ChrisTime 2010: Day Nine

Enabler.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" Philippians 4:13

I don't know what lies in store in 2011.

But I do know Who will be with me through it all.

And though some of the things ordained for me may cause great pain, I can trust that I will be given the strength to make it through each day.

Jesus is my enabler. I am remembering this this Christmas time.

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

It's been wonderful taking time to reflect on what Jesus means to me. Thank you to Kandace for the great idea. 

I hope you've all had a bright and blessed Christmas.

I'm heading up North to spend a couple of days with my beloved's family.

See you back on the blogosphere soonish <3

Ready for the holidays ...

I stocked up on holiday supplies after work: Lush loveliness; beautiful wintery yarn for a new chunky scarf;

strawberry toffees from my favourite sweetshop; the latest issue of oh comely ... 

 and came home to the surprise early arrival of my Cakies cameo hairclip

Today is the first day of my Christmas holiday.

Last night I stocked up on supplies, some of which are already gone. Ahem.

And we decorated the tree.

It's a little late, I know, but it's so much more enjoyable when you know you don't have to get up for work in the morning. I'll upload better pictures when my beloved brings his fancy camera round. But, for now, presenting Tabitha (yes, I name my trees. Last year it was Tina):

Meet Albert and Winifred. I got these Dala Folk Horse decorations this year to
add a bit of craft-y, folksy charm

After talking and relaxing by the fire, my father went to work, my mother went to bed, my beloved went home. And I?

'Candy Cane' bubble bar slice

Sat in a warm tub of pink, marshmallow-scented bubbles, with those strawberry toffees and a bar of red Lindt Lindor too. Because that's what you do when the working year is over and you don't have to get up early and resolutions to eat healthily can wait. I actually fell asleep in there ... and later scoffed the remainder of the treats in my fluffy red robe.

Now I'm off to eat breakfast for the first time in months, lather my hair in coconut and vanilla, and attempt some final bits of shopping. On Christmas Eve.

I'm ready for the holidays, yes siree.

ChrisTime 2010: Day Eight

Miracle

" ... I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." John 8:12

ChrisTime 2010: Day Seven

Inspiration

Just 30-odd years spent here on Earth.

He who comforted the brokenhearted. Healed the sick in body and soul. Spoke wisdom into the lives of so many. Loved His Father's creations in spite of the ugly lurking in their hearts - in our hearts - spilling over into harsh words and cruel acts.

Accepted His lot, resigned to His Father's will. Made time for what was important; for prayer, for serving, for fellowship.

Gave His life for us.

Fully God. And fully man. The spotless Lamb who experienced every emotion, every trial that we will ever go through. Literally felt our pain, shared in our suffering.

I am 26 years old. He lived, maybe, seven years longer? 

Jesus is my inspiration. And so He should be.

But am I living like it? One definition of inspiration is the act of influencing - the power or capacity of causing an effect.

Am I effected by Jesus's life? Not just moved, affected, but actually effected; spurred to action, to do likewise.

Do I love wholly and without fear? Giving of myself until I am spent? Am I caring for my neighbour as I would for myself?

Am I making time for what really matters? Living with purpose and intent? This is something that requires careful prayer and thought, lest I waste my Earth-time merely indulging in frivolities and trifles.

Jesus is my inspiration. I am remembering this - and praying to be effected by it - this Christmas time.

ChrisTime 2010: Day Six

Tomorrow.

No matter what today looked like.

Whether it was magical,

Or whether everything that could go wrong did.

No matter what the next day holds.

Fun and excitement,

Or trials of the kind my flesh deems unbearable.

Jesus is my hope for tomorrow.

I can bring my cares and concerns to Him.

Rest.

In His assurance

That He will never leave us

Nor forsake us

Jesus does not promise an easy tomorrow.

But He does promise a tomorrow

By His side.

Jesus is my hope for tomorrow. I am remembering this this Christmas time.

ChrisTime 2010: Day Five

Saviour. 

"Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the LORD revealed? 

For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.

He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.

He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken.

And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.

Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the LORD shall prosper in his hand.

He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities.

Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death: and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors." Isaiah 53

ChrisTime 2010: Day Four

Intercessor.

I remember being utterly humbled when I learned that Jesus prays for us. He is, for want of a better word, our go-between. He speaks to God on our behalf - and He alone is able to do so.

The thought that Jesus is in heaven interceding for me, pleading for me, petitioning for me? Is such a great comfort, especially during those times when all I can do is put one foot in front of the other and cry help.

It still fills me with awe. That Jesus personally brings my prayers before God.

"Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death: and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors." Isaiah 53:12

"Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them." Hebrews 7:25

Jesus is my Intercessor. I am reflecting on this this Christmas time.

ChrisTime 2010: Day Three

 Reviver.

(I'm not convinced it's gramatically correct to use the word in that way. But since my posts are taking the form of "Jesus is my ... " I'm going to make an exception. Editor geekiness over.)

In the spirit of honesty?

I'm tired.

Physically, mentally, emotionally.

Scrap that. I'm exhausted.

I accept that might sound melodramatic. But it's the truth.

I have felt like a hamster in a wheel for a long time. As some of my 'sparklier' posts will testify, there have been good days; very good days. But I realise now that the general tiredness lurking beneath it all? Has never gone away.

Burden-carrying is draining work. But it's not the only reason for my fatigue.

My night-owl tendencies have gotten the better of me. I've been eating copious amounts of junk food. Work has been extremely busy, more so than usual.

And most importantly?

I've failed to prioritise what is needful. And wasted time on what really isn't.

I've flitted and floated from magical thing to magical thing, letting my feelings carry me here, there and everywhere. I've longed to instantly be accepted into inner circles instead of trusting God to build relationships in His timing. I've let ugly habits creep in: covetousness, envy, restlessness.

And I've worried.
   And worried.
      And worried.
        
Instead of resting in Him. And embracing where He has placed me.

Here. 

In London. 

An unmarried twenty-something with a full-time job. 

And everything that entails.

Spending quality time with God and my family, paying careful attention to both my professional and personal work, and preparing for Christmas have taken a backseat to surfing the Web and daydreaming. To what-ifs. And if-onlys. And I-wishes.

It's left me disorganised and exhausted. 

The very reason I started this blog was to stop focusing on other people's lives and start living my own. Somewhere along the line I've lost sight of that.

Thank God for grace. For His precious Gift to us.

Jesus is my reviver.

I've been blessed with some time off work this Christmas and I plan to take time to rest. Really rest. Not just get my eight hours a night. But rest in Jesus; that He would revive me, refresh me.

I want to lie down in green pastures beside still waters; close my eyes and just be. Because the world won't end when I stop worrying. When I quit being anxious for everything. When I let go and let Him.

Jesus gives me new vitality; causes me to flourish. He renews my mind and helps me to live intentionally. To give thanks for my life and my circumstances. He gives me strength to live each day to the fullest and prioritise those things that have eternal value.

I am remembering this this Christmas time.

ChrisTime 2010: Day Two

Healer. Helper.

Sometimes life feels too difficult to bear.

But often? I bring it on myself.

Carry burdens that were never meant for me. Burdens I should have left at the Cross a long time ago.

The emotional burdens hurt the most. They weight heavy on my heart as I fear and fret, wondering how I'm going to deal with things.

As if I could. As if I know the way forward. Who do I think I am?

See, my intentions are sincere. My soul aches for the ones I love and I long to help. Long to make things better.

But no matter how I dress it up, it's pride. It's me saying I can do what Jesus alone can.

I can pray and encourage. But the rest? Is out of my hands.

Jesus is the true Healer. The true helper. He reveals God to us, brings restoration, helps us stay on the narrow path.

He alone made a way.

Sometimes I long to shake my loved ones and cry, "Don't you see? Don't you understand?"

But in many cases they don't.

And only Jesus can bring revelation.

No amount of crying and nagging and wringing my hands will work. It will rob me of my peace and alienate the very ones I'm trying to help.

I cannot heal.

But He can.

I cannot help beyond prayer and encouragement.

