For years I’ve accepted as fact the notion that time spent with God will positively influence the way I approach problems and increase my joy. Time spent with God gifts us with peace and perspective, compassion and hope. With all of the horrific national news this week, bringing order to our households sounds like a healthy personal response. Organizing so we can happily function as a family is a worthy goal.

And frankly, I don’t want to move a pile of unopened mail off my kitchen table to accommodate a sit-down family meal. I don’t want to head out the door, anticipating a fun and impromptu adventure, only to discover the car gas tank is empty. These real-life situations lead to frustration. Feelings of inadequacy. Irritability and conflict.

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We live in a world of distractions, don’t we. We’ve got Facebook and Pandora and Pinterest. We’re so media exposed we’re no longer sure what to do with the quiet. With little thought most of us routinely stuff ear buds into our ears to stream music and turn on the TV the minute we wake up in the morning. We multi-task on our computers, blog, and text message — simultaneously!

Even people who are “spiritually wired” like me struggle with the incessant noise and stream of distractions. But we also know better; we regularly ask ourselves this question: What can I do today to stop for a moment and hear God’s voice?

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This week I began setting out spring decorations by placing a porcelain bunny next to a flowering African violet on our kitchen table. Next week I’ll gather Easter treats for my grown kids, even though they rarely eat candy these days and it’s no surprise who fills their Easter baskets. Easter Sunday we will welcome kids and dogs, noise and activity-gathering as a family to cook a large meal, tell stories, relax, and visit with friends who will drop by to see the Klope kids who ventured home for the holiday.

This Lenten season I’ve listened to and studied Handel’s Messiah in an effort to personally respond to the accounting of Christ’s life, death and the messages of resurrection. Hoping for greater insight, I have also read in the book of John. Penned by the Apostle John, son of Zebedee and brother of James sometime between A.D. 85 and 90, the book provides a personal and powerful account of Jesus through the eyes of this devoted follower.

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As we progress through the season of Lent my husband and I, along with members of our Life Group who meet weekly, continue to study The Messiah.

Much of the music is proving to be astoundingly beautiful and my affection grows for the entire work. Like other music selections often do when the melody and lyrics unite in near perfection, I thrill to “hear” the music each time I wake briefly here and there during the night or as I go about my day and there is a lull.

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Bear Wells. Sir Buffness. The nicknames continue to evolve as we live with a dog we believe to be about as precious as dogs can be. Nobody in our family could have predicted the great love that has developed for this Chihuahua. We have always been about big dogs that break brush, romp with the men, and lie by my husband’s feet as he works in his shop.

Bear Wells defies it all by weighing 6 pounds and preferring human laps to sleep on. Rather than hunting trips he chooses outings in the family car where he can put on his serious car face and plaster his wet noise against car windows for a closer look at the outside world.

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Next Wednesday Christians around the world will attend Ash Wednesday services, which mark the beginning of the Lenten season. This day always occurs 46 days before Easter. Each year it falls on a different date because it is dependent on the date of Easter. It can occur as early as Feb. 4 and as late as March 10.

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Last weekend I joined a great group of people from my church to play in the snow, work puzzles, play games late into the night and enjoy bluegrass music up at Tall Timber Ranch near Leavenworth. Our friendships deepened. We filled our souls with utter beauty. We returned renewed.

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The very first time our family saw a bald eagle up close and personal we were new in town and driving along Pioneer Way in Oak Harbor.

I thought we would drive right over the curb and it was all caught on a video being filmed for out-of-state family members. “Here we are, driving through the quaint part of town. Over there is … holy smokes! Look at that bald eagle. It’s flying right down the middle of street, over the traffic!”

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At the tender age of 15, I asked Christ to enter my life because I understood I did not possess the knowledge, wisdom, patience and endurance to live as well as I want to live. When I married 31 years ago, with the intention to be a happy partner for life, I again understood I could not possibly do it without Him. This approach, as a married individual, goes well beyond a simple outlook or philosophy. To ask Christ to be a part of our lives and marriages is to ask the living God Himself to participate, inter-relate, influence and bond you with your spouse on a daily basis.

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Earlier this month a group of us from my church attended an enjoyable and enlightening day-long seminar presented to churches in our denomination. We learned several things that day.

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Each week my husband and I meet with a group of friends with whom we also attend worship services on Sunday. We meet in each others’ homes. We socialize and snack. We study the Bible, discuss social issues and pray together. We have become a close-knit, loving group of friends who celebrate our joys and draw near one another when we’re hurting.

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There are no bells in my neck of the woods, for I live at the end of a country road and the churches that ring bells in town are too far away for me to enjoy. But no matter! The beautiful words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow are rolling through my mind this Christmas, so wild and sweet.

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This week I placed a photo of my paternal gramma in my kitchen to use as my inspiration while heading into the Christmas season. She was simple and uneducated by today’s standards, but also strong and wise beyond measure. It is for these reasons she’s become a part of my sanctuary, better known as the Klope family kitchen. If I want to relax and think things through, I cook something and allow my memories of her to inspire me.

This weekend I will make homemade turkey soup in the large electric roasting pan I frequently use this time of year. I’ll carefully place the carcass on center stage in the pan, surround it with fresh water, roughly chopped parsley, chunks of onion and celery and carrots, and whole black pepper. I’ll cover the brew, turn up the heat, and leave it alone until the aromas tell me I can lift the cover and experience some bliss.

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