Tuesday, March 8, 2011

[Battles] March 6, 2011

Battles

Did you know that God sends text messages? It’s true! This past week I got two messages that seemed to be from two friends of mine… but they were not. They were from God himself. His answer to my hearts pain.

Did you know that he also sends little notes in magazines? I received the latest copy of “A New Heart” magazine and there in the first article, God had written a note. From Him to me… via Judy Squier.

Life can truly be a battle at times. I am working on another story for my “Kingdom” series. Every time I work on this project, I realize how much of the Christian life makes sense through the viewfinder of kingdoms and wars.

I was milking this morning (like every morning… ) and my mind was wandering. Suddenly I found myself getting more and more discouraged. Remembering conversations. Remembering things that should never have happened. Feeling frustrated that I had responded this way instead of that. By the time I was done, I had spent an hour thinking melancholy thoughts!

When I got inside, I felt God’s gentle reminder to turn my mind to things of Him. So, I began a list. Its been rolling around in my head all day. It has been my shield from dismal thoughts.

Brokenness Redeemed. Light in Darkness. Truth from Lies. Life from Death. Wholeness from Broken Pieces. Transparency from Shadows. Morning from Night. Grace from Condemnation. Healing from Wounds. Victory from Defeat. Joy from Mourning. Dancing from Sorrow. Trust from Betrayal. Belonging from Loneliness.

That’s as far as I got today. If you have more to add, leave them in a note! I’d love to have pages of them…

So, back to the battle. (Yes, all these pieces do fit together into one coherent thought) I have been caught in the realization that “war” is one of the best analogies of life. We’re fighting. All the time.

This morning when I was trapped in my selfish gloomy thoughts, it was the same as being in a battle and losing. When I began countering those thoughts with my list… I started winning. Each truth was like a blow from a sword or an arrow shot straight at the Enemy. Eventually he ran away. Oh, he’ll be back! But this round was won. Not because of my strength but because of God’s. The text messages. The note. The gentle reminder. His strength being poured out to me.

I'll leave you with a part of my Kingdom tale...

This is the story of “Toria”, a girl who was trapped by the Enemy and left to fight the Monsters alone until she was saved and taken to the Kingdom. Covered with scars but mostly healed, she would stay hidden when the Kings Warriors went to war, her life being controlled by fear of the monsters. She was safe but never felt like she truly belonged. This is what happened when she finally went and faced her fears.

It was then that she heard it. A low growl that made her skin crawl and her breath die in her throat. “No.” She whispered, looking around for help. No one was close enough to call out to. She heard the noise again. It was so familiar. “I said I didn’t want to come to war.” She whispered, closing her eyes and trying to pretend that everything was fine.

She opened her them and saw it. The fiery red eyes and long vicious claws. “No!” The sound was piercing and frightening. She started running, racing to escape. She never saw Clara’s head jerk up, nor did she see the Warrior-Princess deliberately turn away, so she never saw the tears that fell for her.

Toria stopped running when she came to a great stone wall. She spun around, seeing too late that she had trapped herself. It was the same monster. The one from the dungeon. The one from her nightmares. The reason she hadn’t been willing to go to war for so many years.

“Help me!” She screamed as the monster leapt toward her and the claws ripped open the old wounds on her face. She screamed again as she was knocked to the ground. Her sword was still strapped to her side, forgotten as she kicked frantically, using every bit of strength she had. Where was everyone? Why weren’t they helping her? The fear that had been laying doormat for years began to grow and spiral through her until she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. The pain blossomed and blood streamed into her eyes. With all she had left, she shoved the monster and stood to her feet. Then she ran again. She ran and ran, terrified. Something pushed her from behind and she ran faster.

Wiping the blood from her eyes she caught sight of Clara, fighting bravely. She waved her arms, hollering her name even as she felt the monsters hot breath on her neck. Clara looked toward her but continued on, never moving to save her.

Horrified, she looked around. Everyone was busy, distracted. They didn’t seem to notice that she was dying. A claw sank into her shoulder and she cried out as she went down. Why am I trying? She thought as the pain enveloped her. They don’t love me. They aren’t helping me. They promised to never feed me to the monsters, yet I am being eaten just the same.

