tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47253397214597430042024-03-04T20:55:34.585-08:00Growing Along the WayMarciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-80781346225087540082018-08-27T10:53:00.000-07:002018-08-27T10:57:39.912-07:00Sweetly Broken. Wholly Surrendered.I enjoy writing. I often get inspired and want to sit and write, but finding the time is sometimes difficult. Mostly because I also enjoy reading, sewing, playing games with my kids, watching television and napping. I really love napping.<br />
<br />
But sometimes the urge to write just nags and nags at me until I can't ignore it any longer. That's what the last 24 hours have been like for me. The thoughts just keep on coming until I can't do anything except to sit down and write them out so that I can share them with others.<br />
<br />
Yesterday was Sunday. It had been a really long week and honestly, I didn't really want to get up and go to church. When the alarm went off at 6:20a.m., I spent the next hour getting ready and trying to figure out how I could put off my responsibilities at church so that I could go back to bed. And really, no one would have faulted me. It would have been understandable. But in the end I rallied and walked out the door with my family on time. I wish I could say I did it with a smile, but it was more like with a yawn and my head resting against the back of the seat while Denver drove.<br />
<br />
Once at church, it was great to catch up with friends that I've been missing and it felt good to take care of my responsibilities and not to push them into another already busy coming week. And then worship started. Our team led us in the song "Sweetly Broken" by Jeremy Riddle and it was like the Lord reached down and was standing in front of me. The whole song is incredible, but I'll just share the lyrics for the chorus.<br />
<br />
"At the cross, You beckon me<br />
You draw me gently to my knees<br />
And I am lost for words, so lost in love<br />
I'm sweetly broken, wholly surrendered."<br />
<br />
The words spoke to me and stayed with me into the message. We were asked, "How big is your God?" and discussed what holy means and what it's like to be in His presence. In the book of Exodus, when the Moses was on the mountain with God, the Israelites didn't see God, but just feeling His presence so near made them tremble. Shortly after this, Moses was permitted to see the backside of God...just a wisp of his Presence after it passed. Then when he went down from the mountain, his face glowed!<br />
<br />
After service all of this kept running through my mind until it became almost a picture. The Lord beckons all of us to the cross. He loves us, disciplines us, leads us, whispers our names, reaches out to us...all to bring us to the foot of the cross. And when we finally get there, we are so overwhelmed with His holiness, how could we even stay on our feet?! I imagine myself, feel myself...just falling to my face and unable to even look into his eyes. I'm so overcome by my shame and His glory, and yet here He is. He reaches out again and "You draw me gently to my knees and I'm lost for words, so lost in love" Even now, as I write this, the tears run down my face. This kind of love is unimaginable. Indescribable. And yet, it's a free gift. God sacrificed His one and only Son to save me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4p_ikrLgbnkaSOdkSujYNQ7vf4MveM1jEx8ro_xvlIqYceg5mr5PjnyBs4fHvElVVpEcaUYfwQySpNqwaSCwkGiFJ6jNfEGcbuGpMbkjj3PgpkXqLuF3Rmf1MP3DMcMHPOC349etkvUF/s1600/thFXJ489ZU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="199" data-original-width="300" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4p_ikrLgbnkaSOdkSujYNQ7vf4MveM1jEx8ro_xvlIqYceg5mr5PjnyBs4fHvElVVpEcaUYfwQySpNqwaSCwkGiFJ6jNfEGcbuGpMbkjj3PgpkXqLuF3Rmf1MP3DMcMHPOC349etkvUF/s200/thFXJ489ZU.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I've spent the last few hours thinking through the "sweetly broken, wholly surrendered" part of the lyrics. Have you ever held your child when they are completely broken? Maybe they were hurt or sick or another child was mean to them. You hold them tight in your arms as they sob and sob. Your shirt is wet. They are hot and sweaty and have their face buried in your neck. You feel their tears on your cheek and smell that little kid smell as you hold them close. And finally they give in and fall asleep in your arms. Their hot little body becomes limp. They are "sweetly broken, wholly surrendered" to you. They came to you for love and care and entrust you with everything they have. And that's what God wants for us. To be sweetly broken and wholly surrendered to Him. What a safe place to be! <br />
<br />
But sometimes it's so hard to get there. There are tears and red cheeks and heaves and sobs. And yet He's there. Just waiting for us to surrender. To just be held by the Father.<br />
<br />
That's where I want to be. At the cross. On my knees. Lost for words. Lost in love.<br />
Sweetly broken. Wholly surrendered.Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-27810548138426140522017-11-16T16:32:00.000-08:002017-11-16T16:32:03.990-08:00Things Are A Changing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZq2iNBYSn7Y7W6_lEyj_j0NzzF2lWY1XlG21aM-2gIkYkylaE1wWLEFhu-Zivf0jzAdv6w1cvIjhYS52kUnDWTpbTVehoWz6_0Tg1IYAmF9bOe51vqaRsoTCVMnVKUG6zHgnl_Ovg-N9/s1600/Change-1080x675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1080" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZq2iNBYSn7Y7W6_lEyj_j0NzzF2lWY1XlG21aM-2gIkYkylaE1wWLEFhu-Zivf0jzAdv6w1cvIjhYS52kUnDWTpbTVehoWz6_0Tg1IYAmF9bOe51vqaRsoTCVMnVKUG6zHgnl_Ovg-N9/s400/Change-1080x675.jpg" width="400" /></a> Just over 13 years ago, the doctor placed this slimy, wiggly little body in my arms and my life changed. <br />
<br />
Before Benjamin was born I had a job that I mostly loved. It was exhausting and draining and heartbreaking at times, but I truly loved it. I was a case manager at a county emergency shelter care facility. We temporality housed children ages 5-17 who were taken from their homes due to neglect or abuse and also children who were arrested for runaway, battery, truancy, etc. It was more than a job. It was a place that I felt like I could sometimes make a difference.<br />
<br />
After having Ben I knew God was calling me to be a stay at home mom. I fought it for a few months. Finance wise it just didn't make any sense to quit my job. But I was in such turmoil about it I couldn't even sit in church. Week after week I walked out crying midway through service. I knew I was being disobedient. <br />
<br />
About three months after returning to work, I sat with a very wise man in the sanctuary of our church when service was over. It was a small back pew by the door. We both sat straight looking ahead at the cross. With tears running down my face I told him what I was feeling. He held my hand and wisely told me that I already knew the answer to my dilemma. He also told me that if I did what God was asking me to that I might sometimes have to sacrifice, but that I would never regret the decision. He was right. <br />
<br />
The man passed away several years ago, but I know that now as my life changes again, he would smile, hold my hand and be proud of the new changes in my life.<br />
<br />
I have been filling in for the past six weeks as the cook at the food pantry. I thought I was cooking this week too, but Tuesday the chef showed up and said he was released and that after that day I was free from cooking. (Well, except for the week of Thanksgiving. That week it's all hands on deck.)<br />
<br />
But instead of spending the last two days at home. I started a new part-time job. A job that I know is from God. This job is also at the food pantry. I am now officially the assistant to the director. It's flexible so I can still be available for the boys in the case of sickness, field trips or school parties. I mostly get to set my own hours. And I get to make a difference to the people who come in to the pantry. I get to help them get groceries, apply for help with their bills, pick out clothing for their children and generally just love on them and give them a smile. Of course there is also paperwork and computer work, but even then it's all about helping people. And already when I'm in the office, five minutes doesn't go by that someone doesn't stop by needing at least a kind word.<br />
<br />
I am sure there will be hard days. And there are always a few people who are grouchy or who are taking advantage of the system, but I'm looking at it as a ministry. It's a great way to share the love of Jesus with people who truly need to know that someone cares. What an opportunity!<br />
<br />
So things are a changing. But that wise man was right. If I do what God is asking me to do, I might sometimes have to sacrifice, but I'll never regret the decision.Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-41709433530591448552017-11-13T16:17:00.001-08:002017-11-13T16:17:31.821-08:00Veteran's Day I'm beginning week six of cooking at the Mishawaka Food Pantry. My last few posts have explained that I've been filling in there for the chef who had hip replacement surgery. I'm happy to report that he's doing really well. He even came in and made most of the meal for our Veteran's Day dinner. It was wonderful to have him back, but it made him realize he isn't ready to start back this week. <br />
<br />
So I'm cooking this week and then he will be back next week. He will prepare the meals for the pantry and I will help with our Thanksgiving meal preparation. Then I think I'm done cooking! Two weeks. I think I can. I think I can. Ha!<br />
<br />
I have enjoyed it and it's been a great experience, but I'll be happy to go back to just cooking and doing dishes for my guys here at home. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgol4JaqcCpukndcpAk0QVkBfRdzobdWafOooDQtP28LcWTD8e62QezSxcQ4iko_0oQM-YiDl35w08nqC_0Z8uVX9ULCwmtWR3VGHBjRVd5etL6P4leOxzH0sID_gR1-M_k6U0jPhHHhrNV/s1600/7d6f3577fe4ea78376238ff93c341415--mini-dogs-dog-tag-necklace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="489" data-original-width="736" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgol4JaqcCpukndcpAk0QVkBfRdzobdWafOooDQtP28LcWTD8e62QezSxcQ4iko_0oQM-YiDl35w08nqC_0Z8uVX9ULCwmtWR3VGHBjRVd5etL6P4leOxzH0sID_gR1-M_k6U0jPhHHhrNV/s320/7d6f3577fe4ea78376238ff93c341415--mini-dogs-dog-tag-necklace.jpg" width="320" /></a> <br />
As I mentioned above, I was able to be a part of a Veteran's Day ceremony and dinner. It was such a honor to play a small part and to serve those that have so humbly served our country. The Veterans presented the colors, did a 21 gun salute and played Taps. Students from the Mishawaka High School Band played and Denver started the ceremony with prayer and a short message about how Veteran's Day came into existence. <br />
<br />
He also shared about how we want to teach our boys that true heroes do not wear jersey's with names and numbers on the back, but instead wear dog tags and boots. Most veterans don't call themselves heroes, but that makes them heroes all the more. Afterwards, we served them a dinner of brisket, mashed potatoes, veggies, rolls, vegetable soup, and cheesecake. <br />
