Call me Old Fashioned

I have been called many things throughout my life.

I remember the first time I figured out I had a strange name. I was in the first grade and one of my classmates called me "Mi-Cow". I looked behind me thinking he saw an actual cow, but then I realized, no, he was talking to me... Since then it has been amusing listening to people butcher my name.

"Mi-Kale" is the most common around here. I have actually had people ask me if I was named after Mikhail Gorbachev. (really?)

I am also known as Mickel (as in nickel), Mik-la, Mikayla, Michael (yes, we actually get mail addressed to Mr. Mika'l Qualls haha), Michelle, Mica, Mi-kall, and I'm sure I'm forgetting a few.

I am also called many names by my close friends and family. Including many from the list above, there is also, Sister, Sis, Kel, Auntie Kel and now Tia that I answer to!

But I think my brother hit it on the head when I was about 13. That's when he started calling me "Quaker-Girl". I have always been what you call an 'old soul'. I think I was actually born a century too late. I LOVE old fashioned everything! Clothing, hair styles, shoes, horse drawn carriages, linens, doilies, jewelry, lamps, barns, farms... and especially old timey decor.

I am finally embracing this obsession of mine. It used to be embarrassing for me to admit, but I'm now shouting it from the cyber-space roof tops! I am old fashioned!!!

I am especially drawn to everything wicker. I just can't help myself! I see it, I want it, I have to have it! It can be any size or color. And no matter where we are, that's the first thing my eye sees. I realized this today after coming home with THREE more pieces of wicker furniture. It beckoned me from the outside of a thrift store as I drove by. But it did not beckon long... soon all 3 pieces were jammed in my van along with my 3 squirming kids.

When I got home I began to notice all the wicker around me and thought it would be fun to share this obsession of mine with you!

There is wicker for every room in this house...

starting with the front porch

wicker for empty spaces

wicker for Uno

wicker for magazines

wicker for flash cards

wicker for paint brushes

wicker for crayons

wicker for paper, wicker for cd's

wicker for school supplies

wicker for storage

wicker for mail

wicker for stationary

wicker for books

wicker for laundry

wicker for more laundry

wicker for coffee and tea

I even have wicker look-a-likes!

wicker squares

wicker hearts

wicker for towels

wicker for clothes pins (great cookbook by-the-way!)

wicker for reflections

wicker for faces

wicker on top of wicker

wicker for socks and such

wicker for make-up

ok, this isn't wicker, but it's just so stinkin' cute!

wicker for toilet paper

wicker for light

wicker to set wicker on

wicker to sit on

wicker for more people to sit on

wicker for bedsides (and more light)

wicker for toys

wicker for stuffed animals

wicker for bags

wicker for closets, wicker for blankets

wicker for babies

wicker for little bottoms

wicker for bigger bottoms

wicker for wash cloths

...and does there always have to be a reason?

wicker for remotes and other necessary items

and wicker for plants

And believe it or not, I have spared you many of the pictures that could have been included! It's sad, I know. But I don't think it will ever die. It has been a life-long obsession that is only increasing with age... and the more space I have!

Hmm... I wonder if there will be wicker in my heavenly mansion....? Well, at least on the front porch!!

Brokenness

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Ps. 34:18

This word weighs heavy on my heart, mind, my very soul.

I have stumbled across it often lately in books, blogs, sermons, in life. Even in nature, it's everywhere.

It is a word that scares me. Mostly because I am understanding more and more its necessity.

I have been weighed down watching the brokenness of those close to me and those not so close anymore. Their grief, their diagnosis, their loss, their pain, their choosing to keep going, their choosing to give glory to God in the midst.

Right now I am on the outside. Tomorrow I may be in the midst.

A few nights ago I woke up from a strange dream. It was about this very word. Broken. I was struck by it, a bit shaken actually. It's not something I like to really think about, explore, you know how it is. It scares me.

