PADDING HER CURVES, THE FINAL CHAPTER

Remember this post, about my procrastination with upholstering our wooden headboard? 

For years, I spoke ugly things about her under my breath. 

Only every single time I propped up in bed to read or watch television, that is.

So, I covered her with cotton batting and thought, 

"Now what?" 

She looked more like a snow angel than a headboard. 

But after much trimming, fabric stretching, and stapling, her detailed curves were defined. 

A double strand of welt, or you might know it as cording, came next to cover the multitude of exposed staples.

Each covered button that I added for tufting, 

was attached with strong twine using a heavy duty, 

had to be at least a foot long, 

could stab you right through the kidney, 

borrowed upholstery needle. 

And I'm not even kidding about that last part! 

It was crazy sharp!

We stapled the double strands of twine multiple times into the backside of the wood, and cut off the excess.

And there she was, all padded up!

Not bad for a first timer! 

This is where you agree with me. 

And what's that, you say? 

You want to see the finished room, including our dog, Pixie, wearing a dress? 

Well, okay then, since we're friends and all.  

Just a few changes made a big difference in here.

I separated hinged louver doors and used them as tall interior windows shutters. I'm a sucker for louvers until it comes to cleaning every dust-catching edge of them. 

As for the fan, since I removed the original glass cover, I'd like to add this small capiz pendant from World Market as a chandelier to the bottom.

And I know, my bed skirt's wrinkled, but the world hasn't stopped spinning even once. Who would've thought!

Asher's fine with it. 

I snagged a couple of these chevron pillow covers at Hobby Lobby for half-off.

The side pillows were made using the same fabric as my short, sweet chair.

The damask drapes pictured here with the other fabrics, are true to color, though they look more green in the earlier shots. 

They're also from Hobby Lobby on clearance for $5.40 per 96" panel! I bought three, used two on the windows and made the third into a coverlet for the foot of the bed. 

And I end, with a reflection taken through one of my favorite bargain mirrors. 

I've had this one so long, that its warm gold finish has once again gained popularity. 

I did come close to painting it silver many times. 

So glad that I never got around to it. 

ANOTHER DAY TO GET STARTED

stylefrizz.com

Yep! That's pretty close to what I looked like yesterday. Like, all day. I had "church" in my pajamas, coffee cup in hand, with this playing, while still wearing makeup from the day before, and sporting some unruly hair. 

Sometimes a girl just needs herself a day. She needs to rest, heal, pray, read scripture, and rock the smudged black beneath her eyes and have hair that only a bird looking for ready-made housing could truly appreciate.

Saturday, I was convinced that I was going up to Glory; Heaven, eternity, Jesus, forever. Chest pains which take up residency behind one's sternum and radiate up to one's right jaw, are very convincing of this said journey. 

Oh, I've had terrible discomfort intermittently, all week long. But on Saturday, that's when the pain started expanding its territory. And what's a girl to do, but to drive herself on over to her local emergency room.

There I earned an EKG, and some labs, and a pregnancy test to rule out a baby before proceeding (say WHAT???), and a chest CT with some iodine contrast through my veins to rule out blood clots in my lungs (I'll take a baby, thanks!), and four baby aspirins.  Everything was normal. They kept testing and I kept reminding "I'm self-pay here, people, let's just take a quick gander at the ole gallbladder!" That's right. Because our usual health coverage doubled in cost, we had to go with an HSA that we contribute to weekly. And it was just February 1st. I left with an expensive diagnosis of pulled muscles in chest wall. Sure doesn't feel like it.

But God is oh so good, and I am alive and semi-well. My symptoms still haven't left the building or anything. And last night hosted my most painful attack yet. My family watched the Super Bowl in its entirety, while I cried and panted enough in the other room, to have produced a live baby from my loins. I didn't bother alerting my new friends in the ER as I'm pretty sure they wrote Hypochondriac on my chart. Whatever.

I think that my gallbladder is to blame. Like, she's getting slack and can't keep up, and is expelling gas that's getting trapped within my chest. Yeah, I might have Googled that. I'm pretty sure that she hates me, though. I've gone from fearing a fatal heart attack, to believing that my gallbladder has it out for me. Have mercy.

With all of this downtime, I've had a pretty significant realization that I am 42, with a whole lot of living, blessing, forgiving, providing, learning, serving, and loving, that still needs to be accomplished. I feel as though I haven't made a dent in what I've been called to do in this life! What have I been doing all of this time? Please tell me. You talk and I'll write, because call me forgetful, but I just don't know! 

