Blogging

The 2018 Give Light Giveaway Winner Is …

hannah-troupe-367604-unsplash

Remember those embers? We’re starting a little fire. Thank you to the following folks who entered the Give Light Giveaway. The winner is announced at the bottom of this post and will be contacted shortly.

What gives you hope?


My hope comes from my kids and I hope I can give them the best life possible.

– Alice V.


A darkened church filled to capacity being infused with light one candle at a time while everyone sings Silent Night.

A third grade boy filling the heart of a child with special behavioral needs by asking him to be his twin on ‘twin’s day’. He remembered that they both had the same Christmas shirt in second grade. He also ate lunch with him.

Brilliant sunrises, amazing sunsets, crystal clear blue skies.

– Cathy H.


I am hopeful for good things ahead because I survived this past year without losing or compromising my integrity, patience, curiosity, creativity, willingness to try, or ability to love. I look forward to using these as guideposts and inspiration in the coming year.

– Laura G


Besides my faith in God, new life gives me hope: A precious baby, a wobbly-legged calf, or a tiny green shoot popping out of the brown dirt.  New life is such a miracle!

– Cathy P.


What gives me hope:

My children give me hope every day. And every child that walks into my life and shares their unfiltered joy with me. As long as new life keeps bringing new joy to the world I am hopeful.

– Christine C.


What gives me hope? Prayer gives me hope. When I pray for peace, faith, forgiveness or love; I’m given hope. When I pray for meekness, strength, comfort or mercy; I’m given hope. When I pray for courage, compassion, patience, and self-control; I’m given hope. When I pray for a sense of humor in a dark place, for listening ears when I want to scream, for self-love when I’ve made a mistake, for acceptance instead of judgment; I’m given hope.

For me, prayer is more than an expression of thanksgiving or a plea for help. Prayer is hope eternal.

– Suzanne M


There are two things that give me hope:

Seeing glimpses of how God has been preparing me and working behind the scenes for this season of my life.
Seeing the good that is still in the world.  I am reminded of friends giving gifts to their friends who are differently abled.  Giving baby dolls or stuffed animal dogs to those suffering from dementia to help make them feel purposeful and needed.  It helps remind them even subconsciously of previous times in their life when they were a caregiver for pets and / or children.
– Stephanie S.

Hi all,
I admit that it was hard for me to write a submission for this and I searched my brain and heart as to why. I realized that it’s because I don’t feel particularly hopeful this season. It’s definitely not like good things aren’t in my life right now, but it’s been a strange, quick, busy season where the gifts were unwrapped before I could say “it’s Christmas already?” My feelings seem to be echoed by everyone I talk to. I also feel like I’m in a strange limbo where I want to be working towards something but I haven’t figured out what.
However, there have been a few things that make me want to break down in tears just from the pure thoughtfulness of them, and they all have to do with children. I dropped by for a surprise visit to my friends’ house to visit with them and their kids on Christmas Eve. They were so welcoming and the kids were so excited that it immediately brightened my day. Not only that, but their daughter wrote me such a sweet note; I included pictures of it below. This is the same daughter that once picked the cheese out of the last cheddar biscuit for me just so I could have it (I’m lactose intolerant). Her kindness, uninhibited by motive or obligation, floors me every time.
katiem1  katie M 2
The second thing that has brightened my days are the spontaneous hugs of my niece. My brother and his family are visiting from Mexico for the holidays and I don’t get to see her very often, but she seems to revere me like one would a big sister. Every time I’ve seen her over the last few days, she just randomly runs up to me and hugs me. It’s an expression of joy that I feel so grateful to be on the receiving end of.
The third thing is my tiny 1.5 yr old nephew diving in for a cracker crumb-filled kiss before he left my parents’ house last night. He has been so hesitant around me the past couple of months and I cherish those moments of closeness.
What do these all give me hope for?
The next moment.
– Katie M.

Thanks to my husband’s helpful selection, this year’s winner is Suzanne M. Here’s to hoping in 2019.
I’m also hoping to have more guest bloggers in the year ahead. If you are interested in contributing new content, let’s connect!

A Beautiful Moment is Enough – Guest Post by Ruth

Twitter. A mysterious, magical thing that connects me to readers and writers all over the globe. I’ve been following the #bloggerswanted for awhile now and throw my name and my website into all kinds of hats to see if I can write for bloggers. So when Ruth tweeted one of her goals for her blog was a guest post, I was happy to send her my guest blogging requirements.

She’s right, sometimes a beautiful moment is more than enough.

Take it away!

Author:  Ruth of the blog Ruth in Revolt

Favorite Quote: “Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.” – William Shakespeare

It was spring 2018. Spring – a time for new life. A time for hope.

