1844. Meeting my parents for lunch, since they were in town on business
1845. A stitch knitted, here and there
1846. Validation for a beloved pair of shoes
1847. That Tobin goes to bed at the same time as Brooklyn (even though he gets up earlier)
1848. Adam liking the "puppy chow" snack mix I made to surprise him, despite me realizing we were out of peanut butter and having to substitute cashew butter
1849. Visible progress on my tidying project
1850. Extraordinary snail-mailed encouragement
1851. Adam having a Monday off, after having to work most of a Saturday
1852. A refreshing recharging day - hadn't had one of those in awhile!
1853. Finding a use for a pretty green ribbon that allows me to see it every day
1854. Staying on top of the Busyness, and trying to keep the pile small
1855. A library that is willing to put my knitting books into circulation, so that others can enjoy them
1856. Diary-free flavors of frozen yogurt at Orange Leaf
1857. That Brooklyn enjoys and asks for baths (so much nicer than it being a struggle!)
1858. Happy mail
1859. Errands accomplished without incident
1860. Recognizing Tobin's climbing ability before he used it to escape from his crib
1861. The opportunity to share needs and ask for prayer
1862. Actually getting cold while sitting on the balcony, watching the sun rise
1863. and a cool breeze that allowed me to sit outside and knit while everyone else napped
1864. That each day ends, and each tomorrow starts new
I learn best by three ways combined: writing, doing, and repetition. Let me take notes and I may never go back and reread them, but I'll retain the information and not need to. Let me try it with my own two hands, and it will settle into my muscle memory more firmly than a simple explanation would. And when those two fail or aren't available options, then gently reminding me of the same thing over and over and over and over will eventually do the trick.
The last one generally applies to lessons that I'm not trying to learn - conviction, direction, personal growth, that sort of thing. I'll be going along, thinking everything's ok, and then my happy little world will slowly begin to collapse around me (sometimes - other times its demise is more Atlantian). Usually it catches me so utterly off guard that I'm treading water in the middle of an ocean, wondering where my island went, before the lesson becomes clear.
I'm trying to be a better learner. To keep my ears and eyes (and heart and mind) open to direction even (and especially) when I'm comfortable right where I am. To sit down and journal through things as soon as they become things and before they become Things so that I can look back and compare yesterday to last week and last month and see what's different and what's the same. I'd like to sit eagerly at my Teacher's feet, accepting His whispered direction, instead of wandering out of earshot until He has to make trouble into a megaphone to get my attention. I'd like to approach prayer and Bible study as eagerly I used to approach the back-to-school season - with my mental pencils sharpened and notebooks neatly labeled, ready to learn.
Blending One Thousand Gifts with Five Minute Friday - a weekly flashmob of bloggers, internet-wide, that gather to write for five minutes (no stopping, no editing) on a prompt provided by sweet Kate, then link up and share a little comment love. For more info, more posts, and/or to learn more, head here.