{The Evolution of the Nickname}

I just shouted, "Thank you, Zu-zu!" out the back window while sitting here in the school room. Little Miss had taken care of something for me, and it was quite automatic for me to call her by her most recent nickname.

Gyo Fujikawa

It got me to thinking about the evolution of nicknames. (My own is Juni, which I hint at in the "About" section of my blog.) I remember, years ago, visiting with some dear friends in a Life Group, and one of the wives beckoned her husband with the endearing term, hunners. Not honey, but hunners. Another wife laughed and said, "Isn't it funny how we make nicknames out of nicknames?"

That's pretty much what happened with Zu-zu. It went something like this.

Avery became Avers. Natural enough, right? 
Avers became Avoo. Her cheeks were squishy then and the "oo" sound simply needed to happen.
Avoo became Voo-Voo. Because it just did.
Voo-Voo became Vuvuzela. Because Drew got her one for Christmas one year and it seemed fitting. The volume and all.
Vuvuzela became Zela. With me so far?

Now, hold on. We're almost there. The combination of the former Voo-Voo and the flair of the exotic Zela reminded me of the name Zuzu of It's a Wonderful Life fame. You know, as in Zuzu's petals. (One of my favorite things to say to Jamie when something needs fixing is, "Paste it.")

Which finally brings us to the creation of Zu-zu. My own Little Miss, currently sunbathing on the lawn in blue shades and flip-flops with her dashing brother, Dayness. Would you like to know how he got that name?


Now it's your turn. Tell me your nickname, and if there's a story to go with it, I'd love to hear it!

Your friend,
Juni

{June . . . and a Little Link Love}

And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten.

~James Russell Lowell


This weekend may you truly look and listen to the murmur and glisten of this world, its people, and its Creator.


(If you need a little laugh in your day, hop on over here . . .)

(For a little whimsical magic you might look here . . . .)

(And for some truth about who you are, look here . . .)


Blessings, my friends,
Julianna

 

{That Kind of Day}

Perhaps it was my fault for serving oatmeal. I've tried to vary the morning menu a bit lately and thought it would be safe to re-introduce the oats after a brief hiatus. Little Miss thought otherwise. Upon seeing me stir something in the three-quart Revere Ware this morning, she knew exactly what that meant.

She glared. She groaned.

I combated it with a spoonful of sugar: "I'm going to add lots of yummy stuff! Like apples and cinnamon and vanilla! It will taste just like a cookie!"

More glaring. "The kind of cookie I don't like."

I kept at it with the Mary Poppins bit and served up. Her glare deepened when I handed her a bowl, although I didn't think it was humanly possible.

And then she leveled me. "I want more."

Oh, it's been that kind of day, folks. We're finalizing our school work, I'm madly pulling together Drew's freshman portfolio, and I have a bazillion other things on the brain. Not the least of which is my daughters' recent enthusiasm for fabric crafts. "We're gonna make a quilt!"

This morning I suggested that Bethie could be Avery's substitute teacher while I graded Washington State History for Drew, an arrangement which they both found to be pretty fun. For the most part. They steeped their tea and snuggled on the couch while reading their Bible . . . and then fought over math. Such love.

As I graded, Aidan and I came across one of Avery's papers. Aidan shrieked, "She's talking about a Corgi wrap!" And pointed to her title. We were horrified to think of her sweet little mind putting dog meat on lavash, until she put us at ease. Apparently it was supposed to be a Corgi Rap.

You've heard it said that punctuation saves lives. Well, apparently the absence of w's does, too.

To top it off, we prematurely ran out of toilet paper. This is likely due to the fact that earlier in the week we ran out of Band-aids.

Did I mention it's been that kind of day? I could go on. But I'm just too tired. So I won't. 

{The Valley}

We pilgrims must often travel stretches we'd just as soon not travel. The path ahead seems uncertain. It looms dark in the distance, and we wish we could just stay on the mountain top instead and enjoy the view from there. Even as we travel, we know the right words to say. We know with our minds that God is good and that He is faithful and that the path we are on comes as no surprise to Him. He's in control.

Yet still we must trudge through a path that is not of our own choosing.

Someone very dear to my heart is trudging a lonely path right now, and it hurts to watch. I can tell her the words that God is good, and she knows that it is true, but she would just as soon enjoy His goodness from the beauty of a hilltop rather than in the shadows of a valley. I wish I could pull her out. I desperately wish I could pull her out. But sometimes the Lord, in His mysterious sovereignty, keeps us there. We don't know why, but we know Him and we know His goodness, so we trust and obey.

Woman in a Garden by Daniel Ridgway Knight

Yesterday as I was reading through Isaiah 27, my heart was encouraged not only by the goodness of the Lord, but by the specific ways in which He shows us His goodness. Sometimes it helps to latch on to the tangible when we're traveling a dark path. We need a staff, a light, an assurance that we're going the right way and that we're not alone.

I read the words carefully, and as I often do, I picked out the verbs. Our God is a God of action, and it comforts me to study all that He does on my behalf:

Sing about a fruitful vineyard: I, the Lord, will watch over it; I water it continually. 

I guard it day and night so that no one may harm it.

Isaiah 27:2-3

I copied the verses in my journal and underlined the action: watch, water, and guard. When I envision the Lord doing this for me, it brings me a new sense of peace and comfort.

I think of Him watching over me, and I am comforted. "Watching" speaks of the Lord's attentiveness and delight and interest in my life. This is incredible. That the Almighty God would watch over me as a farmer eagerly watches the growth of his vineyard. Every day a new delight, a new bud, a new proof of a maturity that only comes as a result of being carefully watched over.

I think of Him watering His vineyard, and I am comforted. "Watering" speaks of the Lord's generosity and sufficiency and His wisdom in knowing what I need and when I need it. He gives in abundance, tending with perfection, and He gives according to my situation and according to how I can be the best little vine I can possibly be.

I think of Him guarding, and I am comforted. "Guarding" speaks of diligence and strength, purpose and love, and a fierce protection that every girl craves. Nothing gets by Him. I think of the Chris Tomlin song:

I know Who goes before me,

I know Who stands behind

The God of angel armies

Is always by my side.

The God of angel armies. The almighty One. He is with us. He is watching over us, tending us in our every need, delighting in our beauty, and masterfully crafting us to become more radiant than we could ever imagine. 

The valleys won't disappear, and the path won't always stretch out clear and unobstructed before us. But we know one thing for certain: we don't walk it alone. The God of angel armies is our friend -- our friend! -- and He's always by our side. Watching, watering and guarding with His perfect, all-sufficient love.

 

{Success}

My to-do list has been way too long this month, but I've done a mighty fine job of crossing things off. March, march, marching through my day I attack and cross, attack and cross. And I call it a success.

I've done such a good job that I don't have time for anything else. Like people.

Mary Cassatt

And the realization of this hurts.

I pour a cup of tea and am led to others who feel the same way:

I need to rest. (And not feel guilty about it.)

I need to choose peace. (Even when it's messy and things don't get crossed off my list.)

I need to allow the "floods of trouble" to make me "better not bitter." (And oh, it's raining today.)

You, too, my friends? Let's sip our tea and bask in the goodness of the Lord. We might not get to algebra and those sentences might not get diagrammed and we might not have the energy to scrub that toilet. Again. But there are more important things. More important people. And time spent with people? That's exactly how Jesus spent His time. I think of the many "human interruptions" He endured following His cousin's death (Mt. 14), and the way He continued to give and speak and minister. Because His heart was with people.

And His Father called that a success.