Wednesday, August 10, 2016

So I Looked Into The Mirror And---

"...he's like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like."  ... James 1:23,24


Remember when I bought those 3 custard cups at that Joe-Namath-photos-still-on-the-wall house?

Well, good gracious. How we survived without custard cups for decades, I'll never know. And seems lately these were constantly inside our dishwasher because I used them for the cats or us or--

So I bought 5 more identical custard cups. Where? At Ebay, of course. Man, that place has everything.

They even had one of these vintage switch plates for our backdoor area, still in the package. I bought it yesterday:

And this retro coffee pot--

--- because Naomi's always using my newish one and anyway, I don't want new stuff. I want old. I'm on an adventure to making my house (where it appears we're gonna stay awhile) into something 1970's-spiffy-keen. You know, rather like an estate sale house, so that, when we can't get to those on Saturdays, I can just tour my own house all starry-eyed.

I am so back to my creative, contented self. Finally.

Eegads. If only I could remember something for longer than ten minutes! I mean, throughout our nearly 15 years at Autumn Cottage, I kept repeating this silly pattern:

I'd be happy with our house.
Then I'd want a different, better one.
Which we'd search for, but not find.
So I'd pour more creativity into our house.
Then I'd love it again.
I'd be happy with our house.
Then I'd want a different, better one, etc., etc.

And lately, I've been repeating that same pattern. (Maybe that isn't your exact pattern, but perhaps some of you have a similar, but in a different area one.)

It's so annoying how I can do the same things over again and not realize what's really going on. 

Yes, and sometimes I'm too hard on myself. I agree.

It's kind of like when my friends online praised the wonder that is coconut oil for their faces at night. I bought some, used it before bed, then the next morning on my way to the bathroom mirror, joked with myself that perhaps my face looked less creasey-wrinkly by now! Ha, ha.

Well, I peered into the mirror and wow! I truly noticed a nice difference. "But that can't be!" I thought. "Not already."

Two days later I figured out what had happened: My earlier impression of my face was worse than the reality. Walking to the mirror, I'd pictured twice as many wrinkles and creases. Deeper ones, too.

But the reality wasn't so bad.

And seriously? May I often remind myself that when God looks at me, He's not peering through the curtain of all my mistakes. No, He sees me through the blood of Jesus which washed away all that stuff and He sees my heart which, poor little thing, really tries its very best. Most days.

And every day may I remember how deeply and richly God loves me, patterns and a faulty memory and creases and all.

Loved this so much:

“There will always be someone willing to hurt you, put you down, gossip about you, belittle your accomplishments and judge your soul. It is a fact that we all must face. However, if you realize that God is a best friend that stands beside you when others cast stones you will never be afraid, never feel worthless and never feel alone.” 


"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."  ... Romans 8:35-39


Speaking of 1970's spiffy, I have an email to send to anyone with quick links to the majority of wonderful house tours from Kim's Daisy Cottage. This is a more easily accessed list than there at Kim's blog. I'm so enjoying these tours again--all that glorious color!

Email me at and I'll send you a copy.


I'm still learning to do what I can, rather than waste energy on complaining about my helpless areas.


Free Kindle Books:

Cappuccinos, Cupcakes and a Corpse

The Silver Shawl



Betsy said...

Love this post! It IS me. I would like a much smaller house, as I've mentioned before. Hubby wants this one. He asks for nothing and works his fingers to the bone to provide for me, so I need to accept that this is where we will be. And keep my mouth closed. He lets me do whatever I want to the house so when I'm feeling better, out wil come the paint cans. God dos k ow what is best and will always stand by me. I was working on the power point this morning for the sermon in two weeks. One of the scriptures was about it being easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to get into Heaven. I need to be happy to share all that I have and be content with what I have. Thank you for the sweet reminders in today.

Pam said...

What is it about us??? I suffer from the same "illness" as you, Deb, and Betsy. I'm always daydreaming about downsizing, upgrading, simplifying, even going off-grid. Oh well, at least we're thinking, huh? Deb, I know how much you enjoy vintage, so I wanted to tell you about a blog called Grandma Donna's ( Donna and her hubby have decided to return to the 40s, and it's fun to "visit" her. I know it's a different era from the 70s, but I bet you'd appreciate all their efforts to turn back time.

Debra said...

Betsy--gee Betsy, we truly do sound like kindred spirits! :) There's so much acceptance that comes with these later years, right?

Pam--thanks so much for the blog link. Oh my! What a fun place. And I know what you mean about thinking of new ideas--I've done that so much lately and it's been like trying to find the right 'river' where God wants my thoughts to go. I think I may have finally found it! :)

Thanks for your comments, Ladies! Blessings, Debra