tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64042898920671890542024-03-05T09:57:16.852-06:00weepyseedsGo ahead and cry,..just keep living, loving and serving!Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.comBlogger275125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-527367929759813432018-10-03T18:22:00.000-05:002018-10-03T18:33:36.310-05:00I will miss you the most<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Before I began this blog years ago - I attempted to journal while fresh in my grief. This "poem/writing" below was one of the very first things I wrote in the days following Jae's accident and death. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">It's raw and has not been edited much at all since the day I wrote it.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Thanks be to God - I've experienced much healing since this was penned, however, the seasonal grief is still present.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*******************************************************************************</span><div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">
<div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-size: large;">I will miss you the most.</span></u></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I will miss you the most in the summer, I think.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Watching lightning bugs and listening to the
whipporwills.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I recall the night you got
up and I could see you silhouetted in our bedroom doorway crying that “<i>the
wisperwillers”</i> were keeping you awake. Our whippoorwills left when you did and
have not come back.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss you when
I look up into the starry night sky at Buffalo River and then sleeping
head-to-head with you in our tiny camper.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>I will miss seeing you in swimsuits and sunglasses and smelling all like
suntan lotion.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Us comparing our tan
lines to see who was darker.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>(ME!)<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss seeing your cute feet in
sandals.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss getting you ready
and off to cheer camp and the early morning cheerleading practices at the end
of summer.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It occurs to me that no one
could sing the “poor sick penguin” like you and I will miss that you will never
make me laugh by singing it again.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I
loved watching you work with the preschoolers in VBS and I will remember your
talent each and every year and wish that you could work it again.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Yes.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I
will miss you in the summer.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But I think I will miss you most in the Autumn.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The ambiance of a Friday night football game
will forever wash over me and remind me of you.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>I will miss your daddy talking to you through the PA system and thanking
all the bases when they caught you after a stunt.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss you when the weather turns cool
because I will recall how beautiful you were in turtlenecks and sweaters.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss you at bonfires and after-game
parties.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I wish you would be here with
me to notice all the changing leaf colors around our house.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss seeing what interesting and
unusual character you decided to be each year for Halloween. (Oh wait.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Of course, you would be a pig.)<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>You won’t be there to plan and anticipate the
upcoming holidays.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, I will miss you
in the Autumn.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But I think I may miss you the most in the Winter.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The times you spent shivering in our living
room complaining of the cold.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It always
confused us as to why you would only wear a sports bra and soffee shorts.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss you crawling into our bed and
sleepily whining to us about how warm and cozy it was compared to yours.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And now, there’s no one except me at our
house who understands how wonderful a two hour bath can be.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I’ll miss you terribly in our Thanksgiving
prayer circle before our meal.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I’ll wish
you were with us when we go to the malls the day after Thanksgiving.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And then at Christmas, when our family carols
to our friends and neighbors on Christmas Eve, our song will miss your sweet
warbly little voice.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>On Christmas
morning, our bed will still be warm and cozy but I will long for it to be
crowded with your presence as your daddy reads the Christmas story.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Oh Jae! How I will miss you<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>in the Winter.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But I think I may miss you most in the Spring.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">You and I both loved to pick flowers, but
neither of us had any interest in tending them.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Jonquils will forever remind me of how you picked a huge bouquet to
brighten your room on the very day before you left us.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss cheerleading competitions and
holding you together during the week of try-outs.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss all the yearbook signings and the
proms that aren’t to be.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Spring is the
season of new life, but from now on, when I hear<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>the birds singing their first song of Spring
I will I recall how sad they sounded the year you left.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>How did they know?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A grim anniversary now reminds me of things
other than new life.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will always miss
you in the Spring.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">I will miss you in all seasons and in between all
seasons.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will always wonder what<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>jobs you would have had and what profession
you would have chosen.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will miss
watching you love a man as much as I love your daddy and I was looking forward
to watching you love a daughter as much as I love you.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I think I will always long for you when I see
Casey and Abby alone or enjoying themselves together.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>A family of four just seems wrong.</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Your
death has left the same type of frustrating pain as a song that ends abruptly
just when it was reaching it’s<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>most
beautiful crescendo.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I expected much
more life and beauty from you and then your death came at the peak of your
song.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We almost had a glimpse of what
you would be like as an adult, but now we will forever strain for that
vision.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My life, my outlook, my
personality, my past and my future are all different now.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There is much I do not understand about all
of this.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">One thing I do know is that I
will miss you the most in the Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">May 2004</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-11622978548195990232015-11-02T20:21:00.003-06:002015-11-02T20:21:42.182-06:00Needs, Wishes and RegretsToday I am pensive.<br />
Quiet.<br />
Sad.<br />
Tense.<br />
Jumbled.<br />
Messy on the inside.<br />
Days like today make me reflective.<br />
Just last Friday, I heard a grief expert discuss "Grief overload".<br />
Surely Central Arkansas is nearing that point. <br />So many young people and adults gone too soon.<br />
<br />
<br />
1. Never worry that there is too much food, paper products, soft drinks and snacks. There may seems to be too much,..but trust me,..they will come in handy in the coming months. I did not have to buy Kleenex for 2 years and every time I went to my stash,..it encouraged me all over again.<br />
<br />
2. Someone may need to step in and manage the kitchen. I'm sure that family members are doing it fine. I thought so too,..until I saw my sister-in-law Susan quietly sobbing at my kitchen sink. It finally occurred to me that she needed to be comforted instead of "working". My BFF and her family came in on the 3rd day and flat took over. Thank goodness.<br />
<br />
3. Get Addresses. Right now,..someone start writing them down. Not just listing the gifts, visits and calls,..but get addresses. <br />
<br />
4. I am grateful that I went all by myself into the funeral home and had quiet time with Jae Lynn. <br />
Just me and her. <br />
The funeral director guarded the door so I would not be disturbed. <br />
Regret: I <i>sorely</i> regret not encouraging my family members to do the same. <br />
For some odd reason, I worried that people would think it bizarre.<br />
<br />
5. Someone consider videoing the impromptu meetings, prayer vigils and speeches. The family misses much of those meaningful tributes. <br />
<br />
6. I hope that there are journals,..big ones,...at each home for friends and family to write in. Those 3 big books full of heartfelt letters during the tenderness of pain are some of my most prized possessions.<br />
<br />
7. Write a note or card. It's perfectly fine to express your thoughts or share a memory even if you do not know the family. Don't just sign a card,..write a little something!<br />
<br />
8. I am grateful my family spoke at the funeral. I am amazed that we did it, but I had been recently inspired by Dr. Lindy Bollen when he delivered an amazing tribute at his son Kyle's visitation 4 months earlier. <br />
Regret: that we did not bounce the preacher and instead fill her service with tributes, poetry, memories or songs from family members and friends. <br />
<br />
9. Us adults are pretty good at demonstrations and expressions of sympathy and support, but teenagers and children?...Not so much. Encourage your teens to educate themselves on how to assist the surviving siblings. Their current friend- skill- set will not be enough.<br />
<br />
10. If you feel helpless right now,..trust me,..<b>Trust</b>. <b>Me</b>. There is plenty of time for you to provide meaningful support. <br />
As in the next 20-30 years.<br />
The specific actions of love poured onto the hurting family during the immediate aftermath may or may not be remembered. <br />
However,..the cumulative feeling of love and support will never be forgotten.<br />
<br />
<br />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-37858543289513644652015-10-02T20:15:00.001-05:002015-10-02T20:15:31.661-05:00In His TimeTomorrow,..this weekend, is Jae Lynn's birthday.<br />
I celebrate the day she was born and placed into our home! <br />
<br />
