Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Friday, February 22, 2013
February 22
3 gifts that changed today
1. My cookie chair for Scouts. She spent time today and yesterday collecting money from families for the cookie deposit. I really hate doing that, and she saved me a great deal of aggravation.
2. When the schedule for Media Center volunteers came out last month, I told the coordinator that I couldn't work today due to an anticipated hectic evening. But then I forgot and put it on my schedule. So when I went in today, they weren't expecting me. I needed to be able to leave early to meet the termite guy, so it made it easier for me. And after an hour, a friend of mine came in to sub for me. I don't have many opportunities to see her, and she's about to go back to work, so it was a nice treat to have an hour with her. Also, she volunteered to coordinate her class's Bingo basket collection, so it was quite productive to have that hour together.
3. Bret took the afternoon off today to meet with the plumber about the work he's doing at the other house. I was so happy that he was able to take care of that instead of my having to do it. And his being here made my afternoon much easier. He did a load or two of laundry, dealt with the termite guy (when he showed up 3 hours later than expected) and we even watched a show.
1. My cookie chair for Scouts. She spent time today and yesterday collecting money from families for the cookie deposit. I really hate doing that, and she saved me a great deal of aggravation.
2. When the schedule for Media Center volunteers came out last month, I told the coordinator that I couldn't work today due to an anticipated hectic evening. But then I forgot and put it on my schedule. So when I went in today, they weren't expecting me. I needed to be able to leave early to meet the termite guy, so it made it easier for me. And after an hour, a friend of mine came in to sub for me. I don't have many opportunities to see her, and she's about to go back to work, so it was a nice treat to have an hour with her. Also, she volunteered to coordinate her class's Bingo basket collection, so it was quite productive to have that hour together.
3. Bret took the afternoon off today to meet with the plumber about the work he's doing at the other house. I was so happy that he was able to take care of that instead of my having to do it. And his being here made my afternoon much easier. He did a load or two of laundry, dealt with the termite guy (when he showed up 3 hours later than expected) and we even watched a show.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
February 19
3 gifts that were "Plan B"
1. My dad being assigned to Warner Robins when I was in high school. It was a big culture shock, and a bit of a let-down since we had been teased with assignments in Germany and Colorado Springs, and I hated to leave the D.C. area. But if the Air Force had not changed their mind and sent my dad to Georgia, then I would have never chosen the college I did. I would not have been friends with the boy who introduced me to my husband. My parents would not have ended up where they did in Colorado after my dad retired, and I would not have met my friends with whom I worked during the summers.
2. Bret going to engineering school instead of pursuing a career in Hollywood. We both learned so much during our time in Miami, and we were able to spend a lot of precious time with his grandparents. We obviously would not be where we are now, with the children we have and the live we live.
3. When we moved from California to Miami, we planned to go down in August, before Bret started school. But his dad's company had a lot of work so we let them convince us to move there in January. I was not happy about being there, especially when the work slowed down and it turned out that Bret wasn't needed as badly as we thought. It was a very stressful time. But... we had that last spring with Granddaddy before he died in May, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. If we had stuck with our original plan, we would have flown down for his funeral.
1. My dad being assigned to Warner Robins when I was in high school. It was a big culture shock, and a bit of a let-down since we had been teased with assignments in Germany and Colorado Springs, and I hated to leave the D.C. area. But if the Air Force had not changed their mind and sent my dad to Georgia, then I would have never chosen the college I did. I would not have been friends with the boy who introduced me to my husband. My parents would not have ended up where they did in Colorado after my dad retired, and I would not have met my friends with whom I worked during the summers.
2. Bret going to engineering school instead of pursuing a career in Hollywood. We both learned so much during our time in Miami, and we were able to spend a lot of precious time with his grandparents. We obviously would not be where we are now, with the children we have and the live we live.
3. When we moved from California to Miami, we planned to go down in August, before Bret started school. But his dad's company had a lot of work so we let them convince us to move there in January. I was not happy about being there, especially when the work slowed down and it turned out that Bret wasn't needed as badly as we thought. It was a very stressful time. But... we had that last spring with Granddaddy before he died in May, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. If we had stuck with our original plan, we would have flown down for his funeral.
February 18
3 gifts on paper
1. The prescription for Josh's antibiotic. We returned home from New Beginnings last night, and this morning he woke up with a lovely cough. A visit to the doc-in-the-box yielded a diagnosis of strep throat. Yay!
