Tag Archives: journal

Tea Tales: Warm Tea In The Fridge

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For most people in the south, tea means an ice cold cup of sweet tea (black tea with lots of sugar). Growing up, that’s all we drank. No herbal teas or green teas. Nothing “fancy.”

My mom and I were a little different than most around us, though. Not that we don’t love a glass of cold sweet tea, but there was a treat we both shared a love for.

When the tea had finished steeping on the stove, Mom would pour it into a pitcher over a few scoops of sugar, add in a little more water, then stir. Once it was ready she’d put the pitcher in the fridge to cool. She’d come find me, and like a shared secret, let me know, “I just finished making tea. It’s in the fridge, so go get some now if you want it still warm.”

I’d pour some into a jelly jar glass and cup my hands around it to feel the warmth. Hold it below my nose for a bit and let the steam clear out any congestion. Then sip it slowly. I’m pretty sure I remember a few people turning their noses up at us from time to time, like, “Who drinks warm sweet tea?!” Those comments seem so silly now.

As I got older, Mom and I began to delve into the world of herbal teas. Fruit teas became a favorite, and mint. But I still love a good cup of warm black tea, sometimes with a bit of lemon juice added and mostly with honey instead of sugar. A classic a bit refined, but with humble, sweet beginnings.

Waters Wears: Friends and Flower Crowns

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Several weeks ago, my friend, Kelsey and I made some flowers crowns. Our friend, Caleb, helped us with a photoshoot a little while after that featured them. You can see the official Flower Crowns post on Kelsey’s blog here.

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These people have been my friends for years now, and though we all don’t get to hang out together as much as we used to, the times we do get to spend together are always lovely and silly. It’s nice to spend time with people you share so many inside jokes with, who’ve stuck around through awkward phases, embarrassing phases, differences in belief and choices, tears, laughs, etc. All in all, this day made me feel so joyful. I love these people. (I know, so much cheese, but it’s true.)

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(Find out more info about outfits and accessories on Kelsey’s post.)

for friends fighting hard battles

08-14-2016

for friends fighting hard battles

“be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle”

I wish I could give your heart peace.
I wish I could say or do something to make it better.
But I can only offer that I’m here – though I
 am a bitter, selfish, prideful person, I will try my
 best to be here for you – and I can carry your burdens with you.

Don’t keep it in, don’t feel like you can’t share. If
you open up and I ignore, forget, don’t understand
 the depth of your struggles, am not there in the
 ways you need, then the fault is with me, not
you, the things you’re going through, or the way
you’re feeling.

And if you want, if you don’t mind, let me make
an attempt, however imperfect or unpoetic, however
honest and real on my part, to tell you of the
One I believe CAN give your heart peace. Who
 can do something to make it better.

 Who carried your burdens long ago.
 

I am trying to remember this message, too, dear friend.
I am feeble, fickle, weak, and small. As I said, I am
a bitter, selfish person. I am full of fear, a worrier.

 Let us walk together toward Him, learn to lay
 our burdens down and sit at His feet.

Grandma Boot’s Diary

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My Grandma Boots died December 1st, 2012, just a few weeks before her 97th birthday. When she was a young woman, she kept a diary, which my family and I cherish very much. And that’s why I’m writing this. Because I’m mad at myself.

The same month she passed, my parents house was destroyed in a fire. It was also the same month I got married. I’d had my grandmother’s journal with me at my parents,’ and hadn’t packed it to take with me to where I would be living with my husband; it wasn’t mine, and I planned for it to eventually end up back at Grandma’s (I mean, no one expects a house fire).

Oh, how I wish I hadn’t had it there. It wasn’t damaged by the fire so much as the water used to put the fire out. And that’s why I’m mad at myself. Water dilutes ink, and some of the entries in that journal just didn’t make it. Including my most favorite one. So I guess that’s why I’m putting this here, because since that entry isn’t documented in that diary anymore, I want it to be documented, to be remembered, somewhere.

A lot of the entries are short, only one or two sentences, usually about who she saw that day, the passing of a family or community member, or, most often, “I picked cotton all day.” Entries often mention her best friend and her future husband, my Granddaddy Dan.

My favorite is one where she writes of a surprise visit from my granddad, after she’s been swimming or playing in the rain with a sister or cousin (I’m sad and frustrated that I can’t remember the details), but the thing I love most about this entry is that she’s being sarcastic and humorous in it, and it’s just neat to imagine her that way. So here is my favorite line from the entry, best I can remember –

“We were soaked to the bone, and boy was I a pretty young thing for Dan to see.”

I know it’s simple, but it’s neat for me to see her being so candid amidst entries that just detailed the events of the day. It gives me a different picture of her. I love her humor at the situation. Whether she was actually embarrassed or just thought the situation itself was funny, I can’t tell. But I do love that it sounds like something I’d say if a similar thing happened to me.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to know her at my age, to know the young woman in the picture above – what books and stories would she like, what would our conversations lean toward, what inside jokes would we share? What was her fashion sense, what was her way of showing her friends and family she loved and appreciated them? What did she think about marriage and children, before she had them? I wonder if we’re any bit similar.

I could tell a ton more stories about my Grandma Boots and all the special moments we shared throughout my life, about how important a part of my life she was and is, but I’d like to just focus on this little moment today.

God bless you and yours.

Journals

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It seems like everyone who likes to keep a journal has a hard time resisting buying many more than they need. Right now, I have about five, some which are filling up fast, and some that are almost bare. As a kid, I always wanted to be someone who could keep a written journal everyday, and though I tried, it never lasted. I’ve noticed, as I’ve gotten older, however, that I can seem to keep a journal (or several), I just tend to fill it with more than just a play-by-play of my daily life.

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My journals mostly consist of clothing and project ideas, occasional story ideas and poems, and a few quotes and Bible verses. Though I generally separate some things, such as having a sketchbook primarily for sketches and drawings, and one journal devoted to story and writing related things, stuff does intermingle in some sometimes.

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I have also always had a tendency to draw on the covers of my journals (and most anything that resembles an open canvas, actually).

I love seeing pictures of other people’s journals, it’s such a neat insight into the person, and sometimes so inspiring. I wonder what mine say about me.

Have a wonderful and blessed day!

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