miracles from heaven

Every time I see a yellow butterfly I think about my Grammy Lucy. I don’t believe in reincarnation but I do think God sends us little signs, little reminders that He has not forgotten us. I’ve read that some people call them ‘God winks’. The inspiration behind starting this blog, behind starting the business Little Joys of Home, the idea to reignite a love in the heart of others for “HOME” came from bigger story. See I had a home I loved. A house that I thought I would stay in forever. It was southern living house plan, it was a sweet story how we came to own the home, and I had poured my life into making it our “forever home”. Painting, cleaning, dreaming, making memories. Then one day my husband said he wanted to sell it. It was the biggest disagreement we had ever been in and still is to this day. I spent the next five years trying to get over it. I could buy you a coffee and talk you through the growth and advice I have on this side of it all, but my cousin called (who knew the whole story) and said you’ve got to watch the movie called Miracles from Heaven. Now, to fill you in a bit without spewing out all the details, we literally wandered around for a little over a year praying through a TON of things and exploring options of where to live then landed right back where we started, in the same town. We bought land and chose a house plan. (I had actually torn it out of a southern living in 2004 when we first married-its now 2018). We began to build a house and I swore I would not attach myself to this or any other house like I had the previous one (and the blue house with stairs). A house is just a house I told myself-its wood and sheetrock and decisions but home is where your heart is, your family is. We have been in this house for over two years now. It still doesn’t feel like home and I’m beginning to see why.

We were made for something that last forever. We were made for Heaven-its our home. I mean I knew this but like this truth is still sinking in. Every house we live in, every place we set our feet on earth will eventually go away. God will make a new heaven and a new earth.

If I live my life looking for a home to give me security and sense of well being and safety and a place to put my heart I will forever struggle. I can talk pain colors and room design and organization all day long, but it will not be there forever, our styles will change, kids will scrape the walls, and we willed to redesign. BUT my one everlasting home is with God. Its the place I feel the most safe and secure and loved and it is still being built. Its still being built. God is shaping me into his likeness and preparing place for me with him for eternity. The best thing I can do right now is prepare myself for that. Spending time with Him now is the only place I really feel at home. If you don’t have that security of knowing you will be with Him, lets talk.

This picture of the house above (in the movie Miracles from Heaven) is the exact house plan of our current home. I had no idea until I watch the movie and googled some images. I’m totally sentimental to fault (for sure!) so very day when I look up the driveway and see this house, I feel the same way I do when I see a butterfly. This house is a little gift-a reminder-that God has not forgotten me. God has given me a place for now, and the miracle is Him at work in me. So here is to our heavenly HOME. I hope to see you there one day.

The Blue House with Stairs

I was three. My sister got a dollhouse for Christmas. I told my parents I wanted a blue house with stairs. They told me to ask Santa. I told them I wanted a real house. They said that was out of Santa’s league, that maybe I should pray about that one.

Ten months later we moved into a blue house. With stairs. After a grueling day of house hunting, the realtor mentioned a possible option to my parents, but it was a fixer upper. When we pulled in the driveway it was a Miracle on 34th street moment where I proclaimed “Thats it! Thats my blue house with stairs!” I’m sure they looked at each other with what-have-we-gotten-ourselves-into eyes as they signed the papers and we moved in October 23, 1986.

We lived there for 9 years. It was my childhood home. I have tons of memories there and leaving it was the hardest thing I had ever done until 2016. I left another home that was a answer-to-prayer-dream-house. But that’s another post.

Home is a big deal. Its a place where you feel safe. Some children in foster care have moved so many times you cannot count. Some children don’t have running water and electricity, like children down the street from you. Some children do not know what its like to come home to the smell of a fire in the fireplace and the smell of hot fudge cake or cookies. Some children do not know the feeling of a mom’s hug-probably the most common, comforting and first home any child knows.

This year with COVID, home is supposed to be the safe place. Home is a place we are more often than ever. This year home matters a lot-like a ton. I could use this post to raise awareness about child neglect, about foster care, about social distancing, about fixing up houses, BUT, I chose to say let us all make HOME a place where people can feel safe. Our family, ourselves, and may we look for ways our homes can reach those without one, in someway or another.

If you need help knowing how to show care for the homeless or motherless, contact me. I have some ways you can help.

If you want help making your home feel safe and a haven that welcomes and serves your family, I have some ways I can help.

If you want help making your home feel like a well organized relaxing place to enjoy and rejuvenate, I have some ways I can help.

