Words for sunday.

"In order to get through tough circumstances, focus on who God is — his unchanging nature. Regardless of circumstances and how you feel, hang on to God’s unchanging character. Your circumstances cannot change the character of God. God’s grace is still in full force; he is still for you, even when you don’t feel it. Remind yourself what you know to be eternally true about God: He is good, he loves you, he is with you, he knows what you’re going through, he cares, and he has a good plan for your life. Never doubt in the dark what God told you in the light." R Warren


Have an inspiring sunday. Xo!

{image: pinterest}

Laundry and Keats. Happy weekend.

Mr. boy keller and I are doing laundry today and watching Bright Star for the third time in a month. It's our laundry day routine, it seems. And I enjoy it so. He bunches up pants and shirts and puts them in a pile. Then, when he's not looking I take the same clothes and roll and fold them until they are neat and smooth.

I'm teaching him to love pretty words. And lately, nothing is prettier to me than the lips of John Keats. (Fanny Brawne thought so, too.)


If there is romance to be found in laundry, I will find it.

(I should have be born long ago!)

Endymion

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:

Its loveliness increases; it will never

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing

A flowery band to bind us to the earth,

Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth

Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,

Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways::

Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,

Some shape of beauty moves away the pall

From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,

Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon

For simple sheep; and such are daffodils

With the green world they live in; and clear rills

That for themselves a cooling covert make

'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,

Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:

And such too is the grandeur of the dooms

We have imagined for the mighty dead;

All lovely tales that we have heard or read:

An endless fountain of immortal drink,

Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

Have a sweet weekend.
Xo.