tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39024607606973117302024-03-12T18:25:05.826-05:00It's a Smalling Worldcorralling chaos since 1999Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.comBlogger282125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-67032399351768264522015-03-24T22:31:00.001-05:002015-03-24T22:35:06.903-05:00Spring Training<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Daffodils burst as my New Year's fireworks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Time to count another year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">(This spring makes 37...squarely in the "late thirties" camp, as my 40-something husband keeps telling me.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Since at least high school, they've been my reminder. March-27th-Amy would bring daffodils or buttercups to this March-28th-friend. I'll never forget friendships and fresh starts as long as the spring flowers bloom again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I feel more like a rusty, used-to-be-purposeful hinge (that the birds have pooped on) these days than blooming yellow sunshine. But daffodils force me to pull out my camera, and now I see in a different light. Beauty, even in the changing, the wearing out and wearing down. Purpose and calling, the courage to be not-enough, poured-out, beyond-the-end-of-myself.</span></div>
Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-23744237674767547472013-08-29T22:02:00.000-05:002015-03-24T22:03:19.718-05:00About me<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Life is messy. And not just my house...although it usually is. Everything I do feels messy right now. My marriage is a mess of sweet and sarcastic. My mothering is a mess of holy and hollering. My home is a mess of welcoming and war-torn. My serving the church is a mess of worship and why-on-earth-did-I-agree-to-this-?!. My friendships are a mess of sacred and scattered. My efforts to live out Matthew 28:19 are a mess of self-sacrifice and self-absorption. Maybe you can relate?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Most often, I accuse myself of being ONLY sarcastic, hollering, war-torn, why-on-earth, scattered and self-absorbed. I see those as terrible parts of me that will never change. Instead, I'm learning that those are the very places God meets me, reminding me that ONLY in His power, by His grace, is He making me into sweet, holy, welcoming, worshipful, sacred and self-sacrificing Melanie. My prayer is to love the unlovely all around me and also within me. Loving God in a way that radiates out. Trusting Him to teach me to love the least...those the world views as unlovely, but who He wants to recreate in His image, just as He is doing with my own mess.</span>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-4041115258066251682013-06-23T15:37:00.001-05:002013-06-23T15:49:59.134-05:00FaithIn a pew (and a half) bursting with Whites, after an extra-long Love Feast (otherwise I would have missed the whole moment while walking the circus of Cousins to Children's Worship), Josh G led "It is Well" and I sang it down the pew to Avery Anne who stared down every word. Until "And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight!" brought a gummy grin to her face and tears to my eyes. Yes, sister, faith shall be sight. All of Cousins. Lord, haste the day!<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA4j_Vb5IrOpcSYi74q5a7-u66PaN9HphWI2JwmVlB8DbkIktdQT2Ro5X1xCG6JpMRGffMEM9npYYVhclQ4b3RhkapXOVi28rcvbNswf7tC4U-CkQJ20mlgGD-gOtufco5HYGf9H9FSw3l/s640/blogger-image-1518665006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA4j_Vb5IrOpcSYi74q5a7-u66PaN9HphWI2JwmVlB8DbkIktdQT2Ro5X1xCG6JpMRGffMEM9npYYVhclQ4b3RhkapXOVi28rcvbNswf7tC4U-CkQJ20mlgGD-gOtufco5HYGf9H9FSw3l/s640/blogger-image-1518665006.jpg"></a></div>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-23228049013986913262012-06-09T22:08:00.000-05:002012-06-09T21:45:02.159-05:00Real RubyI studied the photos of <a href="http://smallingworld.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-interrupted.html?m=1">Ruby</a> on the bookshelf. I see them every day and think of her. But today I noticed the real little girl in those pictures. No, she didn't ever draw breath on this earth, but she was really here, kicking and playing, heart beating inside my body. Her body was real, as real as mine. She wore a real pink smocked dress and had 10 real fingers and 10 real toes. At the time, I thought of her as the daughter I wouldn't get to hold or rock or nurse. She was a physical presence I would not enjoy. All I wanted was to really hold her and have her really here. <br />
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Now, almost 6 yrs later, I'd almost forgotten she was dead. That sounds bizarre. I think of her daily, but always as she Really is: her Real, living, spiritual self with a new body I just haven't yet gotten to behold. I realized I haven't thought of her broken body in a very long time. 6 years ago I couldn't believe this kind of healing would ever come.<br />
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And I realize that this earthly life is just a tiny piece of my Real life, too. For much longer than 6 years, I will be my Real spiritual self with a whole, holy Real body living my whole, holy Real life. It's hard to imagine now that I won't miss this life, but God has reminded me through Ruby that this life is only a shadow of the Real life coming.<br />
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<blockquote>For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. For we live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. (2 Corinthians 5:1-9 NIV)</blockquote>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-25937941561747688142012-05-14T16:44:00.000-05:002012-05-14T20:35:00.144-05:00Loving-Kindness<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am not a Great Mother. Not even a Good Mother. In my own strength I am a Yeller and a Blamer and a Leave-Me-Alone-Before-I-Hurt-You-er.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But God. Good Father. Great Father. Faithful Father. Kind Father.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wednesday night we don’t even make it to church. Fed, teeth brushed, shoes on, Bibles read and ready. A singular request: Get in the van without fighting. Clearly unattainable. Overachieving Children elevate mere disobedience to knock-down drag-out screaming, hair-pulling, choke-slamming, head-locking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Frustrated Mama’s singular right move: facedown in the grass before God after all 4 are in bed before 7. Begging for mercy. For them. And for me. Running through my head: Summer? Not happening. Weary Mama pours it all out, surrenders to the Good Father, Faithful Father whose strength will have to be enough if this brood is to be mothered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thursday is less fighty. Fiesty Youngest even naps. Then. Out of the yellow bus spill 3 schoolagers. Let the games begin. Again, a singular request, just too simple for one Stubborn Son. Ah, the heart of the matter. Like Sister Eve and that singular tree: I want that one. Now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then, an apology. Faux sorrow that depends on and demands the return of the confiscated symptom, a toy now outside with Obedient-just-this-once Brother.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So minor infraction spirals, heats up hot enough for the real impurities to surface–pride, selfishness, greed. Ah yes, that looks familiar. Definitely my child. My own flesh wants to meet my own flesh and blood’s pride with more pride. Ugly with uglier. He wants a fight? It’s on. I’m a first-born. We don’t lose.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Instead, Spirit speaks: Why not just cooperate, child? Just listen. Just trust me. Don’t you know how much I love you? Do think I gave you life just to punish you? Do you understand that I care for you, feed you, clothe you, provide for you because I love you and delight in your well-being?</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, Father, I do see how you did that. Pretty clever, speaking to me through my own words to my own child.