Tuesdays Are For Living

It’s dark in the sunroom this morning, hours before the sun comes up. The wall of windows reflects the light from my lamp, the end table, my own face. I come here in the early quiet, pour the coffee, let out the dog, sit with a blanket, and listen as the yard wakes up behind me.

What stories will I tell today?

light at chatting at the skyToday is finally April but most of the trees don’t know it yet. A long winter has kept them sleeping right on through March. The little ones wake up first,  shooting out flowers at the end of skinny sticks, coloring the cul-de-sac in light pinks and yellows.

It won’t be long now.

I think about those of you in the southern hemisphere, how your April season is our October. Is that right? Are you heading into cooler weather, watching as the trees close their eyes for a season?

Even the most predictable process to me is the opposite somewhere else. We all have our perspectives, don’t we?

This year’s (in)Real Life theme comes to mindWe Need Your Story – And we do, whoever you are. Because it’s different from ours, from hers, from mine.

We are all telling our stories everyday we live. Some do it with words like our friend Lisa-Jo – attorney, mother, writer, superhero – with her brand new book releasing today, Surprised by Motherhood: Everything I Never Expected about Being a Mom

Some do it with their crazy ideas, like  my friend Haley who launches a children’s clothing line today – Wildly Co. – and I can’t even get my mind around this girl and her fun, thoughtful, wild ideas. If someone dangled me over a cliff and said they would save me if I would launch a children’s clothing line, I would just have to go ahead and fall because how in the world do you do that?!

But Haley tells this part of her story because it’s hers.

Then there is my son at the breakfast table this morning with an endless string of Your shoe’s untied APRIL FOOLS! You have something on your nose APRIL FOOLS! The sky is falling APRIL FOOLS! 

He tells his stories, too.

Each of us will speak today, some into microphones, others near the microwave. We will speak with our movements, our meals, our routines, our laughter, our compassion, our grief, our to-do lists.

What will we say?

Will we speak hope, love, fear, or truth? Will we say it to thousands or only to one? Will we say it out loud or only in secret?

Maybe we’ll say it all. Maybe that’s alright. Maybe we’ll learn something or teach something or remember something or surprise ourselves. Maybe today will be the same as yesterday. Maybe that’s alright, too.

Let’s respect the loud and the quiet alike. Let’s not elevate the big stories over the small ones. Let’s honor, celebrate, and speak in whatever ways we can today.

Today, on this regular Tuesday, what is the story you’re speaking with your life?


  1. says

    Thanks for your encouragement this morning. I really appreciated your comment “Let’s respect the loud and the quiet alike. Let’s not elevate the big stories over the small ones.”

    I’m beginning a small adventure with a computer business, and it’s true how small businesses, just like people, feel unimportant or unworthy. So not true. Wishing your friends much success with Wildlyco and Lisa Jo’s book.

    My goal is to reach out to small businesses and help “Empower Them to Embrace Technology In Their World!” More services and mission at http://www.mycomputersolutionz.com. Hopefully I could use your line in the heart of my work everyday!

    Thanks Emily F.

  2. says

    Your words resonated with me…again. Thank you. I will keep telling my stories because that’s what I know to do. It’s up to God what happens after that. Right? Right. Phew. That truth takes a load off.

  3. says

    Yes, and amen. Every story matters. Ours, our children’s, the neighbors, our sisters. And the loud and the quiet, all of us. Whether I realize it or not, my life speaks. All the more reason to live life with purpose and intention, because every action, every word, all of it matters. God has given it to us to show off his grander, greater story. To use me, and you, and everyone else to be like a giant arrow pointing to him. I pray my story does that. I pray my life does that.

  4. says

    I’ve just been writing verses in a little notebook – ones about our dreams and God’s part in those. Sometimes I’m afraid of the dream – afraid will all pop like an overinflated balloon.
    Thank you for your encouraging words Emily. On this regular tuesday, you spoke to my heart.