28 years ago, my daddy asked me to sing the Sunday night special for our evening worship services. The song I had been practicing for a couple of weeks in preparation for the solo was a song entitled "<em>In His Time</em>". It was a beautiful short little song which spoke to the theology that God makes everything beautiful in His time,..not necessarily our time.<br />
However,..that particular Sunday night found me a hot mess. For you see, at a hospital nursery, 20 miles away was a tiny baby girl who had been abandoned at birth with the understanding that she would be placed for adoption.<br />
With Ralph and I.<br />
<br />
Our hospital administration, however,..was making plans to make this tiny baby a ward of the state of Arkansas as soon as all government offices opened up the very next morning.<br />
<br />
Ralph and I had chosen to not share the baby's birth with anyone, so daddy had no idea of why I was tearful and refused to sing the song on that Sunday night. <br />
I recall him being a tad irritated with me.<br />
But he did not see the Epic internal emotional turmoil.<br />
To sing of everything being beautiful in God's time was not something I was prepared to sing,..for I was terrified that God's timing would send this child into state cusotdy and I would be sent home with empty arms.<br />
<br />
An earthly showdown of an utter lack of Faith.<br />
I own it.<br />
<br />
The NEXT Sunday, however,..found me belting out the song with gusto,..as I shared with my church family how God's timing was perfect. The pain and confusion of our years of infertility had turned into a celebration of God's unusual method of blessing.<br />
Jae Lynn entered into our home within hours of her birth and I was forever changed.<br />
<br />
So Now.<br />
The Song <i>In His Time </i>continues to be a song with significant meaning to me.<br />
I don't/won't sing it anymore, not because I don't believe God's timing is perfect,.... But mostly just <br />
'cause. <br />
I can take issue with God's timing, even as I place my total trust in Him.<br />
The epic internal emotional turmoil returns on days like October 3rd.<br />
Celebration. Regrets. Confusion. Confidence.<br />
Life. Death. Birthday dinners. Graveyards.<br />
<br />
Most people who read that group of words above would, more than likely, focus on the hard ones. But I,.. Jae Lynn's momma,.. live among them all quite easily now. <br />
This weekend, I plan to laugh, sing, remember, be filled with love and celebrate the life of Jae Lynn Russell.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-85928421045166980002013-01-11T22:29:00.000-06:002013-01-12T19:47:04.507-06:00He Knows All ThingsI love Peter. <br />
I do.<br />
That crusty impetuous fisherman blesses me. <br />
Reading all about Peter gives me a road map of how messed up people are still welcome in God's service.<br />
<br />
In the last chapter of Matthew, the scene opens with Peter,...back on his fishing boat. <br />
He had left the boat 3 years earlier to follow Jesus, and probably hadn't gone back to it until,....he denied Jesus during his trial and crucifixion. <br />
A very public failure for a very strong man.<br />
<br />
Now, a few days later, Peter is sitting across the campfire from Jesus.<br />
I imagine he is ashamed. Maybe unsure of the relationship.<br />
<br />
The next few lines have been the subject of many a sermon,..several of which I have struggled to understand.<br />
It is a familiar exchange to most of us.<br />
Jesus asks Peter 2 times, "<em>Peter,.do you love Me?"</em>and both times Peter replies "<em>yes Lord, You know I love You".</em><br />
But the 3rd time Jesus asked "<em>Peter,...are you even my friend</em>?"<br />
<br />
I wonder how long it took Peter to respond. <br />
and I wonder why I never paid attention to Peter's response to that last line until recently.<br />
"<em><strong>Lord <u>you know all things</u>. You know I love You" </strong></em><br />
<br />
Peter knew Jesus could look straight into his heart and see his true intentions, even when his behavior and actions were awful.<br />
<br />
There are times when I'm horrified at the thought that God sees directly into my heart.<br />
Then there are other times when I am grateful that He can do so.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-11968032471682641602013-01-01T19:08:00.000-06:002013-01-01T19:59:55.267-06:00Lost is OKShe listened to my instructions and left with confidence.<br />
<br />
She was traveling just a few miles from home. <br />
She had traveled the roads hundreds of times before.<br />
She was on her way to a close friend's home where she had been often.<br />
She was lost.<br />
LOST I tell ya.<br />
<br />
"<em>How in the world...."</em> I asked..<br />
<em>"I know mom, but I did all the things you told me to do"</em> <br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(of course it is my fault)</span><br />
<br />
Now, Abby was alone on an unfamiliar road with no idea of how to get the car heading back in the right direction.<br />
A bit embarrassed.<br />
A little scared.<br />
A lot frustrated.<br />
Lots of crummy feelings.<br />
<br />
What's the only easy thing to do?<br />
Just come on home.<br />
No matter where she is, she can always find her way home.<br />
In her mind though,..it was a <strong>Trip Fail.</strong><br />
<br />
Getting lost a few miles from home is not often where we find ourselves. But then again, I swear I've been lost sitting smack-dab in the middle of my living room. Had no idea where my life was heading. The scary thing, is that those times, I don't even think I realized I was lost. <br />
I've spent days/weeks/months in a busy but spiritually aimless place in life.<br />
Maybe I should call it "<em>listless</em>" instead of lost.<br />
To me,...to <em><u>me</u></em>,..that's a <strong>Life Fail.</strong><br />
<br />
In my opinion, Abby was heading somewhere specific and saw things she never saw before.<br />
She nows knows to listen better,..clarify directions from others.<br />
She now has a much keener awareness of how to get to Tammy's house. <br />
She knows exactly what to do next time she finds herself at that intersection.<br />
She solved the problem and found her way home.<br />
Lessons learned and lost no longer.<br />
I'd call that a successful afternoon.<br />
<br />
Here at the New Year, if you ever have read my blog in the past, you KNOW I love to make goals, resolutions and plans. <br />
It's just helps me focus.<br />
The teacher thinks it's a weakness. He wishes I would just sit down and relax.<br />
<br />
The thing is,..I am highly prone to getting flat-out-lost in the mundane, the routine, the apathy that has plagued me most of my life.<br />
I desire passion, but I'm terrified to pray for it.<br />
I know full-well that passion often comes to us through pain.<br />
I wanna be brave but I often feel like a spiritual chicken.<br />
I want to avoid all crummy feelings associated with heading somewhere and then getting lost.<br />
<br />
This year, I've not written any detailed goals and resolutions, but have firm plans to be more intentional in life.<br />
I'm going to be intentional about being intentional.<br />
Pay attention to where I am going, and try my best to <em>listening </em>to God.<br />
I'd rather follow God even if I don't know where I'm going, than sitting in my living room, <strike>lost</strike> listless as can be.<br />
<br />
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<br />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-4084427754954109502012-10-03T21:28:00.000-05:002012-10-03T21:31:50.424-05:00A Letter To MeDear Me,<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCLiX1wMPD8M2dQhjLqXRzc4aSzKLxECYAo7zBhwqmPqIxNBVtleRV5XMyoPeCzq27K0AFLXtCwfNZwMg-UF2ArIeN0KgbzIJf6T6tjKANc-p4QZkxAWmozh7B7fSlmg3sKWoNI50AVQ/s1600/Scan0035_035_035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCLiX1wMPD8M2dQhjLqXRzc4aSzKLxECYAo7zBhwqmPqIxNBVtleRV5XMyoPeCzq27K0AFLXtCwfNZwMg-UF2ArIeN0KgbzIJf6T6tjKANc-p4QZkxAWmozh7B7fSlmg3sKWoNI50AVQ/s320/Scan0035_035_035.jpg" width="320" /></a>Well here you are 25 years after. </div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Who would have thought it?</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Not you.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
25 years ago, you, who seldom gets super stressed about anything, almost fainted with worry and anxiety over a 7 pound baby locked away in the back room of your hospital's nursery. </div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
She was protected and hidden from you but mostly all your friends who were abuzz with excitement at the prospect of an unexpected adoption and who kept running up to the hospital nursery for a glimpse of "<em>Becky's baby</em>" (who wasn't Becky's baby at that time).</div>
<br />
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What a day that was.</div>
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
But today? </div>
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Well,...days like today simply aren't imagined. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Like those Spring days in 2004, I know you still wonder how this happened. The question seems bizarre,..so I know you don't speak it out loud to many people. You <em>know</em> what happened,..yet you still struggle with the reality. It jumbles up your mind, but don't worry,..most people won't notice.</div>
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<br /></div>
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You go on out to her grave and remember the good stuff. And you know what? Go ahead and remember that bad stuff too. Because it's a good reminder of how far you have come. </div>
<br />
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Today, you can be thankful that you no longer hit your knees about halfway across the cemetery and have to crawl and sob the rest of the way to her grave.</div>
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Today, the memories of wonderful moments are not full of torture at the thought of never making more..</div>
Today, you can dream and ponder Heaven without praying to go there.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
You are doing well at family gatherings, holding hands in prayer and being thankful for those still present rather than focusing on the ones already home.</div>
You are rich in friends. Rich I say! The relationships are deep and truly wonderful.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Today,..life is good.</div>
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Today, treasure the thought of being her mom and enjoy the gifts of her presence in your life. </div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Of all the moms in the world,...you got to be Jae's.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
She lives still. </div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Keep going Becky. Altho things aren't always easy,..neither are they always hard. </div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Who would have thought it?</div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<br />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-39464207270117339532012-07-07T23:22:00.001-05:002012-07-08T08:34:18.343-05:00Wrong Sides and Roundabouts<div style="text-align: center;">
