{Day 11}: soul space to remember the good

I'm not sure why, but Sundays bring back family memories for me. Especially in the Fall. Memories from growing up.

I grew up on a farm in Nebraska, and on Sundays my family would get up, rush around like crazy people, drive the eight miles into town to go to church. Then, sometimes we'd come home to the roast, potatoes and carrots in the oven for Sunday Dinner, but usually we'd drive somewhere and go out together as a family.

Sundays were lazy days back then. Dad would be watching football, mom did too, and us kids all did our own thing and tried not to pick on each other too much.

My Dad relaxing. Probably on a Sunday afternoon

It's not that I"m a huge football fan, I'm not. But to this day if my husband turns on a game on the weekends, I have this strange sense of peace and comfort.

Hearing the sound of a football game on TV reminds me of my dad sitting in his recliner on Sundays with a cup of coffee in his hand. He was a full-blooded Swede after all.

Dad was a farmer, so he worked long hours during the week and on Saturdays--(sometimes before sun up and usually to sundown), but he always took Sundays off for rest. The Sabbath rest was something Dad made a priority and I admire him for that. I know he needed it, and it set a good example for me as a child.

It does my soul good to recall these memories from my past. 

These good memories. 

I think slowing down my own pace on Sunday allows the mental space to remember the good things.

How about you? Do you take a day a week to rest, or create some mental space for your soul? 

Blessings and soul rest on your Sunday, friends!

~Anne

This post is part of a 31 day series called 31 Days of Soul Spas. I'm linked up with 100's of other bloggers over at write31days.com for the month of October. Each person has picked their own topic to share for 31 days. 

Check out my first post for a list of all of this month's posts! Thanks for joining me on this journey!

looking back to see

Today I am linking up once again with the community of writers at Lisa Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. Free writing with no back tracking. Writing just for the fun of it. Today, her prompt is crowd.

Lately, pieces of my history have been chasing me. 

Like ducks that crowd around the one feeding them bread, my memories of childhood seem to be vying for attention. 

My story seems to be begging to be told.

I have several bags of pictures of my childhood and the people and places represented there. 

But, where to start? 

Do I tell about the places of my childhood?

The pump house where my dad went to check daily for working operations?

The chicken house where I found the litter of kitties?

The one eye’d cat that scared me almost to death walking across the yard when I was three?

My old barn, where the light streamed in through the cracks in the roof and I could see the particles of dust in suspension?

me, already looking back

My aunts and uncles who came to visit from Gothenberg, Nebraska and the one Great Uncle who got on my swing-for-two and took the time to visit with me and hear me jabber?

Which of these memories competing for attention do I go with? Where do I start?

My husband used to tell me, "if you don't take a picture, 

that means it didn't happen."

The older I get, the more I feel that if it doesn’t get written 

down, it might mean I might forget that it happened.

I am so thankful for these piles of memories that I have in zip-lock bags. They are pieces of my life. Pieces of my history that I never want to forget.

I started the blog Live the Silver Lining in attempts to get some of these memories down.

I don’t ever want to forget.

I want to remember where I came from. It helps me to understand where I’m going.

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How about you? Do you have a story that is just begging to be told? Where do you think you would start if you told it?

Blessings to you friend,

                         

What the ashes mean

Today I'm linking up with the fabulous community of writers at Lisa Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. This is just for fun. No backtracking and rewriting. This is writing for five minutes straight for the fun of it. Come on over and read what others are writing on the word willing. Or better yet, set your stop watch and join us today? All are welcome!

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For the first time in my life, I had a cross made out of ashes drawn on my forehead on Wednesday.

I didn’t grow up around conversations of Ash Wednesday or of Lent or of what are you going to give up for 40 days till the resurrection Sunday?

photo credit--Google

The pastor started out by answering this question: 

What are the ashes all about anyway?

I was glad for this, well, because I really didn’t know. I had an inkling, but that is all. He said that in the Bible, ashes are a symbol of grief, repentance and of prayer.

Oh, now that began to make sense. I can relate to all of those. They embody me. They resonated.

The ash cross drawn on my forehead. 

At first I didn’t want that. I leaned to my husband and said, do I have to? But, by the end, I truly wanted that picture on my forehead.

I was all in.

See, by the way he explained it, the ash cross is just a reminder of my humanity. 

My frailness and my need for a Savior. 

It doesn’t mean I am dirty. 

That I am unworthy. 

Or unimportant. 

Rather, a true reminder of who I am and who I am not. 

A reminder of who Christ is and where I am in relationship to him. 

I am his daughter.

photo credit--cardinalseansblog.org

Yes, I am willing to remember this. 

I am willing to remember my humanity in light of Christ’s divinity. 

In light of the suffering he paid for me. 

In light of his Light and Salvation.

Yes, I am willing to remember that there is nothing that I can do to grow myself.

That my mess doesn’t get the last word. 

But that God is my History Maker and Life Changer and he promises to make a message out of my mess.

How about you? Did you grow up with the tradition of Ash Wednesday? I'd love to hear what it means to you.

Thanks for stopping by today, friend!