In my dream I was a woman - well, sometimes you are strange creature-like things - and I think there was actually more than just one of me. And we were all together in a room. And I was watching the others of me. And they were different than me. And I noticed this. They all had a common bond, a unity that I could not share in. They had been broken, cracked open, stripped clean, there had been pain, repentance, restoration and now they were smiling. They had come out on the other side and were giving thanks. I think they shone, something like the glory of God.

I was waiting for that to happen to me. But it never came. I looked down at my hands and they were closed tight. Little white balls that screamed "NO!" and I felt it inside of me the "NO!" of not wanting to be broken. Not wanting to feel pain or repentance or obedience. It was so real and I understood what I felt and why.

And then I heard the other of myself say in a far away voice, "Look, she is turning." And so I looked and I was. I was becoming mush. Mush? Yes, like in the book Goodnight Moon - "a bowl full of mush..." My hands and feet and then the rest of me turned to a strange kind of mush and I was rendered utterly useless (well, it was a dream after all and stranger things have happened in dreams).

And then I woke up.

I stayed awake for a long time after. My mind wouldn't stop thinking about what I had just dreamed, the strangeness of it and why I would dream such a thing. Again, it scared me.

A couple days after my dream I was again faced with the 'need' of it. This time while teaching science to my children - the process of a seed. It must be broken, die in fact, for new life to come about. And we see this everywhere in the process of new life: a butterfly breaking it's cocoon, a grasshopper breaking out of it's locust shell, a snake shedding skin and it goes on and on...

And again I am brought back to the fear... and this tight-fisted clutching of "NO!" And my dream is no longer a dream, but reality. And I feel it all turning to mush, ash, utter-uselessness... all while staring at a science book.

And then tonight. While in the middle of composing this post, we are driving home from a day spent with friends and it's raining and the thought comes quick and wild, it could easily happen in a flash, and then it almost does. Tires screech, steering wheel sharply swerves, I grasp the door and gasp as I force my eyes to watch the car pull out in front of us, bracing for impact. But it doesn't come and we somehow escape, this time.

You see, I know it's necessary, this brokenness before God. To be transformed, renewed, made more like Him. I know we can trust Him with our lives, with our pain. I know this, I have seen it, have experienced it, I believe it. So then, why do I brace myself for the impact, why do I fear it?

I looked up Matthew Henry's Commentary on that verse in Psalm 51 about a true sacrifice to God being a "broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart". Here is what it said:

It is a sharp work wrought there, no less than the breaking of the heart; not in despair but in necessary humiliation and sorrow for sin. It is a heart pliable to the word of God, a heart subdued and brought into obedience; it is a heart that is tender, like Josiah's, and trembles at God's word. The breaking of Christ's body for sin is the only sacrifice of atonement, for no sacrifice but that could take away sin; but the breaking of our hearts for sin is a sacrifice of acknowledgment.

The breaking of Christ's body...

The breaking of Christ...

The breaking...

It is a necessary work. Not for despair. But to make us pliable... usable... obedient... tender... humble. It is a necessary work, a sharp work, but necessary. And Christ made the ultimate sacrifice, the breaking of His body, the spilling of his blood, Him dying... it was necessary - for no sacrifice but that could take away sin - my sin. If Christ had to be taken there, how much more do we need to be?

 I know I am a slow learner. It takes a while for things to sink deep within me. That's why I often read books at least twice. One Thousand Gifts is no exception. I have read it through once and I am now  working my way through it again. God is teaching me so much. In chapter 8 she shares the whispering of God to her heart about this very issue of fearing what God might bring:

Eucharisteo always precedes the miracle, child...

