From An Island Girl

For Kim...

Hope you enjoy these!

Photo credit - Rinda Dean

Photo credit - Rinda Dean

These photos are taken by my best friend Rinda Dean - Doesn't she have an eye for beauty?

She lives about a mile or so from this lighthouse.

We love to walk down there,

listen to the waves,

watch the sunset.

It's so beautiful.

Photo credit - Sarah Dean

You might find us kayaking among the icebergs too or maybe icefloe dancing!

(Thanks Julana for coining that term - I really like it!)

Flavours...

You Are Mud Pie

You're the perfect combo of flavor and depth Those who like you give into their impulses

What Kind of Pie Are You?

I don't think I even like mudpie!! It's so rich....where's my lemon pie?? I guess I'm not "sassy and sweet"

Treasures of the Heart

Photo by Rinda Dean

Sparrow has done it again - I read Blogging Joy? and I'm inspired not only to leave a comment but to head back here and write. She causes me to reflect. She challenges me as I carve out this little space in the Blogosphere.

Sparrow writes "If you are a blogger, read through your last 10 or 15 posts. Is joy illuminating your words? I'm not talking about simple happiness, nor am I talking about hiding struggles. I'm talking about deep, abiding joy that shines through in hope and peace, despite the circumstances."

In The Writing Life, Annie Dillard also explores the purpose of writing and of reading. She characterizes it as one of waking up:

"Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mysteries probed? Why are we reading if not in hope that the writer will magnify and dramatize our days, will illuminate and inspire us with wisdom, courage, and the possibility of meaningfulness, and will press upon our minds the deepest mysteries, so we may feel again their majesty and power? . . . Why does death so catch us by surprise, and why love? We still and always want waking. We should amass half dressed in long lines like tribesmen and shake gourds at each other, to wake up; instead, we watch television and miss the show"

This, I think, is my task as a believer and a writer - (songs, journals and now a blog)

to waken my reader,
to lay beauty bare,
to heighten life,
to probe mysteries.

Some, like Dillard, handle words as an artist wields a paintbrush. The rest of us struggle to articulate thoughts and deep feelings - we edit- we delete - we agonize.

What shall we write about? Sometimes the blank page or screen can be so intimidating.

Other times we whip off an entry that with a click of a mouse is available to anyone with internet connection...

Selah.

A time to stop and reflect.


We write so that others will read - whether we have a few visitors or many. Our readers will get to know us because our writing is a reflection of who we are.

So, perhaps, the real question is not so much what do we write but from where do we write.

"For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks

(or the blogger writes).

A good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good things..." NKJV

My hope and prayer is that Sparrow's Home becomes a place where the treasures of my heart are shared.

And where, even in my struggle,

the beauty of the love of God revealed in Jesus Christ shines through every word.

And now? I'm going to re read my posts and count how many times I mention joy....

Wordclouds and other sundries

Things to do when you're stormedstayed.... (have you heard of this term? My American friend never heard of this word until she moved up here. stormstayed - meaning unable to get out of the house because of a blizzard.)

make a word cloud
read
nap
play board games
eat
eat and read
watch a movie
blog (of course)
bake
make soup
play piano
play guitar
knit
play computer
study (this from my daughter who was supposed to write an exam today...)

get caught up on housework - not

Storm day

Sparrow is making scones - I'll be giving that recipe a try! I need to buy buttermilk though and I can't get down to the store right now - we are finally having our first storm of 2006 and only the second of the season! It's been a strange winter for us - hardly any snow. But today the schools and offices are closed - the plows have been called off the roads - and everyone is snug and warm in front of their woodstoves.

It's so nice to have a good old fashioned storm! This is the order of the day: naps, reading, blogging, movies (I borrowed My Fair Lady from the library last week and I'll finally get a chance to see it today) and fresh rolls! Our neighbour braved the elements and brought us fresh rolls still warm from the oven. Mmmmm, they smell so good.

The roll recipe is from New Glasgow, the Home of the Original PEI Lobster Supper People still line up outside the restaurant to buy rolls by the bagful when the supper is over for the evening. The recipe was a well guarded secret for many years but there must have been a mole in the establishment and the recipe was leaked. Now you can find it in many PEI cookbooks.

New Glasgow Lobster Supper Rolls
3 T yeast
3 T sugar
2 c warm water
1 c white sugar
1 c shortening
4 tsp salt
4 c hot water
3 beaten eggs
12 c flour

Dissolve 3 tsp sugar in 2 c warm water in large bowl - sprinkle yeast - let stand.
In saucepan melt shortening, sugar salt and hot water. Whisk until mixed, let cool and then add 3 beaten eggs.
Add this mixture to the yeast mixture. Add 1/2 of the flour and beat with wooden spoon. (don't ask me why ...)
Gradually add enough of the remaining flour until a soft dough forms.
Knead for 10 min. flouring the surface as needed. Place in greased bowl and let rise until doubled.
Punch down in center. Place 2 balls of dough in greased muffin tin for each roll. Let rise for 30 min. Bake at 350 degrees for about 17-20 min.

Enjoy!

She Is With Him

photo credit - Rinda Dean

How Deep the Father's Love

How deep the Father's love for us

How vast beyond all measure

That He would give His only Son

To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss

The Father turns His face away

As wounds which mar the chosen One

Bring many sons to glory

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Behold the Man upon a cross

My guilt upon His shoulders

Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice

Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there

Until it was accomplished

His dying breath has brought me life

I know that it is finished

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I will not boast in anything

No gifts, no powr's, no wisdom

But I will boast in Jesus Christ

His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?

I cannot give an answer

But this I know with all my heart

His wounds have paid my ransom - written by Stuart Townend

Cheryl asked my son and me to sing this song at her funeral. 3 pm Friday. Her son will play violin.

Cancer is a thief and a robber - yet she is with Him.

Her leaving has left an empty space - a space she had filled with her laughter - her warmth - her incredible sense of humour - her vibrant faith.

And we are grieving - yet not as those who have no hope - she is with Him.

"In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."

A Candle for Cheryl

I am lighting this candle for Cheryl - who is dying of cancer -
a wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend.
Sometimes there are no words...

In Christ Alone

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save
'Till on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sin's curse has lost it's grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Brought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life's first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
'Till He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand

written by Stuart Townend & Keith Getty