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Although tempted in thought by my own evil desires that rage within me, the actions, His-not-mine, are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and yes, even self-control. In spite of all that fruit, Offending Son remains angry. Defensive. Determined that his is the one heart too hard to ever soften. All hope lost. Give up now. Nothing will ever be good again ever. Did I mention I call this son <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/hyperbole?s=t" target="_blank">Hyperbole</a>?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With firm truth and gentle love in his pocket, but not yet in his heart, he retreats to his room. Weary Mama again bends the knee, thoughts already swirling of teenage and young adult years to survive, and what if he’s right? What if his heart never softens? What if his needs exceed my resources? (They do, now watch Him provide.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Son returns, repentance brightening his face. A tiny, gigantic change of heart. True apology. True forgiveness. Thankful Mama joke-tests that toys will not be returned today. Forgiven Son laughs and hugs and passes with flying colors.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Obedient-just-this-once Brother bursts in from outside, offering confiscated toy and unsolicited words of uncommon brotherly kindness, then promptly bursts off the scene, wholly unaware of the weight and ordained timing of the gift he’s just offered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Grace-filled Son looks at the grace-gift in his hand and then at Tear-filled Mama. Arms and tears entwine. Thanks are offered to the Faithful Father who loves him even more, and even better, than Mama. Thanks for softened hearts and unexpected, unmerited tokens of favor. For opening the Skeptical Son’s eyes to, and reminding the Less-than-Good Mama of, the Great Father’s better-than-He-has-to-be love and mercy and flat-out thoughtfulness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tiny faith repaid in detailed kindness.</span></div>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-87739406087544672152010-09-06T22:37:00.000-05:002010-09-06T22:37:25.931-05:00Grateful<center><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" title="holy experience" /></a></center><br />
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21. treasures in heaven (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%206:19-20&version=NIV">Matt 6:19-20</a>)<br />
22. blog encouragers (<a href="http://mygrandkidsdani.blogspot.com/">Mom</a> and <a href="http://rogersfamilyupdate.blogspot.com/">Hannah</a>)<br />
23. warm fires and smelling smoky later<br />
24. friends, old and new, who remember<br />
25. do-overs (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=lam%203:22-23&version=NIV">Lam 3:22-23</a>)<br />
26. making it "this far" (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20sam%207:18-22&version=NIV">2 Sam 7:18-22</a>)<br />
27. forgiveness from my little peeps<br />
28. Mama's cookin'!<br />
29. indoor toilets (although I'm considering sending the little boys outside unless they start aiming better)<br />
30. colors of fall<br />
31. Luke knowing the last word of each line of much-read books<br />
32. "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Holding-Hope-Pathway-through-Suffering/dp/1414312962/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1283829911&sr=1-1">Holding on to Hope</a>" and the friend who gifted it<br />
33. Ruby Anne<br />
34. people who don't care when you say dumb things<br />
35. words and language<br />
36. kids who sleep at 7:30 pm = QUIET<br />
37. God speaking through my mother-in-law...PEACE<br />
38. rest for the weary (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%2011:28-29&version=NIV">Matt 11:28-29</a>)<br />
39. His everlasting-ness (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=jer%2031:3&version=NIV">Jer 31:3</a>)<br />
40. a mama who quilts (because I'm on my way to sleep under the wedding quilt she made for us!)Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-83909388951668347402010-08-30T16:41:00.000-05:002010-08-30T16:41:19.974-05:00Gratitude<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">1. cool mornings</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">2. Bible study on the patio while Luke plays</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">3. hot tea</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">4. hard-working husband</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">5. "scub scouts" {Luke says it; Noah is one}</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">6. that Noah's favorite thing about "scub scouts" is "learning about God and serving"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">7. 8 yr old boy insights</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">8. a king-sized pillow</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">9. Luke patiently lining up tractors</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">10. snuggles from a busy 2 yr old</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">11. "Mommy, I need go potty!" BEFORE it happens!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">12. Excedrin</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">13. public school teachers</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">14. Luke's "lankie"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">15. the luxury of a day of rest when a migraine hits: only 1 kid at home, being a stay-at-home mom, being caught up (for ONCE) on chores</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">16. leftovers for lunch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">17. God's unlimited patience (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20tim%201:16&version=NIV">1 Tim 1:16</a>)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">18. Word meals (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=jer%2015:16&version=NIV">Jeremiah 15:16</a>)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">19. kids' hugs for the bus driver</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">20. that salvation pleased him! (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=ps%20115:3&version=NIV">Ps 115:3</a>)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The first of counting my many, many blessings... </span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="holy experience" src="http://i534.photobucket.com/albums/ee349/GDest07/ann%20voskamp/mondaybutton2.png" /></a></div><center><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/245/362178D6F4DB4759C79A90A3C6D9C68D.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0pt none ! important;" /></a></center>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-81501508104769040232010-08-30T11:10:00.000-05:002010-08-30T11:10:07.824-05:00Hello, my name is Melanie...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3YrftgF8d5YL0q6Om7IAzkE5wXhO1cp9nbCMJpl61xLm1gq7Ft9-vw3MWglZoqmWPZRTegU1zx1oSjFa9YeRDcFbdOiytqHbPECVkqDJauCJd0-E8haJ_h6V_0Nf7ziZqFLegijFby_V/s1600/FL+2010+beach+135apc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3YrftgF8d5YL0q6Om7IAzkE5wXhO1cp9nbCMJpl61xLm1gq7Ft9-vw3MWglZoqmWPZRTegU1zx1oSjFa9YeRDcFbdOiytqHbPECVkqDJauCJd0-E8haJ_h6V_0Nf7ziZqFLegijFby_V/s320/FL+2010+beach+135apc.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">...and I think I feel like blogging again?</div>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-65510511522071424652009-09-29T17:02:00.000-05:002009-09-29T17:02:17.938-05:00It's a Jack E World<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sometimes I play and sometimes I read.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love my Mommy.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIgEzLnbPO580767GEY4KXo6N34c5zpB8MMa0OrfAZUJw4-2f8DoZhNUgzNADMdaSAhyO9ox9gw33U0tTtaL44Bh24dTvxlEUmQWv3zdxBhlyr7_AUsCp9rJxN8GMpIxdxCBPRz4jg6Za/s1600-h/IMG_2394a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIgEzLnbPO580767GEY4KXo6N34c5zpB8MMa0OrfAZUJw4-2f8DoZhNUgzNADMdaSAhyO9ox9gw33U0tTtaL44Bh24dTvxlEUmQWv3zdxBhlyr7_AUsCp9rJxN8GMpIxdxCBPRz4jg6Za/s320/IMG_2394a.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sometimes me and mom go for a hike {never happened}, and play games {all the time},<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and decorate {once, for fall}.