Help Me Sing 376

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Ye souls, who are bound unto Canaan,
Come, join in and help me to sing
The praises of my loving Jesus,
My Prophet, my Priest and my King.
His name is most sweetly melodious,
‘Twill help you most swiftly to move,
While Jesus Himself is the leader,
We’re bound by the cords of His love.
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Help Me to Sing (Disc 2: Help Me to Sing)

You haven't heard this song sung until you've heard Mac Powell's arrangement (just my personal opinion, though). I have it repeating in my itunes library. It is ministering to my soul. From the CD "Awake My Soul & Help Me to Sing (the Original Soundtrack)".

"Help Me To Sing" sung here on YouTube

~From Christian’s discourse with Piety, Prudence and Charity at the house, Beautiful.~

"PRUDENCE: ‘Do you not yet bear away with you some of the things that then you were conversant withal?’

CHRISTIAN: ‘Yes, but greatly against my will, especially my inward and carnal cogitations with which all my countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But now all those things are my grief, and might I but choose mine own things I would choose never to think of those things more; but when I would be doing that which is best that which is worst is with me.’

PRUDENCE: ‘Do you not find sometimes as if those things were vanquished which at other times are your perplexity?’

CHRISTIAN: ‘Yes, but that is but seldom, but they are to me golden hours in which such things happens to me.’

PRUDENCE: ‘Can you remember by what means you find your annoyances at times as if they were vanquished?’

CHRISTIAN: ‘Yes, when I think what I saw at the cross, that will do it; and when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do it. Also when I look into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will do it; and when my thoughts wax warm about wither I am going, that will do it’

PRUDENCE: ‘And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion?’

CHRISTIAN: ‘Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross, and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to me. There they say there is no death, and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best. For to tell you truth, I love Him, for because I was by Him eased of my burden, and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would feign be where I should die no more, and with the company that should continually cry, “Holy, holy, holy”.’"

From The Pilgrim’s Progress, by John Bunyan

I transcribed this from an audio recording, so the punctuation and capitalization is all mine. Please excuse it.
I don’t have a hard copy of the original in my home (*horror*).

We two

::

While straightening up around our main room in the late afternoon I suddenly had a sense that all was not right with my table. There was a distinct lack of tableclothage. It needed softening. I began hunting about with an appropriating eye and came upon a lovely old jumper of mine (lovely in fabric that is, but not so much in cut). Out came the pinking shears and now I have a lovely tablecloth. So it doesn't cover the table? Ah, yes--I like to think of it as having style. Notice the lovely swoop of the hem? mm hhmm! Perfect.

(Thankfully there's still enough laminate surface in case you need to set something sticky down. Suddenly.)
::

Now for Post-Snacktime Pictures:

Do you see how she keeps trying to peek around the camera to smile at me? Precious thing. She was also making silly faces and trying to get me to make them back to her. Which I did. Of course.

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(Uh-oh. Her book fell down.)

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How would you like...

...to do this for a few hours on your weekend with the temperature around zero and a strong northwest wind blowing in your face? Yeah, me neither. (I took the picture from the safety of the inside of the picture window. :))

Mr. Dude was helping his dad insulate their home. Greta and I spent the afternoon inside with Grandma and aunties, which was cozy and mostly safe from the cold; the only slightly perilous part of that was the front door being open to let the hose from above-pictured paper-chopper-thing in (duct tape and blankets helped!)

~'::

memories we share together
moments no one else can know
i will keep them close to me
never let them go

once you filled my hands with roses
then you gave your heart to me
when a kiss had followed this
love was meant to be

time goes by and the snow is drifting
slowly in the sky
cold cold night as you lie beside me
i can hear your heartbeat

you have lost yourself in dreaming
i have lost myself in you
now we lie beneath the sky
stars and midnight blue

FROM THE ALBUM "And Winter Came" BY ENYA
(Still searching for a good audio clip)
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love you, Man

Gallery of an after-naptime face

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Pictures for Mimi & Grandma who don't mind seeing lots of pictures of The Face ~'::

naptime

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sickies

We're recovering from the inevitable midwinter flu bug...many thanks to our dear ones for their ministrations of comfort!