It's like a laundry pile that I promise I'll get around to, but keep getting dressed straight from the heaping basket, over and over. It's that kind of putting off with life and never getting around to later, that causes years to slip through your fingers. You know, while you're busy dousing yourself in wrinkle release spray. A day turns into a week, into a year, into a lifetime of no significant obedience or sacrifice. 

I sure have reflected with my heart about what this living translates to when put into action. Not just a heartbeat, whose activity can be recorded through an EKG, but a life that thrives through radical obedience and service.

The level of living and pouring out for others, that makes those around you thoroughly convinced that you've gone crazy or have started sniffing permanent markers. A good kind of crazy, mind you. 

I know many who live their lives to that level of crazy. For years, I believed that they were just a chosen, select group. That somehow they were designed differently, you know, got an extra dose of something that enabled them to live large for Jesus.

There are the missionaries, those who foster and adopt children, those who preach, those who use their voices in love for the sanctity of life, who travel to remote places to share the Gospel, and those who are so faithful to reach out to the ones that the world doesn't even see.  To live with such abandon!  I'll take one of those lives, please!   

I want my family of six to be praying about what that obedience looks like for us. You pray, too, if you're so inclined. I don't want us to just be consumed with heaping laundry and the routine of day-to-day. This week's painful journey has made an impression on my heart. "If He's called you to it, do it!", it keeps repeating.

Last night, just a little trail mix started my pain rolling, but my heart's still feasting with gluttony on the promises in His Word. I'm convinced that the Lord's all about His children stepping out in faith and allowing Him to grow them beyond what they could have imagined doing on their own. That's the craziness that I can see in others! It isn't just them, it's Him. They stepped out, He directed their steps. I trust that He can do that through my family and is working within me, too, expired gallbladder, bird's nest hair, and all! And I sure do praise Him for yet, another day to get started!

BIRDS, NESTS, AND HONEY THROUGH A STRAW

Every once in a while, I like to share a glimpse into the cottage itself, which brings me to this. 

See this photo?

These are my people, my village, the birds in my heart's nest. 

I treasure this image, for I know that all too soon, our nest will change. In fact, it's sure to never look like this again. 

In five months, Payton, our oldest, will be twenty years-old. I married her daddy a month after my twentieth birthday. 

Emma, daughter number two, will start high school next year, unless we can find just cause to have the smart little thing retained, indefinitely. 

Kathryn and Juliana, our twins, our babies, have already grown into their sisters' shoes, and would leave for the mission field right now if we'd spring for their passports. 

Do you sense our urgency here? We're all but hanging from the hands of time to slow them down. 

My prayer for our nest, is that we would make our time together count; that we'd pack as many God-honoring, memory-making, foundational truth-building, deep belly laughable moments into each and every day! 

We don't always do that. 

I want to take time to look at their hearts more, to see what Jesus sees, to love them like He does. 

And I want to sip this time like it were honey through a straw. 

A very, very small straw. 

PADDING HER CURVES ~ PART 1

 I picked up this king-size beauty for $50 years ago at a local shop, painted and distressed her, and that was it, for like, ever! 

Last year, Brad got around to attaching her to our master bedroom wall with piano hinge ledges. I painted around her with my newest, made-up-my-very-own-self, grayish aqua paint color, and complained about her every single time we propped up to watch TV in bed. It wasn't her fault, though. I still saw that same great potential; those curvy lines and details are what sold me at first sight. She just felt like resting against a brick wall while wearing my pajamas, that's all!

With a pencil, tape measure, level, staple gun, and power drill, we set out to give this curvy girl a new dress. I measured and marked while he drilled holes where our fourteen covered buttons will be. 

Three layers of quilt batting went on and were secured around the edges within the frame, then I cut away all of the excess. 

Ballard Designs' Adler Taupe

Next, came the dress! I chose a pattern similar to this one from Ballard Designs priced at $42 per yard. I said similar, like, not this one. I still have a frugal reputation to uphold. 

My fabric came from my favorite upholstery shop, Ledford Upholstery, and was just $3 a yard! Yep! You read that right! I bought three yards at 54" wide to cover the width of our king-size headboard and it was more than enough. I'll use the rest to cover the buttons for tufting and the welt cording that will disguise all of the stapled edge. Not bad for nine bucks and some change!

Bill, the shop owner, stocks countless fabric remnants that he sells as flat-folds for this great price every single day. I've been going there since I was too young to see over the counters and too young to appreciate all of the textural, eye candy goodness within. Now, it's one of my favorite places for textile therapy. 