<br />
One veteran personally shared with four of us a small glimpse into his time in Vietnam. He told us about these two young boys who saved his life by warning them that someone had placed bombs underneath their vehicle when they got out to help someone else. He and his men knew these two young boys by name and spoke with them regularly. Shortly after the boys saved the mens lives, he saw the two boys and their water buffalo blown up by a landmine. He also shared that when the family was compensated for their loss, they were given 30 some dollars for each of the boys lives, but around $500 for the water buffalo. The lack of value of the the boys lives is heartbreaking. With tears in his eyes, this gentleman fondly remembered the two young men that saved his life. <br />
<br />
Being there for the ceremony and for the dinner and for the sharing of stories is something I hope to never forget. I thank God for men like that man that shared a small part of his story with us. They have sacrificed more than I will even be able to understand.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-77439483250802679972017-10-12T16:59:00.003-07:002017-10-12T18:40:40.565-07:00It's A Wrap!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1l45j50Dpr8rzb7qToc6m71gbGIjrxt7xQceBW9kKPybnhLfIdBT9Vh1xLn9eHZKasK3qsfvkFaQQf__I2E0UWVEvZCsNacZtCJU7BL16M6sn3wVeHChlJ2V5SHy-suUNn32kpjksyXM/s1600/IMG_5409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1l45j50Dpr8rzb7qToc6m71gbGIjrxt7xQceBW9kKPybnhLfIdBT9Vh1xLn9eHZKasK3qsfvkFaQQf__I2E0UWVEvZCsNacZtCJU7BL16M6sn3wVeHChlJ2V5SHy-suUNn32kpjksyXM/s400/IMG_5409.jpg" width="300" /></a>My first week serving at the Food Pantry is in the books. We served 456 meals this week, but now the kitchen is clean and the lights are off.<br />
<br />
This is how I feel...<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I'm exhausted.</li>
<li>My feet hurt.</li>
<li>I'm excited.</li>
<li>My heart is full.</li>
<li>I'm sad.</li>
<li>My arms are like jello.</li>
<li>I'm exhausted.</li>
<li>I'm happy.</li>
<li>I'm thankful.</li>
<li>I'm in awe.</li>
<li>I'm heartbroken.</li>
<li>I'm happy to have a long weekend break.</li>
<li>I can't wait until next week.</li>
<li>Did I mention that I'm exhausted?</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This last three days have been a roller coaster of emotion. I'm so thankful and blown away by the help that I have received from those that I know and even strangers. On Tuesday and Thursday I had four different family and friends show up to help me. On Wednesday I had four ladies from church that serve the second and fourth Wednesdays of the month. Everyone was willing to help out in anyway possible. Some did dishes, mopped floors, served food, wiped tables, cleaned up spills, made food, etc. The list could go on and on. Then some of the ladies went above and beyond and just went to work cleaning around the kitchen. The toaster, microwave, sink and counters have never looked so good.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've also had a couple people donate some money so that I could purchase some needed items. Some just put it in my hand and others have had a message waiting for me upon waking up in the morning to let me know that they've put a check in the mail.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've also had strangers come into the pantry and volunteer. It's pretty typical to have people that come every once in awhile, but one person today was definitely a gift from God. He came in this morning, introduced himself, said that he volunteered occasional Thursdays and asked me to put him to work. Some volunteers are more skilled in the kitchen than others, so I asked him what he was comfortable doing. He said anything. I asked him if he could cut salad fixings. He said he was a chef at a local restaurant so he was sure he could handle salad. Hallelujah! My next question was "Have you ever made macaroni and cheese with yogurt?" as I'm standing over a pot looking confused. He laughed and then he asked me how I normally made macaroni and cheese. I admitted that I opened a box labeled Stouffer's.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
His next question was "How did you get this job?" Ha! He gave me suggestions, helped, made a great salad and stayed to help us serve. He's even planning to try to come back next week to help me make pork belly. That will be another new one for me. (By the way...the yogurt mac and cheese went over well.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've also had heartbreaking moments. I've seen people come in to eat carrying all of their belongings on their back. I've seen people come to tears over a simple glass of milk or cup of coffee. I've seen teenagers come in filthy and starving with no place to go. Most heartbreaking is hearing the story of a gentleman who volunteers five days a week and sorts donations that are given to the pantry. He's diabetic and also disabled. Many years ago his first wife died. He turned to alcohol. He attempted suicide. He got the help he needed and has been sober for 25 years. He got married again. Again his wife died. Again he attempted suicide. He sleeps in a van that he borrows for the night. He has been sleeping in the van for several years. He has no hope. He feels he has no reason to live anymore. He volunteers at the pantry because he has no place else to go.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This week has been exhausting. I'm tired. But I wouldn't change it for the world. It's life changing to hand a plate of food to a dirty starving teen. It humbling when I help a homeless person find a place for their backpack of items in the corner while they eat. It makes me count my blessings when I see someone tear up over a cup of milk. And each time I pass the gentleman with no hope I am reminded why God has me here. Serving food is good and necessary, but more than anything this man and so many others need to know that they can have hope and eternal life with Jesus. I pray that each time I pass him in the hall, speak to him in the warehouse, smile at him as I hand him food...that he will see Jesus in me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So thank you for all of your prayers. Thank you to those that have volunteered their time or given money. You too are all apart of those hope giving moments. Thank you.</div>
Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-16276425019333421722017-10-10T16:47:00.001-07:002017-10-10T16:47:18.496-07:00A Grand Terrifying AdventureToday I started a Grand Adventure. At least that's what I keep telling myself. Mostly I want to call it a Terrifying Endeavor. Maybe I should combine the two and call it a Grand Terrifying Adventure. Yep. That sounds about right. Today I started a Grand Terrifying Adventure.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JwruPiXDokfAvUquYbOxDTlbbkIf2Atu54lIpBMtTWIGZ0kc_1LNq2J23v1reXnHIrT0gPsWG56-7lRY9QueauwJ-Of3TEZWBXmTZUa4uSDUd_b1pGoJrWU6m5WjSaHgxYAd62pSfumy/s1600/Adventure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="850" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JwruPiXDokfAvUquYbOxDTlbbkIf2Atu54lIpBMtTWIGZ0kc_1LNq2J23v1reXnHIrT0gPsWG56-7lRY9QueauwJ-Of3TEZWBXmTZUa4uSDUd_b1pGoJrWU6m5WjSaHgxYAd62pSfumy/s400/Adventure.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
For several years now I have been a part of a group of ladies that prepares and serves food at the Mishawaka Food Pantry twice a month. The pantry already serves free lunch every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday each week. We just cover a couple of Wednesdays for them so that it helps their budget, chef and volunteers. It's been an amazing experience and I love how God has been working to help us build relationships with the people there. I have story after story about how God has touched lives through this ministry. These two days of the month are days I look forward to and most of the time I believe I walk away more blessed than the people that I've served.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the regular chef at the pantry had to have surgery and will be out about 8 weeks. The pantry had this covered, but about a week and a half before the surgery, the person who was going to fill in had to back out. So long story short ... I am filling in for the chef at the food pantry. I've never done anything like this before. I cook for five. Like I said, I started a Grand Terrifying Adventure.<br />
<br />
Let me tell you, serving twice a month with a handful of ladies is totally different than being the full time chef. When we serve with the church, we make a menu, shop, each cook part of the meal and then show up and put it together and serve it.<br />
<br />
That isn't quite the same when you are the full time chef. This is how it works. Basically, people donate to the pantry, or we pick up whatever items we can from the food bank. All of these items go into cooler or freezer. Then I walk into the cooler or freezer, see all of these random items and then figure out how to make something out of them for between 125 and 200 meals. <br />
<br />
And while I'm at it, I have to try really hard not to let anything go to waste because everything is valuable. You know, like the yogurt that was donated yesterday but was out of date today. We can't just serve it because of the date ... even though the yogurt really is still good for a few days. It has to be cooked. What do I make out of yogurt? Google has been my friend. On Thursday this week I think we are having mac and cheese made with yogurt. I didn't even know that existed. I' ll let you know how it turns out. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmyWzHdmcVM2qO4-waBe11oIb5pB1xGVcSnqLAhftBSXYlEVTvRtD3BoQMtSM1V8THdZkmgBO3PvEXahVRdzzblw7zxrM81PW1nlgT0zex_3Z3Ivkit5BdrWytIBS_sSzfHY5wyZTp2oL/s1600/dirty+dishes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="820" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmyWzHdmcVM2qO4-waBe11oIb5pB1xGVcSnqLAhftBSXYlEVTvRtD3BoQMtSM1V8THdZkmgBO3PvEXahVRdzzblw7zxrM81PW1nlgT0zex_3Z3Ivkit5BdrWytIBS_sSzfHY5wyZTp2oL/s400/dirty+dishes.jpg" width="400" /></a>Last week I trained. Today was my first day. Oh my goodness it was a doozy! We served 192 meals. Let me just say that that was more dishes than I've ever seen at once! I'm so thankful for my mom and for another lady from my church that came and helped with dishes and clean up today. They saved me hours of work. I also had some amazing volunteers from the pantry that were a lot of help.<br />
<br />
<br />
For the last week I've been repeating in my head "when I am weak, he is strong." ("But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weakness, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." - 2 Corinthians 12:9). I keep telling people at the pantry that "I'm nervous, but God's got this." <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM36cLLOv2MPFUazGpFV-iYILvEpT-JFXjYr0Lxks_pek8E2YeGtsbS60cLF7S4oPqmVkI7zzlw8wYRJT9pkMzW04gpjh-J9VJimJsQh8B9NESi0f2-6KdTNqxBd-3mqgm6yC-vGz8tUaM/s1600/potato.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="251" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM36cLLOv2MPFUazGpFV-iYILvEpT-JFXjYr0Lxks_pek8E2YeGtsbS60cLF7S4oPqmVkI7zzlw8wYRJT9pkMzW04gpjh-J9VJimJsQh8B9NESi0f2-6KdTNqxBd-3mqgm6yC-vGz8tUaM/s320/potato.jpg" width="320" /></a>I've asked a few prayer warriors I know if they would pray for me this week. One was by text message. I explained the situation and told her that there were random things at the pantry to cook from and that I really wanted some simple things to go with them ... like chicken broth or potatoes. Her response back was "Dear Marcia, God definitely has a plan and you are a part of that. AND. He can provide potatoes." That was Wednesday<br />