But He can.
Jesus is my Healer. My Helper. I can depend on Him. I am remembering this this Christmas time.

ChrisTime 2010: Day One

Counsellor.

In my Bible, Jesus's words are printed in red. They stand out on the page, immediately pointing me to His teachings.

I need that.

The pure, unadulterated words of my Saviour.

Because this world is overloaded with books that talk about Jesus; about how to draw closer to Him, how to be more like Him.

Some of them certainly have their place.

But others? For all their sincere intentions? Noise. Distraction.

A couple of Bible verses followed by verbose prose full of anectodes and "life application".

When did the the Word of God stop being enough? When did we swap Jesus Himself for man's interpretation?

Maybe I'm particularly harsh about this because I know what it is to be sucked into a crazy whirlwind of "Christian" self-help.

At one point I owned every volume on managing my emotions that I could find. I had relationship books by authors of every culture. Whenever I felt down, instead of turning to the Word I'd choose a brightly-coloured volume laden with peppy me-me-me slogans. Or something soothing in pastel shades that equally encouraged me to look inwards.

The result? Was self-obsession. And pure confusion.

Because books are fallible. Not God-breathed. Not divinely inspired by the very One who knitted me into existence. To make them our source of counsel? Is futile.

Seeking out self-help instead of God-truth left me dependent on man. When something went wrong, I would immediately turn to my beloved or a sister. I craved analysis, explanation, sympathy. Pure distilled truth? Not tangible enough. Comforting enough. I wanted to feel a hug, to hear a voice.

But it never worked. There may have been temporary happiness, but there was never lasting joy. I longed to be more like Jesus but ended up feeling more fleshly than ever.

Man cannot do what Jesus alone can. Praise God for revelation.

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." Isaiah 9:6, emphasis mine.

Jesus is my counsellor. I can come to Him at any time; pour out my troubles to Him in prayer and thanksgiving. He hears me and comforts me. He points me in the right way. He encourages me to look upwards and outwards; to place no trust in my feelings.

Prayer and reading of the Word brings joy, peace. It teaches patient trust. And it increases faith.
I am still a tangible person. I still feel deeply. But I strive to seek my Counsellor above all others, even those dear to my heart.
Jesus is my counsellor. I am remembering this this Christmas time.

Christmas roses

 At the end of a 15-hour day, could anything gladden the heart more than these?

#246 "Mud-luscious" and "puddle-wonderful"
#247 Tights covered in flowers
#248 Looking through old photographs and remembering the blessings
#249 Sister parties
#250 Crocheted dinosaurs made by dear friends
#251 A free stand for our Christmas tree
#252 The German-style Cologne Christmas Market on the Southbank - hot apple juice, currywurst and fudge
#253 Lush
#254 People passionate about sustainable development for the poor
#255 Bumping into interviewees in the most mind-blowingly God-orchestrated ways
#256 The joy that comes from trusting Him and doing hard things
#257 Sparkly red 'Christmas' roses from my beloved

Glitter

I struggle to live in the moment when I know there's something daunting or difficult around the corner.

When my heart is not at peace.

Yesterday my boss asked me to attend a conference that would involve waking up before 6am and travelling for more than two hours. She gave me "first refusal" but really? Nobody says no to something like that unless they have a genuine excuse (apparently I-kicking-screaming-just-don't-wanna doesn't qualify).

My heart was not at peace. And the idea of going as a journalist (hunting down stories) rather than a delegate (sitting back and soaking up knowledge)? Most definitely daunting.

To set the stage for self-pity, I had managed to sprain my wrist. And my blog was lonely, which in all honesty? Made me sad. I had to stare at that black box in my sidebar for a long time and remind myself Who this writing venture is for.

As the working day drew to a close, I could feel the knot in my stomach. Don't want to go to bed early. Don't want to wake up early. Don't want to spend the day chasing scoops (unless there's ice cream involved).

I took a deep breath. Uttered a quiet prayer.

And decided this would be the day I purposefully enjoy myself despite the Dreaded Tomorrow awaiting me.

So?

'Sunnyside' - smells like oranges and leaves your skin covered in gold fairydust

I headed to Lush. 