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Most times I go to school, and sometimes I do science and exercise and take a rest,<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and when I'm done I take a deep breath.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRqxyTnwrZF-txPQTAZXVBe5UZQNuUFzs2jK89N5PXNHXQ9p5dte5Co0Omon6MWBz-1VSejKrdh2JKYSitxS66HnO3Rhyphenhyphen5w3wHUrBw2m_yL7GnsQFatwqOugJyUlMI1CzTQsH8dqB8Gmcn/s1600-h/IMG_2313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRqxyTnwrZF-txPQTAZXVBe5UZQNuUFzs2jK89N5PXNHXQ9p5dte5Co0Omon6MWBz-1VSejKrdh2JKYSitxS66HnO3Rhyphenhyphen5w3wHUrBw2m_yL7GnsQFatwqOugJyUlMI1CzTQsH8dqB8Gmcn/s320/IMG_2313.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sometimes I play, and sometimes I have birthdays. Sometimes I go to the park,<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and sometimes I go somewhere to eat.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My birthday is October 30th. I will be the big 5 this year.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here are the rules for my birthday:<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1. No breakin'.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2. No messin' up.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">3. No openin' other people's presents when it's not time,<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and no peekin' inside somebody else's presents.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">4. If you want to come to my birthday, you gotta be nice.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9hDyRSPn3sQbVS0rkmw8KMzMoIKAx-p2hyphenhyphenqj2uIvk_YIZtdLeidEBuN8p0MV997ncn6ohyphenhyphenbCsYjyRZ7GoHQgS1SvtMm0I8SD0LPDdHOuwcDGeH0W3ufjZfKjaHT_gSPaTjYX0GR47CaW/s1600-h/IMG_2573.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9hDyRSPn3sQbVS0rkmw8KMzMoIKAx-p2hyphenhyphenqj2uIvk_YIZtdLeidEBuN8p0MV997ncn6ohyphenhyphenbCsYjyRZ7GoHQgS1SvtMm0I8SD0LPDdHOuwcDGeH0W3ufjZfKjaHT_gSPaTjYX0GR47CaW/s320/IMG_2573.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">5. No scarin' people.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">6. No vampires.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">7. No muddy people.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylhdupdJqFuchokiNHdyQH87QAh1BsXJmiZvuk8aiq1B4YR19iT6ltMenjKaJsugG4T-x62sACn_nEv4nmRjiSqRNRllnWunfopww3-YV_p2tKuYxVyC8X9tPf_tZq8jIShjI9QeoTyIh/s1600-h/IMG_2525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjylhdupdJqFuchokiNHdyQH87QAh1BsXJmiZvuk8aiq1B4YR19iT6ltMenjKaJsugG4T-x62sACn_nEv4nmRjiSqRNRllnWunfopww3-YV_p2tKuYxVyC8X9tPf_tZq8jIShjI9QeoTyIh/s320/IMG_2525.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">8. No frowin' food.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">9. No breakin' toys.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">10. No frowin' chairs at people.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBC_C9DkoyrTdh51uLSkh3CO6aSfpILdVA_UUL6ywzPVQKaI6z3-6EJTYTbU-v-ED-vTeJn5jhR61lg4-OSvA64BycCE82aVrE3-yivTedH9WGjUgN4wRnYkEsJa2k8PZmtDK7AjwMgq4/s1600-h/IMG_2187a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHBC_C9DkoyrTdh51uLSkh3CO6aSfpILdVA_UUL6ywzPVQKaI6z3-6EJTYTbU-v-ED-vTeJn5jhR61lg4-OSvA64BycCE82aVrE3-yivTedH9WGjUgN4wRnYkEsJa2k8PZmtDK7AjwMgq4/s320/IMG_2187a.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">11. If you want to be a good kid, then you can come to my birthday.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">12. No actin' wild.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCkz6ymA8DeQ3Lzx9LPyeJffUqZYcABvF_J14w349ETBufrf2UdQOof5bZrrHoj1fMiEQlN3jplSpPkz-YrVP0ZD37zIktuwLUWY8nGMSE1OApPwyZ_hqM47xUCVb0I0GYMXaNWS0tNLk/s1600-h/IMG_2668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvCkz6ymA8DeQ3Lzx9LPyeJffUqZYcABvF_J14w349ETBufrf2UdQOof5bZrrHoj1fMiEQlN3jplSpPkz-YrVP0ZD37zIktuwLUWY8nGMSE1OApPwyZ_hqM47xUCVb0I0GYMXaNWS0tNLk/s320/IMG_2668.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">13. If you have somethin' to say, raise your hand.<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">14. If you need to go pee-pee and you have an accident on the floor, call somebody to clean it up.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJIT3OPib17XCcQFE1UvT8Gx_4t1j0B-7Fvh7zANKLPSJu4T5k_-U3qJCTtncIhcKTQIpGjXznfqxYXJ5qTTUpKVS1l21bA7SSEspi3fIlw68w135zsItGwaAuJR1XNBw__MXJ2Jgp7QN/s1600-h/IMG_2370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJIT3OPib17XCcQFE1UvT8Gx_4t1j0B-7Fvh7zANKLPSJu4T5k_-U3qJCTtncIhcKTQIpGjXznfqxYXJ5qTTUpKVS1l21bA7SSEspi3fIlw68w135zsItGwaAuJR1XNBw__MXJ2Jgp7QN/s320/IMG_2370.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">15. Don't ever show somebody your poop. Besides, there is nobody who does that, but if they do, they have to leave my birthday, but if they apologize, they can come back to my next birthday.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtLorjlTDER7ndes4G3oh1aiqgihnkM2uDE86VkJiSjIq0GzHkac4pIO5jF-LtIGVaXnEID7gMDET2NvXBD00OzKxVnJvTDDfrIuXyh_6-1zbAmz271WJKu4Ag7w9BJkyV_eOWKQKF4hCx/s1600-h/IMG_2397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtLorjlTDER7ndes4G3oh1aiqgihnkM2uDE86VkJiSjIq0GzHkac4pIO5jF-LtIGVaXnEID7gMDET2NvXBD00OzKxVnJvTDDfrIuXyh_6-1zbAmz271WJKu4Ag7w9BJkyV_eOWKQKF4hCx/s320/IMG_2397.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">16. If you ever bring sticks inside, then frow 'em outside and never come back to my birthday...<br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">unless I say so.<br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Jack Everett</span>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-8957846572452258962009-09-16T22:31:00.001-05:002009-09-16T22:44:05.638-05:00Life, InterruptedI had been married for 7 years, with 3 healthy children and a surprise 4th child on the way. Girl, boy, boy...and we could hardly believe it when the 20 week ultrasound showed a perfectly healthy baby girl! You can imagine how over-the-moon big sister was to finally even the score! Our family of 5.5 was already bursting at the seams as we adjusted to preschool and 1st grade, flashcards, morning {all-day} sickness, school fundraisers, Brownie meetings, ballet lessons, soccer practice, missions meetings, class picnics, playdates, work, church activities...you get the picture! Our busy world was spinning fast and furious.<br />
<br />
And on Labor Day of 2006, our world stopped spinning. 24 weeks growing strong...interrupted. No heartbeat. Our baby Ruby was gone. Two days later, the earthly tent that would have been her was born to us, and we spent 6 precious hours holding her before we let her go. One year later, I would write these words:<br />
<div align="center"><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Seems like if anyone could say it, I could...</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">after all, I'm the only one who felt your life...</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Your kicking and growing...</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">rolls, hiccups, twitches...</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I knew you, </span></span><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">felt you,</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">loved you, </span></span><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">wanted you...</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">weeks of feeling miserable, knowing it would be worth it...</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">back to nature, midwife and all...</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">couldn't quit the caffeine, though, brothers and sister to keep up with...</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">too busy to stop and enjoy,</span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span></span><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">to stop and feel my Ruby,</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">to watch my belly roll...</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">to realize you'd fallen still...</span></span><br />
<b><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">The world keeps turning for everyone else…</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">mine is still…</span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">still…</span></span><br />
