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reflection

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Now that the dust has settled and I’ve had a day to catch up on rest after my first in-home Vintage Market, I wanted to share a few details on how things went, what I learned, and what my plans are for next time.  And yes, there will most definitely be a NEXT time because I don’t know about you, but this Market was such a dream come true for me that I can’t imagine not doing it again.  I’m sitting here this morning savoring all the memories of meeting you, discussing everything from the painting of chandeliers to the versatility of paint drop-cloths, from whether or not to paint bookshelves/outdoor furniture/lamps to the 101 ways you can decorate with shutters in your home.  I am so touched and honored by all who came out on a gorgeous Saturday to say hi, supported this endeavor, and took a little piece of my…

Dear friends, family, and those I yet have the pleasure to meet ~ I am honored and humbled you are here today.  With so many events, people, videos, texts, carpools, meal preps, exercises, and catnaps vying for your time, it brings me great joy that you paused here at my blog…if only for a moment.  After all this time, All Mimsy Home is still one of my favorite places to be, and I hope to be spending increasingly more time here over the next several weeks.  Why?  Because fun things are in store, that’s why!  But allow me to explain. Over the last few years, my blogging journey has careened from children’s bedroom design to paint colors, from DIY chicken coops to antiqued furniture, from parenting issues to hot pink bathrooms.  At every turn, these words and photos have reflected the beat of my heart and served as a gracious…

I’m up way too late tonight reading back through personal blog posts…posts dating all the way back to 2010. Six years of sharing home design, heart wrenches, celebrations, soul searching, holidays, kids growing, homeschooling, churching, teaching, hubby-fighting (quite literally as in MMA, cages, and the whole kit & kaboodle.  More on that another time…), chicken acquiring, and prolonged journeys of self-discovery. As I read, I sat here pining for things to be like they used to be (my kids, for one), rejoicing that other things have changed (can I say kids again?) , and all in all feeling reflective and nostalgic…while at the same time very present… in my own life. Does it seem like we spend way too much time anymore observing other people’s lives? Observing other people’s events? Spectating other people’s accomplishments? Vicariously enjoying other people’s vacations? Swooning over other people’s creativity? And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.  I love spying on the…

In April, I walked away from this blog, purged my overflowing paint room, and figuratively set my creative self aside until further notice.  I encouraged myself with thoughts like: “This is the answer.  Finally God is speaking clearly through circumstances.  Today, at this moment, I know what I am NOT supposed to do.  Stop the waffling, cease the analyzing, simply march. Onward, ho.” So I renewed my teaching credentials, clicked ‘yes’ to numerous substitute jobs in middle and high school classrooms, and marveled daily that they permitted this 40-something nobody into public classrooms with vibrant young people rehearsing for orchestra concerts, molding clay on potter’s wheels, analyzing “A Street Car Named Desire,” and chewing erasers through intense Calculus finals. It has been 16 years, people.  16 years since I’ve managed a high school classroom, stood in front of little beauty queens with perfect eyebrows, chatted with athletes shuffling their weary…

Way back in the dark, cold Alaskan winter of 1990, my then-fiance and I made what seemed like a very grown-up decision to become product distributors for a little multi-marketing business called Amway.Maybe you’ve heard of it? Terms like product pick-up, SA-8, Artistry and ‘going direct’ became part of our daily vocabulary as we joined hundreds and thousands of other hopefuls on a journey we believed would ultimately free us from the drudgery and mediocrity of what Amway referred to as the J-O-B.By April 1991, we were out.  With sighs of relief and our eyes opened wide, we determined there had to be a better way to succeed that didn’t involve awkward, manipulative presentations with trusting friends, surrender to up-line whose ‘Biblical’ standards were frighteningly similar to a cult, and the intense pressure to always be more, do more, dream more, sell more.We were 19 and 20 years old.  Truthfully? …

The last few weeks I’ve been preparing a Bible study based on Annie F. Down’s book Let’s All Be Brave.According to Annie, painting risers on the stairs as part of my Sixteen Days of Getting My House in Order definitely qualifies as brave.Here’s why:”The moment you take that first step,the moment you start,little seeds of courage,the ones already planted there right now,begin to sprout in your heart.You aren’t headed out to find courage.It’s in you, it is blooming,and it is with you as you say yes to things that seem scary.”p. 23, Let’s All Be BraveThe thought of painting my stair risers was, indeed, scary for me.  In spite of many hours painting furniture, walls, and various accessories over the years, painting laminated risers in a high-traffic stairway scared me.I was afraid the paint wouldn’t adhere, afraid that it would chip and scuff over time, worried that painted stairs would negatively…

What is this love between a mother and a son?In moments, her heart so overwhelmed it truly aches.Her soul and spirit pregnant with hope for who he will become.Right now, a celebration of his nearness.So many high stakes and choices and crossroads ahead for him…for young men today.What is this love?Bending down to retrieve another sock left behind, all the while whispering a prayer for his life-giving and salt spreading and servanthood in the halls of school today.  Because this daily bread is now, this present, and grace abounds right now.Complete, unconditional forgiveness for the neglected sock in light of these more important things.Complete, unconditional love to bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things.A mother’s heart beats with the cadence of prayers for her son.I am listening to a beautiful story in the mornings this week, a love story between a mother and a son. …

I haven’t shared details with many people, but this last year was possibly one of the craziest, humbling, most stretching and surrendering years of my mid-40’s-something life.It was a year of obedience in the midst of questions, a learning to press on and lean in when I simply couldn’t muster the grace to face another day.It was a releasing of my preconceived ideas about order, structure and schedules, and a clinging to concepts much less tangible like trust….forgiveness…..gentleness….and mercy. It was finding the strength to believe He is who He says He is, and truly believing that His plans are for good, providing a future of hope I could rarely see.And oh, the deconstruction He did within my soul.This summer we are slowly, hesitantly, peeking out of the fog after a very long nine months.  Re-evaluating goals, revisiting priorities, re-establishing systems.  In some ways this feels wonderful, almost a semblance…

Fearless is not a word I would use to describe myself.Careful.  Orderly.  Responsible. Thoughtful.Good.These adjectives are more accurate.I tend to analyze situations before jumping in.  I wait and pray and ponder, questioning extensively if said activity lines up with my values, my priorities, my written goals, my faith.Does the activity I’m about to choose fit the mold for who I am supposed to be?  For who others expect I should be?For who the Bible says I should be?I weigh my time and commitments on whether or not I’m pleasing God and my husband, or whether I’m sacrificing what I believe is one of my highest callings: motherhood.  (Actually, I’ve discovered that I have clung so tightly to my role as mother ~ have taken it so seriously, in fact ~ that I risk saying no to many good yesses for fear I’ll fall short in this area.  God and I…

The spring sun warms my face as I walk toward the front doors of the junior high.  7th and 8th grade students fan out from the doors, their childlike faces filled with joy and relief as they escape the structure of yet another school day.I quickly catch sight of him, strolling out in his black school-logoed hoodie, his trendy, over-priced backpack slung over his right shoulder.I raise my hand to wave, the usual thrill of seeing him each afternoon overcoming any protocol, eager to connect with him and hear the details of his day.As he draws near, I notice he is not smiling.  Matter of fact, his face reflects….What is that? Aggravation?  Or wait just a moment…..Could it be (by golly I think it is!)…..scorn?? And before I can even say hello, he grumbles, “Mom, what are you doing?”In a split second I understand.  Unlike all the other moms and…