Bought the sparkliest bubble bar I could find. 

And relaxed in a warm tub of tangerine-scented glitter reading my favourite book in the world.

My head insisted I couldn't have a long, luxurious bath at a time like this. 

My heart? Declared it's exactly times like these that call for sparkles and the March sisters.

Because there will never be a "better" time.

This moment is all we're guaranteed.

**********

There was still some fairydust on my skin when I interviewed people this morning.

But that's just part of the fun ;)

Sisters

I am an only child.

My parents didn't intend for it to be that way. They tried to grow their young family; mother, father and me.

God had other plans.

It was fun being a princess, a daddy's girl. The first of everything, the best of everything. I knew nothing of the pain of miscarrying - that truth would be revealed years down the line. All I knew at the time was the three of us in our little nest and me the centre of attention, lavished with love.

I held under-the-duvet tea parties with imaginary friends and rabbits. We discussed Very Important Things and ate jam cakes until heavy lids gave way. Come morning I would teach make-believe students and mark their 'schoolbooks' with red pen and a prim satisfaction. Soon there were real friends to be made at pre-school; a world of PVA glue, tricycles and birthday parties.

I blew out 5 candles of my own and started 'big school', My Little Pony lunchbox in tow.

And, as the years passed, I began to feel the lack.

No-one to whisper to in the dark. No clothes to swap or secrets to share. No arguments, unpleasant but necessary rites of passage as you navigate this thing called life.

Schoolfriends just weren't the same.

I wanted a sister.

It was biologically impossible, I knew that. But I longed for a heart-sister, a kindred spirit; one who pushed through niceties to really see me. Who dove to the bottom of the pit to find me and help me fight my way back up, holding me in prayer and laughter the whole way.

I wondered if it was too much to ask.

When you're ebony curls in a sea of golden silk; when your skin is wafer thin; when you see no wrong in respecting teachers and turning in assignments on time, childish cruelty pricks the soul and the prospects of sisterhood seem slim.

The 12-year-old innocent gives way to a jaded girl of 16 who mocks the idea of a kindred and feigns acceptance of shallow friendships that eventually break her heart. Nothing destroys a teenage soul like whispered fears and insecurities laid bare for all to see.

I grew cynical. But God is always on time. He healed the wounds of gossip and drew me away from the crowd. He found me a quiet corner to rest in Him. And He chose to fulfil a childhood longing that had grown into a throbbing ache.

Last night I stayed over at my sister's house. 

We feasted on pizza and a decadent chocolate creation that someone gifted this cake-monster with in the office Secret Santa.

We talked about anything and everything and nothing and laughed until it hurt.

We watched rom-coms and shouted at the screen.

There was crochet and skirt-fixing; Stevie Wonder and girl-talk.

She is 30 to my 26 and a crafter extraordinaire. We became sisters three years ago and have camped and cried and danced and disagreed and laughed and sang since then.

I will never have a biological sister. But, after years of waiting, I have heart-sisters.

Women who love me as I am and tell me when to fix up. Who do the funky chicken with me in this dance of life, figuratively and literally. Who deem beautiful the very things that once alienated me.

To the ones who will read this and the ones who won't. The ones I see every week and the ones I've never met.

Thank you.

I have waited for you for what felt like forever. You are my answered prayer, my gift, and I cannot imagine my life without you.

"Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made:

Our times are in His hand

Who saith "A whole I planned,

Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!''"

- Robert Browning

It's the little things

Everyday dashes of whimsy.

To beautify.

Stir the heart.

And nourish the soul.

I embrace my reality gladly.

With flowers on my legs.

And poetry on my lips.

Stealing away to reality ...

I cuddled babies, stroked pets and toasted crumpets by an open fire. 

Accompanied by fry-ups and gallons of tea.

It was good for the soul.

My beloved's hometown, Bolton, is a world away from London. It's not a picturesque village, but there are cottages, trees and open spaces a-plenty.

This is a place where people stop to talk to eachother; where, instead of high street brands, you find charity shops and wool shops and general 'knick knack' shops that leave me giddy.

