:. tombstone .:

No, not the pizza. Not the movie. And not the town. I'm talking tombstone here, as in epitaph.

Maybe it's all the history and biographies I read that gets me to wondering what sort of legacy I'd leave, what people would say about me after I'm gone. Maybe it's hitting these middle years that causes you to evaluate your life: where you're going, what you've accomplished, what's left to do in the time allotted.

[And no, Katie, I'm not keeping something from you.]


Maybe it's the realization that every one of us will someday stand before the King of the universe and give an account of the way we've lived. Our designer clothes will be rags, the cars we've driven so proudly will be rust, our houses, our possessions, our treasures will all be a pathetic heap of ashes as we are at last before the Creator.

Gives one pause, to say the least.

Will I be remembered as someone who made a difference? or merely as someone who made some nice crafts?
Will people say, "She loved her God with her heart and soul"? or will they say, "She loved to garden"?
Will I be the woman who's remembered for her words of encouragement . . . or her sassy retorts?


There's a story in the Gospels about a woman who anointed Jesus with some very expensive perfume, a foreshadowing of His death. Those who were present grumbled about her wastefulness, but Jesus Himself praised her act, saying, "She did what she could."


Do I serve Jesus with extravagance, 'wasting' the earth's riches on my Lord and Savior?
Am I doing all I can to serve and obey Him?

At the end of the day, when I am standing before the Almighty God, I want to hear Him say,

"Well done, good and faithful servant! Enter into my joy."

What will your epitaph be?

:. the blogosphere, or, shut up, will you? .:

I realize it's been a long time since I've ruminated aloud (a.k.a. "blogged"). There are a lot of reasons for that. It struck me awhile ago what a weird universe the blogosphere is. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE has a blog. And for every person with something worthwhile to say, there are ten more with nothing to say . . . but they say it anyway. [I leave it to you, dear reader, to decide into which category I fall.]
I am definitely a fan of free speech, and if someone wants to spend time reading drivel, then more power to the drivel-writer. But I decided I will not blog unless I feel I have something of value to share. In short, I don't want to just add to the noise.

Another reason for not posting is the general overwhelmingness of life lately. I've been dang busy! A good busy, but busy nonetheless. I have myriad thoughts running through my head, (great blog-material all!), but not the time to sit down and formulate them into something readable.
And then there's the whole double-vision thing, and the prism on my lens which makes looking at the computer screen a bit dicey. Hopefully that will be taken care of soon, thanks to this guy and his connections with the wizards at Wolfe Clinic.

So I leave you with this (hopefully worthwhile) thought:
A lot of people who follow Christ seem to view serving God the same way they view their great-grandma's china: it's only to be brought out for special occasions. We say we want to serve God, but we seem to be waiting for the "big" thing - an overseas missions trip, teaching Sunday School, or taking in a foster child. Good things all, and certainly a big way to serve God.
But I'm here to remind you that our service to God should happen daily. We serve Him when we serve our families. We serve Him when we cut the neighbor's grass, let someone go ahead of us in the check-out line, when we encourage, when we console, when we cry with those who hurt. We serve Him when we lift others up in prayer, when we cheerfully change our plans to help someone in need, when we realize our day, our life, belongs to Him. We serve Him when we read to a child, drive a 90-year old to the beauty shop, and smile when we'd rather complain. We serve Him when our heart is full of gratitude for His mercy, when we share with someone else the amazing things He has done for us.

May I serve Him well today.

:. brights .:

If you're over in the Ingersoll area, do me a favor and stop by Tandem Brick. The Farmer's Almanac predicts we're going to have another snowy winter, so trust me, you're gonna want one of these babies!*

*actually, don't feel obligated to buy . . . but please do at least 'ooh' and 'aah' over my stuff! Thanks!

:. eden, hardly .:

My garden sure took a hit this summer. With our hot-humid-rainy-repeat weather, there weren't many good gardening hours to be had. And of course by July, I'm about gardened-out anyway. (Yes, I'm lazy.) Add to that the usual busyness of summer as well as all those unexpected things of which life is made.

Suffice it to say, my asters didn't get pinched once, the paths are overgrown, nothing has been dead-headed, and the weeds have won the day. There are even a few impatiens still in the flat in which they arrived from the garden center in May, waiting to be planted. (!)

BUT.

Look what God decided to grace me with, in a year when He knew I wouldn't have the time/energy to keep up:

The lovely white-flowered vine is a sweet autumn clematis. I noticed it earlier in the spring, a clump of foliage that I certainly hadn't planted. But there it was, twining right up the trellis on which my mandevilla reigns supreme. I thought the leaves looked like a clematis, but surely I couldn't be so lucky as to get something so lovely to volunteer in my yard.

As the summer went on it got fuller and fuller, and then it started to bud. Oh my stars, it really is a sweet autumn clematis!

The great thing about this story is that I actually didn't get just one beautiful vine. God graced me with two. The second one is about 10 feet further down the bed, placed neatly and precisely in the gap between two arborvitaes.

And wouldn't you know it, both vines are visible from my kitchen window.

The original Master Gardener is still at work!

And on a similar note, here is something else that absolutely makes me happy:

My "yarn-at-a-glance" shelf, full of winter brights and cozy darks, each just waiting to be made into something lovely.

I am blessed, indeed.

:. food for thought .:

The other night Benny picked up dinner for us at our favorite taco stand. It wasn't until the next day that I took a close look at the receipt he'd left on the kitchen counter: I've always loved that their motto is "Nothing is Impossible", but it was a jolt to read those next words. What a reminder! What a succinct summation of the gospel message!

"The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve,

and to give his life as a ransom for many."

~ Matthew 20:28