Hey friends!

You didn't think I would get back to blogging without sharing about my life, did you? Well, welcome to my personal update space. Although, starting this post has made me realize how bad I've gotten at taking photos. 

The euphoria from last week hadn’t lasted long. My list and mercy notebook looked like a juvenile idea. My list of things to do to help build back my joy seemed pointless.

I plunked a bag of chia tea into my mug and moped back to the front desk to prepare another curbside order for Mrs. Kingston. She put in an order about once a week and usually canceled them. When she did pick them up, she usually quibbled and tried to get the price reduced for stupid reasons. Why did I have to deal with her today?

You’re so self-righteous

I don’t understand how you have any friends.

It’s probably a good thing Evan left before he figured out you like him. You have a lot of growing to do.

If only covering my ears would block out the words flung at me over the months of trying to repair things with my friend.

I’m sorry, Pam. We just can’t be friends anymore.

Over and over again the words from Jessie played in my head. It felt like glass shards cutting at my heart every time. I missed her so much. I had tried so hard, even when a lot of people had told me to write her off. Even though I had said the week before I was done letting her steal joy from me, I didn’t know how to practically do that.

No mercy notebook – not a cute little list – would fill the hole my friend left or heal my heart from the damaging words.

“Pam!”

I turned and smiled. It was hard to not smile when Lacie’s nieces came to visit. Molly and Anna were growing so fast. Molly was entering her teen years with the same joy she had in childhood. Anna followed her older sister most of the time, but more frequently these days was venturing on her own.

“What are you reading?” Molly asked, coming behind the desk.

I usually had my current read behind the desk. I sighed. “I’m between books.” I hadn’t read a book in a couple of weeks. I was to depressed. I had let myself binge-watch Andy Giffith episodes. Why when you are depressed, does reading feel like such a chore?

“I can read all on my own!” Anna announced proudly. “I read More Stories from Grandmother’s Attic.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “That was one of my favorites growing up.” It was. I loved the whole series by Arleta Richardson. Too bad I outgrew those books. I stopped with my tea mug halfway to my mouth. Why had I outgrown them? A good story was a good story. Maybe the simplicity of something written for a younger audience was what I needed.

I looked at the books in my hand. The whole series of Grandmother’s Attic was in a large plastic bin underneath my bed. My eyes wandered over the titles that had enthralled me in my childhood. Suddenly, I just wanted to read all of them over again.

Why couldn’t I? I might be grown, but there was no law against me reading these books, was there? I felt a surge of giddiness like I did when finishing the candles last week of diving into these books once again. I grabbed a mug of lavender vanilla tea and put on a lavender candle. I grabbed the first book by Arlita Richardson.

The first lines of In Grandmother’s Attic pulled me back into my happy childhood and into Mable and Sarah Jane’s world; log cabins, one-room school house, and the hilarious hijinks. Oh, I had forgotten the hoopskirt story! I laughed so hard.

Before I knew it, I had devoured three of the books and had started the fourth.

“Pam?”

Mom stood in my doorway. I jerked up. “Oh, I’m sorry! I was supposed to finish cleaning the kitchen.”

Her mother smiled and entered the room. “I thought it might have been a hard day at work? Did that fellow come and yell at you again about not carrying his books?”

I snorted, thinking of the young man who had demanded we carry his books so our shelves would have more diversity. He wrote books that he called Christian, but went against God’s moral code. I don’t know why he thought coming in every few months and making threats and demands would make us want to carry his work, but it didn’t

I shook my head. “It wasn’t that. It was just…I was struggling with all the stuff from last year.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry things have been so hard. I’m hoping this year is full of good things.”

I swallowed. I wanted to believe it could. I had tried to push through my feelings and find healing, but my plans seemed silly and kiddish at the moment.

“I got something for you.” She held out a white bubble mailer.

I took it and ripped it open and found a bible study on the life of Elizabeth. The subtitle caught my eye

Dealing with Disappointment.

I looked up at my mom and tears sprung to my eyes. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “I know this year hasn’t been easy, but I want to see your joy return.”

I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to burst into tears…again. I was so tired of sadness and crying.

“Your dad and I are headed to our counseling session. You’ll do the dishes?”

I nodded. I sighed after she closed my door. She had reminded me of yet another burden on my heart, my parents. I glanced at the study and then at the ceiling. I couldn’t pray aloud, but I sent a silent prayer upward.

Jesus, please help my parents be okay. And please, help me to be able to feel joy again.

This is one of my favorite songs we sing at church. I love how it reminds me that it isn't my effort that holds me up, it is God holding me fast.

