In case anyone was wondering, the previous two posts are true stories that happened 30 years ago. The girl was left wanting to be clean and whole, but also desperate for someone to love her and find worth in her. Unfortunately those two desires seemed to conflict with each other. The more she did to try to obtain love, the more unlovely she felt, the more broken and hurt she became. It created a downward spiral in her life for 8 years. By the time she was 22, she was married to her 2nd husband and expecting her 2nd child.
She'd attempted to pray but found the door to heaven tightly shut. (She didn't realize that in order to open that door she had to go through with Jesus.) She went to her former pastor. He didn't seem to have a clue how to help. His answer was for the girl to think of a book in the bible. (She wished that somewhere along the way she'd memorized the books of the bible, because outside of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, she couldn't think of any other books.) She blurted one of them out and picked out a number. Together they read the passage of scripture, but none of it seemed to apply. The pastor was looking in the right direction, but had nothing real to offer her.
She went to see another pastor to confess all of her sins, hoping to find forgiveness. Again, she went away empty. She tried to read her bible, but everything seemed a blur. The girl was losing hope fast. She visited several churches. In one, they pinned a giant ribbon on her dress with the word VISITOR printed on it. She felt like a prize at the county fair. At least she couldn't blend in that day. During the service she blushed when all of the visitors were told to stand so everyone could see them and greet them after the service. When it was all over, she sat in the car with her almost 3 year old. Tears ran down her face. She couldn't believe nobody, not 1 single person had introduced themselves or even said hello. She was ashamed. She knew why they didn't talk to her. They thought she was an unwed mother and pregnant again. They knew her shame and nobody wanted to be around her.
But this story has a happy ending. The girl ventured out one last time. She visited one more church. The people were very friendly. Towards the beginning of the service, the Pastor instructed everyone to greet those around them. Feeling very awkward, the girl just stood there, until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and a boisterous woman grabbed her and hugged her tightly to her chest. She didn't let go right away. She hugged her longer. Finally she pulled back. "Hi, I'm Carol! I am so happy to meet you. I am so glad you are here, and aren't you the most beautiful pregnant lady I've ever seen." After the service, the two exchanged phone numbers. Carol invited her over for coffee. Within the month, not only were the two good friends, but Carol shared with her the secret to feeling clean again, how much she was loved and the answer to her loneliness. She explained the simplicity of the gospel message and I was born again.
I was given a new identity. The slate was wiped clean. I was no longer bound to the shame of the past or desperate for love. I became a beloved daughter. I am a partner with Jesus and nothing can separate me from His love. Twenty-two years later, He still loves me. He still amazes me beyond words. Our relationship has taken some adventurous twists and turns. I learn new things about God all of the time. The relationship grows the way all relationships do, by spending time with one another. I enjoy sharing the secrets and desires in my heart, my burdens and cares. I've learned to listen to Him share the same. And the funny part? The more I let Him get to know me, He still loves me the same. The more I know about Him, the more I love Him.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Thursday, August 03, 2006
PART TWO
The summer before high school, Barbara moved to a nearby town. The girl still didn't have a lot of friends. Her parents would sometimes allow her to spend the weekend with Barbara. During one weekend the girls, as usual, hung out at a nearby bowling alley. That was where the girl met Joe and Kevin.
At first the girl did not care for them at all. They were obnoxious and crude and talked awful. But because there wasn't much to do at Barbara's and her parents didn't care what the girls did, they ended up spending quite a bit of time with Joe and Kevin that weekend. When the girls finally decided to go in that night, Joe leaned in and kissed the girl. She went away feeling very strange. Why did he kiss her? Did he like her? And what kind of kiss was that? She'd never had attention like that from any boy. It was sort of exciting, but very scary at the same time. The girl went to sleep with a mix of emotions.
The following week Joe asked her out. She was only 14 and Joe was 17, but she begged her father to let her go. It was just a drive-in movie and Kevin and Barbara were going also. It took some doing, but she convinced her father to let her go.
Joe and Kevin picked her up at the appointed time. As they drove towards the next town the girl was excited. She'd never driven in a car without an adult. The boys were smoking and kept offering it to the girl. She knew they weren't smoking regular cigarettes. She was afraid Joe wouldn't like her anymore if she didn't do it. He would think she was a baby. Joe pulled the car over and switched places with Kevin.
"When are we picking up Barbara?" The girl asked.
"She can't make it. We are stopping by another friend's house." Joe sat next to the girl and began to kiss her. She began to feel loved. But the feelings quickly began to disentigrate into confusion when Joe began to talk about having sex.
Back when she was in confirmation class, the pastor had discussed the ten commandments. They discussed how to say no to someone who wanted to have sex with you, give you drugs and such. But the girl was totally unprepared for this. She'd imagined walking down the street and some hoodlum asking her if she wanted to do drugs. She imagined herself emphatically telling him no. She never thought it would be someone she wanted to like her. She also had no idea she would enjoy kissing a boy when the subject of sex came up and she'd have the same confused feelings.
Finally, when she could manage the pressure no longer, she blurted out, "I can't do those things. It is Saturday night and I'm going to church tomorrow." The boys laughed.
The car stopped on a dark street and the 3 kids went into the house. There was a party going on with no adults in sight. The air was hazy with smoke. The girl knew the smell well enough to know it wasn't just cigarrette smoke. She sat on the couch with the boys. She was made fun of by others there when Joe told them she wouldn't get high with them. Several of them blew smoke in her face, trying to get her to inhale. She was beginning to feel light-headed and was trying her best to figure a way out of the situation. She looked around for a phone. Maybe there was a phone in a bedroom. She could ask to use the restroom and sneak in and call her parents to come get her. But the girl had no idea where she was. She didn't know the address or even the street name or whose house they were at.
She was feeling so disoriented and scared. She envisioned the next day's headlines in the newspaper: Girl dies from smoking pot. Her parents would think she used drugs and would be disgraced even though it wasn't true. The girl excused herself to go to the restroom where she thought she might be sick.
When she came out, the house was quiet. Nobody was there except Joe. "What's going on?" She asked. "They all left for a bit. Come in here, I want to show you something." Joe took her into another room and closed the door. It was then the girl realized his intentions. "Please Joe, I don't want to do this. I want to go home now."