My wandering, wonderful daughter is now in Australia. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Seeing new stuff, enjoying making new friends, struggling with employment issues, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but in general having the time of her life.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">She recently shared with me her experience of driving in a foreign country. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">In Australia, all cars must drive on the <i>left </i>side of the road.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-jUhL64vTy6QhRG3TOjpOInDY1fqfMIbod6VnUHgvsU95O9ninWDLewu2WfUpcwn_6Ex7nu98qF7I5GnB309mwPnry02QllOglY5MCbR2Mv-C4pJPfwXN2w8QQrzSaD1btNOjGQ52qE/s1600/left_side_driving_in_australia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-jUhL64vTy6QhRG3TOjpOInDY1fqfMIbod6VnUHgvsU95O9ninWDLewu2WfUpcwn_6Ex7nu98qF7I5GnB309mwPnry02QllOglY5MCbR2Mv-C4pJPfwXN2w8QQrzSaD1btNOjGQ52qE/s320/left_side_driving_in_australia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Personally, I find that would be mind-boggling, but it seems to not bother much.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Another factor which could add to this complication is that her vehicle is a stick shift.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Here's your mind-exercise....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Pretend you are holding the steering wheel with your right hand </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">and having to shift gears with your left hand.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">all while driving on the left hand side of the road.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Still <i>another </i>complicating factor is all of this is that the intersections are all "<i>roundabouts"</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRqH6RXzczZ-p7nixYud9ybiGsIwkh3thKWbhZZ_sMEio2sv2e5yvTfzMa6VYhzMN2_qzmQeqgybh4TkNMqtFmdCVlYYolpvjc1T84f8coLz3rls0VZzV5ROFRHZ04kOAlOmH7_zpN_Zo/s1600/roundabout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRqH6RXzczZ-p7nixYud9ybiGsIwkh3thKWbhZZ_sMEio2sv2e5yvTfzMa6VYhzMN2_qzmQeqgybh4TkNMqtFmdCVlYYolpvjc1T84f8coLz3rls0VZzV5ROFRHZ04kOAlOmH7_zpN_Zo/s320/roundabout.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Getting out of a roundabout is dependent on knowing the name of the road you wish to get on and then knowing where the exit is located within the circle. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Also, in Australia, the pronunciation of street names are not remotely phonetic. (They may have given directions to turn onto O-NESS street which happens to be spelled like JONES.)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sheesh.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's disorienting to the driver.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I had a friend tell me that when she was there, she had a passenger in her car reminding her to <br />
<i>"Stay left! Stay left!"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Turn here!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Stay left!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Signal!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Go around again and stay left. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Now get right."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sometimes, I think grief and pain is like that.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
People in deep soul-pain are in a unfamiliar, foreign place which they've never been.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They have no experience and are utterly unprepared to navigate the overwhelming journey.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Emotional wrecking is common.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I will forever be grateful for the friends who entered into my roundabout of pain to encourage me. The ones who wrote me letters, notes, called me up on the phone, took me to lunch, asked me into their home or came to visit me in mine,..until I could find my own way onto a road of healing.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"I've no idea how you feel but I love you."</i><br />
<i>"I'm sorry for your pain."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"I'm here."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"I've been in your shoes."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"you are doing good"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"I'm here"</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFHwLiJyqJfRp0xtVegLhRJnlU4HscGyDA4zkjabwodIhfDMYodOrIx4SDs6ylOIKyRPPnT6XcGQc6Z7YeCS11qPFJuaUYYXGuPWFPvSm2aUy4R_O01zFmmLWvRn95PYQKh6NIo41kHE/s1600/helping+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFHwLiJyqJfRp0xtVegLhRJnlU4HscGyDA4zkjabwodIhfDMYodOrIx4SDs6ylOIKyRPPnT6XcGQc6Z7YeCS11qPFJuaUYYXGuPWFPvSm2aUy4R_O01zFmmLWvRn95PYQKh6NIo41kHE/s320/helping+out.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i><br />
<i> </i>and then there were those who heaped more hurt onto me.<br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(They aren't forgotten either.)</span><br />
Maybe they didn't mean to be mean,....but their stupid impatience made a significant and unforgettable impact on me. People in pain need more quiet concern than others.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrihr_QKc1xBIXTXIJx4a3VY-pwhK-jsUUcT5xT7Aek3cyq7w_CJp0Y3Nf_JXCawbMVE9zj8E-LCZ9coS3AVc8wsMysWGF3aQekBkPk_CVDZwLGz9l6BFmtKQbuXAnrBmwpgeNYZ8NHw/s1600/mean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrihr_QKc1xBIXTXIJx4a3VY-pwhK-jsUUcT5xT7Aek3cyq7w_CJp0Y3Nf_JXCawbMVE9zj8E-LCZ9coS3AVc8wsMysWGF3aQekBkPk_CVDZwLGz9l6BFmtKQbuXAnrBmwpgeNYZ8NHw/s1600/mean.jpg" /></a></div>
Luckily I have way more memories of friends who gave encouragement than<br />
I do of the "friends" who were hurtful and mean.<br />
Some people can't say that.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-22739832301162420452012-06-21T20:13:00.000-05:002012-06-21T20:39:54.411-05:00Here I Am.....<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">For some reason, I woke up wanting to read the Abraham and Isaac story in Genesis. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">I wrote about it a while back </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://weepyseeds.blogspot.com/2008/04/intellectual-faith-struggles.html" style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">here.</a></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitbkRNIUyNfHjm8-PrEqp5d776Y5ouZC_qH692tYSB2MqIdFYVbZJKsVoqbT7c0XBzhxCn6LjHAJMuax10PWeafIeSFX4Nw_bMel0cKXCt5u9vS2eQHdGSi7aIocuvh_Mupcu1Y-2EXAo/s1600/bible.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitbkRNIUyNfHjm8-PrEqp5d776Y5ouZC_qH692tYSB2MqIdFYVbZJKsVoqbT7c0XBzhxCn6LjHAJMuax10PWeafIeSFX4Nw_bMel0cKXCt5u9vS2eQHdGSi7aIocuvh_Mupcu1Y-2EXAo/s1600/bible.bmp" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">For some reason, this place in my Bible has very little writing all around it. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Now I don't know why that is,... because usually when I study a story in-depth, it usually looks like this......</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGZluzhI3AWDAfomZAWhQFBWESavg4dG8VsccNy9aSnzBR55opWIdP1w5wfieCNTrwaTDbKCqWWJdTt_0L1iDQ5UVcRcWMSoGvm8JU5RocbGI6lBKCMdUaqiXEXV6101z_HVjG-_N3VQ/s1600/bible1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFGZluzhI3AWDAfomZAWhQFBWESavg4dG8VsccNy9aSnzBR55opWIdP1w5wfieCNTrwaTDbKCqWWJdTt_0L1iDQ5UVcRcWMSoGvm8JU5RocbGI6lBKCMdUaqiXEXV6101z_HVjG-_N3VQ/s1600/bible1.bmp" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Anyway, maybe it was good that I'd not written much about Abraham because if I'd cluttered up my margins like I'm prone to do,..I might have missed something.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Three specific times in this story, Abraham says the same exact statement.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><i><u>"Here I am"</u></i>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Those were Abraham's words when the Lord calls his name one day out of the blue.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Now I have wondered if Abraham had wished he hadn't been so confident and willing to do "whatever". Surely he didn't know when he eagerly offered himself that God was going to instruct him </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">to offer his son on an alter.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Then later in the story, Isaac, confused, calls his dad's name.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Abraham's response to Isaac?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><i><u>"Here I am"</u></i>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">How different he probably sounded then. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">I can picture Abraham confused and hurting.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Wishing to possibly comfort and reassure his beloved son, yet full of internal bewilderment.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSeV00qLaotJb4ajnZWdkusaO1lOTPpgJGJxQc2ERoWbBnUt5Ot3urs5FmYJFZTW5K8ghvqNogruRijsCQCGAis_Zcu2lUDDTIm7iv0Hq99r79bW3b4AtlmhYe7UaBZLhEI_Vz83NR4lk/s1600/abraham_isaac_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSeV00qLaotJb4ajnZWdkusaO1lOTPpgJGJxQc2ERoWbBnUt5Ot3urs5FmYJFZTW5K8ghvqNogruRijsCQCGAis_Zcu2lUDDTIm7iv0Hq99r79bW3b4AtlmhYe7UaBZLhEI_Vz83NR4lk/s320/abraham_isaac_1.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Then a few verses down, we have the earthly spectacle of an eternal moment.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Abraham's arm is raised to do the unthinkable. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">He has never been so desperate, never felt so anguished,...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Yet,..he obeys.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">God calls his name,.....<b><i>Abraham! </i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">sobbing?,....<i style="text-decoration: underline;">."Here I am"</i>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1FVw_dvqLaffRBy3mu5Kvp_NcPAVgwz6HnWd0gbttBwpDyKal8h_1WHpVlDlF8bbz1tAvjhcZqFH7PcD15vMVtTuG7lzhkkjbsSvAxYlOh2jlXEOo2hdXLMEQE_9vuHfKYrIKHRZZy0/s1600/abe+and+isaac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ1FVw_dvqLaffRBy3mu5Kvp_NcPAVgwz6HnWd0gbttBwpDyKal8h_1WHpVlDlF8bbz1tAvjhcZqFH7PcD15vMVtTuG7lzhkkjbsSvAxYlOh2jlXEOo2hdXLMEQE_9vuHfKYrIKHRZZy0/s1600/abe+and+isaac.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Now I'm no Abraham, I'm more like a conglomeration of all the disciples worst moments put together.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">But I still want to be like him,.....</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">I want to say in any circumstance</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">Here I am...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-29703080650948300892012-02-21T20:58:00.003-06:002012-04-03T22:37:12.952-05:00Easter HopeThe Easter song I've sang every single Easter of my life; <br /><br />"<em>Low in the grave He lay,..Jesus my Saaaavyour. </em><br /><em>Waiting the coming daay,...Jesus my Lorrd...</em><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">(piano part,..bom bom bom bom) </span><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">(now sing this next part faster)</span></em><br /><em>Up from the grave He arose</em><br /><em>With a mighty pow'r o're His foes,...</em><br /><em></em><br />Jae used to get that last line mixed up. <br />We <em>still </em>smile when the rest of the congregation sings "with a mighty Pow'r o're His foes" because WE remember her version of...."<em>with a mighty fire on His toes....</em>"<br /><br />On a serious note,.. I'm ashamed to say that for years, the Easter/resurrection story may have been a bit too familiar to me. <br />Sing the same songs. <br />Hear the same sermons. <br />See the same people. <br />Wear the same new clothes. <br /><br />Then death nearly killed me.<br /><br />Singing songs about joy, life and how death has no sting suddenly became difficult. <br />It wasn't that I was angry,..but I was bewildered. <br />I was trying to reconcile the feeling of pain with the boisterous joy everyone else was singing about.<br /><br />This Sunday, I will once again sing all the same songs. I suspect I will hear the same sermon and see the same people. Probably wear the same clothes. <br />But one thing has become different since 2004:<br />The Easter message of Resurrection will never ever again become dull and familiar.<br /><br />Life and death happens all around every one of us.<br />Jesus has made a way for little-ole me (and you) to live with Him forever.<br />He has made a way for us to reunite with our loved ones lost through death.<br /><br />What an amazing story.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-3452096058141911212011-08-21T21:36:00.004-05:002011-08-21T22:17:32.035-05:00MissI miss things.
