I haven’t written much lately, but I have come across two pieces on Facebook that I wish I had written.

I am sharing them below. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

My friend, Marilyn Hiser, reposted the first piece, which was untitled on Facebook.

Astrid Tonche

Have you ever noticed how in the scriptures men are always going up into the mountains to commune with the Lord?

Yet in the scriptures we hardly ever hear of women going to the mountains.

But we know why—right?

Because the women were too busy keeping life going; they couldn’t abandon babies, meals, homes, fires, gardens, and a thousand responsibilities to make the climb into the mountains!

I was talking to a friend the other day, saying that as a modern woman I feel like I’m never “free” enough from my responsibilities, never in a quiet enough space I want with God.

Her response floored me. “That is why God comes to women. Men have to climb the mountain to meet God, but God comes to women wherever they are.”

I have been pondering on her words for weeks and have searched my scriptures to see that what she said is true.

God does indeed come to women where they are, when they are doing their ordinary, everyday work.

He meets them at the wells where they draw water for their families, in their homes, in their kitchens, in their gardens.

He comes to them as they sit beside sickbeds, as they give birth, care for the elderly, and perform necessary mourning and burial rites.

Even at the empty tomb, Mary was the first to witness Christ’s resurrection. She was there because she was doing the womanly chore of properly preparing Christ’s body for burial.

In these seemingly mundane and ordinary tasks, these women of the scriptures found themselves face to face with divinity.

So if, like me, you ever start to bemoan the fact that you don’t have as much time to spend in the mountains with God as you would like, remember: God comes to women.

He knows where we are and the burdens we carry. He sees us, and if we open our eyes and our hearts, we will see Him, even in the most ordinary places and in the most ordinary things.

He lives. And he’s using a time such as this to speak to women around the world.


I don’t think most kids today know what an apron is.

The principle use of Mom’s or Grandma’s apron was to protect the dress underneath because she only had a few.

It was also because it was easier to wash aprons than dresses, and aprons used less material. But along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children’s tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.

When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids. And when the weather was cold, she wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove.

Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.

From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.

In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.

When dinner was ready, she walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men folk knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that ‘old-time apron’ that served so many purposes.


Santa’s Clauset


4 thoughts on “I WISH I HAD WRITTEN THAT”

  1. Aprons have always had a special place in my heart.
    I remember reading the Grandma’s attic series to my children when they were young. The books contained true recollections of a young girl and her closest friend and their many experiences and escapades growing up in a loving Christian family. It is a grandmother sharing her life experiences from another era with her young granddaughter.
    Your post of the apron history reminded me of a chapter from these books about a particularly challenging day for a very busy and somewhat harried wife and mother and how she experienced several redirections during that day.
    The mother was so busy in fact that when her day caused her to change courses requiring her to be involved with others outside her immediate family, she simply grabbed a clean apron and popped it on over the one she was already wearing. On this particular occasion when her work day was finally over she took her apron off only to find another apron under that one, and another apron under it, and another apron underneath and another and another. Of course they all had a good laugh over it.
    The remembrance of that tale so clearly came to mind reading your post. I think it clearly reiterates just what you’ve shared. Thank you for this.

  2. Oh my, Sharon, it is great hearing from you. You and I remember the days of aprons, but our children probably will not. I loved the story of the woman removing an apron only to find another one. She’s my kind of woman!

  3. Thank you for curating these stories, Debbie! It has brought much comfort lately to think about God coming to me in the midst of the mundane. SUCH an amazing truth! And though I know the feeling of wishing I’d written something myself, there is just as much good done by sharing it! So thank you for blessing my life! 💛

    1. Thank you, my sweet friend! Both those pieces spoke to me. I, too, am awed by the thought of God coming to me. The apron piece reminded me of sweet days in my grandmother’s kitchen. She and I made a game of closing our eyes, sniffing little cans of McCormick’s spices, and trying to guess the names. Opening a can of cloves today takes me back many years and many miles to the warmth of that little room with the billowy white curtains in north Arkansas.

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