2. The "prayer partner" scrolls that each of us received Sunday at New Beginnings. What a gift it is to know that someone is praying for you. And it was neat to be the one organizing (and in some cases, assigning) the prayer partners for our group from church.
3. The Valentine's Day card Bret gave me. It reminds me of the many cards he sent me the summer we first dated.
1. The prescription for Josh's antibiotic. We returned home from New Beginnings last night, and this morning he woke up with a lovely cough. A visit to the doc-in-the-box yielded a diagnosis of strep throat. Yay!
2. The "prayer partner" scrolls that each of us received Sunday at New Beginnings. What a gift it is to know that someone is praying for you. And it was neat to be the one organizing (and in some cases, assigning) the prayer partners for our group from church.
3. The Valentine's Day card Bret gave me. It reminds me of the many cards he sent me the summer we first dated.
February 14
3 ways you feel the love of God
1. Through the love of my children. Even when I'm impatient, cross or downright "rabid" with them, they love me.
2. Through the love of my husband. For the same reasons I just listed, and more. Where the kids have unconditional love because we're their parents, his is by choice. He chose to love me, and he chooses to love me even when I'm not being particularly lovable.
3. Through the love of my parents (and parents-in-law). Being a parent, I can clearly see the sacrifices they made for us. It humbles me that God loves all of us as I love my children, and as my parents love me.
1. Through the love of my children. Even when I'm impatient, cross or downright "rabid" with them, they love me.
2. Through the love of my husband. For the same reasons I just listed, and more. Where the kids have unconditional love because we're their parents, his is by choice. He chose to love me, and he chooses to love me even when I'm not being particularly lovable.
3. Through the love of my parents (and parents-in-law). Being a parent, I can clearly see the sacrifices they made for us. It humbles me that God loves all of us as I love my children, and as my parents love me.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
Walking for Hope
I wrote this in October 2010. It was saved as a draft and I guess I never hit "Publish."
Three years ago, my mom was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. It would be another 18 days before we knew that it was Stage 4, but just hearing the initial diagnosis was hard enough.
Hope. It’s the one thing you can’t live without, and unfortunately for most pancreatic cancer patients, it’s the one thing that’s very hard to come by.
Of the “Big 10” cancers, pancreatic is the only one whose 5-year survival rate is in the single digits. Yes, you heard that right – a mere 5% of patients survive 5 years from diagnosis. And a whopping 75% die within the first year.
Over the course of less than a month, I saw my mom morph from an outgoing, vibrant retiree into a feeble, forgetful, frightened old woman in a broken body. She didn’t want people to see her that way, so she withdrew into her shell. It was like she went from 64 to 90 practically overnight. But the biggest change was the feeling of hopelessness. It was insidious, and as hard as we tried to keep it at bay, it was a persistent little bugger. Suddenly Mom looked haunted – and no matter how bravely she kept up a strong front, it was apparent in her eyes. As my brother put it, it was like the smile had left her eyes – and she had the type of eyes that were always smiling.
And that was all because of pancreatic cancer … the cancer ate away at her body while the statistics ate away at her hope. It’s hard to be hopeful when you’re faced with such grim figures. Most Stage 4 patients die within 3-4 months after diagnosis – Mom made it 4 months and 3 days. 126 days. Which was exactly half the time it took for me to grow my oldest child (the one born a month early, even).
The one beacon of light shining hope through the dark is the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network. It’s where we turned when we were looking for answers and for information – and yes, for hope. It’s the organization most responsible for raising awareness and much-needed funds for research. They’re the advocates who are tirelessly campaigning within Congress for more federal funding. And they’re the ones who are funding research grants so that passionate and dedicated scientists and doctors can make some improvement in the detection/treatment process.
It’s a race against time, since only a small percentage of patients are diagnosed while their cancer is still in the early stages. And unlike most of the other cancers, there has been virtually no change in the statistics in the past 40 years. Don’t you agree that it’s time to change that?
My family and I will be walking in PanCAN’s PurpleStride 5K Family Walk on November 13th. It’s my greatest hope that the funds we raise will help in the battle to put an end to this cancer – or at the very least, bring hope to other patients and their families through the form of earlier detection and more effective treatments.