Her hand fell limp at her side, brushing the hilt of her sword. Aldwin’s voice echoed in her memory. “Remember your sword, Tori. It is the only thing you have to fight with.” She kicked her feet against the monster and yanked her sword free. Her arm was so weak she could barely lift it. “Use the King’s name, Toria, speak it, sing it, shout it. Keep your mind on Him.” Alana’s voice whispered along with Aldwin’s.

“For the King.” The barely audible words slipped from blood stained lips. The monster roared. “For the kingdom!” She said, bracing the sword as the beast swiped at her, hitting the sharp edge. It only seemed to enrage the animal more. He drew back then charged with teeth bared.

I’m going to die. Toria groaned in agony. She scooted backward, glancing around. There was nothing. No one. It was only her and her worst nightmare. I’m all alone and I’m going to die.

The King is always with you.” Clara’s gentle whisper broke through the layers of fear that were choking her.

“Where?!” She screamed, angry. “I’m dying and where is He?” Teeth sank into her arm and the sword dropped.

Rain began to pour from the sky. The water splashed against her bloodied face. In the fog of her pain she realized that the sound of the water reminded her of the King’s voice.

She looked down and found that the sword was back in her hand. Something was lifting her from the ground. The monster was roaring again, starting to charge. Warmth pressed against her back, bracing her. She let out a war-cry and lifted her sword as the monster came. Another sword appeared beside hers and a strong arm held them both steady. She watched as the beast fell to the ground in front of her, dead.

She stood staring at the unmoving body. Every nightmare she had ever faced. Dead. The warmth at her back spread through the rest of her body. She knew who was there before she turned. Knew it was Him.

His eyes met hers. His arms surrounded her. “You came.” She whispered and cried.

--------------------------

It was nightfall by the time they caught up with the Company. Emberlyn rushed to meet them, Alana behind her with bandages. They surrounded her, washing her face, applying ointment, wrapping the torn flesh with strips of white cloth.

The King stood beside her, holding her hand. She wanted to ask why He had waited so long but realized that it didn’t matter. He had come.

Clara came walking up and Toria felt a stab of betrayal. The King had come but Clara had turned away from her. She had begged for help and she had been too busy. They all had. They knew of her fears. Knew what she had faced all those years in the dungeons. Now there would be more scars to add to the old.

“My King.” Clara knelt. “How goes the battle?”

The King, still holding Toria’s hand, smiled. “It goes very well, Princess.”

Clara turned her gaze to Toria. “You killed your monster.”

“No thanks to you.” Toria answered, shocked at her bitter tone.

The Princess didn’t flinch or look ashamed. “You thought you needed my help?”

“Of course I did. I was all alone.” She pointed out, frustrated that she still didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, my Tori-girl.” Clara laughed. “You were never alone.” She pointed to the King, still holding her hand. “He was fighting beside you from the very beginning. You never needed me.”

Toria turned and looked into the King’s face. “It’s true.” He said, squeezing her hand gently. “I would never leave you to face any monster alone.”

Truth filled Toria’s heart. His footsteps beside her as she ran. His hand pushing hers to her sword. His voice reminding her of all she had learned. His arms lifting her up, bracing her back. His sword joining hers in the death blow. He had been there just as He promised. Warmth spread through her. She could trust Him. Even in the middle of her pain, she could trust Him. Leaning forward, she kissed His cheek.

His hand cupped her wounded face. “Oh, Beloved.” And this time, she believed him.

-------------------------

It barely took a week for the wounds to heal. Nothing had cut deeper than the skin and Toria was amazed at how quickly they closed and were gone.

The Celebration at weeks end arrived and she was able to attend. Her sword banged against her leg as she walked to the square, listening to the songs of the people.

Hail to the King!

Mighty and Glorious!

Loving and Victorious!

Wonderful King of All!

A step appeared beside her and she looked up into the King’s face. He smiled. She smiled back. A smile of belonging. Of faithfulness. Of trust. They reached the fountain and the King leaned forward to whisper, “Now, my little bright one, you are truly healed.”

She glanced down and caught sight of her reflection. The wounds were healed but something else was different. She looked again and saw that what He said was true. The scars were gone.

[Personal Interview] March 3, 2011

Personal Interview

Stolen from BriannaJea, who, I believe, stole it from someone else

1. What do you do for a living?

Ah, what a question! I suppose that most people would say the obvious things- I farm with my husband, work at the bank sometimes, write articles for magazines…

But I believe this question requires a true answer, not a typical one. I’m a wife. And when I am focused on being the wife my husband needs/desires, I earn a living. Before anyone gets all stressed about woman’s rights, etc… let me explain.