Thanks for stopping in,

Joy

That stamp of approval, the label PERFECT. Its hardly attainable. We all know it, yet why do so many of us still strive for it? There is no perfect house, perfect life, perfect family, perfect school, perfect church, perfect community. Our homes will never be perfectly organized, nor perfectly clean, yet we endlessly clean and organize. Our food will most likely have a flaw, the bread may not rise evenly, the cookies may not all turn out the same size, yet we bake on. What drives us on in our unattainable quest for perfection if we know we will not reach it? Perfection is not the pursuit of excellence, its the dissatisfaction of a standard that at times we set for ourselves. What drives you to continue in your quest for a clean house? When I would look at magazines filled with images of beautiful girls with flawless skin in high school, I knew nothing of photoshop and airbrushed finishes. When I skimmed House Beautiful or Pottery Barn I didn’t know about the hours of staging and purposeful photography that went along with those photoshoots that produced perfect looking homes.

I have found that what drives us on in our quest for perfection is comparison. If we look at our homes and see one cleaner, better organized, it gives us something to strive for. I once read that comparison is the thief of contentment. I do believe that there is a near impossible balance between the two. May we be content with our smaller, less expensive, homes, yet strive to keep them as tidy and well decorated as our budget and schedule allow. May we be content with our closets that look more like an armoire than a room, and work well with the supplies in a kitchen that resembles a college dormitory set up more than a commercial grade gallery kitchen. I’m here to help. Lets work together. I will help you make the best of your circumstance. For I have found that in the quest to perfection two things make an enormous difference: support and resourcefulness.

Support for our standard. I may not know how to make cookies the same size, but when my husband brings home a cookie scoop, I see that he cares about the things I care about and that he wants to help. I want to be that for you.

Resourcefulness in our season. Maybe you are in a small house while you save to build a bigger one, like we did for a while. Maybe you have a teeny tiny apartment and a load of keepsakes, maybe you have an enormous house, but don’t know how to best use the spaces you live in. I’m here for you. Lets work together. And remember: perfect is impossible, but perfect for right now will do.

Lovingly,

Toys in a drawer

Steven Balmer, an American businessman and investor who was the chief executive officer of Microsoft said “Accessible design is good design”.

I agree and that is why we have drawers full of toys in our family room. While I am cooking dinner or washing/folding laundry my youngest wants to be near me, near the life going on in the house. While I am helping with homework or tying soccer cleats he can also pick up those toys and put them in a drawer so that after dinner or when we get back in from soccer practice the house isn’t a wreck.

My mom has a drawer in her kitchen full of toy food that all seven grandchildren have enjoyed playing with as she cooked or canned or did all her many things she does in her kitchen.

Stuffed animals are treasures and some are slept with nightly and kept in their beloved Toy-Story-like Location on the bed, some were souvenirs or gifts from special events that cannot be replaced, but where do we put them all other than a labeled box in the attic? Over the door shoe rack

…And dress up clothes…they TAKE OVER. we have tried hanging them up, we have tried hooks the kids could reach, we have tried a lot of options..my favorite? THE HAMPER..easy cleanup, easily accessible. (Im hoping that you follow me on Instagram and have see the visuals for this-if not hop over there now)

Do you have a friend you could still dial their house phone from memory? You know like in the 90’s? I do. And just as Ben Rector says in his son “Old Friends”

I can still find Wiley's house
Riding on my bike with eyes closed
I can name every girl that he took out
And from my memory, dial his house phone

Can you take me back when we were just kids
Who weren't scared of getting older?
'Cause no one knows you like they know you
And no one probably ever will
You can grow up, make new ones
But truth is there's nothing like old friends
'Cause you can't make old friends

And I've got some good friends now
But I've never seen their parents' back porch
I wouldn't change how things turned out
But there's no one in this time zone
Who knows what inline skates that I bought

Well my friend’s name wasn’t Wiley and her parents’ back porch is still one of my favorite places on earth. Her mom had a box of Happy Meal toys that stayed in the den long after we were 3-6 (the prime years for playing with them) in fact, you could catch a glimpse of them in the picture of her and her prom date in high school. Kids from church and beyond always found them and today, 33 years later, when MY kids go to my childhood best friends house they find that box and play with Rappin’ Raisins and Garfield on a skateboard and Miss Piggy just like we did. And I love it. I love the ACCESSIBILITY of the toys.

So we have drawers of toys and when your kids come to play with mine they can find them and we can watch them play and we can learn a lot from knowing good, familiar, unbreakable, fun things are accessible. Its a gift. Let’s design things that are accessible to who they need to be accessible to.