In the end, it all boils down to hope. While it was indescribably hard to watch my mom lose her life, it was really almost harder to watch her lose her hope. Because what is life without hope, anyway? No one should have to live – or die – that way.
Through PanCAN, I found Kate Thaxton, a determined young woman who was diagnosed with Stage 4 at age 35. She died in June after a 3½ year battle, but she was an inspiration to so many. In her blog she wrote, “The purple community is small, stubborn, and ever hopeful. We’re that proverbial junkyard dog, scrappy and feisty, not going down without a fight. Help me spread the word about pancreatic cancer. We may not be pink, but we’re just as proud.”
When we walk in PurpleStride on November 13th, we will be doing so in memory of Mom and of Kate. We’ll be celebrating their lives and their spirits. We’ll be proudly wearing our purple shirts. And we’ll be hoping.
Three years ago, my mom was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. It would be another 18 days before we knew that it was Stage 4, but just hearing the initial diagnosis was hard enough.
Hope. It’s the one thing you can’t live without, and unfortunately for most pancreatic cancer patients, it’s the one thing that’s very hard to come by.
Of the “Big 10” cancers, pancreatic is the only one whose 5-year survival rate is in the single digits. Yes, you heard that right – a mere 5% of patients survive 5 years from diagnosis. And a whopping 75% die within the first year.
Over the course of less than a month, I saw my mom morph from an outgoing, vibrant retiree into a feeble, forgetful, frightened old woman in a broken body. She didn’t want people to see her that way, so she withdrew into her shell. It was like she went from 64 to 90 practically overnight. But the biggest change was the feeling of hopelessness. It was insidious, and as hard as we tried to keep it at bay, it was a persistent little bugger. Suddenly Mom looked haunted – and no matter how bravely she kept up a strong front, it was apparent in her eyes. As my brother put it, it was like the smile had left her eyes – and she had the type of eyes that were always smiling.
And that was all because of pancreatic cancer … the cancer ate away at her body while the statistics ate away at her hope. It’s hard to be hopeful when you’re faced with such grim figures. Most Stage 4 patients die within 3-4 months after diagnosis – Mom made it 4 months and 3 days. 126 days. Which was exactly half the time it took for me to grow my oldest child (the one born a month early, even).
The one beacon of light shining hope through the dark is the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network. It’s where we turned when we were looking for answers and for information – and yes, for hope. It’s the organization most responsible for raising awareness and much-needed funds for research. They’re the advocates who are tirelessly campaigning within Congress for more federal funding. And they’re the ones who are funding research grants so that passionate and dedicated scientists and doctors can make some improvement in the detection/treatment process.
It’s a race against time, since only a small percentage of patients are diagnosed while their cancer is still in the early stages. And unlike most of the other cancers, there has been virtually no change in the statistics in the past 40 years. Don’t you agree that it’s time to change that?
My family and I will be walking in PanCAN’s PurpleStride 5K Family Walk on November 13th. It’s my greatest hope that the funds we raise will help in the battle to put an end to this cancer – or at the very least, bring hope to other patients and their families through the form of earlier detection and more effective treatments.
In the end, it all boils down to hope. While it was indescribably hard to watch my mom lose her life, it was really almost harder to watch her lose her hope. Because what is life without hope, anyway? No one should have to live – or die – that way.
Through PanCAN, I found Kate Thaxton, a determined young woman who was diagnosed with Stage 4 at age 35. She died in June after a 3½ year battle, but she was an inspiration to so many. In her blog she wrote, “The purple community is small, stubborn, and ever hopeful. We’re that proverbial junkyard dog, scrappy and feisty, not going down without a fight. Help me spread the word about pancreatic cancer. We may not be pink, but we’re just as proud.”
When we walk in PurpleStride on November 13th, we will be doing so in memory of Mom and of Kate. We’ll be celebrating their lives and their spirits. We’ll be proudly wearing our purple shirts. And we’ll be hoping.
Transfiguration
This morning's Gospel reading was Luke 9:28-43, which shares the account of the Transfiguration of Christ. Jesus took Peter, John and James up on the mountain to pray.
29 As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. 30 Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. 31 They spoke about his departure,[a] which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem...35 A voice came from the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.”