Take something as simple as food. When I am here at home, making three meals a day, my husband comes in from the barn or shop and eats. The cost is roughly $20 a week for me to provide this luxury for him and anyone else who happens to stop by at meal time. (Mind you, we farm, so all my dairy and meat isn’t counted in that. J ) However, when I am gone over meal times, off doing this or that, more often than not he will grab something to eat at a diner. And, if he goes, he’ll probably end up with a friend. And, being the man he is, he’ll buy the friend lunch. Suddenly, with just a few of these instances, our weekly grocery bill jumps to $100-$150 a week.

Cooking meals for my husband makes me mucho moolah to use for other things. Therefore, providing my living. J

2. Whom do you love?

There are many people that I would like to love. Unfortunately, I fail at that more often than not and when I think I am succeeding, I am usually failing the worst.

There are, however, a group of little girls that come to mind whenever I think about love. Mostly because God used them to teach me about true love. His love. You can read the story HERE.

3. Do you have enough money?

Depends on your definition of “enough”. Do I have enough to pay the bills without stressing? Nope. Do I have enough to buy things for my house/kitchen when I desire them? No. Do I have enough to buy clothes when I want? No.

However, if you think of “enough” as… Being able to pay the bills, even if one or two are a bit late, then yes. Or being able to have a beautiful kitchen/house, then yes. Or being able to have all the necessities for a wardrobe and once in a while get something new to add in the mix, then yes.

4. Are you healthy?

No. Not really. I mean, I try to eat healthy and pretty much succeed when I’m at home. (As in, I don’t eat white flour, sugar, rice, etc…) however, my body is NOT healthy. I have reproductive problems that cause weight gain, circulation problems that come from that weight gain, bad wrists and ankles (that come from playing sports as a teen) bad eyesight with poor eye health, bad teeth and… well, maybe that covers it.

Mind you, I’m working at it all but I’m pretty sure that my body is years and years older than my actual age. Its rather sad, really. Thanks for bringing it up.

5. Do you think you are a good person?

What a funny question. Does anyone think they are good? Considering the fact that I know very well all the bitter, nasty, unloving, selfish, angry thoughts that go on inside my head- No. Not so much.

6. How old are you?

26.

7. Who is your best friend?

Funny you should ask. I was just reading through an old journal- from back in like… the spring/summer of ‘05. At the time I was really, really struggling and feeling very hurt and alone and in a fit of anger, I wrote:

I want a protector. I want someone who can see past my tough skin and can recognize the fact that I’m “wandering broken”. I want someone who doesn’t judge me because they know that I already judge myself so harshly I can hardly breathe each day. I want someone who will yell at me for condemning myself. Who will point to Jesus and tell me that it’s okay that I’m not perfect.

I want someone I can talk to without them assuming I’m saying things that I’m not. I want someone I can grow and learn with who won’t make me feel stupid. I want someone who I can feel like I make a difference in their life. Like somehow, the words I say, the things I do, actually encourage them.

I want someone who can hear my dreams and not disregard them. I want someone I can be totally real with and have them really see an accurate picture of who I am.

Guess what? I got my someone. His name is Amos. And, because of God’s grace, even before I knew that he was all these things… I married him. Now he’s mine for as long as we both shall live. It’s pretty nice. J

8. What’s your childhood dream?

To be a mom. That’s all I really ever wanted. Oh, I thought of different things… nursing, writing, teaching, being a missionary- but the only thing that I really wanted was to be a mom.

Unfortunately, we don’t always get our dreams. Sometimes I think that it doesn’t matter what we dream- God will always ask us to give it up. Not because he doesn’t love us but because its our nature to put things before Him. He has to be first. So, I’m trying hard to lay this dream down. I cry a lot. But I’m trying.

9. How often do you laugh?

Some every day, I think. Well, there were two or three days in Jan. that I didn’t laugh. I didn’t cry either. I just walked around like a zombie. But I’m better now. I laugh a lot.

10. What makes you smile?

My husband. He never fails to bring a smile to my face. He’s really quite amazing.

11. Who’s your most dangerous enemy?

Honestly, its myself. The sinful selfish nasty side of me that I try to kill daily but keeps rising up…so I battle on.