morning last week. Wednesday afternoon I walked into the cooler and what do you think had suddenly appeared? That's right, potatoes! <br />
<br />
Tomorrow is day two.<br />
<br />
So ready or not ... one Grand Terrifying Adventure coming up. But God's got this.Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-69695264347600178262017-03-31T17:57:00.001-07:002017-03-31T17:57:30.167-07:00This time last year<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This morning when I was looking at Facebook, I clicked on "See your memories". This is one of my posts from this day last year:</span><br />
<br />
<i>"My grandmother passed away today. I was blessed to be able to hold her hand as she took her last breath. My childhood is full of memories of time spent with her. My heart hurts, but like my grandpa said when he heard the news "Praise the Lord!" There's no more pain and suffering and she's in the presence of Jesus."</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmCowU79kAqFSfJARWQGS1FJ0xe0G88pfJzQ_uLTfgFJ8NvTf-m6Am9b7smV8PF1P3pTgr6ulZ0loRSz9sS5In5Y20w-hgk3xzMfTZG_daNVYCUQW4kC2AHamQ3AY4XOiJ7YXeExlotCi-/s1600/kids+with+gma+and+gpa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmCowU79kAqFSfJARWQGS1FJ0xe0G88pfJzQ_uLTfgFJ8NvTf-m6Am9b7smV8PF1P3pTgr6ulZ0loRSz9sS5In5Y20w-hgk3xzMfTZG_daNVYCUQW4kC2AHamQ3AY4XOiJ7YXeExlotCi-/s400/kids+with+gma+and+gpa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That was a tough day. There has been a lot of tough days this past year. There are days that I miss her so much it brings me to tears. There are so many days that I want to call her and share with her things that are happening in our lives. There are days when I drive by her home or the nursing home and I want to stop in to visit and see the smile on her face when I walk in the room. I want to hear her tell me that she loves me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I spent this past week with a friend. During that time we talked about my grandparents. During the conversation my friend said, "It's such a precious legacy they left for you." I looked up the word legacy. One definition is: anything handed down from the past. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My grandma definitely left me a legacy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My grandma could not leave me the gift of salvation. Salvation is something personal between Jesus and me. I am not saved because my grandma was saved. But my grandma did lead me to the foot of the cross...to Jesus. My grandma faithfully took me to church starting at the age of two. She taught my Junior Church class. She helped me with my memory verses. She showed me what it meant to serve. She prayed for me. She prayed with me. She read her Bible faithfully and in front of me. The list goes on and on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's all a part of her legacy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Last Sunday we baptized five people at church. My grandma loved baptisms. She loved that people who had accepted Jesus were following Him in baptism. Grandma knew that baptisms don't save people, but that it is only a picture or symbol of what someone has already done in their heart. But she saw it as such a time of celebration. I remember being small and helping her gather towels and robes in preparation of a baptism and afterwards gathering those same towels and robes to take home to wash. It was never a burden to her. It was time of joy. Last week as I stood in her place handing out towels I couldn't help but think about how excited she would be about the baptisms. Later I cried because I wanted to pick up the phone and share the excitement with her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's another part of her legacy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I miss her. Occasionally the tears still come and my heart still hurts, but I am so thankful for her legacy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On another note...just to leave you with a laugh...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My other Facebook memory from this day last year says:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I just heard from downstairs 'Hold him! Hold him! I can get his nipples'"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Boys!</span>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-33124008672937072772017-03-21T09:43:00.002-07:002017-03-21T09:43:48.177-07:00I've Missed This.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ahhh...I've missed this. Writing. It's a creative outlet that helps me to process information...and emotions...and relationships...and scriptures...and parenting issues...and well, lots of stuff. My family has gone through some sad times in the past year and over and over I've thought to myself that I wanted to get back to writing, but I just never made the time. This morning I decided the time is now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My prayer is that God would use my writing time to strengthen my faith and relationships and that by sharing others might also be encouraged and strengthened. So as I sit here on the couch this morning, I pray to our Father, the one who loves us more than any other, that he would use my words to work in not only my life, but yours too. I'm praying for you, dear reader.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A few weeks ago during my devotion time I came across this verse:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <i>"And the Lord said, 'My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.'' </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Exodus 33:14. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is such a comforting verse. I've been focusing on the first part "my presence will go with you". It's one of those things that I learned in Sunday School so many years ago. I know it in my head but day to day I don't really grasp it. As I sit here and really try to comprehend what that means it's overwhelming. The presence of God is with me. With you. The same God that created the earth, that split the sea, that rained down manna from heaven is here. In this very room. Isn't that amazing? How do I so often take that for granted?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYenudqWE3TlEXcCSDEJMxE74kb06HNhrkHkY1yonIxgVIyyxo1udxNlOgBw-fFrvZ6DmI2q_UnRdp-EWfdFdFHrp-AVSxF5G_1ggvKKZoUIjJD1WdxUSTi_hQRDG5GJrPnUSIvoplQeb/s1600/14711060_10211454622025178_419931520727186073_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYenudqWE3TlEXcCSDEJMxE74kb06HNhrkHkY1yonIxgVIyyxo1udxNlOgBw-fFrvZ6DmI2q_UnRdp-EWfdFdFHrp-AVSxF5G_1ggvKKZoUIjJD1WdxUSTi_hQRDG5GJrPnUSIvoplQeb/s320/14711060_10211454622025178_419931520727186073_o.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The view from the deck at The Cove.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Last fall Denver and I had an amazing opportunity to attend a retreat at the <a href="https://www.thecove.org/home" target="_blank">The Cove</a>. It's the Billy Graham Retreat Center in Asheville, North Carolina. Each year <a href="https://www.cbhviewpoint.org/retreat-to-the-cove" target="_blank">Church of God Ministries and Christians Broadcasting Hope</a>, rent out the facilities there and hold a retreat. Denver and I were able to enjoy some time away together and to attend a few classes especially for pastors. It was a great weekend and I hope we can go back again sometime.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The speaker during the retreat was Jim Lyon. He is the General Director of the Church of God. He weaves a lot of storytelling and history into his messages. He shared a lot with us over the long weekend, but one simple thing he said continues to come back to me much like the scripture above. He said, "Whenever you enter a room, the Spirit of Jesus Christ enters with you." It sounds simple but something about it really spoke to me. I kept entering different rooms in the beautiful buildings with vaulted ceilings and giant fireplaces and each time I would cross the threshold, I would think "He's here." It's amazing how differently you think about things, how differently you treat people, how differently you speak when you first think "He's here." I want to get back to that way of thinking again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've started today. When I walk into my kitchen "He's here". When I head down to do mounds of laundry "He's here." When my boys fight or ask what's for dinner for the hundredth time "He's here." When I'm serving at the food pantry tomorrow "He's here." When I feel like someone isn't treating me fairly "He's here."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"And the Lord said, 'My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest'" Exodus 33:14.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"He's here."</span><br />
<br />Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-38461061111079110562011-04-22T07:59:00.000-07:002011-04-22T07:59:09.730-07:00He's Alive Buns<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's Easter time already. Everyone is thinking about dresses with ruffles (well, except for in our house), Easter baskets, jelly beans, peeps, egg coloring, and Easter Egg hunts. Easter doesn't seem to be quite as busy as Christmas time, but it's still so easy to become so distracted by all the "Eastery" things that we forget to take the time to remind our ourselves and our children why we celebrate Easter in the first place. Our family is no different.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Last year I ran across a repipe for "He's Alive Bun's" I've heard others call them Resurrection Rolls. Ben and I made them together last year, but this year all three boys are going to help. I am excited to be able to share the story of Jesus' resurrection with them in a way that they can see and feel...in a way that they will find interesting...in a way that will keep their attention.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I will post the recipe below. It's really simple. For those of you that have never made or heard of them they are simply marshmallows wrapped in a biscuit. The really neat thing is that when you bake them, the marshmallow melts....leaving the inside of the biscuit empty!