Wow. What an experience. We know it as the Transfiguration of Christ, but I expect it was also a Transformation of Peter, John and James. This happened about a week after Peter had acknowledged Jesus as the Christ of God and it makes me wonder -- I'm sure he felt great conviction the week before, but that conviction, no matter how strong it was, must have seemed weak by comparison after the experience on the mountain. It's one thing to know something, and quite another to know it.
In his sermon, Father Doug said that the disciples needed that mountaintop experience to be able to go on after Christ's crucifixion and build the church (or something along those lines -- that's when I was fumbling in my purse for a pen). That their experience was glorious enough to overcome their sorrow at losing their Master. And likewise, as we head into Lent in three short days, we need to take our own mountaintop experiences to help us through the "desert of Lent." I love that imagery. The lush, verdant mountain and the desolate drab desert.
Yet there is glorious beauty in the desert, as well. It's not always evident from up high -- you need to actually get down into the landscape to be able to see all that it has to offer. Which, when I think about it, is also a great metaphor for Lent. Yes, Lent is a time for discipline, repentance and sacrifice. But it is also a time for reflection, prayer, contemplation and absolution. We can't access the gifts of Lent from anywhere but smack-dab in the midst of it, on our knees (literally or figuratively).
I was powerfully reminded of my own personal "Transfiguration/ Transformation" experience, which occurred 5 years ago next week. My mother was at the threshold of death, surrounded by her husband and two children. It had been a tortuous hour for all of us, as she struggled to communicate with us before she was released from her broken body. It was far from peaceful, for me at least. Finally, when I could stand it no longer, I got up and put in Noel, Josh Groban's Christmas album which I had given her two months prior. "Ave Maria" had always been Mom's favorite hymn, so I hoped that listening to it would help settle her some.
And it did. It was amazing, how quickly she relaxed and became, finally, peaceful. I was not at all ready to say goodbye to my mom -- really, I don't think I ever would have been -- but I did it anyway. She was staring intently into my eyes, and I told her that it was okay for her to leave. That her job here was finished, and that we'd be okay. We'd love her forever, but she could go. And so she did.
She closed her eyes and almost melted down into her pillows. We knew she was gone -- you can just tell. We all bowed our heads and James started to pray. As he spoke, I lifted my tear-drenched face to look at Mom. "Dear Father, thank you for taking Mom home to be with Jesus...." And suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, she started. She sat forward a few inches with an exclamation that sounded a bit like "Whoa!" as her eyes flew open. I jumped, and probably let out an exclamation of my own. But then I was transfixed by the expression in her eyes. She had always had very expressive eyes, but I had never seen such life and joy in them. They blazed for an instant, and then -- as quickly as they'd flown open, her eyelids shuttered the glory and she rested back into the pillows. And then she was, truly and finally, gone. I think it happened in a matter of seconds, and I'm pretty sure Dad and James missed it. I would have missed it myself if I hadn't been watching her at that very instant.
Now, obviously, this was nothing compared to Jesus' mountaintop experience, but I think what I witnessed was Mom's Transfiguration, from her earthly existence to her eternal life with her Heavenly Father. And that's how I can only speculate at the transformation that took place within the hearts of the apostles. I just know how much my own soul was transformed by my tiny little flash of God's glory.
Oh, my God. And I'm not saying that in an OMG way. :) My mom gave me so many gifts -- more than I could ever enumerate. She gave me life, which is pretty huge. And she shaped my very existence. But nothing can compare to that final gift. She let me glimpse Heaven itself. They say our eyes are windows to our souls -- and her sky-blue eyes were windows to Eternity. I already believed in Heaven, but believing is not necessarily knowing. But now I know without a shadow of doubt that not only does it exist, she is there, waiting for the rest of us. And that continues to bring me immeasurable peace on a daily basis.
So, going back to Fr. Doug's sermon. No doubt about it -- our mountaintop experiences do help us through the deserts of our life, be they Lent, grief, depression or whatever struggles that threaten to suck the joy from our existence. May we all take the time to venture up the mountain, pray, listen for God's voice, and be rejuvenated.
2 Corinthians 3:16-18 ... But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. 17 Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 18 And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
Oh, and about the music... A few months later, my brother thanked me for "ruining" the album for him, saying that he couldn't listen to it without remembering Mom's death. Funny how different we are -- I, too, can't listen to it without being transported to that hour. But it brings me joy. Maybe because I feel closer to Mom when I hear it, or maybe because I can just picture that beatific expression on her face as Josh Groban belts out "O Come All Ye Faithful." It was Mom's favorite Christmas hymn, and has always been mine, too. So to me, it was the perfect soundtrack to her departure from this world to the next. We should all be so lucky.
