Where, when my aching grows,
He answers privately,
Where, when my aching grows,
He answers privately,
Yesterday as I was hanging laundry I was being kept company by two or three Meadowlarks singing in the hills above my house. I love listening to those Meadowlarks. It seems like they always come to me on those soft spring mornings when the earth smells damp and new, and the breeze is warm on my skin. The Meadowlarks remind me of someone, someone I never even knew, she passed away several years before I met her grandson, my husband. The first spring we lived in our house my husband’s parents were here visiting and the Meadowlarks were singing like crazy. My Mother-in-law stopped to listen and they went on to tell us that the small town she grew up in was named “Lark” after the Meadowlark and that her Mother always loved to listen to the birds sing. She went on to say that her Mother always told her that the birds were singing a special song that went like this: “Lark is a pretty little town…” over and over. Every time I hear the Meadowlark sing I can’t help but repeat those words in my mind “Lark is a pretty little town.” A year or so ago those words changed when I told my youngest daughter “Do you hear the birds singing to you? They are saying ‘Emma is a pretty little girl’”. She smiled, and I remembered a woman I never knew.
“Mother knitted and rocked in her high-backed rocking-chair. Father carefully scraped a new ax handle with a bit of broken glass. royal carved a chain of tiny links from a smooth stick of pine, and Alice sat on her hassock, doing her woolwork embroidery. And they all ate popcorn and apples, and drank sweet cider, except Eliza Jane. Eliza Jane read aloud the news in the New York weekly paper.”
“Farmer Boy” Laura Ingalls Wilder
A year ago we canceled Direct TV, and where we live that is our only option for television, we don’t even pick up the local stations, and our lives have changed! Instead of hurrying the kids off to bed so we can watch our “shows” we now hurry the kids so we can all read together. Dadzoo and I talk, we read and work on other projects. In the summer we spend more time gardening and playing outside with our kids. I haven’t given up on TV all together, we still watch movies (something that we need to cut down on) but I think we have become more discerning. We netflix documentaries and good family movies. We are not continually bombarded with all the junk on TV so we aren’t as tolerant of junk in movies.
Mission. What does mission mean? What does it mean to have a mission in life? The past few weeks I have been really thinking a lot about my life’s mission.
The dictionary defines missions as: an assigned or self-imposed duty or task; calling; vocation.
So again I wonder “what is my mission?”
First and fore most I am a mother and a homemaker and I take that roll very seriously. It is my calling. I have always wanted to be mother, even when I was very small and was asked in school what I wanted to be when I grew up. The answer was always “a mom”.
I am left to wonder if there isn’t something more.
Is there something else that my Heavenly Father put me on this earth at this time to do? I don’t have grand illusions of influencing nations or even large numbers of people. However, is there someone out there that I am suppose teach, love or befriend? In my pondering I realized that I will never know the answers to those questions unless I ask. My Father in Heaven knows me perfectly and knows what I am capable of. I need to ask daily to be an instrument in His hands. I need to ask for guidance and direction so I can help Him in His work.
That is my goal for the New Year: to ask daily and then to act upon those promptings.