a grandma’s wisdom

I mentioned that I was currently reading “Girl, Go Wash Your Face.” by Rachel Hollis. I am forcing myself to not blast through it as it’s a fun easy written yet highly entertaining in the sorda way your grandma would have talked to you.

Rachel is barely 30 I’m sure.. and she’s mortified that I just compared her to a Grandma, but since she has FAR more important things to worry about I’m sure I am safe, however… if you read the book you’ll find wisdom from hard things and that comes with age for most of us… so grandma it is.


I wish I would have thought to make list of all the things both my grandmas taught me. A couple that come to mind is if you worked all day for my Grandma Fork, pulling weeds in her gardens,  you’ll get a shiny new quarter.  A hard days work sometimes is more important that the monetary gain. 

My Grandma Spoon on the other hand loved having coffee with friends, and would only initially take half of the treat that you served her during coffee. And then later ask for the other half. A treat spread out makes the time you get to spend with people around the table having coffee last longer. 

Speaking of coffee.. I need to have a coffee time at the studio. Nothing on the agenda but talking with our faces out of electronics. We could play some records (they call them vinyl now. lol) and drink from our Correll coffee mugs. We could talk about anything but the weather and politics and leave as friends promising to make it a weekly habit.. and then accidentally never do it again because although it was fun at the time we didn’t accomplish anything but some sort of connection.. and it seems like everyone nowadays is connected anyways through social.  We will just make a Facebook group and get together there.

I also have no idea how to end this little post eloquently. Which is another thing my Grandma Fork was always so good at. When you left her house she would stand at the door and watch you leave, always. Even if you popped in for just a moment. She would calmly stand at the door and wave you goodbye until you were out of site. Life is a never-ending game of what -ifs and my visitors are going to know that they mattered and that I will miss them until we see each other again. 


falling expectations


They stand there sometimes. All decked out in resilient glory, strong and unwavering in their strength. Immovable. Giants, overlooking over my every move. Those unspoken words that humans assume.



The plan was to rest. Twelve months of disconnectedness and separate lives leads a family to barely survive in communication and grace toward one another. The demands of life taking its toll on the very souls of those who walk. Much needed time to reconnect with the people who are your most favorite in the world on trails filled to the brim with expectation. Footfalls and discoveries are made and communication happens. Grace unfolds like an umbrella and we walk walk walk.

We gaze at the monsters before us and realize how small we are in this world. How God planted these moments even before any of us were born. How all He expects from us is worship.

To worship Him is my hearts cry. To hold His very hand and put to death my own expectations and worshipping the Creator of all this glory around me.

But life doesn’t work like that always.


Oftentimes it gets cold and the beauty of life seems like a distant season and although you know it’s out there, you believe you can’t reach it, so you gaze at it with longing eyes and you carry on. Placing one foot in front of the other slowly and methodically through the expectations that are slowly killing all creativity in your soul.


I have run faster these last 7 months than I ever have in my life. An intense time of transition and change and honestly I can say I needed this trip more than ever, but it took a good 5 days to actually relax and not worry about things at the studio or home. Carrying on like it doesn’t matter is no longer my style. I don’t know when I picked up the expectation that rent and bills and college tuition and food and peoples enjoyment at the studio was all up to me. Somewhere that thought latched on to me like a nursing baby and I cradled it and held it close so that it wouldn’t fall.


We walked the canyon of ferns. Flowing beneath us a trickle of a stream that could be walked through easily with Gortex boots. Over and under branches and trees  that had fallen and found a new spot to lay.


Expectations from the world falling off my shoulders. My own thoughts careening toward the One who knows exactly the path my feet have gone and will help me navigate the maze of cast off expectations. My body is relaxed, realizing that it hadn’t breathed in God for a long time and I almost cry at the sweet beauty of the way He provides – a way when there seems to be no way.


They lay there, frozen from the movement, cast aside by the rhythm of the methodical movement of wave after wave. No longer holding a grip on the very soil they once held dear. Expectations that have fallen, a horizontal monument to the very God who destroyed them.


 “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”  

Lamentations 3:24

That verse rings in my ears as the rest of trip with my Changers and Lead carries on. I no longer have to remind myself that expectations of others and of myself matter. What matters is my ability to place them in my Father’s hand to worship the One who created me, and that He is my portion from sunrise to sunset and all the hours between. I will want no more, strive for no more, be content with no more than Him. He is the why and the movement in my being. He brings my feet to land in soft spots. He carries my heart next to His with an everlasting love that doesn’t expect anything in return other than my worship. He is the One who gets my praise, guides my thoughts, and directs my path.

There is no room for any more expectations to clog up my thoughts and derail my worship. It’s just me and Him from here on out.