</b> <br />
<div align="left"><b><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span></span></b><span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span></span>This tragic interruption, this insertion of stillness into our lives, was such a paradox. In one sense, the stillness was the worst thing ever. It represented loss and hurt and pain and grief and absolute brokenness and devastation. Our daughter was stillborn. I will never forget her tiny body and the coldness and stillness. Our lives literally became still. I sat on the couch while family and friends swirled around me, taking care of the things that were oh-so-important to me just days before. The kids took turns crawling in my lap while I just sat, mostly in silence. Still. And in those moments, when I could hardly catch my breath in all my stillness, His command became my lifeline. "Be still and know that I am God." I couldn't move. I couldn't do. I couldn't speak. I couldn't pray. I could hardly breathe. But I could be still. And know, in deep places that had never been explored in me before, that He is God.<br />
<br />
And as is the normal course in life, days and weeks of stillness slowly gave way to moving, doing, speaking, praying...breathing. That silent desperation, of feeling Him in each breath as He momentarily broke the utter stillness, of being completely dependent on Him to wake me up each morning and get me out of bed, slowly gave way to a new normal. As the hurt began to heal, I began to become more self-reliant again. There is a part of me that longs for the day when I will not only be reunited with my Ruby, my treasure laid up in heaven, but that also longs to live every breath in and for Him, this time without interruption, without tears and heartache. Lord Jesus, interrupt us soon!</div></div><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/245/362178D6F4DB4759C79A90A3C6D9C68D.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-6831109703620542212009-08-20T12:00:00.002-05:002009-08-20T12:03:39.710-05:00Jack, already this morning<div>Jack, what do you want to do for your birthday?</div><div><br /></div><div>"Well, I want to go to Chuck E Cheese, but make sure you don't tell that giant rat about it, because I don't want <i>him</i> there. <i>Technically</i>, I'm afraid of giant rats."</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/245/362178D6F4DB4759C79A90A3C6D9C68D.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-17768337022599948942009-08-18T15:39:00.004-05:002009-08-18T15:43:32.777-05:00He ROCKS!<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Noah...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...is a superhero {at least in his own mind}.</span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNW-iS3oAQHccJCm9xSp0sTDKQ1iw3ewMSxHzZFh1zudKJe9iiX2PQM3IvkEnJ_utwdkZoDxYJvaFcviysTdM9PSXtTvD6bwjKdQr0akjzGh8HTuLpRxkMi8M70C9eYhQs7kf90GrTs9Gj/s400/IMG_1766blog.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371380880869779250" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...enjoys building science labs and rocket ships...</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...and fighting aliens...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqrLmEZRiLz8huXSN2DtvWmmYxf6xqpN3-QESpI50n7caPlNoNij7Xde8xoYBEAypaEOH4WprN_yZCYO7KretE4fCx1uh_Uv9KC8WSlDbg-EiBSTtOG1GOiLG5BDbFNXHvDNxGkjQY3-C/s400/IMG_1909blog.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371401471786851362" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...and catching toads and identifying "slug trails".</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...lives on meat, peanuts and cheese. No bread for him, give the boy his PROTEIN!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjna4zEiV9_p2ah2x8qXFNGDOstyAoR45n4GoAmfKh2-iwv9zT5Ly6HQXonYoW6XxFuyUNp-pFY_F0sD1i6SmH_WDRnjtwkIM0zdlHxdAN9mXHvkBSvV5XkjjF-G4orOypKGx2MbgpBJB8O/s400/IMG_1942blog.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371380877001493666" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...is excited to be a</span></span><span style="font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><b><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">2nd grader</span></span></i></b><span style="font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">!</span></span><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...has a very tender heart and usually responds strongly to the slightest punishment.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidd5NJ79VNrNYuanXhkacCkUd3Llc-CMTjjnnrhJfkFaF-tVqTkgY4rlPp0nLJLh1M5Lb0Sef17nRJFTnqe0SBbW_bmI5KKEm3bP6Kl1Ang4GH4rs9j3gyUhL4_2rn6s-sxStMlaCll37H/s400/IMG_2226+blog.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371386428880087826" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...is a reading machine! {</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">brag alert</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">: He recently tested above a 4th grade reading level! </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">However</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, his handwriting? Not so much!}</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...frequently says, "Rock on!", "Yo, dude!" and "Awesome!" {because he has watched too many episodes of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles} and lately poses like this when I turn the camera on him:</span></span></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZilhQhzpI_Cz6dn0_EKmj23-HrWmlKepprnnC-XcFg5ePRrviQyKwq8-fmYdkprmryI16_-7m1Y_N3vrEq3PQVJY_rbDuVYL4f90dyVxsyZMFTnYTNi4vgiXEJ7EQMNIyfggzQOaCHqry/s400/IMG_2396+blog.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371386426136036626" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...cannot sleep without a prayer and "Sweet dreams!" whispered before bed.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...is a great helper to Daddy, working with the cattle and keeping the farm looking good.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghOSITPrXmZ_axiS0Qus3-azE3Lxe4JL2rJ-1sL2gXxaQFNkh8eXInWiYza-xU6HzgqrPl7zGPPFByW62CT2xatDZNbQkhRAYvh5hqt8zw-VUaQ5820cBHj0woRYyLYjXBHrlbZCcwJ9sU/s400/IMG_2167+blog.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371386420481164898" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...loves to read the Old Testament--it started with reading the story of</span></span><span style="font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><b><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Noah</span></span></b><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, but he has kept reading and really knows a LOT of the Old Testament well, totally on his own.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmelV9kK29ru75CNHzxb1ZMkQrjaJEdBw0QfTcAhnGU7TdczD0jIHYUewnnCRB0xz6Ckcb2JcQ_eQ2XL_uqSFR4kBnj66wiMhQUXZsmZOt5TocjgGe_U5dgOvAu3JNuOA658NvTaqve8l7/s400/IMG_1756blog.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371404128345608210" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...has perhaps the cutest crooked grin and random dimples EVER! Love you, Noah-boy!</span></p></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/245/362178D6F4DB4759C79A90A3C6D9C68D.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-72334004067419516652009-08-18T09:13:00.004-05:002009-08-18T13:30:15.564-05:00He knows not what he says<div>Jack: "We can go to the place where we feed the ducks. Then we can feed the ducks and then see if the fish want what's on our poles. What do fish like to eat? I don't think they like bread. I think fish hate bread. [eyes wide] OH, I didn't know I was going to say "hate"! I'm sorry!"</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/245/362178D6F4DB4759C79A90A3C6D9C68D.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-16387552704688535642009-08-11T17:25:00.001-05:002010-08-26T12:45:36.013-05:008.11.09 Mommy Moments<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px;">Mommy: {to Jack, #3, age 4 and 3/4 yrs} It's time to put your shoes on so we can leave for school.<br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />Jack: {already in the midst of throwing a tantrum for reasons unknown} But I'm not done throwing my fit! Just leave me alone!!<br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />..........................