12. Where do you live?

In the most beautiful little house. I used to think that I wanted a big house with lots of rooms (mostly so I could have a library…I’ve always wanted a library.) but now, even the thought of leaving my tiny cozy home makes me sad. And my husband promised to build me a library someday. So, its pretty much perfect.

13. Do you think you’re strong?

You know that journal I was talking about? From ‘05? It says: “To quote the Princess Bride, I’m the slimiest weakling ever to crawl the face of the earth.” Not much has changed since then.

14. What’s the most important thing you’ve done so far?

Uhm… nothing? Honestly, I don’t know of anything important that I have done. At least not that would be important to anybody but myself.

15. What was the most stupid thing you’ve done so far?

Trusted people? J/K. Sort of. I mean, that’s not what my heart says. Just the sarcastic part of me.

The actual stupidest thing that I’ve done is not trusted my husband. The times when I’ve stood up to him and insisted on my way… have always, and I do mean always, led to more pain in my life. Should have known that he was just protecting me.

16. Do you love yourself?

Its kind of a love/hate relationship.

17. What do you fear the most?

I fear… never having my dreams. Hurting people. Being hurt by people. Not listening when God is talking. Disappointing my husband. Losing my family. Not being loved.

I could go on. I have a lot, a lot of fears. It’s a bit ridiculous.

18. What is your favorite word?

Don’t really have any. Certain words strike me as funny at times but nothing comes to mind right now.

19. When was the last time you cried?

Today. I usually cry about once a day, actually. Does that make me sound… silly? If it does, oh well. I usually hurt bad enough once a day to cry, so I cry. But remember, I also laugh every day. So, it evens out.

20. What is the best thing that could happen to you RIGHT now?

I could go to bed. Seriously, I’m horrendously tired.

21. What is the worst thing that could happen to you right now?

Someone show up at the door? Because I am sitting on the couch in just a tank top and underwear. J

22. Picture yourself five years from now.

I have two very different pictures. Either one would be fine.

1. I have children via adoption/foster care/birth; am still milking cows; have a slightly bigger house; am busy everyday doing laundry/dishes/cleaning/cooking etc…

2. I have no children. Amos and I are working together doing something new… like, running a restaurant or something of that nature. OR! My personal favorite: we sell our farm and together with Amos’s cousin- buy a 14,000 acre ranch that is for sale in Montana. I would love that so bad!

23. Do you regret anything?

Most of my life, actually. It would be easier to say the things I don’t regret- like marrying my husband. Working with the kids on Rural Ave. Starting WoP. Going to Haiti.

24. What’s the first thing you do in the morning?

Usually run for the bathroom. I have a bad habit of drinking like four glasses of water before bed. (I’m always thirsty after chores.)

25. What are you thinking just before going to bed?

I try not to think. Seriously, it can keep me up all night no matter how tired I am. So I usually pick a random thing to focus on so that I don’t think about anything real. Right now, it’s the Montana Ranch…

26. What’s the highest point you’ve ever been to?

There was a mountain in Alaska that I made it to the top of. I just don’t remember which one.

27. If there’s one thing in your life you want to change right now, what is it?

I would change my personality. I’ve gotten more and more melancholy over the years and I hate. Hate. Hate. It. Not to mention, I think it just makes people dislike being around me. And who likes that?

28. What are you proud of?

Nothing, really. There are things that I adore (like my pretty house and wonderful husband and adorable nieces and nephews) but none of them are really mine to claim- so I can’t really be proud of them.

29. Sum up your life in one sentence.

On a good day:

I’m a farmer/mechanic/evangelist’s wife who tries her best, (and often fails) to follow God’s voice.

On a bad day:

I’m a bitter, unloving, hurt, hurtful, frustrated excuse for a human being.

(I have some really bad days.)

30. Name the thing that annoys you the most.

Uhm. Christians who try to separate their jobs from their faith. People who think they have the answers before they even know the question. But most of all- people who complain about my husband or family and expect it not to hurt me.

31. What is your number one question to God?

Can you please, please, please just come back right now?

32. Do you have secrets?

A few. I mean, my husband knows them all… but I’m not the most trusting of people so I really don’t say much to anyone else.

33. What makes you laugh?

Certain people really tickle my funny bone. To name a few… Rebekah Puddington. Ben Oles. Joe Kenealy. Elizabeth O’Neill-Krop. Uncle Ron. Jamie Metzler.

34. Are you happy?

Most days. Or perhaps joyful is a better word. I am joyful almost every day but I am also sad almost every day. I feel like right now, God is walking me through a pretty rough time so “happy” might not be the best way to describe it.

