Last year I misplaced a book in our house, at least that’s what I hoped. It is a copy of Thumbprint in the Clay by Luci Shaw, one that she signed and gave to me when I was at a writing retreat in 2016. It was my companion during Lent last year. I read through it slowly, savouring the words and ideas. I read it at home, I kept it in my bag, I read it in the car at school, and somewhere between getting in and out of cars and bags and bookshelves, I lost it.

This was June last year. I searched. I looked on our bookshelf, in drawers, in our bedroom and in the car. I couldn’t find it. I started praying about it and told God repeatedly how much this book meant to me, how devastating it was to not find it. I asked God to lead me to the book. Please, I begged.

Six months went by, and nothing happened. Every time I thought about it, I could feel a swell of anxiety and sadness welling up inside of me. I felt so silly for not taking better care of it. During one of the last few evenings of 2017, I went to bed with the book on my mind, asking God again for a miracle. Please, help me find this book.

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I woke up on January 1 with a long list of things to do because for the first time in years I made many, clear goals for 2018. The list is a combination of matters I want to work toward, habits I want to change, writing goals and home developments. But I will tell you that there is a fear in me when I look at this beautiful spread of plans. Dreaming is not difficult for me, but almost every year in the past few years, we had something big come along toward the beginning of the year that hijacked my intentions. Some years it was the fragility of my own mind, other years it had to do with our source of income, sometimes it was particularly difficult seasons of parenting. In March 2017, we dealt with the possibility of a family health issue that jeopardized my husband’s Australian visa application.

I had to look at the possibility of moving back to Europe, and it terrified me. When I think about 2017, my memories are lost to fear. It undid, upended, shook. Yes, there was a recovery, a solid, strong recovery, but a wound that doesn’t bleed still needs time to heal.

When I started dreaming about 2018 a few weeks ago, I will tell you that for every delicious endorphin the dreams elicited, there was another question: But what horrible thing is going to happen?

Will it be a car accident? Maybe it will be an illness for the kids? What if school is a disaster for my oldest? Is it going to be the house?

One of the gifts of these trying seasons is the way they make you stronger. One of its curses is the way it keeps you walking, furtively glancing behind.

But I made my plans, and they are that. Human plans. I made them in big picture and small with tiny pieces listed for January. Last Monday was the beginning. I was itching to start, and it felt good. I pulled Christmas chaos off our surfaces and into boxes, picked up the floors in our living room and moved things back into order.

Our bookshelves are too full, there are rows behind rows, books stacked on top of books and in front of books, but several stray books needed a spot on the shelves. When I straightened some spines that fell over to make room for a giant volume of Tolstoy, I noticed a few books tucked behind the row.

I moved the others aside, and there was my copy of Thumbprint in the Clay, its green cover catching light; God, winking at me. It was January 1, 2018.

I pulled it out, held it to my chest and cried. I couldn’t have asked for a better blessing for the start of a new year. It doesn’t take the fear away, but it anchors me in something bigger. God listens. He answers.

Ask for more.

There is no thing too small. There is no fear too trivial. There is no want too great. There is no miracle too big.

Before everything else in 2018, in all things that will come at us in 2018, when we face the world and all its pain, when we face our lives and the things we fear, in all these things, at all times: Ask for more. Ask Him for more.

camping

Camping with small kids is doable and a lot of fun. I like a bed under my back, and I like not sleeping in the same room as my kids, so the idea of a tent, squished next to my (cuddlesome) two-and-a-half-year-old who likes to wake up at 5:15am, was less than attractive to me. But we live in Australia now, my parents are here, my sisters and their hubbies, and it was determined that we should go on a holiday all together. The truth is that it was amazing. We camped for two nights, and not once did I hear a little person whine about when they get to watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates. The boys played with dirt, sand and water, we ate two-minute noodles and drank hot chocolate. My back still feels out of whack, but write it down in the books: Camping may be the easiest family holiday we’ve ever had.

schedule

Bite-sized goals are changing my life. I didn’t make resolutions this year, but I had two goals for January: No eating at McDonalds for the boys and I, and I will wake up before the boys. We had zero fast food until last weekend, and I’ve woken up before the boys more than I used to. It was a boost, a good one. So I made a list for February. It was a bit longer and required more of me; I would have to organise my kitchen drawers, and figure out how we are storing our books. But it got done. Midway through the month, when I didn’t want to do anymore (the bookshelves, our bedroom), I saw the things I had done, and thought, keep going. You can do it. I’ve made a list for March, and hopefully this new trend of goals for each month will continue bringing small changes throughout the year.

photos

I love taking and sharing photos. It had been months since I picked the “big” camera up, but I had been watching golden hour for days with longing. I paid attention, picked up the camera and snapped a few photos of the boys and our yard. It felt clunky at first, I had forgotten how to use the settings, but it still felt good to come back to the camera. I’ve been posting again on Instagram, too, and you can follow me over there. It’s met my need to share what I’ve been learning when I don’t have time to blog and also to capture moments of beauty.

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don’t like choices, but I pretend like I do and this stresses me out. Here’s what I mean. For the past few years, I’ve felt an unspoken pressure to find new cute (and cheap!) places where I can grab a cup of coffee or catch up with a friend. Moving to Melbourne made it worse, there are great cafes around every corner, and I never wanted to be at a place that had (gasp) less than inspiring ambience or (shudder) bad food. (Hashtag firstworldproblems.) But what this meant is that the slivers of time I had to myself were full of internal pressure: Should do this, should be there, should see so and so, and instead of being able to unwind my mind and my soul, I was getting more and more wound up. So I’ve eliminated some choices. There are several cafes in our neighbourhood, I chose one, and every chance I get for 30 minutes or more to myself, I go there. I order the same thing – a small mocha – and I journal, read, make lists, or read the newspaper. It has made the time I have to rest that much more restful. 

I’m linking up with Emily P. Freeman today and lots of others who are sharing what they learned in February. It’s a wonderful way to chronicle the small and big ways we grow, change and learn, and I love it. Right now, I’m trying to capture moments of beauty and change over on Instagram, so head over there and follow me if you want to see more.