All fear is but the notion that God's love ends. Did you think that I end, that My bread warehouses are limited, that I will not be enough? But I am infinite, child. What can end in Me? Can life end in Me? Can happiness? Or peace? Or anything you need? Doesn't your Father always give you what you need? I am the Bread of Life and My bread for you will never end. Fear thinks God is finite and fear believes that there is not going to be enough and hasn't counting one thousand gifts exposed the lie at the heart of all fear? In Me, blessings never end because My love for you never ends. If My goodnesses toward you end, I will cease to exist, child. As long as there is a God in heaven, there is grace on earth and I am the spilling God of the uncontainable, forever-overflowing-love-grace.

(I know that was a long quote, but go back and finish reading it... I promise, you will be encouraged!)

Yes, so much to learn.





I want to get to the place where I not only accept ALL the good God sends me, whether the means be through pain or suffering. But to also relax and not fear it, to not brace myself for the impact or clutch tight, white-knuckled. To trust in the goodness of God and the good that He brings through brokenness. I want to give thanks for it, even in the midst.

I will leave you with a few more words from our God. Words our Pastor has been sharing with us over the last few weeks. Words my mind will not let go of...

And we know that God causes all things to work together for GOOD to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.
For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the first born among many brethren;
and whom He predestined, these He also called; and whom He called, these He also justified; and whom He justified, these He also glorified.
What then shall we say to these things? IF GOD IS FOR US, WHO IS AGAINST US?
He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?

God is not a closed-fisted God. Why then should I be? He freely gives all good and perfect things, should I then not freely and openly accept them? Giving thanks for them, even before receiving them? Trusting and not fearing? For it is necessary, that I should be useful, conformed, glorified...

Brokenness, Brokenness is what I long for,

Brokenness is what I need,

Brokenness, Brokenness is what you want from me.

Take my heart, and mold it.

Take my mind, transform it.

Take my will conform it.

To Yours, to Yours oh Lord.

Take My Life Lyrics By: Micah Stampley

More Faces of Summer

This is another post dedicated to my brother and s-i-l who are hiking the PCT. To follow their steps check out their blog, the dirt life (to the left).

The summer has continued with more exciting moment and adventures...

Just a week after the little one was born, Elijah was able to welcome his other grandmother, all the way from Honduras!
Waiting to pick up Abuela! He was thrilled...

Catching first sight of her!

Olivia and I took a trip to visit Rebecca in their new Florida home. Mr. Tim helped Liv with her bedtime addiction and found a way for her to listen to Odyssey.

She even got some driving lessons on their old country roads!

We went to the Springs close to where they live. The water stays the same tempature year round, a chilly 70 degrees. And yes, the water was really green, algae and all. The only reason I was swimming in the frigid waters was because I couldn't let my 7 yr. old daughter call me a chicken and be right about it!

As soon as we got home, we needed an E fix!

I couldn't leave the kitties out. I know you have been worried sick about them. But rest assured they are still alive and actually thriving amongst the chaos... here they lay peacefully, perfectly in-sync! ha!

Shanda came for another visit! She brought with her a fun and yummy cookbook and we had to try out one of the new recipes... orange danishes! Just thought I'd make you a little jealous!

We also tried out Taco Boy in Charleston!

 

And the famous Charleston Fountains

Always thoughtful...

Levi kept licking the water as it dripped from his nose =)

 

We also started school this past week! It's been fun, exhausting, overwhelming and rewarding. We are looking forward to another great year!

Notice the back-to-school p.j.'s and fuzzy heads! Gotta love homeschooling!

Oh yeah, and Levi decided it would be fun to try out his new scissors on his hair!

Jaq-Jaq is still kicking! And Levi took a picture of his mad puzzle skills.

 

 

We had a fun birthday party for Mom, the whole gang was there including Jacob and Kali!

We put 51 candles on her cake too! It was fun but we missed your (Hunt) harmony singing Happy Birthday...

She had plenty of help blowing them out!

Faces of Mom

This was our first science experiement this year. She got so excited and started doing her little giggle =)

 

Again, we love you and miss you! Can't wait to hear from you next! And I will try to keep the pictures coming!