<br />
<br />I used to miss the bus when I was little.
<br />I miss appointments.
<br />I sometimes miss church.
<br />I miss a meal. (<span style="font-size:85%;">rare)</span>
<br />I miss seeing things at the mall.
<br />I miss Donnie and Marie.
<br />I miss seeing a friend when she comes into town.
<br />I miss the oak tree near my dad's garage.
<br />I miss my Mazda with it's 6 disc CD changer.
<br />I miss the moon when it's cloudy.
<br />I miss my jewelry and home movies which were stolen in 1989.
<br />I miss my Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir CD.
<br />I miss owning sheep.
<br />I miss answering the phone in time to know who has called.
<br />I miss Razorback football when it's out of season.
<br />I miss looking young.
<br />I miss good dreams.
<br />
<br />
<br />I <em>miss </em>Jae.
<br />
<br />I don't even like to say the word "miss" and her name at the same time.
<br />It seems to trivialize a horribly deep chasm of loss.
<br />
<br />But tell me another word which says the same thing and easily fits into most conversations?
<br /><em>Yearn?</em>
<br /><em>Pine?</em>
<br /><em>Long?</em>
<br />
<br />
<br />I miss my future grandchildren that I will never know.
<br />I miss her laugh at my dinner table.
<br />and in my car.
<br />and in my living room.
<br />and everywhere else I go.
<br />I miss her living influence on her sisters and cousins.
<br />I miss her singing.
<br />I miss her career. <span style="font-size:85%;">(How is that even possible?)</span>
<br />I miss her enjoyment of things around me.
<br />I miss waking her up in the mornings and singing her to sleep at night.
<br />I miss her when I see her friends living well and I miss her when I see her friends wasting opportunities.
<br />I miss things that I don't even know about.
<br />
<br />
<br />Blessedly and thanks be I don't always miss her as I've done this week,...but tonight,
<br />
<br />I.
<br />Miss.
<br />Yearn for.
<br />Pine for.
<br />Long to see.
<br />
<br /><em>Jae Lynn. </em></div><em></em>
<br />
<br />Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-10388701004903808342011-08-09T21:05:00.004-05:002011-08-09T21:16:49.712-05:00Dang It.<div align="center">How bizarre it feels to walk out into the yard <div align="center">and realize that you've lost your car.</div>
<br /><div align="center"></div>
<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDIhmq76PDyGLyptZ5X0q6U_63ORB1lFkccFi1zOiNXMIwnURfWO9iVCfV8fE2BXX4nzauobxn0NECfUzdRF72OscRJWuT0xuMxXTbXotOy1nX3w-uPd70NwE-i9Uh_9gi57VRmQ55AVs/s1600/car+on+rocks+002.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639043110156602802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDIhmq76PDyGLyptZ5X0q6U_63ORB1lFkccFi1zOiNXMIwnURfWO9iVCfV8fE2BXX4nzauobxn0NECfUzdRF72OscRJWuT0xuMxXTbXotOy1nX3w-uPd70NwE-i9Uh_9gi57VRmQ55AVs/s320/car+on+rocks+002.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxQ1s3tY_FdLjuZkWDDdua0SkmoiJ_7v7F8iMDi_uHF4gYyVEMPOx820AMxm2MP273oAOJl9frfw3tBJ6C7w9c-mxaWQvPRLw1pXvoJ1R814LvPNYv-DD31ynWxZU7rHWhPlM3FFQ95Mk/s1600/car+on+rocks+001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639042916172333154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxQ1s3tY_FdLjuZkWDDdua0SkmoiJ_7v7F8iMDi_uHF4gYyVEMPOx820AMxm2MP273oAOJl9frfw3tBJ6C7w9c-mxaWQvPRLw1pXvoJ1R814LvPNYv-DD31ynWxZU7rHWhPlM3FFQ95Mk/s320/car+on+rocks+001.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /><p align="center">What frustrates me the most is the 8 foot wide hole I now have in my rock wall. </p>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-66075604026998466392011-08-01T21:46:00.003-05:002011-08-01T22:15:22.997-05:00Life"<em>Isn't that a sad conference</em>?"<br /><br />People ask me how in the world I can enjoy attending an event filled with moms and dads who have experienced the death of one or more children.<br />I completely understand. I think I would feel the same way.<br />We, at our National Bereaved Parents Gathering, probably look like a train wreck...the kind of crowd where bystanders just can't look away.<br /><br />We greet each other in the elevators with smiles, hugs and questions: <em>Who are you here for</em>? Then we show off a button picture or an engraved necklace and call the name of our kids who have gone too soon.<br />It's an odd heartfelt reunion with friends.<br />Pity the poor businessman who gets on the elevator with us. <br /><br />I find that I am often consulted by friends who wish information regarding death and grief.<br />What I feel like I <em>should</em> be a resource for is information regarding <em><span style="font-size:130%;">life.</span></em><br />That'd be nice, but I know that's not how it works.<br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em><br />I know how precious it is.<br />I know how much the "picture moments" mean.<br />When I say "<em>slow down and enjoy_____"</em> it's been said with conviciton.<br />When I say "chooses your battles" I try to live it out <span style="font-size:78%;">(especially with Abby...)</span><br />When I read "Life is a vapor...", my head nods in agreement.<br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em><br />I desperately want my life to outlive me.<br />It has to be my<em> </em><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>life</em>.</span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">I don't think I'll make much of an difference by simply dying........everyone does that.</span>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-89416786926856013102011-07-19T18:45:00.009-05:002011-07-19T19:55:26.768-05:00Walk Worthy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRrAvA4XN18Z7meqfGqHeCEWW9GxMMtDCMaPXpd-3gquLWdwslyCNMiF5FkVTkmxw1aZ5IpHsN7SQqMmd2n3i7BEgGKwzpFNFWNDJ5iwUDT1HQP3BQoV5wwWINemFbJEUNdDnhJgg4E30/s1600/Feet-walking-300x200.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631227299435480290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRrAvA4XN18Z7meqfGqHeCEWW9GxMMtDCMaPXpd-3gquLWdwslyCNMiF5FkVTkmxw1aZ5IpHsN7SQqMmd2n3i7BEgGKwzpFNFWNDJ5iwUDT1HQP3BQoV5wwWINemFbJEUNdDnhJgg4E30/s320/Feet-walking-300x200.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I was extremely distracted.<br />Felt guilty because I didn't want to be there.<br /><br />Last Sunday morning in church, right on the front row, I thought of absolutely 100 things <em>except</em> what Bro. David was preaching about.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>It wasn't his sermon on Ephesians 4 or his style that had my mind wandering, it was that:</div><br /><br />1. Abby was due home after 2 weeks of summer camp.<br />2. Abby and I had not done hardly any communicating during those two weeks (very unusual)<br />3. The past two times I <em>had </em>spoken with her, she had been in tears.<br />4. Jae's memorial softball tournament was happening 20 miles away without me. I needed to be there. It's rude to have 100 volunteers working at the event and me not be there. <br />5. We had a guest music director (<span style="font-size:85%;">which was why I felt I couldn't miss church</span>). Extremely nice man, but unfamiliar music directors are stressful on lil 'ole piano players like me.<br /><br />All of the above combined made for a "restless listen".<br /><br />Then,...yesterday,....I began to remember the scripture passage of his sermon.<br /><br /><em>Walk worthy</em> <em>of our calling</em>.<br />Walk worthy.<br /><br />The verses beg us to <em>"walk worthy of the high calling which we have received.</em>"<br /><br />To "walk" means we are going somewhere.<br />It's intentional and directional.<br />It's active.<br /><br />I've been given a gift of a very high calling. God Himself has called me to live (walk) for Him and do the things He wishes me to do.<br />I'm a servant of the King.<br /><br /><em>He has lovingly called my name</em>.<br />I need to remember to walk each moment in a way that brings Him pleasure.<br /><br /><strong><em>Walk.</em></strong><br /><br /><strong><em>Worthy.</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>I've thought of that phrase almost every hour for two days.</div><br />The written word of God is a living thing which can re-enter my mind hours after I tuned it out.<br />Thanks to Bro. David for the passage.<br /><br /><br /><div>Thanks to my Lord and Savior for loving me in spite of my messy self.</div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-44257307285632056022011-07-10T15:57:00.011-05:002011-07-10T17:08:17.217-05:00Roads, Radios and Deep thinkingI've been a-wanderin lately!<br /><br />Ralph and I took Abby, Amanda and another friend (Dillon) to a leadership apprentice program in Glorieta New Mexico. 2 solid weeks of leadership training/working along side of the staffers at the Southern Baptist summer camps.<br />After dropping her off, Ralph and I headed up towards Colorado. I've always wanted to see the Rockies! In spite of the cloudy weather, the peaks and views are some of the most spectacular I've ever seen.<br />New Mexico was brown and dry as a chip and there is virtually no vegetation higher than 12 inches. Seems to me that a New Mexico landscaper would starve to death.<br /><br />Rode into Dodge City ( in a van not on a horse) and was taken on a personal tour by a real live US Marshall who <em>grew up</em> there. He was at least 75 years old, wore a crooked mustache, a badge, spurs and a gun. He was thrilled to be a Dodge city tour guide but was struggling with the changes occurring in the city. As he walked away from a couple landmarks, I heard him softly mumble about the "knuckleheads" who were running the city these days. I was also bit sad as he tried to make his voice heard over a couple of young punks who drove by (twice) with rap music blaring.