Joe persisted. He ignored her pleas. She tried to hang onto her clothing as he forced it off. The girl wondered if she could escape and run out the door. Where would she go? How could she get help? She knew none of the kids who'd been there would do anything about it. If she only knew the neighborhood, or where someone lived that she could trust. But she still had no idea where she was, except in another town on a dark street. She began to cry feeling totally helpless to break free and also from the physical pain and burning.
After awhile, she knew it was over. Joe got up and left the room. The girl quickly pulled on her clothes. She saw blood on the bed. She'd never felt so dirty and used in all her life. Now who was going to love her? Nobody would want her. She would be destined to marry Joe since he was the one who ruined her.
The house filled with noise again. The girl saw Kevin and asked him if he'd take her home. He did. The girl never told her parents what happened. She was too ashamed. When she'd begged her father to let her go out with Joe, she'd asked, "don't you trust me?" How could he trust her when she let this happen? It didn't matter that she'd had no way to imagine the situation she'd been in, but it was her fault anyway. So the girl began high school feeling like damaged merchandise.
At first the girl did not care for them at all. They were obnoxious and crude and talked awful. But because there wasn't much to do at Barbara's and her parents didn't care what the girls did, they ended up spending quite a bit of time with Joe and Kevin that weekend. When the girls finally decided to go in that night, Joe leaned in and kissed the girl. She went away feeling very strange. Why did he kiss her? Did he like her? And what kind of kiss was that? She'd never had attention like that from any boy. It was sort of exciting, but very scary at the same time. The girl went to sleep with a mix of emotions.
The following week Joe asked her out. She was only 14 and Joe was 17, but she begged her father to let her go. It was just a drive-in movie and Kevin and Barbara were going also. It took some doing, but she convinced her father to let her go.
Joe and Kevin picked her up at the appointed time. As they drove towards the next town the girl was excited. She'd never driven in a car without an adult. The boys were smoking and kept offering it to the girl. She knew they weren't smoking regular cigarettes. She was afraid Joe wouldn't like her anymore if she didn't do it. He would think she was a baby. Joe pulled the car over and switched places with Kevin.
"When are we picking up Barbara?" The girl asked.
"She can't make it. We are stopping by another friend's house." Joe sat next to the girl and began to kiss her. She began to feel loved. But the feelings quickly began to disentigrate into confusion when Joe began to talk about having sex.
Back when she was in confirmation class, the pastor had discussed the ten commandments. They discussed how to say no to someone who wanted to have sex with you, give you drugs and such. But the girl was totally unprepared for this. She'd imagined walking down the street and some hoodlum asking her if she wanted to do drugs. She imagined herself emphatically telling him no. She never thought it would be someone she wanted to like her. She also had no idea she would enjoy kissing a boy when the subject of sex came up and she'd have the same confused feelings.
Finally, when she could manage the pressure no longer, she blurted out, "I can't do those things. It is Saturday night and I'm going to church tomorrow." The boys laughed.
The car stopped on a dark street and the 3 kids went into the house. There was a party going on with no adults in sight. The air was hazy with smoke. The girl knew the smell well enough to know it wasn't just cigarrette smoke. She sat on the couch with the boys. She was made fun of by others there when Joe told them she wouldn't get high with them. Several of them blew smoke in her face, trying to get her to inhale. She was beginning to feel light-headed and was trying her best to figure a way out of the situation. She looked around for a phone. Maybe there was a phone in a bedroom. She could ask to use the restroom and sneak in and call her parents to come get her. But the girl had no idea where she was. She didn't know the address or even the street name or whose house they were at.
She was feeling so disoriented and scared. She envisioned the next day's headlines in the newspaper: Girl dies from smoking pot. Her parents would think she used drugs and would be disgraced even though it wasn't true. The girl excused herself to go to the restroom where she thought she might be sick.
When she came out, the house was quiet. Nobody was there except Joe. "What's going on?" She asked. "They all left for a bit. Come in here, I want to show you something." Joe took her into another room and closed the door. It was then the girl realized his intentions. "Please Joe, I don't want to do this. I want to go home now."
Joe persisted. He ignored her pleas. She tried to hang onto her clothing as he forced it off. The girl wondered if she could escape and run out the door. Where would she go? How could she get help? She knew none of the kids who'd been there would do anything about it. If she only knew the neighborhood, or where someone lived that she could trust. But she still had no idea where she was, except in another town on a dark street. She began to cry feeling totally helpless to break free and also from the physical pain and burning.
After awhile, she knew it was over. Joe got up and left the room. The girl quickly pulled on her clothes. She saw blood on the bed. She'd never felt so dirty and used in all her life. Now who was going to love her? Nobody would want her. She would be destined to marry Joe since he was the one who ruined her.
The house filled with noise again. The girl saw Kevin and asked him if he'd take her home. He did. The girl never told her parents what happened. She was too ashamed. When she'd begged her father to let her go out with Joe, she'd asked, "don't you trust me?" How could he trust her when she let this happen? It didn't matter that she'd had no way to imagine the situation she'd been in, but it was her fault anyway. So the girl began high school feeling like damaged merchandise.
Friday, July 28, 2006
PART ONE
She'd always been the quiet type, very shy, but an excellent student. She was one of those annoying girls that when she did open her mouth, it was usually correct someone's grammar. Her family had moved 3 times in 3 years and she hoped that she would finally make some more friends in Junior High School.
At the end of sixth grade, she'd learned a lot of things. You didn't win popularity contests by pointing out grammar mistakes. In fact, those with the poorest grammar seemed to have lots of friends. Her school was sometimes a scary place. There were some very mean girls who threatened her regularly. How was she ever going to fit in?
That summer a new family moved in just a few doors down. They had a girl who was just 1 year older. Her name was Barb. This family wasn't like any she'd met before. Lots of people of all ages lived at this house. She found out the mom had been married 4 times and most of those living in the house were brothers and sisters from all different dads. Barb's older siblings often had boyfriends of girlfriends spending the night. She wasn't always comfortable at Barb's house, but she was intrigued with the all that went on, especially the parties that they hosted.
She noticed her friend Barb didn't have perfect grammar, but instead of correcting her, she decided to learn from her. She spent the entire summer learning slang and cute deviations of grammar that she knew would make her teachers cringe. And if used correctly, she could enjoy the laughter from other kids when she spoke inappropriately. This would surely win her some friends.