I hope this song blesses you today.

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Scott and I are fortunate to live within a couple of hours of a lot of Texas State Parks. Palmetto is among our favorites. It's far enough from Austin to feel like we've been able to leave the city far behind, but not so far that we can't make a round trip easily. 

While Scott and I like to hike year-round, shade is pretty important for much of the year due to heat. Most of the trails at Palmetto have wonderful shade and, because of the nearby river, they are cool.

Welcome to episode 2 of The Weekly Mercies of Pam Ellis! I love writing these episodes and I can't wait to share more!

Make sure you sign up for my newsletter. Tomorrow (January 7th) I'm sending out some fun free goodies inspired by this story, deals, and a giveaway!

I had made a list. I was good at making lists. I liked making lists. That and planners, which is why I ended up accidentally with two planners this year and couldn’t decide which layout I liked better.

But I’m interrupting myself. My list.

This was a list of things I wanted to do to reclaim my joy. After all, the last year had been full of dark days, darker nights, and fighting to keep my head above water, so to speak. I was ready to get back to enjoying life.

I took a deep breath and looked at my closet, then I forced myself to set aside the list on the pretty sheets of stationery. It was one thing to make a list, but it was another thing to do it. I planned to start with what I had put at the top of the list.

I dug into the deepest recesses of my closet and pulled out the candle-making kit I had been given at Christmas a year ago. I had been so excited to get this kit from Jessie. Making candles had been a dream. Lavender and vanilla scent oils had been included. These would smell amazing.

I swallowed as I pulled out each item, memories assaulting me of the day I had called my friend, Jessie, because I was going to use it. I had planned on making a candle for myself and one for her. I would ship it to her the very next day.

The phone had gone quiet.

“Pam, we need to talk. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to have this discussion…”

What had followed was an hour-long trade of the ways I had failed Jessie. I had hurt her without realizing it and she had kept it to herself. She was angry and nothing I said, none of my apologies made it any better.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I whispered the words as tears pricked my eyes. This kit had been given to me by a friend who wasn’t in my life anymore. Maybe I should give this kit to someone at church or the thrift store.

My eyes were absently roving the room and they landed on my new notebook. I reached for it and opened to the first page. I had already listed some of God’s mercies. I ran my hand over the words already printed.

Thank you for Your mercy in making me Your child

Today, I saw God’s mercy reflected in a stranger, who was so understanding when we accidentally sold a book we were supposed to be holding for them. They could have so easily been angry.

Mercy: My family loving me on my bad days.

Clearly, I hadn’t come up with a consistent way to record the mercies of God I saw around me. I looked back at the candle-making kit. An odd sensation built inside of me, one that over the months of trying to make things right for Jessie hadn’t often inspired in me.

I was angry.

I was angry a person I called a friend had pushed me out of her life because she had chosen not to forgive me. I was angry that even now, she was poisoning something I wanted and loved because her memory tainted it.

Because you are letting it.

The truth slammed into me. I often felt as if God whispered into my heart but this felt like it was shouted into my mind.

The tears stopped.

I was done. I was done letting Jessie steal from me. I would always miss her. I would always pray that somehow, some way, our friendship would be restored. Last year, she had taken hours of my time as I tried to do everything she asked of me to restore our relationship. I had prayed and spent hours before God, asking Him to help me be a better friend. And it hadn’t worked. She had left, leaving me devastated.

But I was done letting her take from me. I would make these candles and I would try to enjoy it. I would gain back my hope

I read the instructions with the kit. I went into the kitchen, passing where my parents were both busy on their computers and two of my siblings were on the couch talking about their jobs.

I went into the kitchen and started a pot of water. I poured the whole one-pound bag of wax into the metal pitcher. I followed the directions carefully. I let the wax melt, cool down just a touch and added the lavender and vanilla scent. It smelled heavenly.

I realized I hadn’t prepped the containers so I rushed to put the wicks in place and then poured the wax into the glass

I stepped back. I had made candles. I smiled and stared at the wax, slowly cooling.

A tear slid down my cheek and brushed it away. This time, it was from relief. I had used the kit and made something beautiful.  I marched into my room and added the words to the mercies journal.

Even things that start with pain can be redeemed by God’s mercy.

I took a deep breath and I felt like it was the first full breath I had taken in ages. I couldn’t wait to see what God had in store next.

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Happy New Year! Welcome to a secret project I've been working on: a serialized story for my blog! I'm excited to introduce you to Pam and her fight to regain hope and joy after a hard year. Check back every Monday for new episodes.