Much love,

Mika'l

Good-byes

I've always found airports to be fun and exciting places. So many people coming and going. So many lives, so many people, so many stories...

I found myself there this past Sunday, again. So many times have I driven that road. So many times to pick up friends or family. So many hello's accompanied by hugs and sometimes tears and smiles from ear to ear. And so many good-byes. Good-bye hugs are different and so are the tears. And the smiles are tight, more for encouragement or reassurance.

This time it was to say good-bye.

Another visit from a friend, over. Just like that. Done.

It's hard letting go. It's hard staying behind. It's hard watching them walk down that ramp that will take them through security, to a plane, far away. It's hard just standing there.

As I was standing there, watching, waiting for... nothing, I felt a rush move passed me.

And then they were standing in front of me. On the edge of the carpet next to the sign that reads something like, "No one enters except for the person you will have to say good-bye to..."

My mind began to process what my eyes were taking in...

Two men. No. One man and one boy. No, that's not right either. The boy is taller than a boy, but right now he looks very much like a boy. And the man looks very much like... a father... A father saying goodbye to his son.

Hmm, I wonder if that's his son.

And then I heard it.

"I love ya, son. Be careful. You're gonna hafta run to yer gate, so ya better hurry," in that deep southern drawl that I love so much. But the son was still standing there. His arm around his dad's neck, tight. His cheek smashed up against the bigger one. Eye squinted, shut.

And then the boy-jaw clenched tight, revealing the effort it took to be a man. His chin refusing to quiver, he let go and took a step back. Neither of them saying anything. I'm sure it had already been said.

The son replaced the ball cap that had been knocked off due to the fierce hug the minute before. He grabbed his carry-on that had been forgotten on the floor and reluctantly began his walk down the ramp.

His dad called out last minute instructions that he'd probably already given. The son turned and gave him a salute.

I couldn't help but stay a few minutes longer. I was totally caught up in the moment of their good-bye and my eyes were a bit wet.

Every few minutes that passed while the son stood in line, he turned around to make sure his dad was still there and sent a wave to the top of the ramp. The father, now leaning against the wall would quickly stand erect, raising his hand to the ceiling as if to say, "I'm still here son and I'll always be."

I found myself surprised at their open affection. This boy-man wasn't ashamed to show his love for his father or the apprehension he must have been feeling to be leaving him.

What lay ahead for this young man? Is he headed off to college? A new job? A new city? A new life?

Sometimes good-byes are so final, even when they're not.

When my parents said good-bye to me while dropping me off at college, it was a lot like the scene above, only 1,000 times the tears. But it wasn't like they wouldn't ever see me again. I would most likely be home the next weekend for a visit. But it was so final. That life was ending and a new one was beginning. It was sad, but exciting and we cried.

I stayed until the son made it through security. I stayed until he had gathered all of his things and put his ball cap back on, again. I stayed until the dad had given his last minute instructions, this time over the phone because the son was too far to hear. I stayed as the son, heeding his dad's advice, ran down the terminal to his gate. I stayed until the son was no longer in sight and the dad quietly walked away, down the escalator, alone.

I stayed and I cried.

Thankfully it wasn't my ugly cry. I was discreet. Besides, other people were crying, saying good-bye. So I didn't look out of place. Only, there really was no reason why I should be crying. It wasn't my son leaving. It wasn't Deacon or Levi heading off to college. It wasn't me calling after them with one more mother reminder...

I think I was crying because I know it will be. One day. Soon.

One day I will say good-bye, even though it wont be a forever good-bye. It will just be a good-bye to the life we know now. Little things and messes and toys all over the floor, whines and fuzzy heads and simple problems easily fixed with a hug or a kiss. It will be a saying hello to a new life we aren't quite sure about yet. But we will be and we know we will be and it will be good.

But I'll still cry.

I better start carrying a Kleenex with me, cause I think that good-bye could come as early as tomorrow... at least that's what they tell me anyway.