Mostly about silly things– yellow backpacks and coffee and Christmas.  It helps keep writing fun, because research and theology papers have the ability to suck all life out of writing.

Also, I kind of want to prove to my grandchildren that I lived an entertaining life and didn’t merely sit around and knit (though I’m realizing more and more that my life is becoming one of a grandmother: my body shuts down with the Sun, I swear by Denny’s, and I do knit and like books).

Lots of things are fun and lack purpose though, so I don’t ever want to dismiss my purpose in writing (or going to class or serving or being in Pi Phi or whatever else my scattered schedule holds this week).

I write to bring glory to the God Most High.

Whether I’ve made it clear or not, it cannot be overstated or understated, repeated too many times, shouted too loudly or whispered more sweetly or with more force.

I desire to live for Christ.

I deserved hell and still do, but by dying an excruciating death with nothing but a perfect, yes perfect, record, his hands were pierced on my behalf.

And yours.

Blood flowed, tears fell, and payment was paid.  A giant payment that makes grace impossible to comprehend.  If I ever claim to understand it, it’ll only be when I’m standing before the throne of God and He’s personally explaining it.

Knowing this God is my goal.

I fail often- so often that when I see glimpses of Him I want to smack myself on the face and then am taken back to the classroom of grace.

I’m learning.
Learn with me.
I promise you it’ll blow your mind.

and heart.

For Christmas I got my first winter coat in years, and living in Missouri we can all admit it was needed.  It’s yellow.  As is the single purse I’ve begun to carry everywhere.

Never were all together.  It wasn’t until I was travelling with all 3—purse, coat, and backpack— that a harsh reality struck: Yellow overload. Maybe when you’re 4 being Miss Missymatchy is cute.  But not 21. Definitely not.

I’m not commenting on fashion (because I know absolute nothing of the sorts) nor am I endorsing my favorite color (YELLOW ALL OF THE WAY!!! Uhh… no).  I have too much of it myself.

Way too much yellow this year.

Like yellow, I have lots of goals for this year:  live on a budget, start a scrapbook, keep my room clean, go to sleep early, watch more TV (I’m culturally aloof at the moment), exercise, read more, and the list could continue…

I am The Queen of goals to a fault—some  goals accomplished but very many left forgotten in some deserted journal.

Too much yellow is overwhelming.  However, one at a time is – bright, cheery, always nearby and needed.

Keep it simple.

And here is the goal that is complexly simple, unattainably sought after, refreshingly impossible, and what makes me perfectly imperfect to reach:  To know Jesus.

Goal for 2010:  follow hard after Jesus.

The New Year seems welcoming and inviting as Jesus beckons us to come and rest and to come and simply follow.

I’m excited.  Happy New Year.

A while ago I wrote about my new yellow backpack.  At the the time, the bright yellow backpack put a little skip in my step, but inevitably the backpack got old.  My organization failed; stray papers found themselves crumpled in the bottom, my many coffee spills dulled the yellow, and for about a week I even aimlessly carried around a hole punch without knowing it.  Little circle cutouts filled the bottom like an unwanted snow accompanied by crumbs, sticky-ness, and homework.  Newness completely gone.  Meh.

Growing up I would always buy my new school shoes during the summer and yearn for orientation when I was allowed to wear them.  The anticipation built so much that on the first day of school I would run home and clean the white soles.  However, we all knew by week 3 they would have been through puddles and mud and by Christmas I would be asking for/probably even needing another pair.

This weekend my mom and I went shopping.  We bought a new shirt and when I wore it, I got that little skip again.  No one knew it was new, but I certainly did.  However, every shirt in my closet was once new.

I’ve been reading through all of the Jane Austen novels, and as the narrative plays in my head, I some times have to chuckle about their society.  Idle women?  surely not! Oh the old times.

The new 2009 penny is only proud until 2010 comes.  And the video game my brother camped outside for will be a thing of the past next month.

I just pulled my backpack out of the washer.  It’s yellow once again, but I cannot trick myself into thinking it is new again.  I wish I could.  In a shallow human way, I like new things.

Things grow old. Sometimes they go out of style or they might break.  But most of the time they just lose their newness. lose excitement. lose priority.

There is only one thing that is new every day.  Yesterday I woke to it.  Today I did too, even before my feet hit the ground.  As will happen tomorrow.   :: His Mercies::

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

God’s love is always an unread email in my inbox.  Sure, I can read it, but there will always be a new one when I get back.

My alarm clock ushers in these new mercies.  AND that, my friend, might be the only redeeming aspect of my alarm clock.

Monday I got a new yellow backpack.  All at once going to class became exciting because I got to line my pencils in the pockets and slip my computer into the built-in case.  Though I’m sure no one noticed my new toy, I felt the newness close to my back all afternoon and I couldn’t help but skip a little.

This backpack, I immediately learned, is a few inches wider than my other.  I knocked it on every doorframe that first day, and people acted as if I should be embarrassed.  I didn’t mind though, because I had a new yellow backpack.  It’s probably the first one since kindergarten.  A spark was lit for the mundane as the child within me perked up.

On Tuesday I spilt a cup of coffee in the side pocket (I really need to work on biking with coffee).  By day Wednesday and Thursday the newness became overshadowed by what was held inside—textbooks, notes, homework, and essentially a call to study.  Even yellow cannot make that list sunny.

Today I’m going to walk as if I have something better than a coffee-free, brand-new yellow backpack.  I’m walking in light of knowing Jesus, and that adds more than a skip to my step.  It adds joy to being alive, hope for a future, a love for the day and maybe even a jump to top it off.

Friday.