to be done this year.

So I sat back down on the couch and I felt what a lack of Dominion feels like. I have talked about this before, and it truly is something the Lord has impressed greatly upon my life.
 By not tending, by not stewarding, I really started to understand that work is a gift from the Lord. We are creatures who need something to do.

Now, all these revelations being said, that still didn't stop me from being in a bit of a malaise. I KNEW beyond any doubt that that is what we are called to do as humans and without it we wither.
And I felt like I was withering. And I started to go into a pity party that I didn't live in the country so I couldn't walk freely, without having to fear neighbors' dogs. And I was becoming unthankful for our cute little rental cottage because it didn't have any weeds for me to pull and I couldn't dig up the ground to just plant a regular garden. I started doubting whether I knew how to cook anymore and doubting whether I would ever be able to run errands with a baby.
Blah.
It was a total case of the Blahs.

And just when I thought these feelings would last forever, these showed up.

*Sigh*

You will remember of course my longstanding relationship with berries.
Read about Round One and Round Two here.

And just like that. Out of nowhere.
God had planted in my yard, all those years ago before I moved here, a mulberry tree.
To blossom and fruit precisely three weeks after my first baby was born.
To be here right in the middle of my pity party.
Right in the middle of my pining for the country.
Right in the middle of my struggle that I had nothing to do and nothing to cultivate and no ground to till.
Right when I was thinking I didn't know anything about making and growing food anymore.
Right in the middle of suburbia.
And right in my own backyard.
Just feet outside my door.
Right next to those weedless rock gardens.

God provided berries for me. Again.
Because he is good like that.

Deliverer.

Hi Wolfies!
I am pleased to announce that last month Hubbs and I welcomed our sweet little daughter into the outside world. We are all adjusting to each other quite nicely, I think, and Hubbs and I are just over the moon about our sweet little Vivy. Sometimes I cry just looking at her because I am so grateful that we get to keep her. She is contemplative like her daddy, doesn't handle the heat well like her mommy, and is stubborn like probably both of us. What a doll :) I can't believe she is real. I can't believe she is ours. Sometimes all I do all day is stare at her and sigh as I say to myself, "She will never be this little again....."

Being a baby is hard work.

Listening to daddy sing a Hymn during family devotions!

Overall I had a pretty uneventful pregnancy, for which I was thankful. Towards the end I kept thinking, "Really? Is this really how the world is peopled? It seems like something more monumental should have happened if I am about to give birth." And while the size of my swollen ankles did seem like they could be some type of monument, that was pretty much it.

Physically, that is.

Spiritually, though, I have to tell you, I felt like there were arrows coming at me and battles I was not up to fighting for a lot of the time.
Maybe I have mentioned this, but since I met Hubbs I have been more fearful and convinced myself that I have more diseases, ailments, and syndromes than I ever even thought about my entire life before I met him.
Chalk it up to the fact that when my life is now linked to someone else's, I feel more of a weight to be here. More of a weight to stay around longer.

The devil knew this, of course. He knew the fear; he was the one putting it there. But with the pregnancy he made me terrified that either the baby or I wouldn't be making it home. Which, to his treacherous credit, is not ENTIRELY irrational. It happens. Which is why I so easily believed it; it was not outside the realm of possibility.

As the due date was approaching and then receding behind me on dates on the calendar, I kept praying and praying for some insight about these fears; something to help me through.
And Him being good like he always is, not too long before our little Sassafrass was born I was doing my devotions one day and the Lord gave me a picture of childbirth. No, not like a vision of it (thank the Lord, that would have been terrifying), but a picture of how childbirth relates to the gospel.

Because everything relates to the gospel. If you have been reading me for any length of time I would hope that you would see that the gospel can be seen everywhere if you are looking for it.
It's what I pray my eyes are opened to. I want to see Jesus in the supermarket and the wind and in Tuesday night dinners and cold rainy mornings.

That afternoon I was reading in Romans and came up to chapter 7.
"Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord." (verses 24-25)

Huh. It struck me as funny. "We call Jesus Christ 'the Deliverer.' Rightly so," I thought, "wretched woman that I am. I needed a Deliverer."

"And so does your baby," Jesus said back to me.

Suddenly in that moment I wasn't afraid for my life---or hers----anymore. I got to be her first picture of the gospel.

You know, it's pretty neat that only inside a woman's body can life be created. Up until that point my body had been the place that gave her life. Without me she could not exist. I was her breath, her sustainer. But you know what? If she just kept staying inside of me forever, I would not continue to be Life to her. No, she would die inside me.
Wretched woman I would be, the cocoon she was in would become a body of death to her.
She had to be delivered.
I had to be her deliverer.


And in that moment I knew a little bit more about the gospel.

Like Vivy in my womb, this body of sin we are born into we have to be delivered from. Spiritually, we are walking around in our locked tombs unless Jesus comes and delivers us from these wretched bodies of death.

