Cherished {Five Minute Friday}


I’m writing a guest post for Pure & Simple (check these ladies out – I love the heart and vision behind their blog and the design is beautiful) and the theme is Cherish.  My mind has been full of this word for the past week, so it was fun that Lisa-Jo picked cherished as this week’s word for Five Minute Friday.

For fear of using all the content from my guest post, I’m going to avoid talking about my husband or marriage or love in these five (now three) minutes.

Cherish is a beautiful sentiment.  I appreciate the nuances of value and treasure embedded in the meaning.  To cherish is to hold tightly, to remember, to keep something close.

The things you cherish are special; they have meaning.  I recently went through my stuffed animals on a trip home and more than the bunny (because they were all bunnies) itself, I cherish each one because fond memories are attached to the object.

The people you cherish are dear and beloved.  You treasure moments of laughter, of tears, of living life with that person. Whether they are near or far, you cherish those memories because you value time spent with them.

I recently read Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts.  The challenge to count joys has been a fruitful exercise for me.  So also, I think, would counting cherished moments, cherished people, and cherished things in my life.  I would not be able to deny the many blessing God has given and continues to give.

Five Minute Friday

Read Along The Road


Highlights from my recent readings:

3 truths of personal growth | Simple Mom

Do whatever you can to drink from the fountain of wisdom. Sometimes it will be messy. Sometimes it will be a trickle. Sometimes it will rain down hard. But if you look for mentors, start now, and choose persistence, you’ll be in the perfect position to own your life and make it grow.

Now is the time to grow, learn and be women who inspire. 

{by Kat at Inspired To Action}

How Not To Miss Your Real Life Calling | A Holy Experience

A career is about the guidebook and a calling is about leaning on the Guide who speaks to you through His Book. A career is about making a plan and a calling is about trusting a Person who changes the plan. Grace, that careers can fall way to callings.

The call that thing one keeps listening for and the heart of faith is the ear.

{by Ann Voskamp}

Bricks: Final Thoughts On An Open Letter | the extraordinary ordinary

One day we will certainly all fall apart at once and with faces to the ground in our messes we will have to cry over all that we did not see. Oh no, actually, I do not mean the state of the sinful awful world around us but the state of our own hearts and minds and how did we not see?

{by Heather}

A Portion of Primitive

Primitive can be tricky.  It often connotes a rustic atmosphere, maybe a setting that lacks comfort and convenience.  But, the rustic qualities of primitive go hand-in-hand with the pastoral beauty of rural settings.

The same dichotomy applies to the un-paved aspects of life.  Primitive can be heartbreaking and painful, full of trials and obstacles.  But, the rough roads we traverse are often what yields the most abundant spiritual harvest.  Primitive produces eyes that see beyond circumstance, a joy that is not bound by daily pressures, and humble spirit that could only be brought on by a bumpy path.

Because I am reading One Thousand Gifts, gratitude is continually on my mind.  In the midst of irritation and frustration, I can’t help but hear the echoes of eucharisteo in my heart.  Sometimes, when all I want to do is wallow in my bitterness and cross feelings, I envision Ann running across a field, her apron flying behind as she chases the moon.  She is wanting to touch the beauty of creation, to feel a part of this life God made.

I know I have a responsibility to chase after my own moons, to reach out at all costs to find the eucharisteo in all life’s circumstances.  I choose whether to accept or whether to reject what God has so freely given.

I’m beginning to see eucharisteo is both the rustic and rich parts of life.  I see the beauty in primitive and I am thankful.

I look at rain and am thankful for the pines towering above in puddles below.

I sense the cold outside and am thankful for my cozy blankets and mugs of hot tea.

I participate in conflict and am thankful for grace and forgiveness.

We have each been dealt a portion of primitive.  We choose whether it is a source of burden or beauty.

How do you respond to your portion of primitive?

I’ll be featuring A Portion of Primitive occasionally to spotlight the primitive in my life.  My primitive this week is the natural beauty that surrounds our home.

Sometimes woods and trails are hard to traverse.  Just last week, Tim and I had to turn back from an attempt to hike because of icy conditions.  I was deeply thankful to see the trail overflowing with green this weekend, even in the middle of Winter.  


It’s no coincidence that as rain turned into slush that turned into big flakes of our first snow in Coeur d’Alene, I was stranded in a coffee shop with only a book to keep me occupied.  The book – One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

Tim and I had waited until the last minute to get our little car fixed up with snow worthy tires. So, it seemed, had most other people.  We were 31st in line and had a projected wait of four hours.  We resigned ourselves to making the coffee shop across the street our home for the evening.

Aside from an hour and a half interlude with some friends who graciously picked us up and fed us dinner, I spent over two hours immersed in Ann’s “list of naming God’s gifts.”  I read how eucharisteo is the fullness of life.  Thanksgiving. Gratitude.  They are inextricable from joy.

“I would never experience the fullness of my salvation until I expressed the fullness of my thanks every day, and eucharisteo is elemental to living the saved life,” Ann whispers in my ear.

The snow begins to fall when we leave our friends’ house and falls faster when we reenter our second home.  Walls shield me from the swiftly swirling snow as I hunker down for another hour of waiting, but coldness still penetrates my heart.

I have been dreading this blanket of white.  Snow means winter.  Winter means cold.  Cold means something dreary in my soul.  I so desperately want sun and warmth and sandals.

Even as I read and agree with Ann’s words that rejecting joy doesn’t rescue suffering, I am obstinate about my current displeasure.  I reject the beauty and the purity and the silence of snow.   It falls and my spirit falls with it.

I do not begin to melt until I hear the simple metaphor in my yearnings for heat and sunshine.  All I want is the sun and I am struck that the only thing that will get me through this season is the Son.  My innards stubbornly refuse to resign their sinking until eucharisteo reminds me again of the Son.

I cannot dwell low when the Son is shining high.

First with intentionality and then in a flood of thanks, I feel rays of His warmth kissing my skin in…

A bouquet of flowers and an ice scraper clutched tightly in my husbands hands.

The flicker of a candle flame reflected in our TV screen filled with fake fire.

Heat-filled cheeks from the steam of a hot bath.

Elegant green boughs heavy with white powder.

The oven timer signaling fresh-baked cookies are ready and warm.

My own list of naming God’s gifts has begun.  It is what propels me out of the cold, into the warmth of the Son.  With thousands of unique pieces of icy lace floating from the heavens, my heart echoes Ann’s prayer, “in the posture of euchariseo, I want to slow down and taste life, give thanks, and see God.”