This post brings up feelings of nostalgia and sweeter days. Maybe I shouldn’t actually say sweeter because our life right now is almost too sweet, but the days I wrote about and shared more of our day-to-day and lifestyle and home were the days when we recently moved into our current home and we had just two young babes. We are now going on 5 years in this home and we added another sweet soul.
The natural rhythm in our home isn’t much different, we still begin our days with a nourishing breakfast and then feast upon God’s word, we spend countless hours outdoors even while folding laundry and prepping dinner. Our home is still the primary sanctuary where we teach and train and disciple our children. I mostly tend to the household work and bake bread often, I’ve been experimenting with milling my own flour and learning new ways of setting the tone in our home.
Although, these days, we are juggling more mature emotions and have more going on than years past, we still keep to our Sabbaths and have continued using our home as our ministry — practicing hospitality, hosting often, being a refuge for others. In recent weeks I’ve found myself in awe of how much this physical home has been a refuge to myself. I prayed so very often for this home to be a refuge to those around us — stranger or friend alike. But to my surprise, these walls and custom archways, hardwood flooring and spacious rooms have remained a refuge for me as well.
Five years ago this house was so new to us, it wasn’t our home yet and now, gosh now, it is put-together and functions like a well-oil machine. We’re praising God for everything He has done in our marriage and our growing family. We pray for every soul who steps foot in this space, over every meal shared and tear shed, for those who have yet to be welcomed.
The other day I was journaling, and by journaling I mean wrestling with God — truly fighting for goodness and beauty, and as I surrendered my life to Him, yet again, I wrote down these words:
In faith & praise will I cling to Thee.
I’m learning, over and over, about the surrendered life. We surrender not to a god who is on a high throne and incapable of feeling an ounce of empathy, no. We surrender to a God who is Immanuel, with us in our wrestling, our tears, our fight for goodness in this dark world. He himself is the actual Light that illumines the places that are splattered with pitch. He knows pain, that Man of Sorrows. And He is, in my opinion, the most joyful man to have ever walked this earth.
Our lives and home, here in the Ramsey haus, reflect that sorrowful and joyous Man. We have felt the pains of this world and we have created beauty that overcomes the drought and storms. We have seen God push back waters to make it possible for us to walk on dry land, and afterwards we have nothing left in our hearts but to surrender and sing songs of gladness to our Rescuer, our mighty King and Lover of our souls.
I surrender my home to this good God, whom I can cling to in faith and sing to with the loudest praise.
Here is our lovely home this spring.
We began the spring with a Springtime party, the dearest Frog and Toad made their appearance.
Between loosing teeth and planting our garden, we wrapped up another school year, cut down a few trees in our yard, celebrated Easter, and have already spent over 200 hours outside since springtime began.
