Luke 14:33b – . . . any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple. (NIV)
I prayed an impossible prayer. I cried to God, day and night, for a home in which my family could live for free. Free was all we could afford. The door to Tanzania had just closed, our house in another state hadn’t sold, neither my husband nor I had a job, and we lived with my in-laws. The stress weighed heavy.
In an amazing feat, God answered our prayer. After months of lifting my concern in prayer, my husband brought home the news that an elder from our church felt led to allow us to use his old place of business, which was a house, for us to live rent and utilities free.
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The sun never really shone today. Instead, the world was blanketed in a fine mist — covering the trees and coating the world in soft dampness. Hannah, my fifteen year old accomplished ballerina, and I were making our way up outdoor stairs for a ballet demo at a local art festival.
As our steps moved forward in unison I became aware that the one walking next to me was no longer small. She had grown.
Her feet moved forward, and she chatted freely — about the mist, and the Mississippi River behind, about pointe shoes, and the festival spread about. Glancing around, I noticed those looking at her in her blue ballet outfit, hair in a neat bun, and graceful posture.
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“I’m ashamed of my wife! I’m ashamed of my daughters!” My dad’s drunken voice jarred my birthday-eve sleeplessness. It wasn’t the first alcohol-induced tirade I’d overheard, but it was the first that specifically included me.
I remember thinking, “I’m only 8 years old. What I have done to be ashamed of?”
Six weeks later my mom picked up my my sister and I from school in the middle of the day and we were soon on a bus from Michigan to California to “visit” my grandparents. I didn’t know I’d never live in Michigan again.
I didn’t see my dad for the next six years.
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Written on
June 15, 2011 by
Amy in
Blog
My seven-year-old daughter has quite a bit of energy. In fact, she almost never sits still. Unlike my son, she is not the type to cuddle up on the couch and snuggle. She would rather be running around the house or playing in the yard. Many days I find myself asking her, “Would you please sit still for just a few minutes?”. My husband says she’s just like me. She always has to be doing something.
A few days ago, she woke up early and came to my bedroom. I invited her to climb into my bed and snuggle. To my surprise, she did.
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I am constantly reminded of the truth of God’s Word by my children. Just the other day, I was downstairs putting on my makeup before taking the kids to school. It is something they see me do every day. On this particular morning, my 7 year old son rounded the corner and the following conversation took place:
“Mommy, what are you doing?”
“Putting on my face”.
“You already have a face.”
“I know son. I’m putting my make up on.”
“Why?”
“Because it helps me to look pretty. Do you think I look pretty with makeup?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I look pretty without makeup?”
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photo © 2010 sean hobson | more info (via: Wylio)
I held my breath as I waited for the sound.
The violent crunch of the lawnmower let me know another flowerbed had met with an abrupt end. I expected to feel sadness as the blades ripped through the patch of purple flowers in our backyard. Instead, an odd sense of relief washed over me. I did not have to worry about keeping them up any more.
When we first moved into our home, I was thrilled with the amazing landscaping. Flowerbed after flowerbed . Neatly trimmed bushes. Brick pavers and loads of fresh mulch.
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Written on
June 7, 2011 by
Deb in
Blog
This is a photo of our backyard freeloader. We named him, Bandit. He has a partner in crime, but since we can’t tell them apart they both share this more than appropriate title.
My picture isn’t very clear, because he works under the cloak of darkness; foraging for any tidbit he can find.
One night, Chloe, our “ferocious Bichon”, spotted him and barked him back into the woods. She was very proud of herself for protecting everyone, but truthfully Bandit was back just a short while later.
Do you ever have days like that? I know I do!
The enemy, the one who likes to lie, steal, and rob us of our joy .
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I’m a self-proclaimed neat freak who is drawn to the messy. 
Yeah, before you say it, I know. I’m a walking dichotomy.
In college, a clean dorm room was a must. Curling iron and hair dryer cords were wrapped and put away. Makeup brushes nestled inside my Caboodle, and dresser drawers were always pushed shut.
Down the hall, I had two friends who were just the opposite. Their dresser was covered with hair rollers and lip-gloss tubes. On the mirror, they wrote with eye pencils. Books and papers were sprinkled on their desks, and yesterday’s clothes could probably be spotted somewhere on the floor.
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