Virtuous
A virtuous woman. Proverbs 31:10. I have a misty memory of hearing that verse during my wedding ceremony. The Pastor marrying us (who happens to be our Uncle Bill) looked at my groom and said, “The book of Proverbs says that Camellia (that’s my full name) is a virtuous woman, and because she is virtuous means that you’ve found a good thing.”
I nodded my head in agreement. “Yes, Lord. Yes. Help me be virtuous.”
But, I didn’t know what virtuous really was.
What do you picture when you hear the word, Virtuous?
Morality? Chastity? Well, those are both correct definitions.
But what did God mean?
The original greek word used is: Chayil.
Chayil is used 243 times in the Bible.
Only once is it translated as virtuous.
The other 242 times?
Army. One of Valor. Host of Armies. Force. Valiant. Strength. Riches. Wealth. Power. Substance. Might. Strong.
Kind of a different picture, eh?
Virtuous doesn’t seem so Betty Crocker anymore.
When I said at my wedding vows that I wanted to be virtuous, I wasn’t just nodding. I meant it. But since I’ve studied this scripture out and want it even more.
I want to be a force for God. Through my marriage. My children. Using my gifts. My ideas.
Even if it means I might fail. I must do something.
If you are one of the tens of people who read my blog, you’ll know of a secret project I have eluded to.
This secret project is an idea that I’ve had for years. And this year I will see this finally come to reality.
I am starting a publishing company. I will hopefully be releasing the first magazine later this year.
I need help ya’ll. Lots of it. Prayers. Prayers. Tips. Ideas. Seminars. Classes. Prayers. Contacts. Leads. Prayers. Prayers. Chocolate. And more prayers. (Well, and more chocolate.)
I am hoping that maybe I can make it to She Speaks this year. It’s an excellent conference, not too far from here. It’s only in North Carolina. But it might as well be on the moon, as the finances aren’t here right now for it. But they are offering a scholarship, so I am hoping to make it there that way.
Be on the look out as I slowly… with turtle like swiftness start sharing the dream God has placed in me, with you.
(This is soooo scary. Once I hit the post button, this is out there. My secret. My dream. God’s dream. Do I dare hit the post bu…)
My Desk.
You can tell a lot about people from whats on their desk.
And as always, my life is an open book.
Your turn.
An Enthusiastic Cascade of Laughter.
This is my baby. “The grand finale” as I like to call her. She’ll be 2 in March.
It’s odd how much of your personality exists at such a young age.
She is grateful. (She says “Thank You.” even in her sleep. Really, it’s more like, “Chane choo.” But still.)
She loves to be chased. (Don’t all girls? Who knew it started so young?)
She has a great sense of humor.
She’s smart as a whip.
She’s all about her family. She’s a Daddy’s girl for sure. Her sisters are her world. And there’s no one who ranks higher on her list than my Dad. (I told you she was smart.)
And she’s not a bad dancer.
We can’t imagine life without her fancy footwork.
Little Princess Who Leads Her People to Victory.
This is my second youngest. She’s 5. And much like her 7 year old sister, she’s an old soul.
She is always reminding me if I giggle at something that’s not funny, “That’s not funny, Mom. Don’t laugh.”
It’s weird to be corrected by your 5 year old. But I am getting used to it.
She loves to play alone. She thrives alone. She is, in a word: independant.
I think it is safe to say, that I am more high maintenance than her.
She is also severely competitive. She wants to be run faster, run farther and always, always be first.
She’s been known to get angry when someone beats her at Candyland, Tic Tac Toe or Trouble. She also gets mad at the dog when the dog beats her to the house.
She is currently perfecting her chess game.
She is, as her teacher tells me all the time, an excellent student and loves the whole learning process.
Good thing she likes winning: because she’s always a winner to us.
Pure and Innocent Daughter of a Wise Leader.
This is my second eldest. She’s 7, going on 27.
I know lots of parents say that. But I really mean it.
She loves helping me with book keeping our business.
When I sort receipts: “Can I help Mom?”
“Sure. ” I say. “Here’s how you do it….”
My instructions are quickly followed by a: “This would be easier if you highlighted the dates, Mom.”
“Um… yeah. I’ll get to that….” oh, wait… too late, she’s already got the highlighter in hand.
Later, I had to run to the movies and leave all the paperwork for later, she looks up at me, with those big sparkley eyes: “Um, Can I finish this while you’re gone?”
Yeah, 7 goin on 27.
She has an uncanny memory, she remembers scriptures she only heard once, and where I left my chapstick.
She’s dedicated. Hardworking. And motivated by a burning desire to always do her best.
She is notoriously hard on herself. She always wants to do better.
But, to us, no one could be more perfect.
Fair and Beautiful Annointed One.
This is my oldest. She’s 10. The BIG sister. She loves being the big sister. She loves her sisters.
She likes to read. She loves anything creative. (Art. Music. Drama.)
She loves being outside. She digs snowboarding with her Dad and his lame friends in the winter. (She can beat me down any slope.) She catches frogs, butterflies, toads, crawfish and worms in the summer. (Some of them even survive long enough for her to let them go.)
She can cook up a mean corn chowder and a batch of brownies, but is still perfecting her recipe for oatmeal no bakes.
I love to watch her growing in mind and spirit. Our exchanges are becoming more and more meaningful everyday.
She loves her Savior with all her heart.
And we love her with all of ours.
Not that I’m Complaining… but…
Okay, I am.
Charlie bought me a square glass vase for Christmas. Ain’t it cute? (Well, you can’t really see the vase, but it is cute.)
But see the flowers? Not from Charlie.
From me.
I am the only one who loves me enough to buy me flowers.
Winter in Ohio.
When you live in Ohio you get creative in the winter. Being indoors for such a long time leaves no other choice. But if your name is Charlie, you’ll find other things to do. Not that this isn’t creative.