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I plan to make the buns with the boys and then while we are eating them we'll read this:</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>"On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they </em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, </em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">wondering </span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">like lightning </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">stood beside them. </span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">In their fright the women bowed down with their </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">faces to the ground, </span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>but the men said to them, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? </em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: </em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>'The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, </em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>be crucified and on the third day be raised again.'"</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Luke 24:1-8</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOgaU421OEuY93StNzVQW98zkrbCXXr3UbXNb8LK5kn3HX-IjtFIneAM3hyXXZfk9IVAsST8FpJno8fj_NP5QP8jUFwRMU_q9V8BmlH1iYHCcsswpz6VvariF_X1rgOCllXIXRHipTDHyC/s1600/He%2527s+Alive+Buns.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOgaU421OEuY93StNzVQW98zkrbCXXr3UbXNb8LK5kn3HX-IjtFIneAM3hyXXZfk9IVAsST8FpJno8fj_NP5QP8jUFwRMU_q9V8BmlH1iYHCcsswpz6VvariF_X1rgOCllXIXRHipTDHyC/s320/He%2527s+Alive+Buns.bmp" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Here's Ben with a "He's Alive Bun" last year.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We also plan to make enough for the boys to take to their Sunday School Classes on Easter. We'll attach the scripture to the plate of buns so that the teacher have a little something extra to share with the students.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">So what are your Easter traditions? Do you have a neat or interesting way of sharing the gospel with your kids?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">He's Alive Buns</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;">1 roll- Refrigerator Biscuits (Pillsbury or similar) </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Large Marshmallows - 1 per biscuit <br />
Melted Butter <br />
Sugar and Cinnamon mixture- Just enough to cover the buns. <br />
<br />
Directions: <br />
<br />
Wrap one biscuit around 1 large marshmallow. Brush on melted butter and roll in cinnamon/sugar. Bake as directed on biscuit pkg. The marshmallow will melt and the bun will be hollow inside. <br />
<br />
Note: Make sure to pinch the dough together as much as you can. Some will still pull apart and marshmallow will spill out. Also, your pan will be a sticky mess, but it washes with a little scrubbing. </span></div>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-46781501519361497142011-04-16T16:55:00.000-07:002011-04-16T16:55:39.385-07:00A Favorite Memory - Caleb<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yesterday I posted a favorite memory of Ben </span><a href="http://growingalongtheway.blogspot.com/2011/04/favorite-memory-ben.html"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">here</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">, so today I thought I would share one about Caleb. Oddly enough, one of my favorite memories of Caleb also has to do with an elevator, but there are no alligators or crocodiles involved. ha!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Once when Caleb was around age three I took him to the eye doctor by myself. (It didn't turn out well...he refused to let the doctor look at him without Denver there to hold him.) </span><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ix43_yAvvpu_ImWxFthg2-GCSw-7Coka_DNmQ1SAjWjUg2ZZsXxY3pAnjuv-deOoG-cGTLaDcubWC1eqf8Nh-L-tdccuSknCGwZWDJi03pLXavnflMV_1A-CWPrTr6ru4AXS5TuD_ahn/s1600/100_2452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ix43_yAvvpu_ImWxFthg2-GCSw-7Coka_DNmQ1SAjWjUg2ZZsXxY3pAnjuv-deOoG-cGTLaDcubWC1eqf8Nh-L-tdccuSknCGwZWDJi03pLXavnflMV_1A-CWPrTr6ru4AXS5TuD_ahn/s320/100_2452.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, the eye doctor that Caleb goes to has an office inside the hospital in South Bend. That day Caleb and I found a place to park in the parking garage and then made our way to the nearest elevator. When we got there we pushed the button and then waited. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As soon as we pushed the button, a lady walked out of the parking garage and stood behind us to wait for the elevator. I didn't think much of it or pay much attention to her because Caleb was talking a mile a minute. Several seconds later the elevator dings and the door opens. I stepped forward toward the elevator and said to Caleb, "Let's go, Joe". Caleb stepped into the elevator and without missing a beat turned to the lady, waved his arm for her to come inside and said, "Come on, Joe." The lady and I busted out laughing. It took a minute to explain to Caleb that I was talking to him and not to the lady who he thought was "Joe".</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Caleb will be 5 this summer and now says these rhyming things with me...when it's time for bed he often says, "Go to bed, Fred" or when we are in a hurry he'll say "Hurry up, Chump"....but I'll always get a chuckle out of the lady named Joe.</span>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-90053083822801435332011-04-15T09:41:00.000-07:002011-04-15T11:48:53.935-07:00A Favorite Memory - Ben<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Today, for some reason, I thought of one of my favorite memories of Ben and wanted to share. Over the next several days I will post a favorite memory of each of the other boys.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQ3hojLyrtVXwFhalwk_RfpWLeaXjc8UUlpuAoPD6zSxVPYox75r13a9iDK5TCkKuwhZJqK39c6mdVqkMgkJ34QViCod6LPuRRa1GiOR8E4ls0WoL_YF_Abd0i-1wyq9cKSA9GmvhtBLU/s1600/100_2504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQ3hojLyrtVXwFhalwk_RfpWLeaXjc8UUlpuAoPD6zSxVPYox75r13a9iDK5TCkKuwhZJqK39c6mdVqkMgkJ34QViCod6LPuRRa1GiOR8E4ls0WoL_YF_Abd0i-1wyq9cKSA9GmvhtBLU/s400/100_2504.JPG" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I think Ben was about 3 at the time. It was Christmas and a group from the church was at a local nursing home to sing Christmas carols, to visit with the residents, and to hand out lap quilts. We had a pretty large crowd and a good mix of people from small children to grandparents. Everyone was having a very festive and fun time together.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When we finished the first floor and were on our way to the elevator, I told Ben that we were going to ride on the elevator and let it take us up to visit other people. A few seconds later we stepped on to the elevator and pressed button number two. After a second Ben said, "This is an alligator?" Everyone chuckled and I answered that no, it wasn't alligator. Before I could again tell him it was an elevator, he responded... "Oh, I know. It's a crocodile." That was it. Everyone in the elevator busted out into full belly laughs!</span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">To this day, whenever I get into an elevator with Ben, I think about alligators and crocodiles. :o)</span>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-69254341047586587002011-04-12T07:21:00.000-07:002011-04-12T07:21:28.100-07:00Introducing Piper!<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Here she is...Piper, our new puppy!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifMNPSwpnJDg7dOxKTdmEwBjw9qkSnIzwsFC1xyn7NRoEKnD0JqQhNbmMPqEUsHlnWDHZ-evDHNQwOj_QO5SfryNJcBp2MpRqZ2WN1tYg21IeD9i19tsP22iQQTsf-GqIDG0y2sHuaMBL7/s1600/DSCN0065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifMNPSwpnJDg7dOxKTdmEwBjw9qkSnIzwsFC1xyn7NRoEKnD0JqQhNbmMPqEUsHlnWDHZ-evDHNQwOj_QO5SfryNJcBp2MpRqZ2WN1tYg21IeD9i19tsP22iQQTsf-GqIDG0y2sHuaMBL7/s320/DSCN0065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Last summer we got a rescue dog, but had trouble with him around Eli. Denver and I decided that if we were going to get the boys a dog again that we wanted to get a puppy so that we could raise it and train it around our children. We wanted a medium size dog. One that appeared friendly since we tend to have a lot of visitors and small children over....especially on Small Group Nights, but we didn't want a little yapper dog.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyQgj9FjsTX-7895iHpEQFs_IbOn_vnC3SDQD636sQclsekLHYl3Vwl6Lmi34uBSrN3d9M-i5Tkk0WqJuQpf0pBr8j0iwnYMkJo_Yy5gPpIWOSE57hGNXYxv25_Df7gS9veTDpcQBhYykc/s1600/DSCN0067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyQgj9FjsTX-7895iHpEQFs_IbOn_vnC3SDQD636sQclsekLHYl3Vwl6Lmi34uBSrN3d9M-i5Tkk0WqJuQpf0pBr8j0iwnYMkJo_Yy5gPpIWOSE57hGNXYxv25_Df7gS9veTDpcQBhYykc/s320/DSCN0067.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Piper is kind of a dying breed. Less that 300 of them are registered every year. She probably weighs 12 to 15 lbs now and should get up to 20ish and be at or below knee high. She was born on New Years Day, so she's not quite 4 months old.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">She loves to cuddle, could couldn't care less if people knock or come right in, isn't hyper, loves to jump on and lay down on the couch and refuses to climb or go down the stairs.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDxVDW7VKOoIhqqfcx1JXMFBfJCUrklKcZ7pB3QQsgn_y0Vk-OcgwMPs-fAQq7vg9VmYGDliiueYqoQO2_58-T2LsAIMXQVN04RXz6joXoF_ZJBwH5gTtX-jwopM4TV-MG5ZN9rYKZOwJ/s1600/DSCN0071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZDxVDW7VKOoIhqqfcx1JXMFBfJCUrklKcZ7pB3QQsgn_y0Vk-OcgwMPs-fAQq7vg9VmYGDliiueYqoQO2_58-T2LsAIMXQVN04RXz6joXoF_ZJBwH5gTtX-jwopM4TV-MG5ZN9rYKZOwJ/s320/DSCN0071.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When she is outside her favorite thing to do is to chase the boys around the yard. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">They love it! And she loves them!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Welcome to the family, Piper!</span></div>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-50894247712424680262011-04-11T07:50:00.000-07:002011-04-11T07:50:23.353-07:00What a Hoot!<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am finally getting around to posting pictures of the other baby quilt that I mentioned in a previous post. This one was given to a new baby in the church, Abbey.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgLKuQK7VD8qKwWTkabJNX5CeObBmzR_QXmvl7JjFgd0gFMcxSWQFT3QSZNUNaxcFtL3hdbPrsSE-YnqV7kLIRxh-2V5Wx1Xk9nbsa2e_hL1sSAVIyduLi2jc5Ofd_WAFja_XWy4H8NVd/s1600/DSCN0032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgLKuQK7VD8qKwWTkabJNX5CeObBmzR_QXmvl7JjFgd0gFMcxSWQFT3QSZNUNaxcFtL3hdbPrsSE-YnqV7kLIRxh-2V5Wx1Xk9nbsa2e_hL1sSAVIyduLi2jc5Ofd_WAFja_XWy4H8NVd/s320/DSCN0032.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">These cute little owls were fun to make, but took a LONG time. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I hand appliqued them, but then machine pieced and quilted the rest.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAV6omjqG6n1EAIJFyGULRt8opq8WJaRzqEpxl-kO08G1E4gSZAu6MaoYaPgXhNmhtQeG23EO1mBMSwJcLax7GxHE0livcSD9ovSN9eJyYe6bgQObD0qkGZ6zyPXCfLSu_2Dj6Dzj1KEwP/s1600/DSCN0035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAV6omjqG6n1EAIJFyGULRt8opq8WJaRzqEpxl-kO08G1E4gSZAu6MaoYaPgXhNmhtQeG23EO1mBMSwJcLax7GxHE0livcSD9ovSN9eJyYe6bgQObD0qkGZ6zyPXCfLSu_2Dj6Dzj1KEwP/s320/DSCN0035.