More importantly? (although my quixotical self sometimes insists few things could be more important than yarn and treasures ...) Life, for the most part, moves slowly. Quietly. Without fanfare.

This is the kind of place to be when your heart is weary from the frenzy of the Big Smoke and you just.
  Need.
    To.
      Get.
        Away.

We slept on airbeds - his double one the centrepiece of the living room, mine crammed into the study - in the cosy cottage his mother and stepfather renovated not two years ago. They found it broken and unloved, and saw what it could be. Many affectionately rolled eyes and shook heads.

But now? It's a home like no other.

A stained-glass star hangs in the window that looks out to where birds come to feed. Grandchildren, pets and local artists adorn the ledges and walls. A wooden dresser displays green-flecked crockery and birthday gifts.

There's the country table where the family so often gathers; the floral sofa and armchairs everyone retires to to soothe full tummies with a warm brew.

Mabel, beloved mongrel, stretches out in her corner. A bag of knitting sits by the fire. Upstairs, fairy lights twinkle above their bed. And on the nearby allotment, the earth is ready to receive the seeds that will that grow their way into delicious recipes all year long.

There isn't enough room to stay more than a few days. But give me airbeds and peace over a four-poster and a restless heart anyday.

And I hope I always feel that way.

At my beloved's sister's bungalow, the atmosphere is a little livelier - she's a mama to two under-3s :)

But this?

This happy chaos of gurgles and shouts and toys?

It warms my heart and makes me glad to be alive.

There's nothing like nose-kissing a chubby, smiling baby with wild-bloom cheeks and too-big dungarees. Like hearing his curly-haired big brother call me Auntie and slay the only-child-sadness that occassionally pricks. Like stroking docile cats who somehow doze quietly in the middle of the crazy ... until a tail is pulled or an eye poked.

Here, and at the cottage, you'll find simple pleasures. Laughter. Full plates. And best of all? A sense that life is there to be lived, not dreamed about.

One thing I have always admired about my beloved's family is their ability to accept their reality and get on with it. To make the most of what they have. Certainly the countryside is more peaceful than the city. And of course it's easier to find rest where there is calm and quiet.

But peace and rest are not exclusive to to the countryside. It took a weekend there to show me this.

I am no stranger to whimsy. No hater of dreams.

But sometimes? I get so lost in my imagination; in the I wishes and the if onlys. That I steal my peace and rest. The "frenzy of the Big Smoke" is real. But, often, I aggravate it.

I forget that it is possible to live a city life and maintain a country heart. That outside there may be frenzy but inside there can be peace. And the rest? I can make time. I don't have to say yes to everything. I don't have to let my feelings put me on a leash and drag me every which way. I can slow down. Now and then? I can even stop.

We are only guaranteed the now. This one moment is all we have. And not all of us can spend it among greenery.

Are you embracing your here and now? With all its simple pleasures? Are you awakening your senses to what is around you? Or do you constantly steal them away to a make-believe world that reality can never live up to?

Steal away to reality. Whether that reality is snow-covered countryside or a smog-filled town. Gurgling babies or a full-time job.

Live contentedly.
   Peacefully.
     Make time to rest.
       Make the best of what you have been given.
         And remember to give thanks.

#227 A warm car - heating fixed by my beloved when all I requested was a little fan-heater to warm our toes
#228 Hot chocolate with marshmallows en route
#229 The wonder of a tiny cottage covered in snow
#230 The woodpile outside the front door
#231 Toasting crumpets by an open fire
#232 Mabel
#233 Sitting in the warmth and doing nothing in particular
#234 Sliding socked feet against the polished floor
#235 Debuting my Joules wellies
#236 Holding sweet babies close
#237 A blue-eyed cutie gingerly licking cake batter straight off the spatula
#238 Fry-ups
#239 A full mug
#240 Dressing for dinner
#241 Discussing faith long into the night
#242 Dozy cats with the softest fur
#243 Little butterfly-print dresses
#244 Baby curls
#245 Happy chaos that soothes the soul

PS: I just realised that I haven't been adding the 'Thousand Gifts' button. So, starting as I mean to go on, it's making an appearance today :)

This and that

Well hello there :)

It is *freezing* in the Londonium - relative to our usual weather, at least. I ventured out at lunchtime, in a beige knitted hat that can best be described as hobo-chic, and bought out all the fresh cream and jam slices in the supermarket.