Her Hands

Truthfully I had MANY grandmothers. My dad’s mom passed when I was three. I have VERY little memories of her. But God gave me lots of grandmas. There was Granny Pace, Granny Smith, Grammy Lucy, and they each taught me something different. But I remember very vividly each of their hands. I can see Granny Pace as she crotched and knit with her crooked knuckles. I can see Granny Smith’s as she peeled a peach in one loooong strip. I can see Grammy Lucy’s as she would lick one finger to turn a page in my favorite storybook. Granny Pace passed when I was in Junior high, Grammy Lucy when I was a senior in high school and Granny Smith I walked to last week. When I look at their hands I see history. I see hard work. I see love. I see home. One day I will be a grandma (hopefully a long time from now!) But I hope my hands feel like home to my grandchildren!

One of those Grandmothers left me a heritage starter for sour dough bread. I have been asked how old the starter is and I have no idea. maybe 100 years or so. Check out another post to read more about the bread. I have one grandmother who gave me a father who loves God’s Word and her gift was his faith. I have one who gave me the gift of courage to fight big fears. Each priceless. Each making me who I am. Each contributing to what HOME feels like for me.

Papa’s Popcorn

The week before Easter we drive to Alabama.We pack our clothes, Dad packs his camera.

We get there and quickly take off our shoes and run to the dirt yelling “I will beat you!”

There our Papa has plowed up the ground and in just a few months treasures will be found.

Nana comes bringing kisses and hugs. Before long it will be waters and jugs.

For its time to get to work, laying out rows, dropping seeds in mounds or holes.

Every Good Friday after the tilling is done. Our family plants seeds til the setting sun.

Then we wait, water and wait some more. But for us we know its worth the yummy galore.

My favorite treat is the popcorn we grow, although I don’t like the work with a hoe.

We wait extra long for the harvest of this and the process is fun you don’t want to miss!

After its ready to pick we shuck it and shell it-Hard yellow kernals plop loud in the bucket.

Then we leave it an hour or so to dry in the sun then take it to nana to where the popping is done.

She pours a little oil and salt in a pot. Then I grab a handful. I grab a lot

Of the freshly shelled corn that we took from the cob. Then we listen we laugh as the heat does its job.

Now some more salt and a cousin or two; Sit down with some lemonade and munch and chew.

“Isn’t hard work rewarding?!” I say, and that is just the work from today!

Tomorrow is butter bean shelling contest! Finding ripe watermelon is what I like best.

I like the smell and feel of the dirt. I like that the wet of the sweat on my shirt.

I like that my brow is damp and not dry. I like this food better than the food that you buy.

Store bought food isn’t bad but there’s one thing that’s true

You REALLY appreciate its origin-when its origin is YOU!

Granny’s Bread

I can remember being in college and my mom MAILING me homemade bread! Growing up Granny Pace kept us in good supply of bread but when we moved too far for her to deliver, she gave my mom a cup of her “sacred starter”.
It had been handed down to her from her mom, and now my mom could make her own! It soon became a favorite in our new town and people called in “Beth Bread”. When I left home in 2001 it was one of the things I missed most other than the people

. …And then I got married. If you have read anything on this blog on why I started “Little Joys”, then you will note that I didn’t start our too confident as a HOMEmaker. It wasn’t until after my SECOND child was born that I felt like I might could be trusted with making bread. In 2009 I finally got the guts to ask my mom for a cup of starter and tried for the first time. My kids and I ate an entire loaf before Ben got home from work!

It soon became a regular baking event. I sold it for a year or so before Molly was born and now I have decided to sell again.

I am SOO excited to share with you what Home TASTES like. Seriously, when I take a bite, it takes me back to when my feet didn’t even touch the floor and I sat in a wooden chair and eating bread as the kitchen window unit blew loudly and Daddy sliced the bread on a wooden cutting board.

My dears, go get in YOUR kitchen and decide what tastes like home to you! Then come back and tell me about it would ya?

What a wonderful world…{well sort of..}

Picture Nat King Cole with his smooth voice .. thats what this perfectly organized pantry is like for my hubs..buuuttt we have SIX people in our family and only two of them are adults that care about an organized home at this point.

So how do we tackle the daily and weekly tasks? We could chat for hours but I will spare you and share what you would see at the closing of my home organization questionnaire: (In case you want/need help I do home evaluations and can be your personal home organizer-just PM me:) First, ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS figure our a way to put like items with like items. ALL the scissors in one location, all the pencils/pens etc. It will simplify your life greatly!! Then develop a cleaning schedule that works for you. 

Here is my weekly schedule: (forgive my kindergarten teacher alliteration background)

Mopping Monday-sweep, vacuum and mop the house

Tidy Tuesday- pick up all items on the floor and put away 

Washing Wednesday-fold, hang and put away laundry

Thorough Thursday- Clean bathrooms (toilets, sinks, showers, tub) DUST all wood and clean mirrors

Frugal Friday-search for ways to save or sell. Make meal plan for week and order groceries

Sabbath Saturday-REST-Do the minimal. 