At the same time, the girl was attending a Lutheran Church. She was at the required age for confirmation classes. A new Vicar was teaching the Wednesday night class. One night he just could not take the antics of the kids any longer. He damned them all to hell and walked out on them. The group of seventh graders sat in stunned silence. Some of the rebels snickered. The girl had a hard time believing a grown adult would completely lose his composure and scream something like that at a bunch of kids. Sure the kids had pushed the limits, but weren't adults more mature than that?
She was under the misguided assumption that adults were intelligent, responsible, always did the right things. So this new world she was seeing was very confusing. Barbara's parents had parties, smoked, drank and even smoked pot. The girl began to wonder if her own parents just weren't aware of some things in life. Maybe these things weren't as bad as her parents said they were. Maybe it was just because they'd never tried them. Maybe that was it. Why else would adults party that way, or the Vicar scream at them that they were all damned to hell in a church???
The girl learned a lot in those few short years. She smoked her first cigarette and ditched school. She had her first beer at a church youth group function and got drunk for the first time. A lot happened before she ever started high school.
At the end of sixth grade, she'd learned a lot of things. You didn't win popularity contests by pointing out grammar mistakes. In fact, those with the poorest grammar seemed to have lots of friends. Her school was sometimes a scary place. There were some very mean girls who threatened her regularly. How was she ever going to fit in?
That summer a new family moved in just a few doors down. They had a girl who was just 1 year older. Her name was Barb. This family wasn't like any she'd met before. Lots of people of all ages lived at this house. She found out the mom had been married 4 times and most of those living in the house were brothers and sisters from all different dads. Barb's older siblings often had boyfriends of girlfriends spending the night. She wasn't always comfortable at Barb's house, but she was intrigued with the all that went on, especially the parties that they hosted.
She noticed her friend Barb didn't have perfect grammar, but instead of correcting her, she decided to learn from her. She spent the entire summer learning slang and cute deviations of grammar that she knew would make her teachers cringe. And if used correctly, she could enjoy the laughter from other kids when she spoke inappropriately. This would surely win her some friends.
At the same time, the girl was attending a Lutheran Church. She was at the required age for confirmation classes. A new Vicar was teaching the Wednesday night class. One night he just could not take the antics of the kids any longer. He damned them all to hell and walked out on them. The group of seventh graders sat in stunned silence. Some of the rebels snickered. The girl had a hard time believing a grown adult would completely lose his composure and scream something like that at a bunch of kids. Sure the kids had pushed the limits, but weren't adults more mature than that?
She was under the misguided assumption that adults were intelligent, responsible, always did the right things. So this new world she was seeing was very confusing. Barbara's parents had parties, smoked, drank and even smoked pot. The girl began to wonder if her own parents just weren't aware of some things in life. Maybe these things weren't as bad as her parents said they were. Maybe it was just because they'd never tried them. Maybe that was it. Why else would adults party that way, or the Vicar scream at them that they were all damned to hell in a church???
The girl learned a lot in those few short years. She smoked her first cigarette and ditched school. She had her first beer at a church youth group function and got drunk for the first time. A lot happened before she ever started high school.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Christmas In July
Growing up I looked forward to Christmas with great anticipation. By the time my parents were 24 and 25 years old, they had 4 children. It wasn't that they started any younger than others in their generation, but they did have 4 children in 4 1/2 years. (My mom likes to say 5.) Consequently, money was tight. I don't know how they managed, but Christmas at our house was magical.
Back then we didn't have gadgets and electronics to fill our time. We played with and enjoyed simple things. One of my favorite things was listening to music-especially while my dad played along on his steel guitar. It wasn't often, but sometimes he took me in his arms and we danced. I was not one of those little girls like my sister, who desired to take ballet and tap dances. No, I enjoyed dancing with a partner. One particular occasion my dad attempted to show me the foot moves of a dance. I'm sure being so young, I wasn't getting it at all. So he told me to just place my feet atop his black leather shoes so he could better show me. I placed my chubby bare feet atop his warm shoes and we glided and swung around the room. It was glorious!
After that, all I wanted to do was dance. For Christmas I asked for a big doll. Since I loved baby dolls my mom asked if that was what I wanted. No. I wanted a life-size doll, one as big as me so I could dance with her. Mom told me big dolls were very expensive and she doubted they actually made them that big. That didn't stop me from dreaming.
Christmas morning, as always, we were up before the sun. I think this was part of the magic. Walking out a bit bleary-eyed to where the Christmas tree lights sparkled and shined their glowing lights onto beautifully wrapped packages. There were always a few things left unwrapped that made it even more exciting. That morning as I rubbed my sleepy eyes I could hardly believe what I saw. Not only was there a stroller I'd long coveted, but sitting inside was a huge doll. I never thought that this gift might not be mine. I pulled the life-size doll from her chair and hugged her to my chest. My mom had lovingly made a doll nearly my size. She had blonde curls like mine made from brightly colored yarn. She wore a beautiful dress that I later found had a matching one made just for me. But the best part was that under her fabric shoes, my mom had sewn in loops of elastic.
I didn't wait to get dressed. I put my shoes on while wearing my pajamas, then slipped the elastic bands around them. My dolls feet rested perfectly atop my shoes the way mine had on my dad's. I wrapped my arms around her and we danced.
Back then we didn't have gadgets and electronics to fill our time. We played with and enjoyed simple things. One of my favorite things was listening to music-especially while my dad played along on his steel guitar. It wasn't often, but sometimes he took me in his arms and we danced. I was not one of those little girls like my sister, who desired to take ballet and tap dances. No, I enjoyed dancing with a partner. One particular occasion my dad attempted to show me the foot moves of a dance. I'm sure being so young, I wasn't getting it at all. So he told me to just place my feet atop his black leather shoes so he could better show me. I placed my chubby bare feet atop his warm shoes and we glided and swung around the room. It was glorious!
After that, all I wanted to do was dance. For Christmas I asked for a big doll. Since I loved baby dolls my mom asked if that was what I wanted. No. I wanted a life-size doll, one as big as me so I could dance with her. Mom told me big dolls were very expensive and she doubted they actually made them that big. That didn't stop me from dreaming.