<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding: 0px;"></span>..........................<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding: 0px;"></span>..........................<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding: 0px;"></span>.........<br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />I know you're thinking, "That is so like a four year old!" And it is. Unfortunately, all too often, it's so like this 31 year old. In fact, THE NIGHT BEFORE, I read this quote from "Me, Myself, and Lies" by Jennifer Rothschild, p 35: <br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />"We give Satan the greatest weapons he uses against us: bitterness and unforgiveness. Pause and ask God if you would benefit from forgiving someone...or yourself?" <br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />And responded this way [seriously, yall, I WROTE this in my Bible study book. I am just that mature.]: "I want to but I'm not finished throwing my baby fit. SO MATURE."<br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />..........................<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding: 0px;"></span>..........................<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding: 0px;"></span>..........................<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding: 0px;"></span>.........<br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />So God has been using many people {including my own 4 yr old} to step all over my toes this week about a couple of issues I need to address in my life. None of them are huge, except that I've been letting them be a foothold for Satan to sneak his way into my life. After periods of feeling like He had nothing to say to me, I'm trying to be grateful for the bloodied toes. But they do make it kind of hard to walk sometimes...<br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />..........................<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding: 0px;"></span>..........................<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding: 0px;"></span>..........................<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding: 0px;"></span>.........<br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="border-width: 0px; line-height: 0.5em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of GRACE and TRUTH...For the law was given through Moses; GRACE and TRUTH came through Jesus Christ." John 1:14, 17 (emphasis mine)</span></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/245/362178D6F4DB4759C79A90A3C6D9C68D.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0pt none ! important;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-30210249161168679432009-08-04T10:45:00.014-05:002009-08-06T23:39:42.458-05:00Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing Darling<div style="text-align: left;">Maddy...</div><div>...still loves all things fairy.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFcIB_bBYU1G286xi0iyrMVwHw9_OJr0_NSx2tzcfQIplXYgV_sGE-xC-NE7fGPuav2JCGb5b0wyxDsikzyib6QRyzdRF80T4bkeAO4jI6sENjZbESw5On0i3cJD6uruJL2_bXCb7fJ2T/s400/IMG_1670a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367073846462127602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div>...is a wonderful helper to me around the house.</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><div>...spent most of her summer reading anything she could get her hands on.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAR0C1niLJHvQcQa27kFCtmjvNX22fs9bK2Ti5QFJ8JMZLdgisylYm7Y2iUuoBSPfM0XSUIhv1fUjt-EA0_Fgt74g3MWjjWDSXUj-ulEB_0DYqA7a-XG62nxmB1bUfIhvE-iIzDcErIrSd/s400/IMG_1944a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367072221572376450" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div>...is a good swimmer and has gained a lot of confidence in that this summer.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJc1N-9KqxgoNvrwLziENOxClngRFvyX5fa6amoufarLoVQnRwerDwrHbh7OAqn01bJ2VaXrUTQMAf8D6KRs-f6xERCubnaNHOivbygmUeMgI8dssCGwByblM5V80yaxevmIWRrzP8od4/s400/IMG_2066a.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367070926041040370" /><div>...loves her some bread. Would live by bread alone if given the option.</div><div>...is a little nervous about the new school year but excited to be a <b><i>4th grader</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">!</span></b></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNOcn7Tl6uGsCIyYBCWq5ROANDu0amy0ThdnNA-2raCLd6wKfOf5p-6XGX2w3BAL4GNo6LVd2iVe8dqlJ2CBJdYZk__T4mJ0yfTEBMbTcp5NXcGgv573m08L_iOeGPFfwZ7A9CGO9L0ezW/s400/IMG_2032a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367071728358978754" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div>...plays well with her brothers as long as (A) she is in charge and (B) she is in charge, of her own free will and not because I've asked her to "watch" them.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlzli0isK8huVisqvZo7YWkORqCtnebxPabiS1aiFGi7mQa_SBthiv8gVG7ScDuPh0E8nTqmwfduOi2iB3K3MjjwdHL2Y61L8q-tVIhyphenhyphenK8Nh1GAk9BsVC8aY4LqOYcFDtKprvSHnkKwfo7/s400/IMG_1682a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367073137139519858" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div>...has earned the nickname "Motor Mouth", lovingly passed down to her from her mama.</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><div>...is a better daughter, sister, grandaughter, friend, student than she gives herself credit for. She is her own toughest critic.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLqu9DeXkeYdW8wNrsvo_OWaOeqfm8stAz7moh0JS-MarZbzpVwQxs17BKEbzwP0CeX487Wm8vMn38W-wnKKjJvn4KTJ2n3yUa_xy-HDPeeok33_w0v_w-VJPePB8Z9DIG01vN3ECJ8-av/s400/photos+223ab.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367074538220503506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div>...is as non-outdoorsy as her mama...<i>except that she...</i></div><div>...loves working on the farm with Daddy, especially getting to "drive" {O Lord, help us!} tractors and pickups and trailers, OH MY.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9iTytT6QXM7o3AFZ7uFhyP3J4osgQPQgbWJfBBOI6jelwW_EhKnlW1d7dsohN8EvJYMYblsfQSNk_urR513-6rOuICl6y9wja60c6FuiGIH-LQooaaeHfj4YzjpUColSk53ap7TBgSTiN/s400/IMG_2222a.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367069890394422098" /><div>...is becoming more and more aware of others' feelings and needs and looks for ways to serve.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvPYhRh3jh474UP6r5Oj1j6w0h9ust8r3cH0VHbOYGNqvNdblZmk_HOVrFtYcGSm59WeuBmg9HrO5pvRrMg6OZdZeLsgRo9MZ2xMAC_2FJNoiMlkg_ofVevoIx5FPA0ABGY1IQxSBvktDb/s400/IMG_2266a.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367069030868239458" /><div>...continues to be a wonderful writer and storyteller, with a vivacious vocabulary!</div><div><br /></div><div>There are a million more things I love about my girl. I'm so blessed and thankful to be her mama!</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/245/362178D6F4DB4759C79A90A3C6D9C68D.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-38201219008921820032009-08-02T21:58:00.004-05:002009-08-03T10:30:03.751-05:00Luke's One Year Pictures<div style="text-align: center;">Thanks to <a href="http://www.mrdstudios.com">Melissa DeVries Photography</a> for the ONE-derful pictures of Luke!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEind0ZPMxJ3Y8UQB2T4THJhqGPx_2BvVACXerrByxtDCNllgy-3RkJtYRNcO2yO2SomyK7XLhTqULuVDXmfRbvo3lE7WFvB3LK2hQkQAJ7gWf_loHuV31mbeSP3kGfwHJsVV8snbEbfRpjv/s400/DSC_6905.JPGDSC_6905.JPG.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365759280989260690" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJS7ALV_dZxOwLSJZS8ryg9Gd4sEKSkGqqueZy28QnGJ3_aVrgH1T8YaCLdqkN1vMp0pDFC9H-r8r7nQaGCXpg8jn95HC2FdeXwZd7qTE3zWTI0a_p93P3GzQx8gvFVmV7ydydWrku-ERj/s400/DSC_6935_2.JPGDSC_6935_2.JPG.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365759292894863938" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBtrxHIV9iA1a6pGzXywmkj9Aqht_VKq1mfy7hX7-58PFdAOv_OuvgljBr8aIlnZsi7zza_Aiuu5rvq6j8gseCrKdjv8UZhdNnwLQeER7699ly3zwdnL89didzux5zA95gsoafSbRmdrx/s1600-h/DSC_6944.jpgDSC_6944.jpg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBtrxHIV9iA1a6pGzXywmkj9Aqht_VKq1mfy7hX7-58PFdAOv_OuvgljBr8aIlnZsi7zza_Aiuu5rvq6j8gseCrKdjv8UZhdNnwLQeER7699ly3zwdnL89didzux5zA95gsoafSbRmdrx/s400/DSC_6944.jpgDSC_6944.jpg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365759302045570274" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6L8aqy7EhoWsw4j7xt4aG6ahVDc4A6ZoXMYCBWT-SlVD3SED-eap9QYwjGl_kIxgBpc9SP5R8vWIkTc4JdzCR1vYCWeukQA0cpNIloyGyZ_k0Xj0dAme8aXofNNQ4iKOJfDJjksp-iE9/s1600-h/DSC_6897.JPGDSC_6897.JPG.