<br /><br />They should have been scared.....He coulda shot 'em.<br /><br />On the way home, Ralph took a nap in the passenger seat as I drove.<br />I was missing Abby and praying for her to become filled with God's presence.<br />I was missing Casey and hating for her to be home all alone.<br />I was missing Jae Lynn and the fact that we never again get to vacation with her.<br /><br />As I drove through the dusky evening I asked God to please let a song come on the radio which would make me feel close to the child I haven't held in years. The first one which came on was a rock-n-roll song.<span style="font-size:85%;"> (hee hee)</span><br /><br /><br />I switched stations and came upon <a href="http://youtu.be/1CSVqHcdhXQ"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">this one.</span> </strong></a><br /><br /><br />I believe God is all powerful.<br />I believe God is all loving.<br />Jae's death doesn't fit in with those two huge concepts.<br /><br />Gotta go.<br />Got to go re-read all those<span style="font-size:180%;"> <strong>74</strong></span>(!) blog posts I've written on Faith....Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-19234718136491561472011-06-05T14:10:00.007-05:002011-06-07T10:36:09.302-05:00I knew something was bothering her as soon as she sat down beside me this morning. Church had not started yet and our church family was milling around us as she confided quietly that she had gotten very upset in Sunday school this morning.<br /><br />As her other friends filled out some sort of survey about their dad (in anticipation of Father's Day), she was painfully reminded that her dad left her and her mom,<br /><em>plus</em><br />he died a few years ago.<br />Wow. Her dad left her in divorce as well as death.<br />Double the pain.<br />Never to be reconciled.<br /><br />She said "<em>everyone else had good things to say about their dad. Good memories and good traditions. They know all about their dad's favorite everything. </em><em>But my only stories are about how he left us. No one really wants to hear about that."</em><br /><br />Gracious.<br />What in the world can I say in 30-60 seconds in a crowded room to such raw honest hurt?<br />As usual, I rely on the things I've recently read and studied.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Holy Fools</em></strong> (<span style="font-size:85%;">Matthew Woodley</span>) is a book I found on the bargain rack for about 3 bucks.<br />See,...I had gone to Mardels to purchase a new book because I was jealous of my friend who went to a spiritual counselor and received a lot of wisdom, advice and new inspiration.<br />Since I don't have a spiritual counselor, I bought a cheap book.<br /><br />Anyway......<br /><em>Holy Fools</em> gives 4 common denominators for the people who have changed the world:<br />1. They are passionate people.<br />2. They are messy people.<br />3. They associate with and love messy people.<br />4. They are always in trouble.<br /><br />That's the advice I gave my young teen friend.<br />The chapters in our lives which are painful and "<em>messy</em>" are still things that God can use to bless others.<br />She truly loved the encouragement.<br /><br />Now,..if I can just practice what I preach and apply that to my own life.............Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-58864907937915643402011-05-23T18:52:00.003-05:002011-05-23T19:07:44.759-05:00Here's to the Mothers<div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Here's to the Mothers!</strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">We show up every day to a job which never ends.<br />New life is celebrated and young mothers are supported and celebrated.<br />As time passes and the mother-child relationship ages,<br />the night-time feedings turn into night time counseling sessions<br />Make no mistake,.... one can be as life giving as the other.<br />The world can see us at soccer practice and in the church pews each week, but our private care and love delivered in the wee hours of the morning are seen by God and His angels.<br /><br /><strong>Here's to the young women who long for children:<br /></strong>The ones who observe the planned and unplanned pregnancies of friends, family, strangers, teenagers, addicts and prostitutes. They try to not become bitter as they miss the children they can not conceive but time does not heal this longing for a child.....<br />Time intensifies it.<br /><br /><strong>Here's to the Mothers who recently experienced their first <em>Mother's day:<br /></em></strong>Her heart nearly bursts with blessings even as she yawns from her sleepless night feedings.<br />The power of love catches her by surprise.</div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Here's to the Mothers of prodigals:</strong><br /></div><br /><br /><div align="center">Ruth Graham Bell said that our job was to pray and it was the Holy Spirit's job to convict.<br />We are so used to helping our kids "fix" their problems,<br />but here is a place where our passion is powerless.<br />Except in prayer.<br />No one,...<em>NO ONE</em> can pray for our kids like us moms.</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong>Here's to the Mothers of children who are "<em>special</em>" indeed:<br /></strong>I can not comprehend parenting a child who you know will never reach adulthood.<br />I am profoundly moved when I watch you who deal daily with the pain of<br />watching your child struggle with small tasks.<br />Whether your beloved child's handicap is physical, mental, emotonal or all combined, you have one of the hardest roles of all.<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Here's to the Mothers who have children and grandchildren all around:<br /></strong>Wonder of wonders! How much love can one heart hold?<br />An emotion this strong can only be supernatural.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Here's to the young women who have been blessed to have a <em>good</em> Mother<em>.</em><br /></strong>Living under the same roof daily with someone who loves you more than they love themselves is what makes the world go 'round.<br />It equips us to face and conquer life.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Here's to the women who <em>never had</em> the blessing of a good Mother:<br /></strong>How deep the hurt must be as they observe other mom-daughters.<br />They read the sayings in the Mothers day cards and can't relate.<br />I am so sorry.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><br /><strong>Here's to the Mothers who have placed their child for adoption:<br /></strong>The merging and melding of so many different lives takes my breath away.<br />These brave women create families out of their pain and fear.<br />Heroes,..that's what they are.<br />But most of them seldom think that above statement is true.</p><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Here's to the woman-child who have to visit their mom's grave.<br /></strong>In all my studies of grief, the loss of a mom is one of the deepest of all. To be separated from the one who loves you more than any other living person is staggering to the core of being.<br />It leaves people at such a loss that they can feel adrift in life.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Here's to the Mothers who visit their children's graves:<br /></strong>Unspeakable.<br />Lonely.<br />Torn asunder.<br />Violation of the soul.<br />Rent.<br />Confused.<br />Transformed.<br />Survivors.<br />The ponders made at Jae Lynn's grave can not be published.<br /><a href="http://weepyseeds.blogspot.com/2009/01/graveyards-at-night.html"><strong>Not because they are private, but because they are too many.</strong></a><strong><br /></strong>Take it from me,...... the love of a mother defies death.<br />We simply love our children who now live in another dimension.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world.<br />It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.<br />Agatha Christie</em></span></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-62524621541081193952011-05-16T21:30:00.003-05:002011-05-16T22:00:56.700-05:00Soon.<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvBPMpBmVSAL61Qznd_mXiUteMWZ0hE9aBD1dkNRSwgE4DAqujUPB2Qf3pLLUyJ0OwbxNkZVD9stPobN3n3DC7cud9rAL5JJBPVD8luIc83Pe0HoVJ0FKd_Hb4qVCoip8Bf8Tb-AB_4Q/s1600/blog.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 259px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 194px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607513264765949986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvBPMpBmVSAL61Qznd_mXiUteMWZ0hE9aBD1dkNRSwgE4DAqujUPB2Qf3pLLUyJ0OwbxNkZVD9stPobN3n3DC7cud9rAL5JJBPVD8luIc83Pe0HoVJ0FKd_Hb4qVCoip8Bf8Tb-AB_4Q/s320/blog.bmp" /></a>Maybe this describes me the past few weeks.</div><br /><div align="center">Maybe it doesn't.......<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXN0TErCeyEEROuU29D0HGiVBkfGJ6uguPcOkqbZxG8kXpUtY6dveqYIilXYoIdIODb0KW6XsA1kTMR4l900WrLKgHOt1wfZ6-NKlYJJVrXQqhIfTlLN4N9TFJJxRqjG7nBHtNqgRNNOw/s1600/blog5.