Because this kind of weather calls for comforting creamy things loaded with sugar, am I right?

On Tuesday night I came home from rush hour and icy winds to a surprise in the post. All the way from Australia!

Hand-painted tea towel tied up with string ... this is just one of my favourite things

Ok, I confess. It's not *exactly* a surprise. It's the hand-painted tea towel I ordered from Dawn Tan Wenyi - she of beautiful recipe ingredient prints fame.

But I wasn't expecting it so soon.

The tea towel itself is a delight. But the packaging? Too cute. Tea towel, doilie and recipe for Julie's Chocolate Cream Pie (from Julie and Julia - if you haven't seen that movie, you should), all tied up prettily with brown string. My photos are awful but *sheepish* I can't tie the string as nicely as she can, so these will have to do. Ahem.

And yes, that is gingham you spy around the edge of the recipe card <3

Dawn included a free print with every Christmas order. I got this one (again, excuse rubbish photo):

Note the cute thank-you doilies ...

.. and now I can't stop singing the song. It keeps my heart warm and happy while I'm waiting on the train platform watching my own breath.

Hurrah for surprises in the mail. Especially ones from far-away lands ... This is just one of the reasons why I love Etsy so much. Sigh.

So, it's December! Are you all feeling festive yet?

Yesterday I opened the first door in our office Advent calendar (thank you first-letter-in-the-alphabet surname). And today, Jill, our lovely office manager, sprayed frosty white stencils on our windows. There's a snowman on mine, peeping through the curtain of fairy lights. Our Christmas tree is up too, complete with company-logo topper fashioned from cardboard and a toilet roll tube. Craft-y goodness.

We usually put our decorations up mid-December at home, something of a tradition for us. But I think I'm going to rebel tonight and hang the little scented wreath I got from the Country Living Christmas Fair above our fireplace :) 

Speaking of Christmas, I have some exciting news - starting on December 15th, Kandace at 'Moments and Memories' is hosting a blog hop (I love that phrase - makes me think of dancing. Lindy hop? I don't know).

'ChrisTime 2010', fashioned on the GreaThings 2010 hop that Chantel just hosted, is an opportunity for us to reflect on the real reason for the season and praise Jesus for all His good gifts. I don't know about you, but Christmas always takes me by surprise - resulting in frantic rushing around and barely enough time for my regular devotional time, let alone extra time to just be and give thanks to God for His wonderful gift.

I'm jumping on board the ChrisTime train - join me? Click on the image below to get to Kandace's post (she explains things much better than I can):

This weekend I'm heading up north to Bolton (a small town in the northwest of England, about 20-odd miles from Manchester) to celebrate my beloved's dad's 50th birthday. Yeah, he has *young* parents.

If we manage to navigate the anticipated heavy snow, it should be a lovely, relaxing time. I haven't seen his family since March ... time really does have wings.

We're driving up tomorrow evening, by which time I pray he's found a heater for his little Fiesta. Sometimes I think it's actually warmer outside :)

So. I might sprinkle some fairy dust here and there - but it's mostly goodbye from Yarnbelle until Monday.

Hope you all have beautiful weekends filled with peace and quality time. And lots of tea to ward off the cold. Vintage teacup optional.

I leave you with some encouragement from J. C. Ryle:

It costs something to be a true Christian. Let that never be forgotten. To be a mere nominal Christian, and go to church, is cheap and easy work. But to hear Christ's voice, and follow Christ, and believe in Christ, and confess Christ, requires much self-denial. It will cost us our sins, and our self-righteousness, and our ease, and our worldliness. All- all must be given up. We must fight an enemy who comes against us with twenty thousand followers. We must build a tower in troubled times. Our Lord Jesus Christ would have us thoroughly understand this. He bids us "count the cost."