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Denver put all of the eyes on the owls. </span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He wanted to make sure they were looking in all different directions. </span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It really made the quilt cute and whimsical.</span></div>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-52300726905887066412011-04-03T20:46:00.000-07:002011-04-03T20:46:16.499-07:00The Power of A Voice<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Denver has been gone all week. More than a week actually. He left last Saturday for Haiti and won't be home until tomorrow night. It's been a really long week for me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I've had the boys almost all by myself. My mom took all the boys for a few hours both Sunday afternoons that he was gone and Eli spent the night at her house on Friday night. I also had a babysitter on Friday night for the older boys so I was able to go to dinner with a couple of girl friends. We had a great time laughing and enjoying ourselves. I really appreciated the breaks here and there. I love my boys desperately, but sometimes it's nice to have a few minutes to myself and talk to some other "big people".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The really hard part about Denver being in Haiti is that we can't even talk on the phone while he is there. Our cell phones don't have an international plan and to add it for the week he is gone is really expensive. We are able to email in the evenings, but by that time in the day Denver has been exhausted, sometimes emails are slow going back and forth, and Denver has to email from his small phone. It makes it difficult to have a real conversation.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Tonight though, Denver and the guys flew from Haiti to New York. And guess what?! I can call New York!! I was so excited to hear my husband's voice. It seems like such a small thing, but I found it so comforting...so relaxing...so calming. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Before his call I had been having a rough evening. Ben, Caleb and Eli are really missing their dad too. They always fight amongst each other, but they have been even more emotional and easily irritated by each other. Tonight though....whew! They were just going at it. I finally just lost my cool and I <em>really</em> <strike>raised my voice</strike> yelled at them. Wouldn't you know that exactly 3 seconds later there was a knock at my door. It was the neighbor. I know he heard me screaming at my kids. I felt absolutely horrible. Horrible that he heard and horrible that I lost it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">But you know what? As soon as I heard Denver's voice...it was all good again. It is such a blessing to be married to my best friend. Someone who knows me inside out. Someone who loves me unconditionally. Someone who can calm my heart with the smallest word.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I pray that God would continue to help us build and strengthen our marriage. That it would glorify Him and that we could lead our children and others to know Him better. Oh what a gift I have been given!</span>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-36714446790635421582011-03-22T07:31:00.000-07:002011-03-22T07:31:55.004-07:00It was Caleb this time.<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Looking back through my posts, I've noticed that I tend to write things about Ben. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because he's started school this year and is having new experiences. Or maybe because he's learning more about the world around him. At any rate, this time it was Caleb who's said the funniest and most compassionate things the last few days.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwYDOFzCbZrCMm6Q1jouMub_6UUQ7dKXVAWDqbScUR-WoAsBqqngS3Ab9KIlRlarT-61Bf_0ZiGe8Eb6aEISHD5gYP2VasjDdkqmzzPSicVLGQAhGbsa1mi7YTpLt7oWmyBOb1iu6qr2OX/s1600/Caleb+as+dod.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwYDOFzCbZrCMm6Q1jouMub_6UUQ7dKXVAWDqbScUR-WoAsBqqngS3Ab9KIlRlarT-61Bf_0ZiGe8Eb6aEISHD5gYP2VasjDdkqmzzPSicVLGQAhGbsa1mi7YTpLt7oWmyBOb1iu6qr2OX/s320/Caleb+as+dod.bmp" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Caleb loves to make people laugh. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">This was taken poolside last summer.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I'll start with the funny. I posted this on my Facebook page, but for those of you that missed it....I'll tell about it again. The other day Ben and Caleb were downstairs playing the Wii when of course they started fighting. Those two can fight about anything. I used to jump in right away and try to calm things down, but if I still tried to do that....I wouldn't do anything else for the rest of the day. So these days I sometimes let them work it out for themselves...so long as there isn't any "touching" involved. So this is the conversation I hear from downstairs:</span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Stop! Or I'm not going to call you my brother anymore." said Ben.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Caleb's reply, "I don't care if you call me your brother. I am your brother for always. You can only not be my brother if you go back in mommy's tummy and come out someone elses!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Holy Cow! It took everything in my not to laugh hysterically at the top of the stairs. It was one rare moment when Ben didn't have a response.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Later in the day I was giving Eli some medicine. For the last week and a half the boys have been passing around Strep Throat. (We're praying that Denver doesn't get it before or during his Haiti trip.) Anyway, Eli woke up sick that morning and was feeling pretty bad. He'd slept and not ate anything all morning long. He was only up to get some more medicine.</span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Caleb walked in the kitchen, saw what I was doing and asked, "Mom, did you pray for Jesus to touch him yet?" Uh. Uh. Uh. I totally had the deer in the headlights look. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Well.....not yet." I said.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I'll do it." So Caleb took Eli by the hand and walked him down the hallway to his bedroom. I quietly followed behind. I felt so low and disappointed in myself for not praying for Eli and also so proud and in awe of Caleb and his faith.</span></div><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsk_avpdN8TE9wcAokj52sOJKaquPTmaS0oZwEoMq-kk2WWlPf4ao25VpyGv2iy1gnGkjbyjIrS3gwuArGniVgD3kobipEcbsCrhrv-Rv0PCwafR0GUjedOLH2u8btIAED_dsdhRdp7lS/s1600/100_4115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsk_avpdN8TE9wcAokj52sOJKaquPTmaS0oZwEoMq-kk2WWlPf4ao25VpyGv2iy1gnGkjbyjIrS3gwuArGniVgD3kobipEcbsCrhrv-Rv0PCwafR0GUjedOLH2u8btIAED_dsdhRdp7lS/s320/100_4115.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Eli and Caleb</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">(Eli's in the stage where his smile </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">is more of a grimace. ha!)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I stood in the hall and peeked into the room as Caleb let Eli climb onto the bed first and then got up behind him. Eli laid down on his pillow and Caleb helped him pull the covers up. Then my four year old sat beside his little brother, put his small hand on Eli's forehead and prayed something like this:</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> "Dear Jesus,</span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Thank you for my food because I forgot to pray before lunch. And please touch Eli because he is really sick. Please take his sick away. In Jesus name, amen."</span></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Then Caleb told Eli to go to sleep, climbed down from the bed and met me in the hall. I asked him, "Caleb, do you think Jesus hears when we pray and that he helps us?"</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Yep." Then he took off. There were toys to play with and things to do. I, however, stood in the hallway for a moment. I stood still and took the time to pray for my sick little guy and to thank God for the faith of my Caleb. I know that Caleb doesn't understand it all yet, but I just am in awe of him. I guess that's the childlike faith that God tells us about. </span></div>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-3787767325653642932011-03-16T20:42:00.000-07:002011-03-16T20:42:10.363-07:00Baby Quilts for Twins! <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My mom and I made these two quilts together. Last week I was finally able to go over to my friends house to give them to her and to her two beautiful daughters. I had a wonderful time catching up and holding her little ones. Eli even went with me and got to hold them too! He just loves babies.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">This week I am finishing up another baby quilt for a shower that we are having this Sunday. I'll post pictures of that one after it's given away.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicERcmorqujHon3U6-hVOVOu6InzR-CHHGxm3YHDIBKJxTMrKU6Fci11VAHvY1Eb2Jfl8rgnCfMf0jpKEQpERnGLWGa_mCxhkIgO4sT-h_r-sG4uIpCEWx7WBKN7-pGTnO8-DP5nRh79IJ/s1600/100_4097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicERcmorqujHon3U6-hVOVOu6InzR-CHHGxm3YHDIBKJxTMrKU6Fci11VAHvY1Eb2Jfl8rgnCfMf0jpKEQpERnGLWGa_mCxhkIgO4sT-h_r-sG4uIpCEWx7WBKN7-pGTnO8-DP5nRh79IJ/s640/100_4097.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Flowers</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwwjO2zrwupPdW3jqaFStJqLeUpMWT5tKjYk-r7-bwHaQvH8hWcRPDt9YvXQMTT5BIcnm9GtWc1BTQAtZFda0_pSHoRecjCYvOxWOYYC-osQfgJyyEt4UuG5VcoW92NgbTPuNWTSMCS1a/s1600/100_4095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwwjO2zrwupPdW3jqaFStJqLeUpMWT5tKjYk-r7-bwHaQvH8hWcRPDt9YvXQMTT5BIcnm9GtWc1BTQAtZFda0_pSHoRecjCYvOxWOYYC-osQfgJyyEt4UuG5VcoW92NgbTPuNWTSMCS1a/s640/100_4095.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Butterflies</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-20742485900819806632011-03-11T20:58:00.000-08:002011-03-11T20:58:23.781-08:00The Things He Says<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This morning I took the boys grocery shopping with me. I very rarely...almost never... take all three of them with me. I usually wait to go when Denver can be home with them; however, Denver is out of town at a Worship Conference. If we wanted to eat while he was gone then we all had to go together.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Before we left I told them that if they were really good while I was doing my shopping that we would eat at the McDonald's there in Walmart before we took Ben to school. We did our shopping and all three of them were pretty good. Of course Eli wanted out of the cart, Caleb wanted in the cart, and Ben wanted everything he saw...but all an all it was a good trip.