There I was, not feeling much of anything at all. At best, I was lost. At worst, I was empty.
I had been on a slippery slope for a few weeks. The stress of work, the stabbing ache for home and the constant fear I wasn’t good enough were consuming me. I was being sucked into a black hole. I needed something to hold onto.

The sun was shining, but there was a cool breeze. It was the perfect day for a trip to the beach. So, that’s where I decided to go. Strange, indeed, how I needed solid ground, but I sought a body of water.

I set off in search of relief. All I wanted was a moment of clarity.

My legs were shaky as I walked. There was a tightness in my chest and butterflies furiously flapping their wings inside my stomach. Anxiety had its fingers wrapped around my heart. In spite of it, I took strides forward. I turned my music up, desperately trying to drown out the thoughts in my head. I could see the sea in the distance. It drew me in. I told myself that if I could make it there, I would feel better. A sense of determination washed over me. My legs moved quickly now, until I reached the esplanade.

There were people everywhere. We had all had the same idea, but I imagined they were here for very different reasons. They were smiling. I was barely holding it together.
There were children, laughing as they played in the sand. There were couples holding hands. There were dogs, chasing balls and splashing in the sea. There was a photographer or two, trying to capture the magic of it all. It was a hive of activity. It was full of life and for a moment, I was, too.

I noticed an elderly man, sitting alone and eating ice cream. He must have faced troubles in his life, but he looked content.

freestocks-org-314560-unsplash.jpg

I decided I wasn’t leaving the beach until I felt it. I knew it would come. It had to.

The air seemed clearer here; lighter. For what seemed like the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe. I took deep breaths to ensure the air reached the depths of my lungs. My chest rose and fell, mimicking the tide sweeping in and drifting out. I turned off my music. I could hear it all now – the talking, the laughter, the sweet sound of memories being made. The delicate sounds of the waves kissing the sand was playing on repeat in the background. It felt like a hundred sounds reaching my ears at once, yet so peaceful.

As the waves came down, the grip of anxiety loosened. I let myself relax. Something about being here made it seem easy. All the problems slipped away, like grains of sand in my hand. I couldn’t tell you how good it felt.

Staring out at the sea, I knew I was bigger than my problems. I could conquer them. I could do anything. I was more alive than ever before. I knew it couldn’t last forever, but it was a beautiful moment.

And, sometimes, a beautiful moment is enough.


 

Screen Shot 2018-05-29 at 8.30.57 PM

Ruth is 27 years old and lives in Aberdeen, UK. She writes about everything and anything. Loves bourbon biscuits, typewriters, cats and music. Collects notebooks and Dr Martens. Happiest by the sea.

You can find new posts on her blog Ruth in Revolt every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.  Send her an email at hello@ruthinrevolt.com or follow her on Instagram or Twitter.

 

Home and Routine and Clean

neighborhood-in-color

We just took a walk around the block. The sun is setting earlier these days, and I did not want to miss the last few rays of the weekend. As we rounded the corner, and stepped back onto our street, I inhaled deeply. Weekend walks smell like laundry detergent. I find it comforting to know that people are managing their chores – not for the sense of accomplishment – but rather the commonality that we all have dirty things to tend to. Laundry detergent smells deliciously comforting, like home and routine and clean.

Home and routine and clean. These are three factors that have been essential to survival this year. When the outside world doesn’t make sense, and my own heart has been learning to heal, my home, a gently forced schedule, and chores seem to be what have grounded me.

And so, this weekend, I am thankful for the absolutely ordinary. Because coming out of loss after loss feels anything but.

I am thankful for the excitement that going on a simple date night provides. For the beauty in tacos, a new restaurant to try, the two dollar movie theater. I am thankful for the beautiful resources that allow us to spend time together, laugh at clever children’s movies, and for gift cards that allow date night to cost only $3.86.

I am thankful that after that date we came home and did chores. I cleaned the bathroom, Dylan started a new home improvement project. When gratitude sweeps its beautiful arms around us, I start to think, “Oh my goodness what a gift it is to have our very own toilet to clean.” And I mean this with sincerity, because many people don’t have such a thing.

I am thankful for creativity, and Home Depot, and the amazing miracle that it is that we can drive to a store that is filled with an aisle devoted to screws. We live in abundance, and this gift is going to help my husband recreate our banisters. I am excited to see the finished project.

I am thankful for my crockpot, and the way the smell of bacon fills up the house after you make B.L.Ts for lunch (well actually just B.A.L.s – we didn’t have tomato, so I replaced with avocado.) I’m looking forward to the soup that has been simmering on my counter all day long.

I am thankful for baking, chocolate chips, and bloggers like Amanda Rettke who devote their time and talents to sharing their treats with me. I am thankful for  an oven and the appreciation of sweet things. Sundays are for baking.

Treats are so important. Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies even more so.

These components all seem rather ordinary on the surface. For me, they are a beacon of hope that we can return to the basics of what make up our lives. Even chocolate chips make a difference.