  5. says

    Emily, I slip in here quietly, like an old bag lady trying to stay unnoticed in the back corner of the bistro, taking in the sights and sounds and aromas. I love the fresh perspective you serve up your evolving story in and that you call out the stories of others. I love them too but I stay mostly on the sideline looking in because I know I don’t really fit in among you young folks. Your stories are current, I’m a relic, I’m old news. I have daughters older than most of you so I know all about young vision versus old.

    My story is mostly done. But that’s okay, I’ve had my day and it was wonderful but I understand that what was is not usually as interesting as what is and I can’t share it nor even explain why I can’t. I can say that when it was my time, I devised my own way and as I tested and hacked out my path I wouldn’t have wanted input from anyone else no matter how experienced and I never let failure defeat or stop me. But, more importantly, I could never promise what worked for me would work for anyone else anyway. It is the natural order. Bright spring doesn’t ask gray winter how to burst forth.

    So, before I shuffle back to my corner, I did want to share this story because it is an old thing made new again–a perfect analogy of spring. Some stories have eternal lessons that need to be acknowledged.

    Here’s the permalink – http://bagsallpacked.blogspot.com/2014/03/old-love.html

    For Him,

    • says

      Dear Meema,

      I’m so glad you’ve come.

      I read your post, and this part I cradle:

      “It is a given that living changes everything and makes new things old, but sometimes, just when you think nothing can stop the ravages of time, out of the blue, God adds a twist to the story and makes old things new again. ”

      I appreciate your reflection, your story, and your seasoned perspective. And might I also add this – I know spring doesn’t has winter how to burst forth exactly, but there sure are a lot of us (at least, some of us) who value, long for, and want to hear from all you have learned and are learning. We need more of this.

      So I’m glad you’re writing it down.

    • says

      Sweet Meema,
      I don’t know you, but I would sit and sip coffee with you in a corner bistro any day! Your words warm the soul deep. I’m not quite 24 years old yet. Just trying to launch a career. Wondering who I am and where Life will take me. Hacking out a path some days. Some days just hoping it will all unfold. I am thankful for women like you who have lived their stories and paved the way for my generation to take up a legacy. You can say your story is mostly done, or that you don’t have a place among the young folks, but you have inspired this young woman. Your words caused my soul to stop and breathe. I am thankful for that. Many blessings upon you, sweet lady! Keep sharing.


      • says

        My grandson, who recently turned 22, discovered only three years ago that he had a passion for music and lyric writing. As he says, “Who knew?” It completely changed his perspective about his future. With passion at the helm, he quickly taught himself to play guitar, mandolin and ukelele.

        Recently, while he was home from college, we had a long chat about how painful it is to wrestle with one’s muse and come out on top without losing too much blood. I told him that civilians can’t understand the artful soul or that there is no such thing as a bad experience to a writer or artist–it’s all just new material to work with.

        I also told him, “The worst thing that ever happened to me was the very thing that launched my next try.”

        Yoda: “There is no try – only do.”

        I am somewhat experienced at commandeering a table at bistros. It is my habit to be a generous tipper so I am not banned. :-)

        For Him,

  6. says

    Love this “regular Tuesday” post–and that which you mention in your book too. Well, I guess the Today story I’m *thinking* anyway is that I’m finally taking seriously the idea to transition from accountant to writer. I know! You’d think I’d be very boring. (I did for a while too). I believe it will be a process of change but has been happening for a while and which, really, ties into childhood. Thanks for simple words today.

  7. jenn in GA says

    i work most mornings from 5a-11a at my local Starbucks. God has used this job to show me that He wants to use me to communicate to every.single.person i cross paths with that they are seen and that they have value.

    i love, and am convicted by, this quote by brennan manning:

    “in every encounter we either give life or we drain it; there is no neutral exchange.”

    this is the story i’m trying to tell with my life, with my words, with my actions. knowing that the words i use have the opportunity to affect the course of another person’s day has changed everything.