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">At McDonald's we ordered, found seats, got a million little cups of ketchup (which still didn't turn out being enough), each picked out our own kind of pop and settled down to pray for our food. As the boys started eating I noticed that there was a television behind me that was giving updates on the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. I asked Ben to switch seats with me so that I could see the television. After we traded spots, he asked me why I wanted to watch the television. I told him that there had a been an earthquake in Japan. He knows what an earthquake is because he's heard about the one in Haiti. Then I told him a little bit about the tsunami. He didn't understand that as well and wondered if the people were going to surf on the big waves.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anyway, if you remember back to a previous post, <a href="http://growingalongtheway.blogspot.com/2011/01/big-boy-decisions-hard-for-ben-and.html">Big Boy Decisions - Hard for Ben and Mommy</a>, Ben agreed that we wouldn't get a new cat so that we could instead use the money for Denver to go to Haiti again. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">So today a few minutes after telling Ben about Japan's earthquake he looks at me and says, "Is Daddy going to Japan to help those people with their earthquake too?"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"No, Daddy isn't going to Japan. He's still just going to Haiti." I replied.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Ben smacks his hand to his forehead in relief and says, "I hope the boys and girls in Japan get their schools and homes fixed, but I'm glad Daddy's not going cause then we could NEVER get another cat!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Oh my Ben. How I love you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">When I told Denver on the phone later this afternoon, his response was "ahh...the priorities of a little boy."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Ben didn't mention anything else about the earthquake the rest of the day. But tonight when we went to bed he prayed for the people in Japan. And he didn't once mention a cat. It made me a proud mama. It's hard for all of us to think of those outside our own little world sometimes...sometimes it takes a six-year-old to remind me.</span>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-45345650401487950292011-03-09T20:48:00.000-08:002011-03-09T20:48:29.051-08:00Why Do We Keep Going Back?<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Last Sunday the boys and I stayed home from church. Our family had all taken turns being sick last week, so we didn't want to take our germy boys to church to share with other families. While we were home, the boys and I read a story out of their Bible Children's Story Book.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Our story came from Genesis 14. In the story, Lot and his family are living in the city of Sodom. The Bible tells us that Sodom was not a good place to live. The town was full of wicked people who didn't honor God. While Lot and his family are living there, they are taken captive along with others from the town. When Lot's uncle, Abram, hears what has happened to his family, he gathers his trained men and rescues Lot's family and the other people and goods that were taken.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Later we learn that after being saved, Lot and his family return to Sodom. Really? They return to the city that is wicked? They return to the city that was defeated? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Several hours after reading the story, Ben who's six, came to me and asked, "Why would Lot and his family return to a bad place?" That's a good question, isn't it?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Part of me wonders...Did Lot and his family recognize how bad their city was or did they close their eyes to things they didn't want to acknowledge? We've all done it before, right? Sometimes it's easier to ignore something we don't want to deal with. If we don't really acknowledge it....then we can pretend it's not there. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">It's like, "I know that there is laundry to do, but if I stay out of the laundry room it's easy to ignore for awhile." Except that when you finally go into the laundry room the mountains of dirty clothes are higher than before. Or how about when God is speaking to you about something he wants you to change in your life...and you do everything you can do to avoid having the conversation with God or those he is using to speak to you. If I don't say it out loud, or I don't acknowledge it to someone else...I can just move on and forget about it. Except it doesn't work that way. It will come up again...eventually.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Or maybe Lot went back knowing that it was a wicked place, but went back because...well...that's just where he lived. I think we do that too. We know that there is something we need to change, something we need to do, or not do...but we just keep doing the same old things because that's what we do.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">After the kids and I read this story, Denver came home from church and throughout the night began to tell me about everything I'd missed at church. He told me about who was sick and who was there. He passed on messages and reminded me of things I need to check on for people and he also told me a little about his sermon. Part of what he preached about was how we sometimes get into this pattern of "sin, confess, repeat. sin, confess repeat....". Yep. We do. I do. It's kinda like Lot...going back to the wicked place.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I know God is speaking to me this week. I have things to change. I need to quit going back to a place that God has freed me from....a place where I'm in captivity...a place where I fall back into old routines. I don't want to go back. I don't want to "repeat". If my son Ben knows that we shouldn't go back to the wicked place....then shouldn't I?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">How about you? Do you have things that you keep going back to? Why? God doesn't want us to live in these places. His plans are so much better for his children. </span>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-59626725465146850112011-03-06T10:02:00.000-08:002011-03-06T10:02:39.154-08:00Oh, What A Week!Whew! We made it. Last weekend I went to Quilt Camp (more about that later). On the drive home last Sunday I spoke with Denver on the phone. He told me that Caleb had been throwing up all day....beginning that morning in the nursery. Ewww....I know. I felt so bad for not being there. The poor little guy hasn't thrown up since he was a baby, so he had no idea what was going on. I was anxious to get home to him. <br />
<br />
I later found out that Eli had gotten sick the night before, but everyone thought that it was because he had gotten a hold of a whole bag of peperoni without any one's knowledge. I think that would make me sick too. Sneaking a bag of peperoni is a typical Eli behavior. He's into much more than his older brothers ever thought about.<br />
<br />
On Monday both Eli and Caleb seemed mostly better. Overnight Monday, I got sick and by Tuesday morning Denver was sick too. Three young boys with two sick parents does not for a good time make. Of course I hadn't been to the grocery store since coming back from camp, so our kitchen was pretty bare. Thankfully my dad dropped us off some bread one afternoon and my friend Erica brought over some crackers and some Sprite. By Thursday morning we were mostly recovered.<br />
<br />
Then Thursday night Ben came downstairs to our room and said, "My tummy hurts". Denver was out of bed before I could blink and rushed Ben to the bathroom. By Friday morning, Ben was fine and begging us to eat everything in the house. He was also mad at us because we wouldn't let him go to school. While Ben seemed fine, Eli started with some pretty nasty diapers again.<br />
<br />
So now it's finally Sunday again. Eli is getting better, but we didn't think it was a good idea to be sending our germ infested children to church just yet. So the boys and I are home today. <br />
<br />
We've had a good morning. We raced cars down the track and separated them by which ones could jump the loop. We played numerous hands of Toy Story Uno. I made cookies and the boys ate them. We read a story out of our Bible Story Book. The boys played their Leapsters and I cleaned the kitchen. Finally the boys ate lunch and are now watching part of Space Chimps while they wait for Daddy to get home from church. When he gets here we're going to have our Official Sunday Afternoon Family Nap Time. <br />
<br />
It's been a great morning with minimal fighting between brothers, but I miss church. I can't wait to get back next week for service....or...errr...ummm....I'm in the nursery next week. I hope none of the kids throw up in there on MY week. Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-14710582404885454312011-02-23T09:42:00.000-08:002011-02-23T09:42:15.469-08:00One of My Favorites!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was just closing the computer when I saw one of my favorite pictures of all three boys. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Aren't they cute? My mom took this one after taking them apple picking in the fall.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnpmXQqL3sx2kyKLMCkPFfgbZcxCTX8Z1aBdAnYti9kLE7K21UjP0DxGbFce9Np3P9oO9MVqJOWP0UURQvF11tWZtMAY2MVP2-OZE9W6U8uKDC8ENEsUf3WQK0InyjsgfdB1BtOoH22on/s1600/boys+eating+apples.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnpmXQqL3sx2kyKLMCkPFfgbZcxCTX8Z1aBdAnYti9kLE7K21UjP0DxGbFce9Np3P9oO9MVqJOWP0UURQvF11tWZtMAY2MVP2-OZE9W6U8uKDC8ENEsUf3WQK0InyjsgfdB1BtOoH22on/s400/boys+eating+apples.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span> <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span> <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-4669515649447077432011-02-22T11:31:00.000-08:002011-02-22T11:31:19.803-08:00Book Review - Regret Free Parenting<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I recently discovered <a href="http://booksneeze.com/"><span style="color: blue;">booksneeze.com</span></a><span style="color: black;">.</span> It is a website that will send you free books as long as you agree to write a review and post it to your blog and another site such as <a href="http://amazon.com/"><span style="color: blue;">amazon.com</span></a> or </span><br />