29 As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. 30 Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. 31 They spoke about his departure,[a] which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem...35 A voice came from the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.”
Wow. What an experience. We know it as the Transfiguration of Christ, but I expect it was also a Transformation of Peter, John and James. This happened about a week after Peter had acknowledged Jesus as the Christ of God and it makes me wonder -- I'm sure he felt great conviction the week before, but that conviction, no matter how strong it was, must have seemed weak by comparison after the experience on the mountain. It's one thing to know something, and quite another to know it.
In his sermon, Father Doug said that the disciples needed that mountaintop experience to be able to go on after Christ's crucifixion and build the church (or something along those lines -- that's when I was fumbling in my purse for a pen). That their experience was glorious enough to overcome their sorrow at losing their Master. And likewise, as we head into Lent in three short days, we need to take our own mountaintop experiences to help us through the "desert of Lent." I love that imagery. The lush, verdant mountain and the desolate drab desert.
Yet there is glorious beauty in the desert, as well. It's not always evident from up high -- you need to actually get down into the landscape to be able to see all that it has to offer. Which, when I think about it, is also a great metaphor for Lent. Yes, Lent is a time for discipline, repentance and sacrifice. But it is also a time for reflection, prayer, contemplation and absolution. We can't access the gifts of Lent from anywhere but smack-dab in the midst of it, on our knees (literally or figuratively).
I was powerfully reminded of my own personal "Transfiguration/ Transformation" experience, which occurred 5 years ago next week. My mother was at the threshold of death, surrounded by her husband and two children. It had been a tortuous hour for all of us, as she struggled to communicate with us before she was released from her broken body. It was far from peaceful, for me at least. Finally, when I could stand it no longer, I got up and put in Noel, Josh Groban's Christmas album which I had given her two months prior. "Ave Maria" had always been Mom's favorite hymn, so I hoped that listening to it would help settle her some.
And it did. It was amazing, how quickly she relaxed and became, finally, peaceful. I was not at all ready to say goodbye to my mom -- really, I don't think I ever would have been -- but I did it anyway. She was staring intently into my eyes, and I told her that it was okay for her to leave. That her job here was finished, and that we'd be okay. We'd love her forever, but she could go. And so she did.
She closed her eyes and almost melted down into her pillows. We knew she was gone -- you can just tell. We all bowed our heads and James started to pray. As he spoke, I lifted my tear-drenched face to look at Mom. "Dear Father, thank you for taking Mom home to be with Jesus...." And suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, she started. She sat forward a few inches with an exclamation that sounded a bit like "Whoa!" as her eyes flew open. I jumped, and probably let out an exclamation of my own. But then I was transfixed by the expression in her eyes. She had always had very expressive eyes, but I had never seen such life and joy in them. They blazed for an instant, and then -- as quickly as they'd flown open, her eyelids shuttered the glory and she rested back into the pillows. And then she was, truly and finally, gone. I think it happened in a matter of seconds, and I'm pretty sure Dad and James missed it. I would have missed it myself if I hadn't been watching her at that very instant.
Now, obviously, this was nothing compared to Jesus' mountaintop experience, but I think what I witnessed was Mom's Transfiguration, from her earthly existence to her eternal life with her Heavenly Father. And that's how I can only speculate at the transformation that took place within the hearts of the apostles. I just know how much my own soul was transformed by my tiny little flash of God's glory.
Oh, my God. And I'm not saying that in an OMG way. :) My mom gave me so many gifts -- more than I could ever enumerate. She gave me life, which is pretty huge. And she shaped my very existence. But nothing can compare to that final gift. She let me glimpse Heaven itself. They say our eyes are windows to our souls -- and her sky-blue eyes were windows to Eternity. I already believed in Heaven, but believing is not necessarily knowing. But now I know without a shadow of doubt that not only does it exist, she is there, waiting for the rest of us. And that continues to bring me immeasurable peace on a daily basis.