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6L8aqy7EhoWsw4j7xt4aG6ahVDc4A6ZoXMYCBWT-SlVD3SED-eap9QYwjGl_kIxgBpc9SP5R8vWIkTc4JdzCR1vYCWeukQA0cpNIloyGyZ_k0Xj0dAme8aXofNNQ4iKOJfDJjksp-iE9/s400/DSC_6897.JPGDSC_6897.JPG.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365759279939983522" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Q8pzuxFzLM1mbtWJdqlYSXLi1A7e_NUWGSPrYFAHCf7FTkAWtXD1YdUb4EXajtPZDLifW7UFLZMMR_9lR0OMtf-2GZHd36CPlRDpd1aqBSoxp9UiQuz2YWNHsqFW1QMVQ0dww1x8cpFR/s1600-h/DSC_6890.jpgDSC_6890.jpg.jpg"><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Q8pzuxFzLM1mbtWJdqlYSXLi1A7e_NUWGSPrYFAHCf7FTkAWtXD1YdUb4EXajtPZDLifW7UFLZMMR_9lR0OMtf-2GZHd36CPlRDpd1aqBSoxp9UiQuz2YWNHsqFW1QMVQ0dww1x8cpFR/s400/DSC_6890.jpgDSC_6890.jpg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365759273488955842" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdqYmPmZvhnw0CdGQg8YJy7lCGhsr5dSXn8tRTLELncjGTMQFLTyWt38jlDbFp_gMFChHho81BwOsLHTPAcVFEY8fXwGU2TUTB0ylAPWU5UfiCGLm4NFlm9A1E4d8sUTgd8hKDrHFULrk-/s1600-h/DSC_6874.jpgDSC_6874.jpg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdqYmPmZvhnw0CdGQg8YJy7lCGhsr5dSXn8tRTLELncjGTMQFLTyWt38jlDbFp_gMFChHho81BwOsLHTPAcVFEY8fXwGU2TUTB0ylAPWU5UfiCGLm4NFlm9A1E4d8sUTgd8hKDrHFULrk-/s400/DSC_6874.jpgDSC_6874.jpg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365757227281175410" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnSTcmTSidkS3yMzBM-5cMyIYvEtrUF1pnXau82mEAZgfgq1R0Z2tiOi6rvvUp9kHAbwKY37AM-3v0M-TiA-iXzE1opZz_iqJ0vBa9GArKBn_17rHwK7KWwHKvTr01tm4Jyewg29SEPerm/s1600-h/DSC_6854.jpgDSC_6854.jpg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnSTcmTSidkS3yMzBM-5cMyIYvEtrUF1pnXau82mEAZgfgq1R0Z2tiOi6rvvUp9kHAbwKY37AM-3v0M-TiA-iXzE1opZz_iqJ0vBa9GArKBn_17rHwK7KWwHKvTr01tm4Jyewg29SEPerm/s400/DSC_6854.jpgDSC_6854.jpg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365757220624865058" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYdHL3uNJ_xKqkjrzW3-Q4ENkY4JCX-BXM68NEuzh7EvTPUDfhRzEnIGr1h7Ek3RWGlcZ4g0DkYeuMXJAtmfSeEava48jMBpc0UbgtnvXeg-7FIGWPO9fUwN-6GC1TVyo-rNqBpinsxzMP/s1600-h/DSC_6847.JPGDSC_6847.JPG.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYdHL3uNJ_xKqkjrzW3-Q4ENkY4JCX-BXM68NEuzh7EvTPUDfhRzEnIGr1h7Ek3RWGlcZ4g0DkYeuMXJAtmfSeEava48jMBpc0UbgtnvXeg-7FIGWPO9fUwN-6GC1TVyo-rNqBpinsxzMP/s400/DSC_6847.JPGDSC_6847.JPG.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365757218857850610" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ2YFfl2eVWVX_Nq-IjMHwpSOdkwYwDevdGblYL8SzZ6yf23mOeRkCcJGA3cnJGCvCPkjA9IlQKjTiKOI4Hwm1hNnysq81I82x0UCdnH6BVcGYEYtdmbjvew6Xt1p48L7mLLIWb1s0hb2P/s1600-h/DSC_6835.jpgDSC_6835.jpg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ2YFfl2eVWVX_Nq-IjMHwpSOdkwYwDevdGblYL8SzZ6yf23mOeRkCcJGA3cnJGCvCPkjA9IlQKjTiKOI4Hwm1hNnysq81I82x0UCdnH6BVcGYEYtdmbjvew6Xt1p48L7mLLIWb1s0hb2P/s400/DSC_6835.jpgDSC_6835.jpg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365757213101625330" /></a><div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/245/362178D6F4DB4759C79A90A3C6D9C68D.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></div>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-52470112291164962042009-07-30T13:32:00.006-05:002009-07-30T22:00:44.899-05:00He's into the details...<div>*****Oops! The first link was totally wrong, but is fixed now. Blogging 101: Check your links before you post!!*****</div><div><br /></div><div>First, read <a href="http://livingproofministries.blogspot.com/2009/07/hes-into-details.html">this wonderful post</a> about how God is into the details of our lives. The comments are full of stories of how this is SO true. And then you should read <a href="http://babybangs.blogspot.com/2009/07/gerber-baby.html">Amanda's hilarious spin</a> on God being into the details for her :-) I snorted when I read it, but you really have to read the first (serious) post first.</div><div><br /></div><div>After I read the original post, I thought something along the lines of, "Yeah, he's just not that into my details right now." I knew that wasn't true, but I've been feeling sorry for myself lately. There's really no good reason for my attitude (is there ever??) but I think it's the end-of-the-summer overwhelm-ed-ness. I'm feeling guilty for all the things I didn't get to this summer with the kids, all of the playdates we did not make happen, all of the situations in which I did NOT handle myself with grace and patience {that's putting it SO nicely...I was U-G-L-Y, you ain't got no alibi, you ugly, yeah-yeah, you ugly}, etc, etc, etc... {"MommyGuilt"}</div><div><br /></div><div>And this week has been VBS. I "taught" the 2 year olds, who were wonderful and cute and busy and playful and darling. But something didn't sit right all week. I couldn't get motivated with them. I just wanted to run away. And then it hit me Tuesday night that this was the class <a href="http://smallingworld.blogspot.com/2007/08/glory-baby.html">Ruby</a> would have been in. These were supposed to be her little buddies. And she was not there. I don't always feel the void so tangibly, but I did this week.</div><div><br /></div><div>I let myself be sad, cried a while, and felt much better. Somehow I just needed to recognize what was going on with me to be able to get over it. Wednesday night I had a much better attitude and was excited about the last night. {It might have helped that my big 3 had been with Memaw all day...ya think?!} </div><div><br /></div><div>And God saw fit to send a precious little girl named Kin to our class that night. She had not been there the other nights. Her mama was at church to help translate for a group of refugees from Burma who were at VBS this week. That is a whole other post, but let me just say that being in the presence of souls who are hearing about our Mighty God and Sweet Savior for *the first time* is a pretty powerful thing. {Possibly the biggest understatement ever.}</div><div><br /></div><div>So this darling little Kin came to class, bringing some {additional} spunk and...um...busy-ness to our little class {of 16 two-year-olds}. We glued cheerios to a picture of a mouth as we learned to thank God who made our mouths and sang "O Be Careful Little Mouth What You Say". Kin preferred eating the cheerios {and who can blame her?}. She was here and there and everywhere, just enjoying herself wherever she went. I loved every minute of watching her be her busy little self. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then all of a sudden, she was done with the busy-ness. Her little brown eyes turned toward the door and the tears began to flow. I picked her up, assuring her that her mommy would be back soon, and LOOK! Snacktime! But she was done. I held her like I do my one-year old, Luke, and gently laid her head down on my shoulder, just like I do him. But he usually pops his head right back up and wants down. She did not. She laid her sweet head down and fell fast asleep. </div><div><br /></div><div>And for the rest of the night, I got to hold this darling little sleeping 2 year old ball of life, while I felt my wounded heart heal with every sweet sleepy breath. "He's into the details..."</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/81/CB92092ED4910BFC854969673F8FAF79.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-45022844339165749872009-07-27T07:52:00.003-05:002009-07-30T18:29:22.849-05:00Praying for Stellan<center>Updated: Stellan is stable now, doing much better for now, pumped full of drugs to keep his heart beating well. *Probably* moving to Boston soon to *probably* have another surgery that will almost certainly damage his heart and cause him to need a pacemaker for life. Please continue to pray!