<a href="http://barnesandnoble.com/"><span style="color: blue;">barnesandnoble.com</span></a><span style="color: blue;">.</span> Since I love to read, I thought this would be a great idea for me. I got my first book several weeks ago and below you will see my first review.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Just FYI - I was going to have a giveaway and pass along this wonderful book to one of my parent friends, but my little Eli sat a wet washcloth down on top of the book so now it's a little damaged. Oh well....the joys of motherhood! :o) Maybe next time, friends.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNjgI_f5RWUYowJqeY3Zr6qbcyeezON1JvIsouwXu5uub25ck5CX_SshUIsXZ-pjQeVPfhT4dx29ZFijCrNiFcL9e_U0YPN3XUDpjsVOAKLys-2aNXjulEuMSKdCsS6FkglWtneqjwrfwA/s1600/book+review+pic+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNjgI_f5RWUYowJqeY3Zr6qbcyeezON1JvIsouwXu5uub25ck5CX_SshUIsXZ-pjQeVPfhT4dx29ZFijCrNiFcL9e_U0YPN3XUDpjsVOAKLys-2aNXjulEuMSKdCsS6FkglWtneqjwrfwA/s320/book+review+pic+2.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">“Regret Free Parenting: Raise Good Kids and Know You're Doing it Right” by Catherine Hickem is a standout when it comes to books on parenting. This book gives seven principals of intentional motherhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every mother has hopes, desires and visions for her children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mothers can’t just “hope” their children turn out to be mature, responsible, caring, Christ-centered adults.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have to be intentional about helping our children become who God has created them to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This book can help every mother to become an intentional mother.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I loved that while this book was practical, it didn’t give step by step instructions that only work for some children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regret Free Parenting brings up issues that all mothers know their children need help with and then shows parents how their behavior, words, actions or lack thereof, affects their children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The book was easy to read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each time I read a section I was able to come away with one thing that I could do immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One time it was simply being intentional about telling my kids that I am so happy and blessed because they are my children.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">My one suggestion when reading this book is that you read it with a highlighter in hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There will be many passages that you want to mark and reread later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regret Free Parenting is a great resource for mothers everywhere.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #b45f06;">Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <</span><a href="http://booksneeze®.com/"><span style="color: #b45f06;">http://BookSneeze®.com</span></a><span style="color: #b45f06;">> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255</span></span></i></div>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-3476384848029692672011-02-21T09:23:00.000-08:002011-02-21T09:25:50.151-08:00Acting Out Stories Can Be Painful<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Our family has started something new. Denver and I decided that we needed to be more intentional about reading the Bible to our boys, so every night after dinner we've decided to read a story to them out of <em><strong>Egermeiers Bible Story Book</strong>.</em> </span><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2p1N9T9_wQLuIS87uj1WnqHzOTEnJ68gYSckxTExTRF7Md7S6HBvkEvgqUK6P_uIQ410FFyqDxA1Z8xQ2AOEeidWFlVnTpmcr26PpObM8MDAddSew67MeFXF3QyDqAK8Juw-L_PpEc7H/s1600/story+book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2p1N9T9_wQLuIS87uj1WnqHzOTEnJ68gYSckxTExTRF7Md7S6HBvkEvgqUK6P_uIQ410FFyqDxA1Z8xQ2AOEeidWFlVnTpmcr26PpObM8MDAddSew67MeFXF3QyDqAK8Juw-L_PpEc7H/s320/story+book.jpg" width="224" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So far we've read three stories. Nights number one and number two went perfectly. The boys were really interested in creation. They got involved and we went over and over what things were made on certain days. Ben thinks it's pretty cool that God made Adam out of dust and "blew into him to make him come alive." (He's right. It is pretty cool.) </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The next night we read about Adam and Eve being tempted by the serpent and eating the forbidden fruit. Denver asked the boys if they knew what a serpent was...Caleb answered, "Someone who does things for someone else". Servant...serpent....hmmmm. Not quite, but thanks buddy. They can be so cute.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And then there was last night. The story was "<em>The First Children</em>". We started out ok. Denver read the first part of the story about how Adam and Eve had two boys, Cain and Abel. Then we got to the part where they built an alter and Denver decided it would be good to act out the story. He sent the boys to their rooms to get their pillows. Ben and Caleb brought back two, but Eli brought out one pillow and Bullseye from Toy Story. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Denver and the boys piled up the pillows to make their alter. Denver told Ben that he could be Cain and told Caleb that he would be Abel. Then we went on to read that Abel brought the fattest lamb to put on the alter. Poor Bullseye became the lamb. (I know, I cringed and "awwwww"ed too.) Then Ben, or Cain, got to put his vegetables (or the leaf of a house plant) on the alter. Of course God was not happy with Cain's offering. This made Cain angry.</span> <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> </div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguddwNx6wF9FO2p5EkeIqvYDa6QF0QJ_fyJLWSQ7yFtmVVO8B0J_uUYeSM0Vv-IE4wLcMVgwmfkQcBsj5DiGgqjhxkAjajWGtKvLRsAQS8Ti_jLrv9QANxoRJKvRK05E9lD4_afqWlGdnu/s1600/imagesCAK8Q2J1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguddwNx6wF9FO2p5EkeIqvYDa6QF0QJ_fyJLWSQ7yFtmVVO8B0J_uUYeSM0Vv-IE4wLcMVgwmfkQcBsj5DiGgqjhxkAjajWGtKvLRsAQS8Ti_jLrv9QANxoRJKvRK05E9lD4_afqWlGdnu/s200/imagesCAK8Q2J1.jpg" width="166" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Poor Bullseye looks much happier here </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">than he did on the pillow alter last night!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Georgia;">We then read the that Cain and Abel were later working in the field. Cain is so angry with Abel that they fight and Cain kills Abel. (As you can probably guess, this is where our little story time turns painful.) Denver tells the two boys to act like they are fighting and then to act like Cain (Ben) kills Abel (Caleb). </span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The boys started by growling at each other. Then their claw like hands came out. Before we knew it they were wrestling. This wasn't too big of a surprise since it is an everyday occurrence in our house. Next Caleb falls to his hands and knees with Ben on top of him. By this time Denver and I are both telling them to stop; however before Ben can get off, Caleb's arms collapse and his forehead hits the hard floor. Ouch! Caleb started crying and our story time ended with Daddy holding Caleb and Ben saying "I didn't mean to! I was being Cain!"</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">As Ben, Eli and I were cleaning up the pillows and poor Bullseye, I heard Denver say to Caleb, "Just wait until we get to David and Goliath, Caleb. You can be David." </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia;">And there you have it. Good old family time at our house. ha!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-41216829907822281052011-02-14T07:10:00.000-08:002011-02-14T12:47:04.695-08:00Unanswered Prayers<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I used to listen to country music a lot. Especially when I was in high school. My friend Steph and I would drive around in her car singing. She would sing loud while I was a little more quiet. (Don't worry, she knows this is the truth and wouldn't be offended by the comment. :o) Some songs were fun and crazy. Then when songs like "Someone Else's Star" by Bryan White came on, we would get really quiet and just know that he was singing about us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I don't listen to country music very often any more. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;">One night last week I was driving home from church. I was alone. It was dark. I wanted to sing to the radio. I turned on WFRN, but it was Odyssey time....not really for me. Then I hit Pulse, but it was a commercial break. So next I switched over the the country station. I don't really remember what was playing at first. It was a song I knew, so at least I fulfilled my urge to sing out loud and alone in the car.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The next song on was "Unanswered Prayers" by Garth Brooks. I know, the song can be a little cheesy. But I knew the words and continued to sing a long. The words made me start to reflect a little on my own life. Now, I don't think God leaves prayers unanswered. Sometimes he answers <em>yes</em>, sometimes <em>wait</em> and sometimes his answer is just <em>no</em>. I think sometimes we feel like it was unanswered when we don't get the results we want in a timely fashion.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anyway, it made me think about my past. The things I've prayed for and wanted so badly. And you know what? I am so very thankful that his answer was "no". Like most people, I have chosen to be in bad relationships and friendships. The people I was with and the things that we did together didn't honor God and they weren't healthy for me. At the time, in the back of my mind, I knew these things. I knew they were poor choices, but even still I prayed that God would help everything thing to work out with that person or those friends. I spent many nights up crying and begging God to answer my prayers with a <em>yes</em>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">That night in the car I spent some time thinking about what my life might be like now if I'd gotten what I so badly wanted then. <span style="font-family: Georgia;">I am so thankful. I am so glad that I serve a God who loves me. A Father that won't always give me what I want, what I think is best or what I deserve. A God who tells me "no".</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">If I had gotten what I wanted then, I may not even have a relationship with God now. I wouldn't be with my amazing and loving husband. I wouldn't have my three handsome and crazy boys. I am blessed.....so blessed, because his answer was "no".</span>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-90758829520372658972011-02-05T21:06:00.000-08:002011-02-05T21:06:45.283-08:00I'm afraid of the dark.<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yep. I said it. I am afraid of the dark. Well, I guess it's not really the dark itself but more of what is in or <em>could be</em> in the dark. When Denver is away over night I hardly sleep. I'm always afraid someone is going to break in and get us while he's gone. I lay in bed staring at the door watching for someone. I run through my mind what I would do if someone did break in...how would I get to the boys...where is my phone...how could we get out of the house. I know...I'm crazy. It probably doesn't help that I really enjoy watching all those crime and cops shows on television.