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 120px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 119px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607513254451299890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXN0TErCeyEEROuU29D0HGiVBkfGJ6uguPcOkqbZxG8kXpUtY6dveqYIilXYoIdIODb0KW6XsA1kTMR4l900WrLKgHOt1wfZ6-NKlYJJVrXQqhIfTlLN4N9TFJJxRqjG7nBHtNqgRNNOw/s320/blog5.bmp" /></a> I've not had writer's block...</div><br /><div>(I don't think)<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHnblrjXB9xP3UWsKMZ-bxa74Fp1cgZYy4QioBzMMkwTwG_qvKoeo7LuAf-6p3yrBukgvEgk36ydyOh5WhkXYFnS4P2bplineezyjKXEg05BxeE6lMZTSQ5RcnfLWxyXIvDUt65kuZ_v4/s1600/blog1.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 167px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607513249739112738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHnblrjXB9xP3UWsKMZ-bxa74Fp1cgZYy4QioBzMMkwTwG_qvKoeo7LuAf-6p3yrBukgvEgk36ydyOh5WhkXYFnS4P2bplineezyjKXEg05BxeE6lMZTSQ5RcnfLWxyXIvDUt65kuZ_v4/s320/blog1.jpg" /></a> Sorta<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkIFFsYfB1dv5dd2yBVBb9gzyyQATN21USnyJUx96Hbuit6t69iRT1mYxdhef8twBwEyBGNhbypCDPBiVkgWauOH6vFIuQeWTsCbACm3tocT0PXUseofJ6Q_fl74RFgWGpI13g0jmkmY/s1600/blog2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607513248606197394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghkIFFsYfB1dv5dd2yBVBb9gzyyQATN21USnyJUx96Hbuit6t69iRT1mYxdhef8twBwEyBGNhbypCDPBiVkgWauOH6vFIuQeWTsCbACm3tocT0PXUseofJ6Q_fl74RFgWGpI13g0jmkmY/s320/blog2.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Thanks to all my friends who </div><br /><div align="center">have sent "<em>Miss You</em>!" messages.<br /></div><br /><div align="center">Got just a few more things to do </div><br /><div align="center">and </div><br /><div align="center">I'll be back in the computer chair again!!<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div></div></div><br /></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-80994567926074014822011-03-15T19:37:00.003-05:002011-03-15T20:40:06.372-05:00Lamentations at DawnI was an early riser this morning.<br />Had some things I just had to talk over with God and they wouldn't wait.<br /><br />Then in my feeble attempt at scripture study at that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ridiculous</span> hour, I stumbled across a passage in <em>Lamentations</em>. (an appropriate book for that early hour)<br />Here's my crack-of-dawn message from chapter 3:<br /><br /><div align="center"><em>When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself.</em></div><div align="center"><em>Enter the silence. <span style="font-size:78%;">(I did)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em>Bow in prayer. <span style="font-size:78%;">(I did)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em>Don't ask questions. <span style="font-size:78%;">(I did)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em>Wait for hope to appear. <span style="font-size:78%;">(Forced to)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em>Don't run from trouble. <span style="font-size:78%;">(me?)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em>Take it full-face. <span style="font-size:78%;">(sigh)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em>The "worst" is never the worst.</em></div><div align="center"><em>Why?</em></div><div align="center"><em>Because the Master won't ever walk out and never return.</em></div><div align="center"><em></em> </div><div align="center">This is the part I really liked:</div><div align="center"><em>He takes no pleasure in making life hard, in throwing roadblocks in the way.</em></div><div align="center"><em></em> </div><div align="left">I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God hears and answers prayers. </div><div align="left">But I also am acutely aware that I don't know the will of God.</div><div align="left">I'm always trying to find it.</div><div align="left">I've felt most of the times that I'm in it.</div><div align="left">I've known the horribleness of being out of it.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">But what about when you need answers and are truly trying to do all the right things,...yet there are still no answers or clarity of God speaking.</div><div align="left">Facing hard things when you KNOW it's God's will would be do-able.</div><div align="left">But for me,.....</div><div align="left">the confusion is worse than pain.</div><div align="left">I think.</div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-67181294224595864932011-02-19T21:00:00.003-06:002011-02-19T21:45:42.341-06:00DreamsDreams.<br />I just don't hardly ever have good ones. When I do have good ones, they are very good. <br /><a href="http://weepyseeds.blogspot.com/2008/05/lovers-dreamers-and-me.html"><strong>You could read about one here if you like</strong>.<br /></a>Weird dreams? <br />Yes.<br />Scary ones? <br />Yep. Lots of scary ones.....Someone is <em>always</em> chasing me in my sleep.<br />Awful demonic ones? <br />Unfortunately. I sometimes dream unspeakable things.<br /><br />Sleep is a physical state which does very differnt things with our minds. Sometimes, we become free from our worries during our sleep and then other times, we continue to wrestle with diffuculties even though we are sound asleep. As far as I know, there are none of us who can control our dreams.<br /><br />When some of my friends tell me their dreams and I secretly point my finger at them, look around at others and whisper..."<em>this person is kah-ray-zee!"</em><br />Some dreamers I'm envious of because they always have comforting dreams. <br />And then there is that other group of dreamers who should take "Bean-o" before retiring each night.<br /><br />Regardless of what you may think about people who dream, I'm tellin ya that this ole gal has often gotten answers to things in her sleep. I've had several things "<em>come to me</em>" in the dead of night which sometimes leaves me with a sense of amusement. <br />I could give you lots of examples.<br />I think it's way cool.<br /><br /><div>This morning, as we slept in the wee dark hours of the night, I clearly heard someone call my name.</div><div>Ralph and I both woke up as I answered.</div><div>I've thought about it all day.</div><div> </div><div>(Since I truly don't think I'm "<em>kah-ray-zee"</em>,..Someone go get me some Bean-o.)</div><div> </div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-84578710881765528152011-01-31T19:16:00.003-06:002011-01-31T20:13:00.422-06:00PrayerA few years ago, some friends and I decided the youth group we were leading needed more prayer. (of course).<br />We were intentional.<br />We were passionate.<br />We were regular.<br />We were stunned......<br /><br />You see, within weeks of the prayers, our small group of teens began<br />to grow<br />and <span style="font-size:130%;">grow</span><br />and <span style="font-size:180%;">grow!</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br />I am ashamed to tell you this, but the biggest surprise was that God answered our prayers.<br />No kidding,...we were bustin out all over with teens who were lost. Our "church kids" were frustrated that this new group of unrulys had taken over "their" group.<br />We 4 adult leaders (volunteers) were excited but completely taken off guard as evidenced by our ridiculous lack of resources to deal with 60+ students.<br /><br />We moved the adults out of the sanctuary, put the kids in there on Wednesday nite and had a blast with great praise, worship, devotionals, door prizes and skits.<br />It didn't take long, however, for us to get overwhelmed at the church vandalism, smoking in the bathrooms, sex on the church bus and utter disrespect for all adults. <br /><br />Sounds like a nightmare huh?<br />and I tell ya what,...It felt like it at times. <br />But we were so <em>sure</em> that we were experiencing a movement of God.<br />Now, I'm not so sure.<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Here are some observations of that moment in time:</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><span style="font-size:180%;">1.</span> Today, as far as I can tell, very few of those unchurched kids are followers of God. I don't see that we had much of an impact on them at all. I imagine that the only devotional they will ever recall is the one I did which involved a <em>Happy Meal</em> in a blender. And it wasn't <strong>God </strong>that made it memorable, it was that two people threw up in the class room.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">2.</span> Some churches aren't ready to reach the lost. Bayou Meto is ready now, but we sure weren't then. Lack of leadership, bad attitudes, lack of volunteers and lack of discipleship crippled us. How eternally unfortunate for those kids. <br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">3.</span> Legalism will never work with teenagers. They will rebel every single time.<br />And I say <em>Good for them!</em> Adults will plod along in a miserable religion, but most teens won't put up with it. They can spot a phony miles away.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">4.</span> If I'm going to pray like that, I better prepare for bigger results than I can imagine. Mine and my friends puny prayers were clearly heard in Heaven. I still marvel that we were surprised.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">5.</span> It made me long for more corporate prayer in our churches. Our prayers lists are important. Truly they are. I have asked to be on the list and am relieved to find my needs and requests on that little piece of paper in the hands of my church family. <br />But few of the prayer needs listed on our church prayer list are there for Kingdom purpose. Should <em>those</em> not be there in abundance?