Whatever He Says

  I savour the tang of hot, strong, black coffee from one of my favourite mugs--the one that glows with the colours of a Tom Thomson painting. The scent of a spiced apple candle lingers. Classical music plays in the background to the strong, firm metronome of our treasured, oak-encased wall-clock; its swinging pendulum the heartbeat of our home.

By Belinda This is a post script to what I wrote on Monday, in my  Confession  post. So much more goes on behind the scenes of a "post" that doesn't get shared here, and you can probably be thankful for that! But in this case I have to let you what happened next... First of all, I set my alarm for 5 the next morning. In my blog post entitled Timely Counsel I wrote that I was listening to Stephen R. Covey's book, First Things First . In it, Covey defines "integrity"in a way I'd never considered before; as the keeping of the promises we make to ourselves. I guess the way I've defined integrity, "as a gap between what we say we believe and what we do," does fit with the making and keeping of promises to ourselves. Covey illustrated the importance of following through on promises with the example of his counsel to a man who was always emotionally up and down. Covey challenged him to get up a little earlier every day for a week. At fi...

By Belinda A few weeks ago I wrote about winning a silent auction in which the prize was a breakfast each month at Cora's for a year . I decided to use these  breakfasts for precious time alone. For thinking/studying/writing--just solitude. This was after discovering accidentally, that a solitary restaurant breakfast was not the odd and lonely occasion that I had assumed it would be. October was the first month on my little blue card with 12 golden suns. One day last week I realized that I was rapidly running out of October mornings and so I penciled breakfast into this day in my Day-timer and then forgot about it until yesterday when I checked my agenda for today. I couldn't just abandon Paul entirely, so I had coffee with him and told him I was going to Cora's. "Alone?" he asked. "Yes," I answered, feeling suddenly awkward, as though eating alone was a guilty secret indulgence. I arrived with a bag full of books, knowing in my heart how rid...

By Joyful Fox I lay awake in the inky black thinking of today. Husband breathing softly, I reach under my pillow to turn off alarm...close to 5:00...I sigh softly...aware of the warmth of blankets and silent home. Wouldn't it be nice to burrow here awhile...a long while. These days have been hard. I'd rather not begin today. I smile to myself and choose to slide out of bed. I take captive, erring thoughts...and remember muted yellows and blues of my journal...the crisp white page awaiting first thoughts of the new morn...afghan of burgundies, rust, and evergreen... beckons from soft leather sofa. The Father's love stirs a longing in my soul. I need this...the first meeting of the day. Ready now, I scramble into clothes. Fingers fumble as I find the tag, slipping into athletic pants, silently snatching sweatshirt, ever mindful of all who slumber on...cautious now, I creep down the stairs. This time for seeking, listening, meditating, and exploring...far too precious to tarry...