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I'm afraid of other things too. I'm not talking about snakes or spiders although I can't say I'm particularly fond of them, but I'm thinking more about life. Things that could happen. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Sometimes when I read or hear stories about families with small children who suffer from awful diseases, it scares me. It makes me grateful for the health of my children, but it also causes fear. I mean, if it could happen to their kids then it could happen to mine. That's scary stuff and I often wonder if I could handle going through something like that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">It scares me to think about myself becoming sick or hurt. I mean, what if I had cancer or was in a serious car accident. I know that Denver loves the boys beyond belief and would take wonderful care of them, but children need their mom right? I love those little boogers.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The thing that is scaring me recently though is Denver's return trip to Haiti. I wasn't really scared the first time he went. I was anxious, but not fearful. A week and a half before he went last time, I was on my own mission trip, so maybe I was just more distracted that time. Whatever the reason, this time I am scared. What if something happens to him? What would I do without him? What would the boys do without their daddy? How could we keep our house? Where could I find a job? Who would watch the boys while I was at my job? How could I even function without him? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Denver knows that I have these fears. He keeps telling me, "Don't be afraid. God doesn't give us a spirit of fear." My response is "Yes, dear. Easy for you to say. I'm just being realistic." However, after doing some reading and praying today, I realize what I'm really saying is "My faith is small."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">See, Denver has been called to Haiti. He has no doubt and neither do I. God has a job for him there. He's following God's will. So I'm saying, "God, I don't trust you. I don't have faith in you." Ouch....not exactly what I want to say. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The good news is:</span><br />
<ul><li><span style="font-family: Georgia;">faith banishes fear</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia;">faith breeds praise</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia;">when I am praising God my fears fade and my faith flourishes. </span></li>
</ul><span style="font-family: Georgia;">So it all starts with a little faith and a little praise. So I'm going to try. I'm going to set aside my fears and grab on to my faith. I am going to praise my Heavenly Father. I am going to give him my fears and let him work in my life. I know this doesn't mean that my boys won't get sick, or that I won't have some terrible accident or that Denver is guaranteed to be safe it Haiti. But it does mean that I trust my God to be with me. I trust that he has a plan for me and my family. A plan not to harm us...a plan to give us a hope and a future. This will be hard for me. I may need some reminders from my friends. But this is what I want. I want to trust...I want to have faith.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>“When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me?"</em> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Psalm 56:3-4</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">So what are you afraid of today? What keeps you awake at night? Do you want to live a life of fear or can you grab on to your faith instead? </span></div>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-62026692968726157402011-02-01T17:48:00.000-08:002011-02-01T17:48:56.470-08:00Our Story<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Today marks our Eighth Anniversary. I posted this on Facebook today and was very blessed by all those who took the time to wish us happy anniversary. We are very fortunate to know so many people who care about us. </span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoBb-u90H2e83koMcc3XDrYtbCiFBR2fgre8ByfPUHAI8KYTMdx-qeg0q2TTj9yx-fLpqv14ZoEWGtrxRATtC-8HmubjCgyKEoiOVbLhvSRj3BWt8E9bKChqpl3xx3AiPAsfFtBWvdZOl8/s1600/wedding+pic.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoBb-u90H2e83koMcc3XDrYtbCiFBR2fgre8ByfPUHAI8KYTMdx-qeg0q2TTj9yx-fLpqv14ZoEWGtrxRATtC-8HmubjCgyKEoiOVbLhvSRj3BWt8E9bKChqpl3xx3AiPAsfFtBWvdZOl8/s400/wedding+pic.bmp" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Our Wedding Day</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">February 1, 2003</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As I was reading the comments, the one that stuck with me the most was from a family member who wrote, "wow! a lot has happened in 8 years." She's right. A lot has happened. What really drove it home though are the names of all the people that commented on my post. Most of them are people that Denver and I have met and known along those 8 years. We've been in a lot of places, hit a lot of valleys, climbed a lot of mountains and been blessed beyond belief. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We have served in three churches, lived in eight different houses/apartments, had three handsome boys, lost a special uncle, went through illnesses with my mom and Denver's mom, lost Denver's mom, gone on mission trips, bought our first home and on and on and on... These are just a few big things off of the top of my head. We been through and done a lot. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As I sit and think about this tonight I find I am so thankful that God led me to Denver. I am so thankful that I was able to do all these things and go through all of these things with my best friend. I am thankful to be married to a man of God, a wonderful father, a loving husband, a caring pastor, a loyal friend. I am thankful to be married to a man that always tries to do the right thing even when it's hard or uncomfortable. To a man who encourages me to be better. I am truly blessed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">So now that I've been all mushy about our marriage, I'll leave you with a funny story. Are you interested in why we were married on February 1st? Two reasons. First, the date would have been my maternal grandparents 50th anniversary. Second, the lease on Denver's apartment ran out on January 31st and he was going to need a place to stay. ha! True story!</span>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725339721459743004.post-58045344433917273542011-01-31T17:37:00.000-08:002011-01-31T17:37:22.086-08:00I have big ideas.<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>“And he did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith.”</em> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Matthew 13:58</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Boy, I sure don't want this scripture to be what God writes about me. My devotion for the day was on faith. It talked about how God wants us to have a big vision because having a big vision reflect our faith in a big God. All this talk about vision got me really excited. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is one of my gifts. I'm a visionary. I have big ideas...see how things should come together...like to figure out all the details...enjoy the troubleshooting part of a new project....love to get it started. Then...I want to hand it all off to someone else so that I can start on the next thing. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sometimes this is a good thing. Sometimes it works because I have worked hard to follow God's path and not my own. Often times God has called someone to take over when I'm ready to hand things off because some people are gifted with the follow through...but not so much with the ideas to get things up and running. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And then sometimes I forget to include God's plans in my vision, so there is no one called or prepared for the position that I think is needed. Somtimes it's just fun to start something new and I get to many irons in the fire.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So my devotion today made me excited and yet made me want to be cautious. You see, I am in the middle of planning a summer mission trip to work with a church in Chinle, Arizona. The church is located on Navajo Nation, an Indian Reservation. Last summer I went there with 3 other women from the church. We were put together with other families from California and Colorado. This year we are planning the whole trip ourselves and it will only be members from our church going. This is huge and I am nearly BURSTING at the seams with ideas! I have a vision that has been taking shape for the last several months.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">During my reading and quiet time today, I think God was warning me of two things:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Number One: This one is pretty obvious...whatever vision I have should glorify Him. I can glorify Him by having faith that he knows best and by letting him be in control. I need to get rid of any selfish ideas or thoughts of control. This isn't my trip. It's not about what I want. It's not about my comfort. It's not about what's easy for me or puts me in the limelight. First it's about my Savior and second it's about the people that I am going to serve. Everything I do for this trip should point right back to God.</span></div> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVY1lQPyc7kBS1AR0hEudYLu_5wI7_lyvekI-DTptUNb8xPNkjyzgXxZlkC7kTsi2RotDxNDNLXjldYGu-d6QLy1DKTJQWdlscC8sp6xI-tlKieXAs4zZlJm0ZNWp1Y1cUin9kUjw7VVyj/s1600/Picture2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" height="193" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVY1lQPyc7kBS1AR0hEudYLu_5wI7_lyvekI-DTptUNb8xPNkjyzgXxZlkC7kTsi2RotDxNDNLXjldYGu-d6QLy1DKTJQWdlscC8sp6xI-tlKieXAs4zZlJm0ZNWp1Y1cUin9kUjw7VVyj/s320/Picture2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Kids we got to spend time with during </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Bible School last year in Arizona.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Number Two: God's vision is bigger than my own. Today I read, <em>"Expand your vision of what He wants you to do by tenfold, maybe a hundredfold. Do not sell your Savior short. Why settle for a few who might find Christ, when you can trust God for hundreds, even thousands who will grace the gates of glory because you believed Him in a big way."</em> (Boyd Bailey) God can do and wants to do infinitely more than I can even begin to imagine! This is so exciting because I already feel like my vision is big! What a Mighty God we serve!</span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Marciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13751634870063187857noreply@blogger.com0