[Joy] March 2, 2011

I’m afraid my posts lately have been a bit on the depressing side. I don’t want you to think that things are all bad! I still have so much good. Lets take a little peek at the…

Joy In The Midst

The dripping of the coffee pot. Laughter with friends around the Monopoly board. Best of 3 in Marbles against Amos before bed. (Loser has to get in the cold bed first!) The crackling of the wood fire. The sound of the windmills on windy days. Listening to my husband talk about tractors. (He’s so smart and cute and funny) The sound of computer keys clicking. Listening to the cows eating hay after milking. (sometimes we just lay down in the hay, holding hands and smiling at the sound.) Amos and I, not the cows and I. J My beautiful parsley plant that sits on the kitchen windowsill. Sitting at the table, drinking coffee and listening to my husband share the gospel with all the men who come to visit. My kitchen. Everything about it. Its my favorite place to be. Buying myself flowers because I can hear Amos saying, “I wish I could keep roses on your table every day of the year.” Arriving home with them and seeing his brilliant smile. Waking up late, rolling over and seeing my cell phone with the battery out of it- evidence that my husband is my protector- even from lack of sleep! The lights above my sink. Planning what to wear for Adoption days. Crying with Amos. Not because I like to cry but because I don’t have to cry alone. Hearing people tell me, “Your husband is a good man.” Listening to Amos explaining to me why he’s losing money on a “deal” because he feels that to push for more might ruin his Christian testimony. Knowing that the reason I don’t have money for new clothes and shoes, internet and tv, is because my husband has principles that he stands on. Talking to Meg until three in the morning. Watching my niece, Heidi, run to my side after Sunday School with a big grin on her face as she slips past her Mom. Little Micah, who for some reason still remembers me and gives me smiles and lovings whenever I see him. Getting texts that aren’t actually from the person who sent them but from God himself. (Who would have thought that God sends texts?) My quilt. My guitar. (I never would have dreamed that the day would come when I could just sit down with a guitar and play…) The shelf in my room that contains my favorite books. Redeeming Love. Jungle Pilot. Roses for Mama. Pascal’s Wager. Opening my Bible and seeing a note on the margin that touches me again, just like it did five years ago when I wrote it. Watching my wedding video and realizing that I had no idea how God was blessing me that day- giving me a man who wasn’t at all what I had “pictured” but so much better than anything I could have imagined. Sitting in Sunday School, watching the girls scrapbook from a chapter in Psalms… Looking at their papers and being amazed at their depth of understanding. Getting a note from one of the WoP girls that said, I learned soooo much. I got some things right in my life. (Thank you, Father, for doing something with my fumbling attempts to do your will.)

Monday, March 7, 2011

[Dreams] Feb. 28, 2011

When Dreams Die

Nothing is quite as painful as watching a dream die

It’s like tearing a part of yourself away from your body

An arm

A leg

Maybe ripping a corner of your heart out of your chest

I know.

I’ve done it.

I spoke this weekend about giving everything to Jesus

Pouring out all our dreams

At His feet.

Giving Him control.

I should have known that He would say,

“What about you? What about the dreams that you’re clinging to?”

My mind is filled with images,

They are the essence of my dreams.

All beautiful. Precious.

But then comes reality.

All dreams are not meant to live.

Some exist to die.

And its okay!

God does good things with dead dreams.

But it still hurts.

Sometimes the pain is so bad,

It feels like you can’t breathe.

Sometimes,

When they’re starting to die-

Life bleeding its way out…

The anger is so great that all you want-

Is to take a knife and kill them yourself.

Throw them against a wall.

Trample them under your feet.

Get the dying over-

So you can start picking up the pieces.

This has been the year of dead dreams.

The lovely pictures have been replaced with pieces of death.

Tonight my husband and I stood out in the shop,

Talking and talking

Crying and crying.

Yesterday, I let a dream die that I’ve been trying to keep alive

For far too long.

Like a person on life-support

Whose brain has been dead for years and years.

Today I realized that another dream,

One that’s been, well, sick

for quite some time,

Is on its death bed.

I wanted to go for my knife.

I wanted to throw it.

Kick it.

Stomp it into the ground.

I don’t want to watch it die.

I just want to kill it.

Then I can pretend that I never wanted it

To begin with.

We haven’t decided what to do.