3. 2. 1.

Happy New Year.

Instead of cheers and clapping, I sank to the floor and cried as if I had lost everything.

And considering the last year, it almost felt that way. I didn’t usually stay up to see the new year, but I wanted to make sure the dreaded year had left.

In the space of the last year I had watched my parents grow apart, my best friend had told me we couldn’t be friends anymore, the man I had secretly loved for years had moved to be part of a church plant far away. It was the year I had clung so fiercely to my faith, and yet had left me begging God for something anything good.

It had been the worst year of my life. Now, it was gone. I wished I felt more relief. No, what I wanted was to feel hope.

I pulled myself into my desk chair and glanced toward my bible and then at my laptop. Neither option seemed like it would offer much relief from the pain inside of me. However, I opened the laptop. I opened my browser and scrolled on social media. It was a bad habit I had acquired but wasn’t sure I wanted to fight it.

I paused when I saw a perky, flat-stomached girl holding up a sign with a title. “This year is full of hope.”

It wasn’t a page I followed but I took the bait.

We all need hope for the new year, am I right?

Well, let’s make our own hope!

This year, I am choosing to make time for ME a priority. I will be doing one thing each week to be creative and fun. I’m bringing back some of the fun of my childhood by finally treating myself to Disney Land I’ve always wanted but was denied. Will you join me in making hope?

I rolled my eyes and continued scrolling. What a shallow empty kind of hope. If hope wasn’t bigger then me, it wasn’t much hope.

That’s when I saw it. On a green background with goldish lettering, she saw His Mercy is More. Oh! Carol posted it. She had followed Carol’s account for years, but she hadn’t posted much in the last few months. I read the caption.

Hey friends,

I have missed all of you. The community I have here online is precious to me.

This has been a rough few months for me and I wasn’t sure how to share about it online because it felt so sensitive.

When I got married four years ago, I fully expected to be a mom within a year. I suppose, technically, I am a mother, but none of my babies have lived past the seven-week mark in my womb. We’ve sought medical advice and no one has a clue what’s going on.

There’s some other stress going on in my life with my family, but it isn’t mine to share. Like I said, this hasn’t been an easy few months, but I keep coming back to the phrase from the song I love so much

His mercy is more.

As I enter the new year, I’m determined to keep a record of God’s mercies each day to remind myself of all He is to me and all He has done. I also plan to do something every day to slow myself down and enjoy the beauty God has created around me.

Will you join me? I’m calling in the weekly mercies challenge

I stared at the post. Tears filled my eyes. I had no idea this woman was struggling to have children or had miscarriages. She was one of the accounts I hated because I saw her and her husband happy and adorable while the person I still loved was far away and had probably forgotten about me.

I opened up the comments and took a deep breath. I saw many others were signing their names like they were signing a contract. I decided to do the same. I needed this. I needed to change. I needed this year to be better than the last.

My fingers hovered above the keyboard for a moment and then I typed: I, Pam Ellis, am taking the weekly mercies challenge.

I let out a long breath, this was going to be hard. It would be challenging. However, I would start…right after I slept.

Working retail during the holidays was nutty, but January felt like a respite. I glanced around the storefront and let out a happy sigh. Not many people got to work at a book and tea store. My Weekend Is Booked to a Tea was located in a strip shopping center, right between a pizza place and a video game store. Not the kind of place one would expect a cute little store full of tea, Christian fiction, and classic books, but here we were.

I walked over and grabbed a Lavender Vanilla tea bag and plucked it in my travel mug and poured steaming water over it. I was so grateful I was allowed to help myself to two or three bags of tea a day as an employee.

I took a deep breath of one of my favorite teas. I adored lavender. I loved that it was calming as well as had a floral feel.

“Pam! The new notebooks just arrived!” My boss called.

Setting my tea down. I turned toward the back room. Lacy stood amid several boxes with a box cutter in hand. This woman and her husband Jared co-owed this place. Somehow, they made it when other bookstores were failing.

“Too bad these didn’t arrive for the Christmas season.” I opened a box and saw the beautiful watercolor cover with a verse printed on the front. I could have sold all of these in November and December.

“God has other plans for these notebooks.”

I didn’t understand how Lacy could always be so confident in what God had for her. But she was.

“And the discount we got after these came in late will allow us to sell them for less. So, I would say, it should be good for business.”

I opened another box and stopped.  A wood background with lavender sprigs greeted me. In a scrolling letter, the cover read:

His Mercies were New Every Morning.

I had found the notebook to record the mercies I found each day. I would start with my job, lavender tea, and finding this notebook.