Here, is Good.4

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

To have a morning of:

 Worship Together.

To have a morning where you cannot help but notice: 

Look what God has done.

And then watch Him apply the Things that you taught

to your own self throughout your week.

To walk and breathe in Love.

Here, is Good.3

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

Sometimes,

church-in-my-bed
is just the Treat I need.

Here, is Good.2

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

After a Beautifully long day,

to laugh and to create

and to sit down together,

and to be loved even when I can barely 

keep it together enough to keep my head out of my plate...

Here, is Good.1

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

Texts to say:

Good morning!

Here, Is Good.

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

G-chats with my sweet sis-in-law that in one second are delving into the deep deep of the work of the Lord, and the next second, 

erupt into the goofy of this:

To Live the Community Living

In recent times, I have been walking out a path of obedience, simplifying the scatteredness of my interesting-but-unsustainable life.

One such piece of that interesting life is my little piano studio, and the simplifying has involved the realization that I am not interested or able to just teach any child (even though my heart dies a little bit every time I turn someone away, because--who am I kidding?--I think that I should teach every child...).

But listen, my time is precious and my creative energy is limited. And so, the deciding factor has become: Is there a potential for community relationship with not only this child but his or her family as well?  Because if there's not, my answer to their query is, simply--no.

The result has been this very beautiful communally life-giving thing. Every Monday and Tuesday, my little cottage sings with little ones bopping around, comfortably lounging in my chair, sprawled across the floor, running back and forth to the bathroom, or spreading all their work out over my kitchen table. And I just wonder how much of their comfort comes from the fact that their mothers hug me and set up dinner dates with me before the lessons begin, and that I sprawl across their living room floors on occasion as well?

And every Wednesday, I leave my office and swing around to one side of town, to pick one getting-older one up. I bring her to her lesson, yes...but it's really just an excuse for quality car-time and the sharing of all our thoughts and hopes and realities-of-today and I-think-these-are-my-dreams.

To live the community living with my piano families means I get texts in the afternoon like this:

"Snack and piano workbooks."

It means that the littlest member of one family jumps around my house and into my arms for a "squeeeeeze!" after we have 'family band' time...even though I only technically teach her siblings. It means that her mother searches through my closets for a broom when goldfish crackers spill and I am otherwise engaged at the piano.

It means that I am on the list of approved adults when little ones get their first email accounts, and it means I receive emails from said little ones signed "from your student and friend", asking for coffee dates to talk about things.

It means that when a little one is laid out by a concussion, I go hang out with her for an afternoon while her family does things she can't do. We color and talk, and I teach her how to latch-hook a rug as she leans against my knee.

When her mother comes for her own lesson one morning, it means that I send her to work with a container of soup out of the excess I made the night before.

And it means that this morning, my lunchbox changed for the best when I was delivered half of a quiche and some beautiful muffins,

all before handing over a jar of apple oatmeal culled to life in my slow-cooker over night.

To live the community living means that we are holistically becoming more unto each other, and more unto ourselves. Musically, and otherwise.

There's a New Kooistra Among Us!

Welcome to us,

Mikaela Elizabeth.

We are so glad you're here.