What's Really Important

Why is it only when there's a crisis I focus on the truly important things? Why is it so easy on a regular basis to lose sight of all that matters most and get caught up in things that ultimately don't matter at all? Is it a good sign that at least we do think of what's important sometimes? It's definitely a bad sign that I can feel the unimportant creeping in even in a crisis... I want to try to be concerned with the important on a daily, moment-to-moment basis...there are (thank the Lord!) a whole lot more of the "mundane" moments than crisis moments...I don't want to waste it all on the meaningless.

What to say?

So, according to a book about blogging that I (partially) read, it is important to write about a thing or things you are passionate about. What am I passionate about? God, Jesus, my family, homeschooling, learning, food...surely there's lots to say about all these things? If He gives me the words, can I motivate myself to share them?

Why. Oh why?

I want to write. Really, I do. Except I must not really, or I would. My husband wants -needs - to draw, and should, but so far he doesn't, and I get onto him about it sometimes...he's been blessed with a gift he should use, he enjoys it...but so have I; so do I, and I don't either. What's the deal? Why, oh why, do we not do that which we should do?

Day four of the snow-in

Apart from the hour or so we ran out yesterday, we have been home since around 1 Sunday afternoon. The kids (at least some of them) have played in the snow every day, and have been enjoying it. Carter said "Snow is the prettiest thing there is."  It is beautiful indeed. At first, even for me, it was very exciting...something about snow, at least here where we don't get it very often, causes me to be brimful of anticipation, eagerly peeking outside waiting for it to start.  It takes a while for the South to get the roads cleared in the aftermath, though, and then I start getting antsy.

 It is glorious to see the beauty of the Lord's creation, and its varied wonders.