Christmas morning, as always, we were up before the sun. I think this was part of the magic. Walking out a bit bleary-eyed to where the Christmas tree lights sparkled and shined their glowing lights onto beautifully wrapped packages. There were always a few things left unwrapped that made it even more exciting. That morning as I rubbed my sleepy eyes I could hardly believe what I saw. Not only was there a stroller I'd long coveted, but sitting inside was a huge doll. I never thought that this gift might not be mine. I pulled the life-size doll from her chair and hugged her to my chest. My mom had lovingly made a doll nearly my size. She had blonde curls like mine made from brightly colored yarn. She wore a beautiful dress that I later found had a matching one made just for me. But the best part was that under her fabric shoes, my mom had sewn in loops of elastic.
I didn't wait to get dressed. I put my shoes on while wearing my pajamas, then slipped the elastic bands around them. My dolls feet rested perfectly atop my shoes the way mine had on my dad's. I wrapped my arms around her and we danced.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Attitude
I'm trying to have a good attitude, really I am. We arrived home late last night after an exhausting week in the Arizona Desert. Ok, we weren't camping out or anything, but I found it quite unpleasant driving across town in the middle of the day when it was 117 degrees. There was no such thing as sleeping in as it just gets too warm in the morning. I was so happy to crawl into my own bed last night.
I was awakened by an expected commotion. I tried to open my heavy eyelids, but no luck. The light was too bright. I lay quiet, hoping it would be dark again and the rustling around would be stilled. My darling husband finally informed me of the misfortune of my first morning home. Our bedroom shower was leaking. He had completely emptied the closet behind it, cut open the wall to get at the leak only to find it was a bigger problem. My ever-efficient man had already phoned a plumber that would be here within the hour. Not only did I have to get out of bed and dress before showering, I have yet to brush my teeth. I've been sitting here several hours feeling completely undone. The water is shut off so I can't even flush a toilet. It is Sunday and without water there is no way I can make myself presentable to attend church. (Sigh) This is one day I'm glad my girls are not awake yet. It was difficult enough on vacation for 5 females to share a small bathroom, but to have no bathroom to share is worse. If there wasn't a strange man in my bedroom, I'd crawl back in bed.
I was awakened by an expected commotion. I tried to open my heavy eyelids, but no luck. The light was too bright. I lay quiet, hoping it would be dark again and the rustling around would be stilled. My darling husband finally informed me of the misfortune of my first morning home. Our bedroom shower was leaking. He had completely emptied the closet behind it, cut open the wall to get at the leak only to find it was a bigger problem. My ever-efficient man had already phoned a plumber that would be here within the hour. Not only did I have to get out of bed and dress before showering, I have yet to brush my teeth. I've been sitting here several hours feeling completely undone. The water is shut off so I can't even flush a toilet. It is Sunday and without water there is no way I can make myself presentable to attend church. (Sigh) This is one day I'm glad my girls are not awake yet. It was difficult enough on vacation for 5 females to share a small bathroom, but to have no bathroom to share is worse. If there wasn't a strange man in my bedroom, I'd crawl back in bed.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Adventure
Off for an Adventure. We must be crazy. We are taking a week's "vacation" to the desert of Arizona. Yes, it is July and insanely hot. But I have a son turning 22, (taking my grandson who will turn 4,) parents and inlaws to see, sisters, brother, nieces & nephews to visit. It is just easier for us to pack up and go there as much as I'd love to have them all here. I think they'd love Colorado too.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Scents
I can't figure out how humidity in the air can change the way things smell. I awoke this morning earlier than usual. My coffee wasn't set to brew for another hour so I manually turned it on and went downstairs to put in a load of laundry. When I walked back into the kitchen it smelled like Gramma's home. I make coffee every morning, so how does a bit of extra moisture in the air change the way it smells?
Growing up in the hot desert of Arizona, I loved the times we'd go to California to visit Gramma. She would also say, "don't forget to bring your sweater" before we left, but we never did. (When it is 100 degrees at 10 o'clock at night, one cannot imagine needing a jacket anywhere within a days drive.)
Mom and Dad would load the car on a Friday night and we'd wake up early Saturday morning at Gramma's. The air felt so much cooler and I was told it was because of the humidity and breeze from the ocean. Aroused from my slumber by the thick aroma of coffee, I'd sneak out of bed to be the first to greet Gramma. I'd shiver after pulling the covers off, and want to hop back under the blanket. But the scent of coffee was too enticing. Gramma was in the next room.
Long before I ever thought about drinking coffee, it made an impression on me. Getting that first hug, sitting at the table watching as she sipped from delicate china cups, there was something so warm and inviting in that kitchen. The air seemed thick and heavy with that dark aroma, it surrounded you as if it you were wrapped in a blanket. The sunlight would stream in through the glass doors, creating added warmth. I loved being at Gramma's.
When I awoke this morning after last night's thunderstorms, the air was cool and had that same thickness about it. The coffee hung heavily in the cool, misty air as I walked through my kitchen. I was drawn in and melted into memories of Gramma's house. I sure do miss her.
Growing up in the hot desert of Arizona, I loved the times we'd go to California to visit Gramma. She would also say, "don't forget to bring your sweater" before we left, but we never did. (When it is 100 degrees at 10 o'clock at night, one cannot imagine needing a jacket anywhere within a days drive.)
Mom and Dad would load the car on a Friday night and we'd wake up early Saturday morning at Gramma's. The air felt so much cooler and I was told it was because of the humidity and breeze from the ocean. Aroused from my slumber by the thick aroma of coffee, I'd sneak out of bed to be the first to greet Gramma. I'd shiver after pulling the covers off, and want to hop back under the blanket. But the scent of coffee was too enticing. Gramma was in the next room.
Long before I ever thought about drinking coffee, it made an impression on me. Getting that first hug, sitting at the table watching as she sipped from delicate china cups, there was something so warm and inviting in that kitchen. The air seemed thick and heavy with that dark aroma, it surrounded you as if it you were wrapped in a blanket. The sunlight would stream in through the glass doors, creating added warmth. I loved being at Gramma's.
When I awoke this morning after last night's thunderstorms, the air was cool and had that same thickness about it. The coffee hung heavily in the cool, misty air as I walked through my kitchen. I was drawn in and melted into memories of Gramma's house. I sure do miss her.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
God Bless America
God bless America,
Land that I love,
Stand beside her and guide her
Thru the night with a light from above;
From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans white with foam,
God bless America,
My home, sweet home.