And Thanks be to God! He came and has delivered us! This short life, where we will never be as young again as we are today, does not have to be our end!

As for me, the Lord didn't let my devil-imposed fears come true. I didn't have to die to deliver our sweet girl. I got to do it in a hot tub and on a squishy bed. But a few times during labor as I was trying to remember that I got to be a "Christ figure" to Vivy and deliver her from her first body of death, this picture kept coming to mind:

And I realized that he DID have to die to deliver me. Thanks be to God, wretched woman that I am.

What I Learned From Our Bedroom Makeover.

HI Wolfies.
Are any of you still there?

Believe it or not, I am still here, albeit quietly.
I could tell you I have been busy, I could tell you I have been traveling, I could tell you I was working and taking classes and trying to make friends in Homeland City.
Which would all be true.
So that's what I will tell you.

Earlier this Fall I decided that I needed to redo our bedroom. It was a fine bedroom, bedecked still with summer linens. But I just felt like it needed something more.

 

So of course what is a 21st century woman to do?

Scour Pinterest and all of these design blogs she follows incessantly and come up with some good plan.

Which is exactly what I did.

I had a lot of pictures of headboards on my Pinterest board, so I made one of those.

In progress. Obviously.

And I had a lot of pictures of those Salon, or Gallery, walls. So I made....like....6 pieces of art.

And I knew winter was coming so I made a duvet cover to go over our down comforter. And I thought I should probably make a lot of mis-matched pillows. So I made 6 of those.
Because that's what people are doing now. 6 mis-matched pillows.

And I worked and worked and Pinterested and worked.
And I got the room done.

All put together.
It looked really nice.

But I didn't sigh a contented sigh of relief. Like the kind of sigh you make when you walk into your house. Which exceedingly puzzled me.

So for months we slept in a bedroom that didn't feel like home. Hubbs said he liked it, because he likes what I do. Which is so nice of him to say, and I know he meant it.

But was it really Hubbs and I? How could I have put so much work into something and not come away loving it?


Right before Thanksgiving I quit for a number of reasons my little part time job I had picked up, which put more time in my hands. So I filled my time with this project and that, taking some classes, etc.
But I started to have lonely days every now and again. Now, I am not one given to much loneliness. The Lord has blessed with a great multitude of friends. So I was surprised when this feeling hit. But, you know, it's different when you have friends but none of them live by you.
And none of my friends lived in Homeland City.
So I was lonely.


Around Christmas time I started to realize about our bedroom that I didn't really like it. Yes, it was trendy. Yes, it was pretty. Yes, I had seen all kinds of pictures that looked just like it.

And that was the problem. It occurred to me that I had designed our bedroom not to be a haven and a place of retreat for Hubbs and I, but I designed it to look like HER bedroom.
HER being the hundreds of unnamed bloggers and Pinteresters I had gone to for inspiration. Or, dare I say it: copied.
I was appalled at myself. How could I be so influenced? Me, Little Miss Projects, copying someone else, not coming up with my own ideas, not following my gut?
I knew right then and there I had to stop it. I had to stop looking to them for inspiration, I had to cut these un-met women out of my life. I couldn't let their voice over rule mine.

In a flash of tyranny of the urgent, and I am almost too embarrassed to admit it, one weekend I spent like 6 hours deleting pictures off my Pinterest house board.
Oh. My.
I am sure Hubbs thought I was nuts as he would hear me saying, "What was I thinking?!?!? I DON'T LIKE BATHROOMS PAINTED BLACK!!! Who do I think I am?!??!?!????"

But alas, the board got de-cluttered and I realized those things I really do like. Not because someone else told me to like them, but because I have liked them all along (more often than not I have liked those types of things since I was 8 when I started reading Better Home and Gardens and drawing blue prints).


But to my surprise something else occurred to me other than I needed to pair down our bedroom: I was even more lonely than before.

Have you ever had a situation that makes you go, "Hmmmmmm.........."? Well this was precisely one of those.
How could not following designers on blogs and Instagram make me feel even more lonely?

And then I knew. Not only had I been so influenced, so peer-pressured, by all of these owners of houses I copied, but I had also been using them to fill a void. In their absence I realized that I had been filling some of my lonely hours with keeping up with their lives. Following the growth milestones of their kids. Living vicariously through their travels.
And not doing that with the people I actually KNOW and love.
So not only was I lonely in Homeland City, but I was filling up "social hours" I could have been at least on the phone with best girl friends who don't live here hearing about THEIR travels and THEIR kids' milestones.

It makes me wonder if this is the pandemic of today's society and I fell prey to it too: Lonely in a time of easy connections to hundreds of "people," but not really knowing anyone you could just call up to grab coffee with.
It's a sad place to be.

So I am stopping it.
I am trying to reach out and be a friend again.

And I took down some of the art on our bedroom wall. And now I sigh a little easier when I walk in.

OH! And in other news.......................Coming Spring, we're joining the club.