Serving Sunday-for me this has always been a day where I am serving others either through some form of ministry or otherwise.

DAILY: wash & dry a load of laundry-even if its not folded (that waits til Wednesday), Clorox wipe potty seats in powder (guest) bath, take out trash, run dishwasher *note we are a family of six

MONTHLY: wipe cabinets exterior, doorknobs, walls where hands touch often, stair rails, light switches (more often if there has been sickness)

Check for piles of paper/clothes/other- sort/declutter/discard

Now.. wouldn’t it be a wonderful place if it could stay that way? Just kidding of course! I will take all the dirty-fingered messy love I can get! One day they will be gone and my house will be too clean!

Why I do this…

A.I teach. I can’t help it. I know I have other skills and I enjoy other things like decorating, baking, designing, running, and occasionally crafting. But no matter what, I don’t know that anything fuels my engines like seeing a struggling reader learn some strategies and concepts that knock his reading skills out of the park or any learner grabbing hold of new concepts. I love classroom management strategies and helping others learn, but I’ve tried something new.

B. I have a sweet client who I am helping with her new build, I have a few (very few but still!) people interested in cooking classes. I honestly have no plan to have a fortune 500 company. I just love home. I love school. I love home. (Side note I don’t love Homeschool-we can save that for another day. It wasn’t for me-not knocking it-just reeeeeealllly hard to get the public school teacher out of me.. :)

C. If you love to learn, if your in a season where you can spare a once-a-month class to enhance your love for home and maybe grow in a skill or two check us out. I’m affordable -I promise-because like you I’m on a budget. Sign up today..follow along. Let’s learn together.

Biscuits that made me cry…

I had three children in 39 months. I was exhausted. Home cooking was not happening at the Finch house. It was Ramen, Tacos, and Frozen Supperville…for days! My sweet Mama was 6 hours away. Home cooking was all I grew up on. There were seasons where I would load up those babies and drive six hours stopping to nurse along the way just so I could get her cornbread and peas or biscuits and honey.

It was February, my least favorite month. It was cold and dreary and I was spent. Ben, being aware of my desperate state hired a sitter on our limited budget and drove me to Knoxville Tennessee, just 40 minutes down the road and told me he had a new restaurant he wanted to take me.

We ran from the parking deck to Market Square in the freezing rain. We let down our umbrella and shook like wet cats as we took in the scent of country ham. We passed plates of gravy and all things fried on our way to our seats. Once seated the waiter offered the menu and my eyes couldn’t even focus. All I wanted to do was not think, not have to answer questions, not be interrupted for the 1000th time or chop up three plates of food. So I sat there taking in the semi-silence. Within seconds (or so it seemed) THEY BROUGHT ME BISCUITS!!!!!!! Hot, buttery, deliciously tall biscuits AND blackberry jam!!! I broke open one, spread some butter, took a bite, and wept.

You can ask Ben. Its true. I just sat there and cried. Once composed enough to speak I answered my bewildered husband quizzical stare. “It tastes like HOME.” And it still does. I offered a class on biscuit making because I want you to be able to taste what home tastes like to me. So what is it for you? Chicken Pot Pie? A casserole? Cornbread? What tastes like home to you? Maybe your more composed than I was that day 6 years ago, but I bet you have a tastebud weakness too! Please stay a while, share your story and lets be friends.

Japanese Cuisine Night

Japanese cuisine is one of our family’s favorites. Couple that with the tremendous joy of having several of your Japanese friends into your home to teach you how to cook it and you have a match made in heaven. Here’s a peek into our Little Joys of Home Japanese cuisine night where we learned how to make sushi and miso soup. I am so excited to learn and share about cooking with you!

home

Home.

The word alone stirs up emotions in all of us. It’s a word that I refused to say for an entire year. And that was just last year.

Home is defined by Merriam Webster as one's place of residence : a familiar or usual setting : the focus of one's domestic attention.

Launching this business on the tails of a really rough year, three years to be exact, seems ironic. But adversity breeds invention and motivation. So here we are. My mom had a cross stitch hanging in our foyer that said, “Home is where the heart is.” Where is your heart this year? And just what does HOME mean to you? When you were a kid, was it a haven and a place you loved? Was it a place you couldn’t wait to get away from and felt imprisoned? Was it meaningless or meaningful? What did you desire for your home to be like when you were a kid? Are you doing that? Would your six year old self be proud of you? My desire is to help you reach your domestic goals. So browse around the site, message me, take a survey, and if you want, call me and we’ll have coffee and chat about YOUR home.