We are so very excited to have another grandson on the way. I have been teased many times for having been blessed with excessive amounts of the “mom” gene. I may be slightly little people addicted. Maybe it is a blessing that we struggled with secondary infertility or our home may have looked like the shoe in which that little old lady lived! LOL
This is a first baby for our firstborn. She is experiencing firsthand the miracle of Psalm 139:
You made my whole being; you formed me in my mother’s body.
I praise you because you made me in an amazing and wonderful way.
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I recently read Same Kind of Different as Me, a memoir co-authored by Ron Hall and Denver Moore. The book chronicles the unlikely but amazing friendship that develops between these two men- one and international art dealer and the other a homeless vagrant.
Ron Hall first meets Denver when Ron and his wife volunteer at a homeless shelter/soup kitchen. Ron admits his disgust when he first meets these people. He describes his revulsion at their appearance and smell and he relates how he hoped his wife would soon “fulfill” the call she felt God had given her to work with them.
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We recently made a trip to the town I grew up in to visit a friend at a location I vaguely remembered. We moved away from there when I was 15, so I’d never driven around there myself.
We figured the Google Maps directions Hubs wrote out and our recently-handed-down Garmin, combined with my generally good sense of direction and vague recollections of the area, should suffice to get us there.
Our particular Garmin model doesn’t tell which street to turn on, just “in point 2 miles, turn right.”… then, “Turn right.” (Of course, this command often comes just after it’s too late to actually make that turn.)
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My dear husband, Blake, shared this story during his Sunday morning message:
It was the summer between second and third grade. He awakened that morning to what he described as the perfect day. The sun was shining and he had no worries, no responsibilities, and no problems. As eight year old boys were prone to do, he rushed through breakfast and raced out the door and down the street to spend a day of adventure with his best friend, John. Their favorite place to explore was a nearby creek. They would use sticks, weeds, and rocks to try to dam up the water and make a small swimming hole or spend hours searching for treasure.
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A couple of days ago, I was preparing to leave for work and my 7-year old son was the only person awake in the house besides me. After I got ready to go, I went and talked with him for a few minutes, got his breakfast, and settled him in with a cartoon. I explained to him that daddy was awake in bed and that he could go and get him if he needed to. As I kissed him goodbye, grabbed my computer bag, and turned to head towards the door, I heard him ask, “But Mommy, who’s in charge”? I explained to him that since he was the only person that was up in the house at the moment, that he was in charge.
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A few years back I was in direct sales and had the opportunity to make cold calls, which means calling people you barely know and asking them to have a party in their house to help pay your bills. This, of course, was not my favorite part of my job and I realized quickly that I needed a new perspective on what I was doing.
One of the things that the leadership of the direct sales company I worked for told me (being experts in the word no) is that when you see and hear the word no, it is really a step closer to a yes.
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Sometimes I wonder if I’m pleasing God.
Sometimes I wonder what He’s asking of me…
Because there is a time for everything under heaven.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
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The look on his face said it all. “But-,” he started. My son couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth.
“You heard me,” I told him, “turn the television off.” His steps were slow and methodical. He turned again to look at my eyes before he hit the off button, just to make sure he heard correctly.
After turning off the TV, he stood frozen looking completely baffled. “I haven’t even watched a single show today. Not one!”
He continued, “My room is clean. My bed is made. My teeth are brushed.”
My child felt it was his right to watch television – like he could turn in ration tickets for his favorite shows.
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