Book Review: The Well-Watered Woman

I appreciate author Jordan Raynor's weekly book recommendations (although, I realize, many he hasn't actually read). When he mentioned Gretchen Saffles' book, The Well-Watered Woman, I noted it on my endless reading wish list. Then, I experienced a God-thing a few months back, repeatedly encountering the story of the woman at the well. Each time, the teaching held a little different angle. By the fifth time, it was clearly something God wanted me to camp on for a time. So, I returned to this title and checked out the audio version. This is an excellent, Bible-rich book.

The Well-Watered Woman encourages readers to seek the well of living water, the word of freedom, and the way of fruitfulness. Every chapter presents a hypothetical thirsty woman. This taps into each of our longings and needs. She outlines the transaction: bring your nothing; receive His everything. She asks, "Are you trusting in Jesus plus something... or are you trusting Jesus alone?" 

The Word is our water - Deposit truth so you can withdraw during times of drought.

The Word is our protection - "We fight from the victory of Jesus, not for victory. Victory has already been claimed at the cross."

The Word is our roots - "Every desert season has a purpose--nothing is wasted in the kingdom of God."

I loved her encouragement to look for gospel intersections everywhere. It brought me back to my verse of the year (2 Cor. 2:14) and my daily pursuit to live out the fragrance of the knowledge of Him. I loved another beautiful section where she spoke of often overlooked wildflowers. Growth may be ongoing, even when it is underground or unnoticed. Some blooms take years to develop and bud. Moroever, she reminds that the well-watered woman lives a counter-cultural life. Does my life look too much like the world? Do I blend in or stand out for God?

For more from this author, seek her ministry, The Well-Watered Woman, which she has based on Isaiah 58:11 ("And the LORD shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not." KJV)

Meaningful Use of Once-in-a-Lifetime Finery

Scrolling along Facebook the other day, I came across a post from the daughter of a woman who assisted my parents in one of our Salvation Army corps assignments (a lovely woman with great skill in quilting and sewing). She posted pictures of a small Build-a-Bear bear wearing a mock wedding dress alongside tiny baby garments. Her mother, Betsy Cox, had taken her wedding dress and created a small keepsake bear in remembrance of her wedding day. Then, she used the remaining fabric to sew bereavement outfits for stillborn babies. The daughter works as an OB nurse at a nearby hospital and takes the garments there to offer to grieving parents in their time of loss.

I lost a baby to miscarriage prior to the births of my three sons. My dear cousin, Karin, lost her first son, Adam, as a stillborn. This ministry is dear to my heart and I approached Betsy to ask if she had enough time to do the same with my wedding dress. I told her I'd be happy to pay her for the task. She graciously accepted and I shipped my wedding dress off to her.

The dress hung in a closet all these 28 years since its one-day use on August 4th of 1990. I will certainly never fit into it again - ha - and hope to never have need of another wedding dress. Moreover, God blessed me with sons instead of daughters. Their future wives will surely not want my dress. What better way to put it to use and bless others with the fine material.

Since I have collected monkeys from age seven, I asked if she could find a monkey for the keepsake dress. Here are some photos of her finished products. I feel so blessed by her willingness to take on this project:

Mystery Solved, Heirloom Uncovered

Sixteen years ago, I created a counted cross stitch picture as a memorial to the baby I miscarried. I remembered taking it along in my purse to a store to purchase a suitable mat for the frame I had selected. That is all I remembered.

For years, I have wondered what ever happened to the cross stitch I had worked so diligently on. It wasn't just any old cross-stitch. It held tremendous meaning for me. I was so crushed that I couldn't find it.

Then, this weekend, I went down into our basement to root around in our storage boxes for a suitable frame for the Thomas Kincaid print I purchased last week at the thrift. There were several frames in a box full of decorations I used to have up in our older apartments (from when we were first married). We moved to a small house when Bryce was one and I guess it just felt very temporary. Plus, there wasn't much wall room for decorations. So, this box has been in storage for fourteen years.