<br /><br />I started the year 2011 as a year for prayer. <br />and once again,...God is amazing me.<br /><br />I'm sure He is rolling His eyes at my wonder.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-29993587567844785362011-01-26T18:32:00.002-06:002011-01-26T18:35:11.169-06:00To Assist Your Understanding<div align="center">Have you always wondered what the doctor meant </div><div align="center">when he told you </div><div align="center">that you have an irregular heart beat?</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Finally, a way to truly know......</div><br /><br /><iframe class="youtube-player" title="YouTube video player" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/asR2-sb27Vw" frameborder="0" width="480" type="text/html"></iframe>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-508057519745510312011-01-25T19:54:00.005-06:002011-01-27T17:57:36.963-06:00CemeteriesI wonder it is with me and cemeteries?<br />What has made me love them all these years?<br />I wrote about <a href="http://weepyseeds.blogspot.com/2009/01/graveyards-at-night.html">Jae Lynn's <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">here</span></strong>.</a><br />I enjoy wondering through them and reading the names, dates and epitaphs.<br />I contemplate the ones who are no longer alive and am curious about their their life and their deaths.<br />Some are surrounded by family members who have since joined them in Heaven.<br />Some seem to be alone.<br />Some are obviously lovingly remembered and still mourned.<br />Some appear to be utterly forgotten.<br /><br /><br /><br />Yesterday, I attended the graveside service of a young soul trapped in an old body. Mrs. Gwen Smith's frail frame had been holding her captive for years and she was finally set free last weekend.<br />Met in Heaven by hundreds of people who I'm sure she has missed.<br />Her reunion with them is more than likely still going wide open as I type this post.<br /><br /><br /><br />For the first time ever, I remained at the graveside as the caretakers lowered her precious body into the earth and then covered it up in front of us. There were many of her family members there and while all were struggling with letting her go, the scene was peaceful and joyful even.<br /><br />While I can not comprehend having watched those burial activities of Jae Lynn's, It seemed fitting and right that we be there for Mrs. Gwen as she entered such a peaceful beautiful place.<br />A wonderful life well lived.<br />An expected death which she embraced and longed for.<br />She is surrounded, once again, by those she loves.<br />In Heaven and on earth.<br /><br /><br /><br />I so long for Heaven.<br />Yes, Jae......I will be there in the morning.Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-51081699827283027012011-01-11T22:04:00.003-06:002011-01-11T22:33:28.695-06:00A List For JanuaryI'm reading:<br />"<em>Walking with God</em>" by John Franklin. Actually it's very little reading, but it's a lot about prayer! <br /><br />I'm humming:<br />"His eye is on the Sparrow".<br /> I can't decide whether I love the Sister Act version (movie) or the Jody Hurst (friend) version. <br /><br />I'm confused:<br />as to where we've put Casey's muck boots. Her favorite boots in the whole wide world and they are only good for yucky days like these snow days. Can't find 'em anywhere.<br /><br />I'm still enjoying:<br />snow days with family. At the hint of snow, someone will jump on the tractor (thanks Ralph!) to bush-hog the hill so we can have a smooth place to sled. Altho I had to work, I loved that my family was all together having a great time. At dark, I joined them as we invaded moms house for waffles. Did you know if you add seltzer water to waffles it will make them fluff up in the waffle iron? Someone needs to tell IHOP this cool secret.<br /><br />I'm excited:<br />at the idea of winning the giveaway dream home of HGTV. Think I have a chance?<br /><br />I'm scared:<br />of men in big dually trucks on the ice and snow.<br /><br />I love:<br />my electric blanket.<br /><br />A quote which made me laugh:<br />by Herb Miller:<br /><em>"Never sidestep challenges. </em><br /><em>Grab every charging bull by the horns and slap him twice across the face. </em><br /><em>Remind him that God is in charge of you."</em><br /><em></em><br />I love:<br />too many things to list.<br /><br />I hate:<br />Victoria. <br />Victoria's Secret that is. <br />I shopped and shopped for a bra with no underwire. Paid a trillion dollars for it and then realized it has a 3 inch piece of steel rebar in the side panel. Ladies,...why oh why would there be metal under our armpits?<br />I'm doing surgery to cut it out of the bra as soon as I find my glasses.<br /><br />I'm excited:<br />that Casey's brother is coming for a visit next week. It's interesting to watch he and her together. They resemble each other so much and have many of the same mannerisms.<br /><br />I wish:<br />well,..you know what I wish for.<br />Do you think there is snow in Heaven?<br />Is there any kind of weather in Heaven?<br />Does Jae and daddy see us and wish they were with us as we have our fun days?<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(Maybe not,...because they already are.)</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-15977527792906033362010-12-27T19:41:00.006-06:002010-12-27T20:48:26.378-06:00Jae Lynn's New Quilt<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0ewf43ZRjQ7zpu9S_aZZkMZYW5wb2kskK5g-EGoHYiQfs3ufBbCfe_4l8vOV9Sm7KhXqgWnzXUFQajPDMyg9Ujq9TZ6SkWE6etmroiWIQq6dytm-daKsO_93Wg6gXvMj14DRbgLp5Z4/s1600/Jae%2527s+quilt+006.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555558501178325730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0ewf43ZRjQ7zpu9S_aZZkMZYW5wb2kskK5g-EGoHYiQfs3ufBbCfe_4l8vOV9Sm7KhXqgWnzXUFQajPDMyg9Ujq9TZ6SkWE6etmroiWIQq6dytm-daKsO_93Wg6gXvMj14DRbgLp5Z4/s320/Jae%2527s+quilt+006.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="center"><div align="center">These pictures show Casey's gift to me:</div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiafuMaqCdLBN5OXTp05moBosgvjs4_z0Lp6xidb5TbVPRHRvWFQUnNmEQN3tLOGKfdni3M879rBCD2NiAg6wSl_e30RQUdWFr3A33PBA_rLjPbdf-Ezn4Vwxty9KbT7lWGdppQfDKHXQ/s1600/Jae%2527s+quilt+004.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555557197274374722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiafuMaqCdLBN5OXTp05moBosgvjs4_z0Lp6xidb5TbVPRHRvWFQUnNmEQN3tLOGKfdni3M879rBCD2NiAg6wSl_e30RQUdWFr3A33PBA_rLjPbdf-Ezn4Vwxty9KbT7lWGdppQfDKHXQ/s320/Jae%2527s+quilt+004.jpg" /></a> She cut, pieced and stitched together a quilt made of Jae's t-shirts<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VjR47AR-5rnb9g0_LKo3c5iK9hO8viNrcnzYL8hcSTHgTck8nLOv7VwvGgyK2bj5mS66IK4aXFMxDwe6Nd7IQx1ny6UvguqCFfLCPH15n54xxbWD0GP_mjfRU8pvQ8tMZKtKxcZrfvg/s1600/Jae%2527s+quilt+003.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555557195000634498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VjR47AR-5rnb9g0_LKo3c5iK9hO8viNrcnzYL8hcSTHgTck8nLOv7VwvGgyK2bj5mS66IK4aXFMxDwe6Nd7IQx1ny6UvguqCFfLCPH15n54xxbWD0GP_mjfRU8pvQ8tMZKtKxcZrfvg/s320/Jae%2527s+quilt+003.jpg" /></a> I recall telling her she would regret writing on the one above.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi478OeiO1unLLPX0TNQ0qmgEDWulUoDIMI6Coa8OMRpLDeVcnKQE5wwSioepv9pmHSJQJf2Elgi5u2ioSLAJSO5PiIitMxrwsFjPWXhzRzJIa0_DJjHivWtB9_ehzP4oF7n0WhA6yJxoA/s1600/Jae%2527s+quilt+002.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555557188267488114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi478OeiO1unLLPX0TNQ0qmgEDWulUoDIMI6Coa8OMRpLDeVcnKQE5wwSioepv9pmHSJQJf2Elgi5u2ioSLAJSO5PiIitMxrwsFjPWXhzRzJIa0_DJjHivWtB9_ehzP4oF7n0WhA6yJxoA/s320/Jae%2527s+quilt+002.jpg" /></a><br />I was amazed.</div><br /><br /><div>Touched.</div><br /><br /><div>Overcome.</div><br /><br /><div>Thrilled.<br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXnJyRBU05sIvcZa3wIvqDEmIugbAhnhlFcnE7ST8XHO7ZjR1BdY_QEYoqLojiEHlAwzFJnUnZLTl3pbF03vvYlH0SR06O58gkiaIQ2ecI_0eSauMyaDIGRSIzFpg4nylYgUHFGYc4d8/s1600/Jae%2527s+quilt+001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555557184627886898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRXnJyRBU05sIvcZa3wIvqDEmIugbAhnhlFcnE7ST8XHO7ZjR1BdY_QEYoqLojiEHlAwzFJnUnZLTl3pbF03vvYlH0SR06O58gkiaIQ2ecI_0eSauMyaDIGRSIzFpg4nylYgUHFGYc4d8/s320/Jae%2527s+quilt+001.jpg" /></a>Is it not amazing? </div><br /><br /><div>We've still go to get it quilted, but it looks to me like that will be the easy work. </div><div> </div><br /></div></div></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6404289892067189054.post-87713511169888979522010-12-20T19:03:00.009-06:002010-12-20T20:13:49.095-06:00Pigs and Angels<div align="center">I do SO love Christmas trees which are coordinated.</div><div align="center">Especially Blue and Silver ones.</div><div align="center">and Red and Gold.</div><div align="center">Never got into the feathers, but love the ribbons.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">The Russell tree however,..will <em>never </em>be coordinated.</div><div align="center">The kids have picked out a hodge podge of decorations and ornaments for the </div><div align="center">past 20+ years and I love the memory of each one.