Tag: life gets messy

The Order Within

Two days dedicated to feeding my soul.

My soul craves order. It’s when things aren’t in order around me I feel the order within slipping away. Every thing has it’s place, but I’ve relaxed this philosophy since my daughter isn’t here as often anymore. I used the hammer and level to hang an item on the wall, and instead of returning them to the tool caddy, I left them laying. Do this enough times and the house becomes out of order.

A month ago, I hung a hanging basket of Bougainvillea on each side of the front door. One morning I stepped outside onto the front porch and noticed dirt all over the left side of the porch. I didn’t think much about it and swept it away with the broom, but then it was there again the next morning. Same thing, different day. I looked at the hanging basket and it was missing half it’s dirt. There was a birds nest in place.

I moved the hanging basket out to the arbor, not to be tempted to disturb the making of the nest, but we still have the other one hanging by the front door. Earlier this week, I walked outside with my morning glass of water to dirt all over the other side of the front porch. Yes, there’s a birds nest being built inside the other hanging basket as well. It’s painful to recall how many garden centers I visited, and the weeks it took to find this color Bougainvillea in bloom to compliment the house.

Obviously there’s a couple of birds appreciative of my effort. From what I’ve seen so far is, if we’re living this life it’s going to get messy, but each day offers new opportunity to cultivate the order within.

Rejoice in what I’m doing in your life, even though it is beyond your understanding.

Jesus Calling ~ May 22

A Second Chance

Every moment allows space with endless possibilities. My goal is to not add so much to it that I ruin the moment.

Our cat has this new thing he’s been doing this week. I make my bed every morning, usually within 30 minutes of leaving it, but Friday I left it a mess. He casually strolls into my bedroom, hops up on the corner of the bed and curls up for a quick nap. He normally does this after I make it up, but today it’s unmade, so that doesn’t seem to matter to him. Maybe it’s the moment he’s after.

He looks guilty to me.

Now it’s 2:30 PM and the bed is still unmade.

I walked in to see what remnants were left behind from a Zoom earlier in the day, and spotted my favorite notebook, classic Kate Spade laying on the bed. I love this notebook, but earlier this week, I noticed it was almost out of pages. It was originally purchased to be used as a journal, but somehow transitioned over to notes from work. It has a hardcover, so it also doubles as a sturdy mouse pad.

They don’t make it anymore, but I asked my daughter to search and see if she can find it. She found one that is brand new, still in the package and for sale. She emailed me the link and it was purchased without hesitation.

I’m excited about getting the new one and it feels like having a second chance to use it more intentionally. Notes from work can be placed in any type notebook, as this notebook proves, not everything we love is easily replaced. Here I sit on a Friday, in a messy bed with the cat nearby, simply thrilled to have a second chance.

Crossing the Line

I’ve been using the pour over coffee dripper for my coffee each morning for a while now. It offers flexibility in cup size, and on Monday we go big.

It will fill any size cup you choose to sit under it. You just have to measure the right amount of water for the size of the cup. This morning, I measured 16 ounces of water for the gooseneck kettle, knowing this cup could hold it, but I’ve miscalculated before and that was messy.

My favorite cup and Blue Bottle coffee dripper.

One morning I grabbed a large mug thinking it was just as big as this one and treated it the same way, with 16 ounces of water. I allow time for the dripper to drain in between pours, so after the third and final pour, I walked into the next room. A few minutes later I went back into the kitchen for my coffee, only to find it pouring over the rim of the mug onto the chopping block.

It had poured over alright!

Thank God the spill had stayed on the chopping block, but I must have crossed the 16 ounce line. It’s times like these you go with what you know and make sure your Monday cup is cleaned on Sunday night.

The coffee dripper adds mystery to my morning. I’m never quite sure what I’m going to get. It calls for the water measurement to be precise, but I’m doing good just to get the water into the measuring cup much less read the lines. It’s when I cross the line that life gets messy.

I have an email to send this morning, and it feels like I may be crossing the line. That’s not going to stop me from sending it because I don’t live my life in the safe zone. When God opens the door of opportunity, communication can be awkward at first, but we don’t really know where the lines are, if any, until we cross them.

This is me, on a Monday, crossing the line.