Here is what I found:



When I pulled it out, I had to say "Awwww!" I was super thrilled to know that I didn't lose it in a store (apparently something was up with my memory skills even back then because I didn't even remember framing it). Since I didn't include a last name on it, I had always assumed that even if someone had found it, they would have been unable to identify the owner.

I am overjoyed. I showed it to the boys. They know all about my baby Colin. Now this memorial can be displayed again.

Favorite Things Thursday: Memorial Music Box

Way back in 1994, I was hungering for a baby. We had been married for four years and I was approaching the age of 30. My husband was in graduate school and I had just finished a very stressful first year of teaching high school. As I look back on all these details, I understand my husband's sentiments a bit more; however, at the time, my desire was too intense to share his apprehensions. After many long discussions, he finally agreed to try.

From the moment I saw the positive line on the pregnancy test, I was a bundle of nerves. I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that I had pushed my husband into something he wasn't ready for. (Of course, this wasn't really new territory for me, because our wedding was actually postponed once due to his fear of commitment apprehensions.) As badly as I wanted a blue-eyed baby boy, I didn't want to create friction in our marriage.

When the pregnancy ended in miscarriage, I was devastated. I had begun bleeding one day, while at school. I finished teaching and called my doctor. After a quick exam, I had an ultrasound and was able to see the tiny heartbeat of my first baby. The doctor informed me that he was heading out of town the next day for a ski trip, but that I should give him a call if the bleeding increased at all.

Sadly, I ended up in the ER later that November night and my doctor performed a D and C. The pregnancy, from beginning to end, had been quite traumatic and I second guessed so many things (not bundling up enough and catching bronchitis, carrying a heavy box, the doctor's desire to "merely take care of things" before heading out for a ski trip, etc.). My grief was overwhelming.

Several books I read, suggested that the intangible aspect of miscarriage heightens the difficulty of grieving. Others find it difficult to recognize your loss as significant because they have never really seen your child. Many individuals who experience miscarriage find it easier to grieve when they have something to look at as a reminder of the child's existence (even if that existence remained unseen, in the womb). So, to ease the pain of my empty arms and heart, I purchased this memorial music box:

It seemed perfect because it is a small boy building a snowman and it plays "Silent Night," with that perfect line of "sleep in heavenly peace." I also gave my miscarried baby a name, calling him Colin James. I cross-stitched a memorial piece for him as well, but I lost it (if I had been blogging back then, I would have surely snapped a photo the moment I finished the piece).

Less than two years later, in May of 1996, I used this cherished memory box as my focal point when I went into labor with my ES. Of course, ES knows all about Colin and his music box. I purchased a special music box for ES, as well. ES's music box was knocked over and broken a time or two, but we still have it (a Noah's ark theme). Then, when ES entered his train-fixation-phase, I found an adorable train music box for him.

I suppose, I really should be on the lookout for a music box for MS. I have one for Colin. One for ES. The train one could actually be for YS now, since he loves trains. Any suggestions on what I should look for? a Spiderman music box? a puppy music box? an artist music box?

Thankfully, Colin's music box has turned out to be as resilient as ES's music box. Earlier this week, MS and YS had been sent to their room. All of the music boxes are in there (am I nuts, or what?) up on tall cabinets. Colin's music box was on top of a chifferobe next to MS's twin bed. Somehow, they managed to knock the music box off the top and break it. I glued it back together this afternoon and snapped my photo.

I have moved Colin's music box to the living room (still not safe from my destructive boys, but, like the tea pot, I want to be able to look at it). At least now, I will know that I have a picture of it. It remains one of my favorite things and it did indeed help me through the grieving process.

My sister, Dawn, also had an intuitive understanding of what might be helpful for me during that sad time. Within days of the miscarriage, she sent me a large package. It contained a highly-huggable stuffed monkey (I have collected monkeys ever since I was seven), a book and three videos (to divert my mind).

We ended up both being pregnant with our first-borns at the same time. I may be on the cusp of having a teenage son, but she is now on the cusp of having a teenage DAUGHTER! Perhaps, I should send her a care package now. What would YOU put in a care package for a woman whose daughter is about to enter the teenage hormone zone?