We just prayed and prayed and prayed.

If you have a minute, you can pray with us too

Because God does perform miracles

But it will have to happen soon.

I didn’t get out my knife.

Yet.

But I still might.

Because some days I think-

I can only stand so much pain at one time.

He never said there’d only be sunshine

He never said there’d be no rain

He only promised a heart full of singing

About the very thing

That once brought pain.

(Phil Johnson and Bob Benson Sr.)

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

thoughts.



I am feeling very inadequate to be teaching teenage girls.
Yet, I find myself teaching a 7th-8th grade Sunday School class
and starting tomorrow,
heading up a Retreat for 10-15 year olds.
What was I thinking?!!!!????!!!
Lord, hear me. Please. Give me words. Because I have none.

I am really enjoying Andrew Peterson's music.
Both things brought on by other blogs that I read today.
Lord, what is worship to you? What would you have of me?

What is love?
Real love?
These questions have been plaguing me for weeks now.
For years I thought I knew...
I thought I understood what it meant to put others before myself.
To love them.
But I'm beginning to see that I had no idea.

Still, I read and read the Bible...
And I can't put what it says together with what I'm seeing.

For example:
I thought that to "love" meant to not lose my temper at people.
To take their harshness and not return with harshness of my own.
To absorb their anger
Along with my own.
After all, that is what God meant by "turn the other cheek", right?

But now I'm wondering...
Does that have more to do with enemies than fellow believers?
Would real love actually confront harshness?
I hate. hate. hate. the feeling of anger.
I would avoid it at all costs.
I would rather absorb than inflict.
But is that selfishness?
Is that the opposite of love?
Is that all about avoiding negative feelings,
and protecting myself?

I have no answers.
Lord, I just want to be like you.
I want to love like you.
If that means acknowledging anger when its there
And allowing others to see it and feel it
And dealing with the shame that comes from it
Then I'm willing.
Just help me understand.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Quilts


Quilts

I’ve discovered something about myself.

There are many things I love that I go through life without

because of fear.


One example: Quilts.

I adore quilts.

Not just any quilts-

I love ones that are filled with colors.

I’m not big on “quilted”.

I’m just big on “pieced”

And colorful.


Tied quilts are fine with me

As long as there are multitudes of colors.

(Did I mention that I love colors?)


However, when I was about fifteen I found out a terrible truth

I hate quilting.

Yep. Dislike it a lot.

I love the “idea” of quilting bees but in truth…

The ones that I’ve attended, I’ve been bored out of my mind.


The problem with that is…

Buying a quilt is way out of my price-range.

Looked at the cost of them lately?

Astronomical.


So… I went through life… without any.

Being terribly jealous of my sister-in-law

For her beautiful wedding quilt.

And then others that were given to her.


But my mother saved the day!

For Christmas one year she gave us all quilts…

Only I got the yellow one.

(My husband was ecstatic, he loves yellow)

But I love COLORS.


Then today it hit me.

I hate quilting because it is so detailed.

And details bore me.

But because I know how to quilt “right”

I wouldn’t ever think of doing it wrong.

(What would people think?

That I don’t know how to do it right?

I do.

I don’t actually need quilting lessons.)

And my fear of what other people think

(crazy, since no one ever goes into my spare bedroom

except kids under the age of 10.)

Was keeping me from enjoying the wild splashes of color that I love.

My spare bed

(my bed is lovingly covered with the yellow quilt, just as my husband wants)

Has been sporting an ugly blue comforter for three years now.


Today I changed that.

I was sitting in the spare room,

looked up and saw a pile of material cut into squares

(intended to be made into cloth napkins- don’t laugh, Meg!)

And thought,

“Why not just sew them all together?”

So I did.


I labeled my mismatched, scrap filled, uneven and wrinkly creation:

“The Perfectionists Nightmare”

And do you want to know the truth?

I. Love. It.

Seriously.

I adore it.

I showed my husband and he loved it as well.

Said he’d just as soon all quilts were like it.

(It can be used and if it gets ruined, well, it was only about 4 hours work!)


And as I sat there, estimating on the size of the squares (ha ha!)

And zipping them through the sewing machine…

I laughed at myself for my fear.

This is me.

I do crazy things like make quilts that are uneven,

And don’t iron my material because I don’t own an iron,

And go hunting through my scrap bag for something to fill in the edge that wasn’t long enough

And I love every minute of it.