<br /><a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/"><img border="0" alt="Prayers for Stellan" src="http://www.preshwebdesign.com/images/stellanprayers.png" /></a><br /></center><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Please pray this morning for Stellan. He is not doing well at all. Mckmama's last "tweets" have said: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I almost can't bring myself to write with more bad news. Stellan is hanging in there, but is deteriorating. It's not good. Dr B is here on the floor, but off conferencing with other cardiologists. He will come back to the bedside shortly & we'll conference. Can I reiterate that these last many hours have not been good!? Stellan is no longer urinating, his Potassium is up, he is still in SVT, very swollen & at midnight he began incessant vomiting."</span></span></div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/81/CB92092ED4910BFC854969673F8FAF79.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-75870761237607462992009-06-19T17:22:00.001-05:002010-08-26T12:38:28.079-05:006.16.09 Mommy Moments<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;">{Jack loves to tell stories! He <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">tells me one--or twelve--every night before bed. I guess</span></span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: small; line-height: 15px;">my bedtime stories got too boring, so he's making up his own. Usually they involve him *not* being scared of monsters or the dark or bugs. It always starts with, "Mommy, it's time for me to tell you a story."}</span><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> "Mommy, it's time for me to tell you a story. This is a story about something *very* important. This is the story about Jesus." </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">{Picture proud Mommy, thrilled to hear my four-year-old "tell me the story of Jesus"}</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"One day in the morning, I picked up my room and cleaned the dishes and picked up the laundry. Then, a book was broken and I fixed it with tape. I tested it and it worked-ed. Then, one of the toys was broken and I fixed it with tools. And I squished *all* the flies. The end." </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">{At this point, I wonder what happened to the story about Jesus, but I'm thankful it's at least a story about helping instead of being scared monsters...AGAIN. And then, out of the same little mouth that not ten minutes prior had been saying things like, "Noah, you are a stink-brain", he spoke with faith like a child:}</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Mommy, wasn’t that a great story? I did ALL your chores."</span></span> </span><br />
<br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: small; line-height: 15px;">"Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53:4-5</span></blockquote></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/245/362178D6F4DB4759C79A90A3C6D9C68D.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: 0pt none ! important;" /></a></span></div>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-10557911730511699092009-06-04T15:32:00.004-05:002009-06-04T23:57:24.498-05:00It just had to be said<div>"Please don't put your brother's toes in your mouth."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Please quit saying the word 'hookers' over and over. It's called a 'hook'."</div><div><br /></div><div>"No, you cannot throw that wrapper out the window."</div><div><br /></div><div>"No, the police will not send your brother to jail for littering, but he might get a ticket."</div><div><br /></div><div>"No, not a ticket to the movies, a ticket that says you have to pay $50 to the police."</div><div><br /></div><div>"No, you do not get a Nintendo DS from the police when you give them $50. You just give them your money to help you remember not to throw trash out the window again."</div><div><br /></div><div>"No it is not too cold to play outside! It's June!"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Please don't wipe that on me."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, that cheese does make you look like you have a mustache."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Please don't put your feet above your head."</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/81/CB92092ED4910BFC854969673F8FAF79.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-19335642661432211232009-06-01T22:17:00.004-05:002009-06-01T23:02:37.583-05:00Nothing but the Blood of Jesus<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">*Update on the update: Please continue to pray for Laura. Today was not good. 1 step forward, 2 steps back. Pray she will be calm and not have to be sedated!*</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:18px;">Wonderful update on Laura, from her mama (Sunday): [but please continue praying for all of them!!]</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px; font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><blockquote>At 10:00 this morning, the nurse taking care of Laura called me saying, "I've got good news." She said, "I think you're going to like what I have to tell you." She said that on her way in to work this morning she had prayed all the way for Laura and that when she got there Laura had taken a shower, gotten dressed, put on her make-up, and fixed her hair. She said that Laura had told her that she wanted strawberries, bananas, grapefruit, wheat triscuit and a marble cake with whipped chocolate icing like she had on her birthday. I said, "You've got to be kidding!" "You've got to be kidding!" She said, "No, I'm not." "Would you like to talk to Laura?" I said, "No way." She said, "Here she is." Then I said, "Laura Ellen!!!" She said, "Hi mom." I could not believe it. She proceeded to tell me what the nurse had told me she had said she wanted. This is a very long story I'm giving you the abridged version to but I just had to tell you at least this much.<br /><br />Clinton and I were in disbelief--reluctantly optimistic. So at 2:00 Clinton went to see for himself. He says she is leaps and bounds improved. Even the nurses are amazed. He said he thanked them for letting her "put them through hell." They have been unbelievably patient with her. Never have I heard them complain--not even once. They just say this is what we do. Some of them have done it for over twenty years and they want to.<br /><br />My sisters yesterday at 5:00 three of us went to pray over Laura. At 2:00 a.m. I called and Laura was violently screaming to the top of her lungs and had had to be moved to another room because she was so violent she pulled the shower head out of the wall. Sometime around that same time I started writing a message, and my friend woke up to find Jeremiah 40:4 which says, "But today I am freeing you from the chains on your wrists." She believed LAURA (THE CAPTIVE) HAD BEEN SET FREE!!! and my sisters she had. As we were praying over Laura I sang the song, "What Can Wash Away My Sins? Nothing But the Blood of Jesus." "What can make me whole again? Nothing but the Blood of Jesus." Today my sisters, the song Wes led during communion was "What Can Wash Away My Sins?" "Nothing but the blood of Jesus." I looked at clinton and he just looked back at me.</blockquote></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:18px;">Praise God! Here's another part of a message from Teresa:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><blockquote>If Laura could only comprehend just a fraction of the good her illness has caused she would be in disbelief. I can't imagine what she would do if she knew the rest of the story.<br /><br />Through all of this, God has been glorified and that is important to me--more important than my prayer being answered just the way I want. Even if I disagree with His answer and my situation, the important thing is God being glorified. Years ago while in the throes of depression I realized what Hebrews 11:6 meant. "But without faith it is impossible to please God: for anyone who comes to God must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who diligently seek Him." After really "getting" this verse I gave God permission to do nothing. I realized that He could do anything He wanted, whether I agreed with him or not. Basically, He could do anything, even though I had given him permission to do nothing. I simply had to believe that He existed and that He would reward me if I diligently sought him. Period. It was at that moment that I gave God permission to be God. My job was to glorify Him. That is what I hope I have done thus far and what I will continue to do in the future. My heart's only desire is to glorify God.