God bless America,
My home, sweet home
by Irving Berlin
I remember growing up and actually singing this song in school. (gasp) Yes, it was public school. But my favorite patriotic song was Battle Hymn of the Republic, or Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory. This one I learned in Kindergarten. I didn't understand most of the words, but when it came to the chorus I clearly remember standing a little taller. I would sing a little louder. My feet would begin to take steps in place. I envisioned soldiers marching from battle singing praises to God. I felt strong. It was how I imagined David feeling after his battle with Goliath. I understood we lived in a free country, but it had been at a great price.
"Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Since God is marching on."
(If you want to see the complete lyrics and a bit of history, you can find them here.)
Land that I love,
Stand beside her and guide her
Thru the night with a light from above;
From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans white with foam,
God bless America,
My home, sweet home.
God bless America,
My home, sweet home
by Irving Berlin
I remember growing up and actually singing this song in school. (gasp) Yes, it was public school. But my favorite patriotic song was Battle Hymn of the Republic, or Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory. This one I learned in Kindergarten. I didn't understand most of the words, but when it came to the chorus I clearly remember standing a little taller. I would sing a little louder. My feet would begin to take steps in place. I envisioned soldiers marching from battle singing praises to God. I felt strong. It was how I imagined David feeling after his battle with Goliath. I understood we lived in a free country, but it had been at a great price.
"Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Since God is marching on."
(If you want to see the complete lyrics and a bit of history, you can find them here.)
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Another email I received from my oldest daughter:
I have a boy.
For sure.
E was outside playing. He came "running" inside and was jabbering away. He was showing me some dirt pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
I was like "oh wow!" then I carried on about my business.
After a minute E set the dirt on the counter. The dirt then began to squirm its mangled insect body across my countertop.
EEEEEEEW!
I squished what was left of the bug in a paper towel and threw it in the trash.
I started to walk away but then E started yelling so I turned around to see him pulling everything out of the trash, looking for his bug.
I have a boy.
For sure.
E was outside playing. He came "running" inside and was jabbering away. He was showing me some dirt pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
I was like "oh wow!" then I carried on about my business.
After a minute E set the dirt on the counter. The dirt then began to squirm its mangled insect body across my countertop.
EEEEEEEW!
I squished what was left of the bug in a paper towel and threw it in the trash.
I started to walk away but then E started yelling so I turned around to see him pulling everything out of the trash, looking for his bug.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Love
After I wrote Sarabeth's Happy 17th Birthday post, I received this email:
I don't know what led me to read your blog, I was bored, sitting here, nothing else to do. I smiled when I saw my picture there and "Happy 17th Birthday Sarabeth!" Then I got to reading. I've heard all of that before, that I was the velcro baby and everybody tried to help you. But something struck me differently this time, it actually made me cry. I'm thanking God as much as you, right now, for giving me to you because I don't think anybody else in this world would have treated me the same way, with the same loving patience as you did, and you still do. I hope, one day, I can be like you, with enough faith and perseverance to keep moving forward and overcome any task set ahead of me. I've been told that I'm a good writer and should keep that up, but I hope that I can write like you do, with the ability to touch people so strongly that it changes their life forever. And thank you for always being there for me and giving me the courage to press on. Without your unconditional love I know I wouldn't be half the person I am today. Thank you so much. I love you.
-Sarabeth
It is an expression like this that makes the tough years all worthwhile, the long sleepless nights, the tears, the prayers, and the stress. So if you are a parent to young children, or even young teens and wonder if you are making a difference at all, you are.
(P.S. Took Sarabeth to the airport this morning. At the moment she is on a plane flying towards her destination for the next 3.5 weeks. I will miss her but am thankful for today's technology and the ability to keep in close contact.)
I don't know what led me to read your blog, I was bored, sitting here, nothing else to do. I smiled when I saw my picture there and "Happy 17th Birthday Sarabeth!" Then I got to reading. I've heard all of that before, that I was the velcro baby and everybody tried to help you. But something struck me differently this time, it actually made me cry. I'm thanking God as much as you, right now, for giving me to you because I don't think anybody else in this world would have treated me the same way, with the same loving patience as you did, and you still do. I hope, one day, I can be like you, with enough faith and perseverance to keep moving forward and overcome any task set ahead of me. I've been told that I'm a good writer and should keep that up, but I hope that I can write like you do, with the ability to touch people so strongly that it changes their life forever. And thank you for always being there for me and giving me the courage to press on. Without your unconditional love I know I wouldn't be half the person I am today. Thank you so much. I love you.
-Sarabeth
It is an expression like this that makes the tough years all worthwhile, the long sleepless nights, the tears, the prayers, and the stress. So if you are a parent to young children, or even young teens and wonder if you are making a difference at all, you are.
(P.S. Took Sarabeth to the airport this morning. At the moment she is on a plane flying towards her destination for the next 3.5 weeks. I will miss her but am thankful for today's technology and the ability to keep in close contact.)
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Memories
I've noticed recent celebrations of Blog Anniversaries on several blogs. So I wondered to myself how long I've been at this. I checked and was pleasantly surprised. Apparently, today is my 1st Blogging Anniversary. Happy Anniversary to me.
I have kept journals for years. This isn't really a journal, but it is similar. I enjoy going back and re-reading journals to see what life was about at that particular juncture in life, what I was feeling/thinking, and to see if I've grown since then. It is also interesting to be reminded of things that would have been forgotten.
My very first post was regarding my 1st attempt at the Zone Diet. I failed miserably. I would not have guessed that both Michael and I would start it together 9 months later and be successful. (I have lost 25 lbs since that first post.)
I noticed my second post included pictures of a trip to the mountains. I did not remember that Sarabeth had requested that trip for her birthday as well as the one taken last weekend. And although I mentioned that we love going to the moutains for cookouts, I realized that was probably the last time we'd gone.
It just goes to show that our memories are not always accurate of the way things really are. Many will say this and a few will admit this, but what about our perspective? Most of us think our own perspective is the right one. Even as I re-read about struggles in my journal, I'm merely reading my own perspective on life. I'd much rather peer into it with God's eyes to see how He sees it. That would give me a much more truthful interpretation of how I am doing.