Here she is, all padded up! Who knew that three layers of batting and a layer of fabric, stood between my back and comfort. Who knew! And if you spot anything wrong here, don't even tell me. I will so cry! I will!

Next up! 

Part 2 - Buttons and Welt

A tufted headboard suspense thriller!

*A word of caution: I bought the covered button-making kits at Wal-Mart and in Harris girl terms when we find something to be cheap and fragile, "They're janky!" Quite janky, actually! So janky in fact, that only two remained snapped together and covered after I applied my fabric. Maybe it was too thick, but I will still be returning them and their jankified $3 a pack selves. Bill at the upholstery shop said that he'd make my buttons and covered welt. Oh happy day! A finished project is in my near future!

Seventy-Two

One of my favorites of Daddy with our girls.

My little daddy, one of the most honest, humble men that I know, is 72 today! He isn't really little, it's just what I call him. I always have. He's starting to forget all sorts of things, important things, but he never forgets a face. He once saw a lady drop a one hundred dollar bill while she was buying lottery tickets at a local convenience store. He tried to catch up with her, but was unable to as she walked out the door.

He tucked the money into his pocket, where it stayed for an entire year. I rationalized that he'd probably never see her again, she would only buy more lottery tickets if she had it, and that it was an unexpected blessing for him. As in, go ahead, spend it already! He wouldn't hear of it!

Every time he was in that same store, he looked for her. And one day, as he'd assured me she would, she walked in. He asked if she remembered dropping something a year before, in the very spot they were standing. She said, "Yes", and that it was $100.

With a sweet smile, he handed her the money. She gave him a polite thanks and went on her way. What? No hugging his neck off, squealing loudly, or thanking him profusely? No. Just a simple, "Thank You". To him, it was more than enough. He didn't do the right thing for any recognition at all. Honesty was his only motive. I love that about him.

Were there times during that year that he could have used the money to buy groceries or pay a bill? Countless! But he would have rather gone hungry or cold. I love that about him, too.

So, today we'll celebrate the sweet, simple man that he is. There will be no lavish party or fanfare. He wouldn't have it. Instead, today will be filled with his harmonica tunes, supper at "that little chicken place" as he calls Chick-Fil-A, a jar of mixed nuts he won't have to share, and our weekly Aldi trip to stock his pantry.  We'll top it all off with a slice of homemade coconut cake. That's it, and to him, it will be more than enough. And as he plays, "Get Along Home, Sydney" by sliding his lips up and down the ticklish metal of his harmonica, we'll give thanks for another year, another memory, and another example of what humility and honesty look like. Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Broken Down, Spilled Out, and Used Up

We've just returned from Kentucky on a mission trip.

 Our mission was simply to love and to serve, and to pick up where we'd left off.

For we left a part of our hearts there last year.

But we promised to go back.

And we were welcomed like family who'd come home.

 We lived, loved, and ate like families should.

Simple threads made into bracelets bound our hearts.

Hugs assured us.

They told us that even in less than perfect,

often unchangeable circumstances,

love would rise to the occasion.

It wouldn't disappoint.

But would instead, draw us to itself.

There we would be broken down, spilled out, and used up for His glory.

Not our own.

It was a good thing.

We were inspired and challenged to do more, to love better.

To love like Jesus.

To see with our hearts, not just our eyes.

Thank you, sweet Kentucky.

You always know that our hearts need reminding.

They get so hardened sometimes.

Your stories and circumstances pierced all the way through.

And our shared tears were a much-needed balm.

For both of us.

And until we stand at the foot of your breathtaking mountains again,

God keep you in His perfect care.

Image of Christ that hangs in Chad's Hope, and was created using only the artist's hands.

Senior Moments

Payton, our firstborn, is now officially, for all intents and purposes, a senior in high school.

There, I said it. 

She's a big girl now with many a milestone under her Aeropostale belt.

I've only cried once, which is good since this is merely the summer before her senior year begins.

I would hate to dehydrate from tear loss so early on.

I've had moments though. 

Several of them.

Moments when it occurred to me that this is it. 

We're about to embark on a new, never-before-written, chapter in our life's story.

How BLESSED we are though, for the privilege of the journey.

Google

 And when our Sunshine and her classmates posed this week for what will become their senior portraits, 

I began to try and form into words what I will write on her yearbook page. 

They're due by November, you know.

kristin seymour

 I hope that your life is slap-full of beautiful moments that bring sweet tears to your eyes.

This journey wouldn't be the same without them.