<br /><br />"God does not require of us to have able bodies" is a quote I memorized long ago. It was significant to me, beause I didn't have one. I still don't. If I had to wait to glorify God until my body was able I would never glorify Him. That is why glorifying Him regardless of the situation is so significant to me. Even though Laura's body has been shackled her ability to glorify God has not. Even in her deepest hour, God through Laura brought me the verse that comforted me in my deepest hour. She glorified Him. I pray that by fleshing out the verse "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions are new every morning; great is your faithfulness" I glorified Him also. [Just before being hospitalized, Laura chose this verse for our group's weekly meditation, not knowing what a strength it would be to her mom and all of the rest of us while she was going through all of this.]<br /></blockquote>God is in control. His timing is perfect. He never makes a mistake. God is good all the time. All the time God is good.</span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:18px;">P.S. If you are on Facebook, join us on "The Titus 2 Group". It's a women's group led by Teresa. We are doing weekly meditations, in addition to other devotions. Jump right in!</span></span></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/81/CB92092ED4910BFC854969673F8FAF79.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-87536070113104545832009-06-01T20:41:00.005-05:002009-06-01T23:02:20.414-05:00The difference between 9 and 7<div>[In the car tonight]</div><div><br /></div><div>Maddy: Mom, remember that time when our car was breaking down, and you were kind of freaking out? [She's right, I did...not my finest mommy moment!]</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Yes, I remember. I should have handled that better. I'm sorry for scaring you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Noah: Yeah, Mom, you scared her halfway out of her skin!</div><div><br /></div><div>Maddy: Actually, I think it was only about 1/3.</div><div><br /></div><div>{This proves that not only does she like to be precisely right, she also has mad fraction skillz.}</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/81/CB92092ED4910BFC854969673F8FAF79.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-74327509308049366112009-06-01T15:55:00.006-05:002009-06-02T08:07:27.176-05:00The difference between 7 and 4<div><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Noah: Jack, guess which superhero I am…</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;">Jack: Uh, I don't know.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;">Noah: He's a DC Comics hero.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;">Jack: What's DC?</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;">Noah: It's the people who make some of the characters. You know, like Spiderman is Marvel?</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: [blank stare]</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;">Noah: Okay, here's another hint, he's the leader of Robin.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: Robin!</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;">Noah: No, he's the *leader* of Robin. Not the *answer* is Robin.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: You mean Robin?</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;">Noah: Uhhhhh! Okay, he has a foe named Joker.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: What does "foe" mean?</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:18px;">Noah: "Foe" means someone who's bad and versus the good guy. {Can he verb the word "versus"?}</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: Oh, Joker!</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Noah: No, his *foe* is Joker. Not the *answer* is Joker!</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: It's Joker!</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Noah: Come on, Jack, he's the leader of Robin, he has a foe named Joker, and he's active at night.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: You mean Robin's active at night? Or Joker's active at night.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Noah: Jack, his name starts with Bat and ends with Man.</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: Ummm….Joker!</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Noah: No, it's Cat Woman, come on! {He's obviously inherited his daddy's sarcasm!}</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: Oh, Cat Woman! That's what I thought!</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Noah: Uhhhhh! Jack, it's not Cat Woman. Is she the leader of Robin? No. He has pointy ears like this…boom!</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: Cat Woman!</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Noah: HE, Jack, HE has pointy ears! Cat Woman is a SHE, not a HE! Here, I'll show you this action figure that looks like him…[holds up Batman figure] See?</span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Jack: OH, you mean Batman?! </span></p> <p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Noah: Yes! You got it right, Jack! Great job!</span></p></div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/81/CB92092ED4910BFC854969673F8FAF79.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-16385174125724862512009-05-29T15:55:00.001-05:002009-05-29T16:40:56.587-05:00Praying for Laura<div>I'm sorry, dear blog, that I have neglected you. Facebook has been taking up most of my computer time, but I am determined to get back to writing and recording here.<br /><br />Much of the rest of my time has been spent praying for a friend, Laura, who is very ill and hospitalized, suffering from hypermania. She is literally fighting for her life, and her husband {of less than two years--he could use some extra prayers} and parents are seeking guidance in getting her the best care possible so that she can "turn the corner" and come out of this. She has not slept in thirteen plus days, except for a few short bursts, and her mind will not slow down. She is a danger to herself and has had to be shackled once. The nurses are on guard at all times.<br /><br />I am embarrassingly naive about spiritual warfare, but I cannot help but believe {as does her mother, at the least} that there is a war going on in her. Maybe not for her soul, because I do know that the Bible says we are "sealed with the Holy Spirit", but for her mind and body. And it seems that the more fiercely she is prayed for, and there are thousands praying for her, the more desperate Satan becomes and the more he throws her way. We are trusting that God has the victory! But that saying about "waiting is the hardest part"? Totally true.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">So please join me in praying {for Laura, for her husband Clinton, for her parents, and family} for healing, for guidance, for peace, for patience. However you are led. God is already receiving glory through this situation as SO many are united in prayer and seeking Him more than we had been before. Lord, we know YOU CAN, and we believe You when you say, "I AM".</div></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/81/CB92092ED4910BFC854969673F8FAF79.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902460760697311730.post-31131755158885241812009-05-29T13:56:00.003-05:002009-06-04T23:56:46.302-05:00Wild Olive Tees<div>Check out the great Tees at <a href="http://www.wildolivetees.com/">Wild Olive</a>! They are a fun way to share scripture and encourage others while looking stylish :) Win-Win!! I heard about them from <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/">MckMama</a>, who has her own tee, called <a href="http://www.mycharmingkids.net/2009/05/unfolding.html">"Unfolding"</a> in <a href="http://www.wildolivetees.com/tees/womens-fitted-tees/unfolding-white/">white</a> and <a href="http://www.wildolivetees.com/tees/womens-classic-tees/unfolding-chili/">chili</a>. Gotta get me one soon!</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/81/CB92092ED4910BFC854969673F8FAF79.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a>Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03847067214599088879noreply@blogger.com3