And writing this post, I learned that even writing things down doesn't necessarily prove accurate. As I went back to find the links to my first posts, I realized I was wrong. I went back to June and viewed the top post, but the first post was at the bottom of the page. So today isn't my anniversary at all. It was June 25th-Sarabeth's birthday. (Sarabeth, we share a special day!) And those were not my 1st two posts. Oh well, it is still good to look back.
I have kept journals for years. This isn't really a journal, but it is similar. I enjoy going back and re-reading journals to see what life was about at that particular juncture in life, what I was feeling/thinking, and to see if I've grown since then. It is also interesting to be reminded of things that would have been forgotten.
My very first post was regarding my 1st attempt at the Zone Diet. I failed miserably. I would not have guessed that both Michael and I would start it together 9 months later and be successful. (I have lost 25 lbs since that first post.)
I noticed my second post included pictures of a trip to the mountains. I did not remember that Sarabeth had requested that trip for her birthday as well as the one taken last weekend. And although I mentioned that we love going to the moutains for cookouts, I realized that was probably the last time we'd gone.
It just goes to show that our memories are not always accurate of the way things really are. Many will say this and a few will admit this, but what about our perspective? Most of us think our own perspective is the right one. Even as I re-read about struggles in my journal, I'm merely reading my own perspective on life. I'd much rather peer into it with God's eyes to see how He sees it. That would give me a much more truthful interpretation of how I am doing.
And writing this post, I learned that even writing things down doesn't necessarily prove accurate. As I went back to find the links to my first posts, I realized I was wrong. I went back to June and viewed the top post, but the first post was at the bottom of the page. So today isn't my anniversary at all. It was June 25th-Sarabeth's birthday. (Sarabeth, we share a special day!) And those were not my 1st two posts. Oh well, it is still good to look back.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Happy 17th Birthday Sarabeth!
Sarabeth is my 4th child. When she was little I received more unwanted advice from well-intentioned people than with any of my other children. It is a good thing I was not insecure about my parenting. Each child is different and the Lord is always there to guide and help me meet the needs of each individual.
In general, I parent my children the same. How hard is it with a baby? I love them and meet their needs through my sleep-deprived, bleary-eyed body with a mother's heart. I spend hours praying for wisdom and guidance as to what will help my child become all that He intends them to be. It seemed rather simple with the 1st 3.
But Sarabeth was different. She became affectionately known as the Velcro Baby. Nobody but I could hold her, not even her daddy. I could hardly run to the bathroom without her having a meltdown. On a rare occasion when she was napping I would plead with her father to let me run to the grocery store without taking her along. You see, she was such a cutie people were always stopping to talk to her as I'd push her in the grocery cart. Her immediate response to uninvited attention was shrieks. The strangers would then try to soothe her by touching her and talking to her further. At this point she would be clutching at my shirt as if her very life depended on it. It was sheer terror. Once-in-awhile her father would give in to my pleading as long as I promised to be back in record time. It didn't matter how long I was gone. I always returned to a red-faced man pushing a matching red-faced, teary-eyed baby at me as I walked through the door.
"You just need to leave her more often."
"How long can she cry?"
"Leave her with me and she'll get over this pretty quick."
I've never met so many baby experts in all my life. The advice continued well into toddlerhood and elementary school. I learned to just smile at the so-called experts as they'd throw out their solutions to my clingy child, all the while thanking God for His grace not to say something nasty back. Friends and family began to shake their heads at me, believing my child would never be normal.
To everyone's surprise, Sarabeth began to blossom into a very independant, well-adjusted young lady. Her quick-witted sense of humor evokes laughter from everyone. In 6th grade she left for a week to Outdoor Lab. Unlike some of my other children, she didn't ask me to come along. There were no tears as she said good-bye. The years of building security into her by letting her know I was there for her had paid off. It hadn't been my job to force her to stand on her own and be strong. By keeping her close and strengthing our relationship she developed the courage to do more than anyone thought possible. And isn't this what our heavenly Father desires for us?
Next Saturday Sarabeth will leave once again. This time for a month-long nanny stint in another state. I am so proud of how she has grown up. Happy Birthday Sarabeth!
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Put It Back
She pushed her cart to the checkout and put her items up to be scanned. Her son was chattering away as he clutched a toy. It was obvious by his movements that something wasn't right. His speech was unintelligible. But he made happy sounds as he played with the toy.
"We have to pay for it now," the young mother told him. As she placed it on the counter, he began to grab for it and express his displeasure. "You can have it in just a minute." She kissed his forehead.
The clerk rang up the few items. The mother inserted her credit card into the machine.
"Do you have another card? This one has been denied." The clerk turned to the mother and boy.
"No, I don't." You could see the red in her cheeks as she blushed in humiliation. All the while, the boy was reaching for his new toy.
"I'm sorry, honey. We can't get it today." It was obvious that the boy did not comprehend what his mom was telling him. He did not understand why he couldn't have his toy back. His mother quickly swiped at her face with her hand to keep the tear from falling. She was a single mom and did not have any other money. "I'm sorry, let's go."
The boy began to cry and the mother couldn't soothe him. He just did not understand why the lady at the counter took his toy and he couldn't have it. His mom took him to the car.
Now, imagine that this was your child and your granchild.
"We have to pay for it now," the young mother told him. As she placed it on the counter, he began to grab for it and express his displeasure. "You can have it in just a minute." She kissed his forehead.
The clerk rang up the few items. The mother inserted her credit card into the machine.
"Do you have another card? This one has been denied." The clerk turned to the mother and boy.
"No, I don't." You could see the red in her cheeks as she blushed in humiliation. All the while, the boy was reaching for his new toy.
"I'm sorry, honey. We can't get it today." It was obvious that the boy did not comprehend what his mom was telling him. He did not understand why he couldn't have his toy back. His mother quickly swiped at her face with her hand to keep the tear from falling. She was a single mom and did not have any other money. "I'm sorry, let's go."
The boy began to cry and the mother couldn't soothe him. He just did not understand why the lady at the counter took his toy and he couldn't have it. His mom took him to the car.
Now, imagine that this was your child and your granchild.
Fun
We are NOT campers. In spite of this, one of our favorite things to do in the summer is having a cook-out in the mountains. Sarabeth's birthday is Sunday so she requested an early birthday dinner. And what do the girls do for fun?
Mountains
More pics from our cook-out:
Gosh, maybe we should actually try camping. This is Elisabeth and Hilary pretending to camp.