Moving Snow

Snugged into the big machine Saturday morning to push snow off of the boulevard at church ~ we three by the sea

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such a smile

{washing}

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little face

You know it's cold when...
...you go out to the three season porch to get wood and your hand sticks to the handle of the door to the house.

The actual temperature right now: -21°F

(It was only a minor sort of sticking; my hand is fine :).)

winter project

A collection of crocheted food for Greta to cook with alongside me in the kitchen--for her first birthday in a couple of months.

(Inspired by a friend's creations and waldorf mama's advent gift)

{from my man}

My new kitchen shelves:

Before

After

My man and I both love to work on projects, and the Christmas holidays are the perfect time to get some things done that need doing around the house. The shop that Caleb works at was closed over the week between Christmas and New Year, so we had several pleasant days together. Our main room got painted "Cup of Cocoa" brown, and we picked up some natural slate tiles for our entry. I asked my handsome dude if he had any insight into how to better utilize my kitchen space (something about those piles of things-without-a-place was getting to me), and he offered to make some shelves especially for my wall space.

I am thrilled with them. They're made of beautiful Red Oak boards and have a lovely, glossy finish. Beautiful. Real dream-kitchen material here. The kitchen feels much less crowded, but I actually have a place for everything!

This Is Now

‘When Laura and Mary had said their prayers and were tucked snugly under the trundle bed’s covers, Pa was sitting in the fire-light with the fiddle. Ma had blown out the lamp because she did not need its light. On the other side of the hearth she was swaying gently in her rocking chair and her knitting needles flashed in and out above the sock she was knitting.
The long winter evenings of fire-light and music had come again.

Pa’s fiddle wailed while Pa was singing:

.“Oh, Susi-an-na, don’t you cry for me,
. I’m going to Cal-i-for-ni-a,
. The gold dust for to see.’

Then Pa began to play again the song about Old Grimes. But he did not sing the words he had sung when Ma was making cheese. These words were different. Pa’s strong, sweet voice was softly singing:

.“Shall auld acquaintance be forgot,
. And never brought to mind?
. Shall auld acquaintance be forgot,
. And the days of auld lang syne?
. And the days of auld lang syne, my friend,
. And the days of auld lang syne,
. Shall auld acquaintance be forgot,
. And the days of auld lang syne?”

When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, “What are days of auld lang syne, Pa?”

“They are the days of a long time ago, Laura,” Pa said. “Go to sleep, now.”

But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa’s fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods. She looked at Pa sitting on the bench by the hearth, the fire-light gleaming on his brown hair and beard and glistening on the honey-brown fiddle. She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting.

She thought to herself, “This is now.”

She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.’

(Little House in the Big Woods, HarperCollins [1971], pp. 236-238)

~'::

I am treasuring, savoring, enjoying these days of now with aching thankfulness.

I see now that my mama’s love of this stage of the almost-one-year-old is more than just a love of motherhood in general. There is a special, golden sweetness about these hours of happy play and discovery. Learning to love music and words and expression, charming Daddy with silly faces, splashing in warm bubbly baths, coming back for affectionate snuggles and noonies. I am filling myself up to the brim with this sweetness to savor always.

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(Greta sitting in her toy-box)

~'::

Greta loves it when I play a Judy Rogers cassette for her in my CD player in the kitchen. She crawls as fast as she can over to it, climbs up to the shelf, then smiles and laughs and bounces up and down. Usually we listen to "Why Can't I See God?", and usually mommie sings along. Soon Greta Rosie will too. :)

Evening listening for quieting busy little persons during supper and bathtime has been another of my childhood favorite cassette tapes, "G'night Wolfgang". I was thinking the other evening that perhaps it would be a good idea to get a copy of it on CD for when the cassette dies. I wondered, though, would it even have the same comfort factor without all of the familiar warbles?

{from the 25th}

Taken by Will

morning bath

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Such a big girl!