Recently I have been thinking about clutter.  I am not a clutter person.  As a matter of fact this past year, I really took on the less is more philosophy.  However that said, I have certain cabinets, drawers, corners of my closet and a few stored boxes that would be clutter to some.  I don’t see it as clutter though but as precious memories.  I was in a class this week and we had to describe ourselves by telling how someone else would describe us if they saw our clutter.  I said I was a sentimental hoarder.  I would categorize myself one step below needing professional help.  I am that mom that kept all the favorite baby clothes.  I have boxes of pictures and school work my kids made.  I have wall calendars from the last 5 years of my grandmother’s life, because she had sweet hand written notes on them like the days I would take her out.  Naturally I have the bigger items too like old jewelry, dishes, etc.  There have been times when my family thinks I can be a bit ridiculous with the things I hold on to.  They are just things I know, but when I see them I relive experiences and certain times in living color.  I step back into moments of my life with bright and vivid pictures.  They briefly transport me back to times, places and smells.  It is so amazing how our brains work.  When I see an empty mason jar the very first thing that comes to mind is catching fireflies in my grandparents’ yard as a kid.  They are amazing little creatures.  I have a lid to an old pan in my kitchen, which now serves as decoration.  I can merely look at it and can smell the homemade fried okra my grandmother used to cook. Continue reading “Fried Okra and Fireflies” →

I have a picture that hangs in my den.  It reminds me almost daily that our story does begin at home.  It helps me keep in focus that I want our home to be a great story.  I want it to be a story of love, forgiveness and redemption.  It seems to me, in the perfect story of life, those are the most important components.  I was thinking about the story of home for me growing up.  In looking back I think it was missing some important parts.  It wasn’t that I was not loved, I know I was.  I see now, sometimes we were lacking in forgiveness and redemption.  Things that stick out in my mind were yelling, lying, justifying and retreating. My father and I had a pattern. There was yelling, usually because I did something stupid or not up to parental par.  We have to watch parental par, I am guilty if that too. Then there was lying because I felt I needed to do that to get out of more yelling. Then there was sometimes retreating which meant I never dealt.  I just perpetuated the issue only to have the cycle happen over and over.  My dad did the justifying, he would justify why he responded the way he did. Which I know I have done too as an adult. I am sure some of you reading can relate.  Don’t get me wrong it was not all bad.  It was just inconsistent and slightly unstable. There was a lacking in grace. Continue reading “Home, Where Your Story Begins” →

Have you ever had to eat something you just could not stomach?  I remember when I was around 10 years old my mom made me eat butter beans one night at dinner.  I was never a picky eater even as a child but I was less than happy about having to consume butter beans.  Shortly before bedtime I got sick.  To this day I hate butter beans, I hate Lima beans too, mostly because they look like a little green version of a butter bean.  Why am I telling you this disgusting childhood story?  It made me think about how bad experiences can leave a bad taste in our mouths.  I am sure you can think of bad experiences you have had.  I tend to do the same thing with names, I hear a name and I cringe because it brings back up a bad memory.  What I think is so crazy is I cannot remember some really amazing things in my life but I can remember in living color the night of the butter beans! Continue reading “Butter Beans…Yuck!” →