Gosh, maybe we should actually try camping. This is Elisabeth and Hilary pretending to camp.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Hearts
What's In Your Heart?
What's in your heart? I know the "right" answer is Jesus. I was thrilled each time my kids could truthfully give the right answer. But this phrase has taken on a new meaning.
When Michael returned from New Jersey, he said he had something for me. He presented me with a lovely little black box with this inside:
It is a "What's In Your Heart" pendant. You purchase it empty, then fill with charms of your choice (according to how much you want to spend.) This is probably one of the single most romantic things Michael has ever done. He added our initials to it, chose a heart with my birthstones, a ruby for my son and grandson, and a diamond for my girls. How sweet is that? I was totally suprised and amazed.
Naturally, my girls each wanted one, so I went online to find information. Apparently these are just becoming popular. What made them popular was an actress from Desperate Housewives who wore one on a talk show. I've never seen the show, nor do I care to. But I am ever so happy with what's in my heart-both the pendant and my own.
What's in your heart? I know the "right" answer is Jesus. I was thrilled each time my kids could truthfully give the right answer. But this phrase has taken on a new meaning.
When Michael returned from New Jersey, he said he had something for me. He presented me with a lovely little black box with this inside:
It is a "What's In Your Heart" pendant. You purchase it empty, then fill with charms of your choice (according to how much you want to spend.) This is probably one of the single most romantic things Michael has ever done. He added our initials to it, chose a heart with my birthstones, a ruby for my son and grandson, and a diamond for my girls. How sweet is that? I was totally suprised and amazed.
Naturally, my girls each wanted one, so I went online to find information. Apparently these are just becoming popular. What made them popular was an actress from Desperate Housewives who wore one on a talk show. I've never seen the show, nor do I care to. But I am ever so happy with what's in my heart-both the pendant and my own.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Happy Dad's Day
Dad, remember when you took me and Greg fishing while my sisters stayed at home? I felt so important being able to go along with the guys.
Remember when you used to sneak up the stairs to catch us fooling around when we were supposed to be sleeping? I always heard you when your foot stepped on the one creaking stair. I'd immediately pretend to be sleeping while Carolyn would chatter away. She'd usually get in trouble and I'd listen while she vehemently tried to tell you I was really awake. You always believed the best about me.
Remember when you showed me how to play your steel guitar? My love of music developed because of the years spent listening to the whine and twang of that guitar. Hearing you play brought a soothing sense of security to my life. Music still does that for me.
Remember the Fridays we'd climb into the car and head off into the dark night? We'd make that 7 hour long drive to visit Grandad in California. It was often just the two of us and we'd drive back home Sunday afternoon. When I got my learners permit, you'd let me drive-even when you would be nodding off in the seat beside me. I knew you trusted me, even though I wasn't that good of a driver yet. I learned the joy and accomplishment of taking responsibility seriously.
Remember the times Grandad would call to see if you were driving up for the weekend? A few times you had to say no. Grandad would say he was going to die and hang up on you. When you tried to phone him back, he wouldn't answer your calls. I learned by watching you what it meant to love, honor, and respect your parents. After these calls, you'd turn to me and ask if I wanted to make the trip when nobody else wanted to. I'd say yes, and even though you were dead tired, we'd go. When Grandad said no, he didn't want to sell his house, even though we all knew he would never go home to live, you honored his request. When Grandad stubbornly refused to come live with us, you respected his wishes. It would have made your life so much easier if you'd just sold his house and forced him to move, but you didn't. Neither you nor I were big conversationalists, so the two of us would often sit or stand silently by Grandad's bed for hours at a time. I knew how much you loved us both.
Remember when you and Mom went to Germany for 2 years? I was a young mom with 2 children. You and I would write long letters back and forth. I am so thankful for that time. Our relationship grew. You related to me adult-to-adult. I was no longer a kid. You allowed me to grow up.
There is so much more, Dad, but I will pause here and say thanks. Happy Father's Day!
Remember when you used to sneak up the stairs to catch us fooling around when we were supposed to be sleeping? I always heard you when your foot stepped on the one creaking stair. I'd immediately pretend to be sleeping while Carolyn would chatter away. She'd usually get in trouble and I'd listen while she vehemently tried to tell you I was really awake. You always believed the best about me.
Remember when you showed me how to play your steel guitar? My love of music developed because of the years spent listening to the whine and twang of that guitar. Hearing you play brought a soothing sense of security to my life. Music still does that for me.
Remember the Fridays we'd climb into the car and head off into the dark night? We'd make that 7 hour long drive to visit Grandad in California. It was often just the two of us and we'd drive back home Sunday afternoon. When I got my learners permit, you'd let me drive-even when you would be nodding off in the seat beside me. I knew you trusted me, even though I wasn't that good of a driver yet. I learned the joy and accomplishment of taking responsibility seriously.
Remember the times Grandad would call to see if you were driving up for the weekend? A few times you had to say no. Grandad would say he was going to die and hang up on you. When you tried to phone him back, he wouldn't answer your calls. I learned by watching you what it meant to love, honor, and respect your parents. After these calls, you'd turn to me and ask if I wanted to make the trip when nobody else wanted to. I'd say yes, and even though you were dead tired, we'd go. When Grandad said no, he didn't want to sell his house, even though we all knew he would never go home to live, you honored his request. When Grandad stubbornly refused to come live with us, you respected his wishes. It would have made your life so much easier if you'd just sold his house and forced him to move, but you didn't. Neither you nor I were big conversationalists, so the two of us would often sit or stand silently by Grandad's bed for hours at a time. I knew how much you loved us both.
Remember when you and Mom went to Germany for 2 years? I was a young mom with 2 children. You and I would write long letters back and forth. I am so thankful for that time. Our relationship grew. You related to me adult-to-adult. I was no longer a kid. You allowed me to grow up.
There is so much more, Dad, but I will pause here and say thanks. Happy Father's Day!
Seven Things I Say
A Meme
The Laundry Lady over at Under the Laundry Pile tagged me for this Meme. Since I've not been keeping up with my blog, I thought it'd be a good way to get going again. So here they are:
1. "Who wants to go to the store with me?...I'm taking "my" car."
2. "No, you can't go. I'm taking my car."