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">That's partly the reason my Christmas decorations </div><div align="center">were left up in my Attic for years after Jae's accident. </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Ya'll were right there with me when </div><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6404289892067189054&postID=6694438019120663961">I<strong> could not bring myself to bring those decorations down</strong></a></div><div align="center">and then you were there </div><div align="center"><strong><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6404289892067189054&postID=4923582474778492406">when I finally did.</a></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">But for the past several years, I've noticed a trend in my tree decor:</div><div align="center">It has become full of </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">Pigs and Angels.</span></em></div><div align="center">How wonderfully odd......</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCtb-kjHHWXmpkbCs5COcHfJk1xxigjcSZvj02FrsVSSbdWCumqFZ3ANX5T8ASyuvwJIflf3dvTc3jfolq7g5lQK_V-XfewN6zOPenxRfoFS_ncOrDtZ2esxtRb0AARieTV9xGQkUy5E4/s1600/pigs+and+angels+001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552941806211861986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCtb-kjHHWXmpkbCs5COcHfJk1xxigjcSZvj02FrsVSSbdWCumqFZ3ANX5T8ASyuvwJIflf3dvTc3jfolq7g5lQK_V-XfewN6zOPenxRfoFS_ncOrDtZ2esxtRb0AARieTV9xGQkUy5E4/s320/pigs+and+angels+001.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6ChbGEhUYMqcKlVEPsnKpH9CpZe8ZfzbJiQlv8wBLIxQeApOYhrM6iEXDorlysiodlJl0x9pc-IzigXogG1tapxK-MiiFt0Ndfy-qfQj_C_l95aKBMFH6JaKgkJO4kJMCMX44kUrI-k/s1600/pigs+and+angels+002.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552941801061986562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6ChbGEhUYMqcKlVEPsnKpH9CpZe8ZfzbJiQlv8wBLIxQeApOYhrM6iEXDorlysiodlJl0x9pc-IzigXogG1tapxK-MiiFt0Ndfy-qfQj_C_l95aKBMFH6JaKgkJO4kJMCMX44kUrI-k/s320/pigs+and+angels+002.jpg" /></a> The one above was actually the first one ever bought. </div><div align="center">I found it in Branson as we escaped there on that terrible 1st Christmas without her.</div><div align="center">I was sobbing at the checkout.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Below,..you will note Rudolph's replacements<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnb1oyO3i2mcuq6OZ9U4zhaDLK3YRhJK401W4WVQ63ilp8Yk16tcLZL0rGqyPtA5IRSZfS22Fxy5Let41jnHuKVVa7TIHkF0VDKKEvl8jUSuuRhnhuZz27wyoPWNvGr8IDHKrGqg8Dygs/s1600/pigs+and+angels+008.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552941404807028610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnb1oyO3i2mcuq6OZ9U4zhaDLK3YRhJK401W4WVQ63ilp8Yk16tcLZL0rGqyPtA5IRSZfS22Fxy5Let41jnHuKVVa7TIHkF0VDKKEvl8jUSuuRhnhuZz27wyoPWNvGr8IDHKrGqg8Dygs/s320/pigs+and+angels+008.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHq1QBLwtlofdOZDsMiacGNhnbwWaTQfKzK18p_sXDbRlwO7y7fO5uz0DHbnAaKt5CTP8JVp1wyVnSiNfDwuR4OlzjzDg9ISIlqJao56FttkuQ5tJLJ7wQ0x6yLRi5NPUw7dqT_RXZMg/s1600/pigs+and+angels+007.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552941399989412242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHq1QBLwtlofdOZDsMiacGNhnbwWaTQfKzK18p_sXDbRlwO7y7fO5uz0DHbnAaKt5CTP8JVp1wyVnSiNfDwuR4OlzjzDg9ISIlqJao56FttkuQ5tJLJ7wQ0x6yLRi5NPUw7dqT_RXZMg/s320/pigs+and+angels+007.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGR1bYYjtcQBgWWBksg2DieuawxrBrJNg6iDKKqgWkiOWBIsHN3rnP7GponwwlxkIHPEBkC4Qh9Sa0y-JhU2UtjDt6-fXgA7R2Y2cPZDwHFPD9JQM7hPEHARl0tZk02PwHpfdBptvU0I/s1600/pigs+and+angels+006.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552941395810465874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGR1bYYjtcQBgWWBksg2DieuawxrBrJNg6iDKKqgWkiOWBIsHN3rnP7GponwwlxkIHPEBkC4Qh9Sa0y-JhU2UtjDt6-fXgA7R2Y2cPZDwHFPD9JQM7hPEHARl0tZk02PwHpfdBptvU0I/s320/pigs+and+angels+006.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKiH3DW1QzH17zS-Snx3jPgi4eYoCsPl3nxD9mFQ6LQyRIZlvv3KqUWhkfqB80XMMazmOUC1Lr4FwH_J8_iZmUC9BsYCZAEp05PxkEd-FHp71Ul6TagwzmlWX2Ou4Y3UaPrg_mkQIF43A/s1600/pigs+and+angels+005.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552941386045758802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKiH3DW1QzH17zS-Snx3jPgi4eYoCsPl3nxD9mFQ6LQyRIZlvv3KqUWhkfqB80XMMazmOUC1Lr4FwH_J8_iZmUC9BsYCZAEp05PxkEd-FHp71Ul6TagwzmlWX2Ou4Y3UaPrg_mkQIF43A/s320/pigs+and+angels+005.jpg" /></a> Love the boots...<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUxW1cTC3pRFuFIbJoqXruAsjudb06xfCVWLH1kWcVdEFp6l8ZKlc_2vweGYZEjPfdpjEnwtXc6xPkvnbZWpOI49qFahzcT70PSgVIMjGN71utIJ_VHxBbdvfRB1PKZQccVXa9WFEgqU0/s1600/pigs+and+angels+004.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552941384943893074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUxW1cTC3pRFuFIbJoqXruAsjudb06xfCVWLH1kWcVdEFp6l8ZKlc_2vweGYZEjPfdpjEnwtXc6xPkvnbZWpOI49qFahzcT70PSgVIMjGN71utIJ_VHxBbdvfRB1PKZQccVXa9WFEgqU0/s320/pigs+and+angels+004.jpg" /></a><br /><br />These crocheted angels have been on our tree for 15 years. </div><div>Handmade by Mrs. Nellie Fielder, a precious lady in my church.</div><div>Of course, I've one for each of the girls, </div><div>(and Mrs. Fielder's church directory obviously has holes in it!)<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintn8vJthzUrMci-Lm4kn6HHxWzgirAlsh7hyF9uSYWRd-SXqv5iIYk5sGH2P16rZmf0ZgMS2Z6oxK1dRKm8mrTHXEFCEc7pBJ1firwyArUSNS9y6wkTO2dgXZb7kA9VFaBE7BDGT5jhM/s1600/pigs+and+angels+003.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552940502239767650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintn8vJthzUrMci-Lm4kn6HHxWzgirAlsh7hyF9uSYWRd-SXqv5iIYk5sGH2P16rZmf0ZgMS2Z6oxK1dRKm8mrTHXEFCEc7pBJ1firwyArUSNS9y6wkTO2dgXZb7kA9VFaBE7BDGT5jhM/s320/pigs+and+angels+003.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I've seen this look/pose from Jae a hundred times.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHGCTXSKH0LWNLMZ9htXvgNGECJBZKLTFLlAednoTB2s2idVr9ZeQ-XQtWVC74LHwfJBSip3QOuZ7M7M8A535eyCrDVqxH0xTWEX2XNfZlC6H_IzLIlruGloXuuBodDwK6ooIh7CRe_g/s1600/pigs+and+angels+009.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552940497316348882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHGCTXSKH0LWNLMZ9htXvgNGECJBZKLTFLlAednoTB2s2idVr9ZeQ-XQtWVC74LHwfJBSip3QOuZ7M7M8A535eyCrDVqxH0xTWEX2XNfZlC6H_IzLIlruGloXuuBodDwK6ooIh7CRe_g/s320/pigs+and+angels+009.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetidUWaOkBV69m4sJUIs-4EzaePfDqKCskszJRdkR7ai5uGAYB4emjD-iV5Um43wh566h5GsXEid9iUo6cjCugFvycqtWwOmXfdb_hLY-waBpnjqpiu6CrawfvGEg2Qw2rEve6IoqRAg/s1600/pigs+and+angels+010.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552940488822224498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetidUWaOkBV69m4sJUIs-4EzaePfDqKCskszJRdkR7ai5uGAYB4emjD-iV5Um43wh566h5GsXEid9iUo6cjCugFvycqtWwOmXfdb_hLY-waBpnjqpiu6CrawfvGEg2Qw2rEve6IoqRAg/s320/pigs+and+angels+010.jpg" /></a> One of the gifts my fabulous sister Susan gives each year </div><div>is an ornament to each of the girls.</div><div>We have three of these on our tree...<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ZZTEZIDy_3Er6nOd3XggWXEtwJ29Ayx4byCA1CaDzKgRF5o0T3maaJb2GA-9yRW18POSPP91ERGEdvvrYLx_UROJIk3_3cpE_MMtTAgGu1nmRPLyTIESrhccOkohUeOtXCic2LVINf8/s1600/pigs+and+angels+011.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552940484261274018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ZZTEZIDy_3Er6nOd3XggWXEtwJ29Ayx4byCA1CaDzKgRF5o0T3maaJb2GA-9yRW18POSPP91ERGEdvvrYLx_UROJIk3_3cpE_MMtTAgGu1nmRPLyTIESrhccOkohUeOtXCic2LVINf8/s320/pigs+and+angels+011.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I love this darlin hanging on the letter "J"<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTNmyHa0PhxrKwCps-9lI8s5z6XN2_6wdwgymiJ1qjumiRXeupin_n-MsS73CInfY0xXIAp3QCLj7j-gQFO7HKqJSy-WQsAAmYafoXxrobuuv7cw63krcjFEaFr2i2Np_QfcolYt4CCc/s1600/pigs+and+angels+012.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552940479942649170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTNmyHa0PhxrKwCps-9lI8s5z6XN2_6wdwgymiJ1qjumiRXeupin_n-MsS73CInfY0xXIAp3QCLj7j-gQFO7HKqJSy-WQsAAmYafoXxrobuuv7cw63krcjFEaFr2i2Np_QfcolYt4CCc/s320/pigs+and+angels+012.jpg" /></a> And then,....</div><div>Here is an odd saying for a Christmas ornament.<br /></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZk_9UdmzGiz-VVXSvcgPoGOE_clb76iuglna-jPpUWdxhKb5sDmX8DSVHhTSnXeB7AP0xg1rQzwLbnC724C0h4WF3L-_Q8Nft1lZx9hyRAlFiVUBzlyr2wBCIVSMBDuxWRCxcSqnjvR0/s1600/pigs+and+angels+013.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552939481223828418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZk_9UdmzGiz-VVXSvcgPoGOE_clb76iuglna-jPpUWdxhKb5sDmX8DSVHhTSnXeB7AP0xg1rQzwLbnC724C0h4WF3L-_Q8Nft1lZx9hyRAlFiVUBzlyr2wBCIVSMBDuxWRCxcSqnjvR0/s320/pigs+and+angels+013.jpg" /></a> </div><div>Jae Lynn,</div><div>The answers continue to elude me.</div><div>I think that you are not too far away, but I just don't know.</div><div>The mystery of Heaven leaves me wanting more.</div><div>More of what?</div><div>....answers? </div><div>......comfort? </div><div>.....patience?</div><div>...passion?</div><div>All of those things, yes.</div><div>But the bottom line is that I want it <em>all.</em></div><div>I want the reunion with you that is promised to me.</div><div>I want no more Christmases without the ones I love.</div><div>I want an end to Bereaved Parents groups </div><div>and cemeteries in general.</div><div>I want to know my purpose.</div><div>The answers continue to elude me.</div><div>I think that you are not too far away,...but I just don't know.</div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Beckyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00862094301374551465noreply@blogger.com0