  8. says

    Well, how could I pass up that question? :) Yes, indeed the weather here way down South (in Peru at least) is cooling down instead of warming up and it still confuses me even after living here almost 2.5 years. But here the trees don’t really lose their leaves because it doesn’t get cold enough, so I’ll be thrilled next Fall when I’m back in CA for a real brisk, colorful, leaf-dropping Fall.

    The seasons are changing for us as we prepare to move back though, and I’m wondering what the Story-telling will look like because I haven’t quite figured out where the plot is going with all of its twists and turns. I trust the Author, though. I’ve read some of His other stories and they are always really good. So I know He has a plan for our story, too. :)

  9. says

    This last weekend I sat with 5 other women, most of them further ahead in life than me. We shared stories and tears, wine and cake. And each of us found healing and hope and Jesus in the sharing. It was beautiful; I’ll be mining the depths of it for a while. In a world of bigness and platforms, the small and tucked away feels ever more sacred to me.

  10. Kim says

    The first thing I thought of reading your comment, was “No, your story still matters!”
    Just a month ago I wrote my 91 yr. old grandfather who is currently in excellent health and asked him if he would be willing to answer a dozen or more questions about his life because I want to know his story, in his words, before it is too late. We have now been snail-mailing back and forth weekly and it is such a joy to read and learn!
    I have no idea what I will do with the information, but I want it. And how much more precious will it be that it is in his handwriting. I wish I had taken notes at the memorial service for my grandmother 5 years ago. Such interesting information and sharing. I remember some, but not all or who said what.
    There are those of us out there in the world who are young and want to know and learn from those who have lived long and have more life experience.
    Also, a few weeks ago our priest did a sermon on this type of thought, tying it into Abraham and how he was old before being a father and still doing many great things.

    • says

      Hi Kim,
      My suggestion is to tape record your conversations. And be sure to ask him what he learned from his experiences. How did what he learned shape his life? Doing things, careers, life choices, the good , the bad, the ugly, is a collection of multi-colored squares. What one learns from the doing is the thread that holds it all together and makes it a quilt.

      For Him,

  11. says

    This was SOOOOOO encouraging. I read it in the doorway to my backyard, on my phone after homework was fiiiiiiiinally finished and my littles exploded into the back yard to catch the last little bit of sun before it’s dinner and bedtime. I so agree with every in you said here. I chuckled over the bit about Mrs. TinyTwigg’s adventures. I took a DEEP breath there at the end and got a much needed reminder that what I say AND do is telling a story. My story. And even though right now it feels like the only one listening are the crickets. It still matters.

  12. says

    Here in Sydney the weather still feels like summer, almost. After a few weeks of rain we are enjoying one last week of golden evenings before daylight savings ends. In a few weeks we shall see some autumn colour, along with cooler evenings. I think about getting organised, the first busy, humid months of the year gone in a flash, and look forward to cosy evenings and more energy soon.
    But truly, I read so many American blogs that sometimes I forget what season I am in …

  13. says

    Your blog posts always make me feel like I just had coffee with a true friend….they are so encouraging and thought provoking. I enjoy them so….

    Thank you.

  14. says

    “Some of us into microphones, some of us near the microwave.” Although I do have a blog and deeply love to share my story through it, most of my story is actually happening near the microwave, with a few little ones underfoot. Loved that little detail – and I love how you make everyone feel like their story is important, whether your story is big and apparent to everyone around you or small and seen by few.

  15. says

    The story God has called me to speak with my life recently is “Bravehearted Beauty.” It’s the new name He’s given me, and the new place where I write. (Formerly LLH Designs.} It’s a story of beauty and brokenness. I don’t know where it’s headed, but I know it’s good. Trusting Jesus with my story.

  16. says

    Needed this reflection today. Grateful for the pedestrian and the DEEP of your encouragement. Generally speaking my spiritual innards are fickle. Roaring with certainty and leadership for the most part and then toppled by slivers of logic drenched doubt. Sweet Lord, bless HIM, shows up with light and love. I’m reassured, emboldened to stand strong once again.

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