3. "Dear" (this has to be said dragged out, as in "deeeeeeear.") My kids told me once that I called their dad "dear." After vehemently denying it, I was caught red-handed later that same day. The reason I didn't think I said it was I suppose it isn't said very en'dear'ingly. I use dear when I am slightly irritated and yet trying to be nice. Otherwise, he is honey or sweetie-not dear.
4. "Dinner's ready."
5. "Who left the hair straightener on?"
6. "Did the mute button quit working?" Or "Can you turn that thing down?"
7. "I need a Starbucks."
I tag Supermom, Melanie, and Char.
The Laundry Lady over at Under the Laundry Pile tagged me for this Meme. Since I've not been keeping up with my blog, I thought it'd be a good way to get going again. So here they are:
1. "Who wants to go to the store with me?...I'm taking "my" car."
2. "No, you can't go. I'm taking my car."
3. "Dear" (this has to be said dragged out, as in "deeeeeeear.") My kids told me once that I called their dad "dear." After vehemently denying it, I was caught red-handed later that same day. The reason I didn't think I said it was I suppose it isn't said very en'dear'ingly. I use dear when I am slightly irritated and yet trying to be nice. Otherwise, he is honey or sweetie-not dear.
4. "Dinner's ready."
5. "Who left the hair straightener on?"
6. "Did the mute button quit working?" Or "Can you turn that thing down?"
7. "I need a Starbucks."
I tag Supermom, Melanie, and Char.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Happenings
My baby is going to Washington D.C. tomorrow for 5 days. Yes, I realize she turned 14 recently. But something begins taking place in a mother's heart as she starts seeing big milestones in her youngest child. Two years ago she was in 6th grade. At the end of field day as I was trudging along after a hot, sweaty day, I realized that this was my very last field day. Is that possible? I'd been attending field day every single May for the past 18 years. I thought about the times of juggling multiple kids doing field day at once, running back and forth trying to catch important events of each child. Most of the time I missed the photos of the win and only got ones of them holding up a brightly colored ribbon.
Ok, if I was honest, I was a bit gleeful at the thought of no more field days. But there was still a twinge in my heart that they were over. I know that instead of field day, bigger adventures were coming up. So now here is Hilary getting ready to fly across the country for an entire week. I don't get to go and cheer her on, or take her picture as she is enjoying the sites. I will be at home thinking about her, praying for her, and hoping she grows from this opportunity and has fun.
So I'm off to help her pack for her trip and make sure she has everything she needs. Here are a couple of pics of hubby's flying experience.
Ok, if I was honest, I was a bit gleeful at the thought of no more field days. But there was still a twinge in my heart that they were over. I know that instead of field day, bigger adventures were coming up. So now here is Hilary getting ready to fly across the country for an entire week. I don't get to go and cheer her on, or take her picture as she is enjoying the sites. I will be at home thinking about her, praying for her, and hoping she grows from this opportunity and has fun.
So I'm off to help her pack for her trip and make sure she has everything she needs. Here are a couple of pics of hubby's flying experience.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Summer
Today is the first day of summer break. I just returned from the airport. My dear Michael will be gone for 10 days while I keep things on the homefront. I feel like this is the beginning of a new life. (No, not the 10 days without him, silly.)
Michael is renewing his pilot's license. When we first met (I should write about that sometime,) I was working at a small airport coffee shop, he had a plane. He'd wanted to join the AirForce to be a pilot, but his vision prevented it. So he went to work at a computer firm and learned to fly on his own. We married and began having children. When I became pregnant with our 3rd, we took the kids on a long flight in his 4 seater plane. It was after this, that Michael decided it was time to put flying aside for awhile. We'd outgrown the 4 passenger plane and could no longer afford this expensive hobby.
During this same time period, it was my desire to go on the mission field. I had a hard time envisioning Michael and I ministering together. But the one thing I could imagine was a Michael as a bush pilot. Our church financially supported a bush pilot who lived in Alaska. I loved hearing his stories and treasured them in my heart, all the while continuing to pray that this would be our lives one day. But as our family continued to grow, it seemed we moved further and further away from this dream. After several years, I quit asking God to send us.
This past year Michael watched several documentaries about pilots on humanitarian missions. His interest was sparked. One day it hit me. The desire to be a missionary came flooding back. I remembered the years of praying. Could we be nearing a time that Michael and I could go out in ministry? God hears each one of our prayers and always answers. Maybe this prayer was like that of Abraham and Sarah who didn't see their prayers for a son until many years past not only the time they asked, but past what was even probable. Sometimes our dreams are laid aside and forgotten. But they can be resurrected in a moment. I don't know if this desire will ever come to pass, but I am so very encouraged and excited to be reminded that God never forgets.
Michael's motto in life is "Keep the Blue Side Up." So that is what I expect him to do for the next 10 days. Keep the blue side up Michael!
Michael is renewing his pilot's license. When we first met (I should write about that sometime,) I was working at a small airport coffee shop, he had a plane. He'd wanted to join the AirForce to be a pilot, but his vision prevented it. So he went to work at a computer firm and learned to fly on his own. We married and began having children. When I became pregnant with our 3rd, we took the kids on a long flight in his 4 seater plane. It was after this, that Michael decided it was time to put flying aside for awhile. We'd outgrown the 4 passenger plane and could no longer afford this expensive hobby.
During this same time period, it was my desire to go on the mission field. I had a hard time envisioning Michael and I ministering together. But the one thing I could imagine was a Michael as a bush pilot. Our church financially supported a bush pilot who lived in Alaska. I loved hearing his stories and treasured them in my heart, all the while continuing to pray that this would be our lives one day. But as our family continued to grow, it seemed we moved further and further away from this dream. After several years, I quit asking God to send us.
This past year Michael watched several documentaries about pilots on humanitarian missions. His interest was sparked. One day it hit me. The desire to be a missionary came flooding back. I remembered the years of praying. Could we be nearing a time that Michael and I could go out in ministry? God hears each one of our prayers and always answers. Maybe this prayer was like that of Abraham and Sarah who didn't see their prayers for a son until many years past not only the time they asked, but past what was even probable. Sometimes our dreams are laid aside and forgotten. But they can be resurrected in a moment. I don't know if this desire will ever come to pass, but I am so very encouraged and excited to be reminded that God never forgets.
Michael's motto in life is "Keep the Blue Side Up." So that is what I expect him to do for the next 10 days. Keep the blue side up Michael!
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