So, going back to Fr. Doug's sermon. No doubt about it -- our mountaintop experiences do help us through the deserts of our life, be they Lent, grief, depression or whatever struggles that threaten to suck the joy from our existence. May we all take the time to venture up the mountain, pray, listen for God's voice, and be rejuvenated.
2 Corinthians 3:16-18 ... But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. 17 Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 18 And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
Oh, and about the music... A few months later, my brother thanked me for "ruining" the album for him, saying that he couldn't listen to it without remembering Mom's death. Funny how different we are -- I, too, can't listen to it without being transported to that hour. But it brings me joy. Maybe because I feel closer to Mom when I hear it, or maybe because I can just picture that beatific expression on her face as Josh Groban belts out "O Come All Ye Faithful." It was Mom's favorite Christmas hymn, and has always been mine, too. So to me, it was the perfect soundtrack to her departure from this world to the next. We should all be so lucky.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
February 10
3 times you heard laughter today
1. Sitting in church, Jessie was making wiggly eyebrow faces at me. She was as giggly as her eyebrows were wiggly.
2. Overhearing Bret having a phone conversation with his best friend. They laugh a lot.
3. At dinner tonight, we were explaining cotillion to Jessie and Jacob (Josh was at youth group). When Bret explained that when he was in cotillion as an adolescent, they were taught many things, including how to call a girl on the phone. For some reason, this struck Jacob as absolutely hilarious. He laughed and laughed hysterically over the thought of calling girls on the phone.
1. Sitting in church, Jessie was making wiggly eyebrow faces at me. She was as giggly as her eyebrows were wiggly.
2. Overhearing Bret having a phone conversation with his best friend. They laugh a lot.
3. At dinner tonight, we were explaining cotillion to Jessie and Jacob (Josh was at youth group). When Bret explained that when he was in cotillion as an adolescent, they were taught many things, including how to call a girl on the phone. For some reason, this struck Jacob as absolutely hilarious. He laughed and laughed hysterically over the thought of calling girls on the phone.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
February 8
A gift broken, fixed, thrifted
1. Bandit's tender hind leg. The other night when he returned from a 36-hour roam that had us worried sick, he was limping and favoring one of his hind legs. Yesterday it seemed to bother him a bit more, so this morning he will be visiting his favorite vet.
2.
1. Bandit's tender hind leg. The other night when he returned from a 36-hour roam that had us worried sick, he was limping and favoring one of his hind legs. Yesterday it seemed to bother him a bit more, so this morning he will be visiting his favorite vet.
2.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
February 7
A gift at 11:30 a.m., 2:30 p.m., 6:30 p.m.
1. Lunch date with my husband after BSF. I'm thankful that he works so close to home that we are able to have several lunch dates a week.
2. Meeting with the plumber at the old/rental house. There's a water leak and it's going to cost a lot of money. But we've been blessed through this experience -- I posted on facebook that I needed a plumber, and several people recommended him. He goes to our church and does all the plumbing work there, as well as for half the parish, apparently. I didn't know him but I know his wife from VBS. He's a godsend for us, and we're blessed to be in a position to pay him.
3. Studying geography with Josh. Bret took Jessie to dance so I could work with him to prepare for a test. Last time we tackled African countries/capitals and I learned a lot myself. It was daunting because we didn't know about it until the night before, but after hours of drilling, he managed to make an A. This time it's Asia, and there are only 20 countries/capitals to learn -- piece of cake.
1. Lunch date with my husband after BSF. I'm thankful that he works so close to home that we are able to have several lunch dates a week.
2. Meeting with the plumber at the old/rental house. There's a water leak and it's going to cost a lot of money. But we've been blessed through this experience -- I posted on facebook that I needed a plumber, and several people recommended him. He goes to our church and does all the plumbing work there, as well as for half the parish, apparently. I didn't know him but I know his wife from VBS. He's a godsend for us, and we're blessed to be in a position to pay him.
3. Studying geography with Josh. Bret took Jessie to dance so I could work with him to prepare for a test. Last time we tackled African countries/capitals and I learned a lot myself. It was daunting because we didn't know about it until the night before, but after hours of drilling, he managed to make an A. This time it's Asia, and there are only 20 countries/capitals to learn -- piece of cake.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
February 4
3 gifts found when bent down
1. A goodnight kiss and hug from my 8-year-old.
2. A rumbly purr from my attention-seeking kitty.
3. The stray clog for which I've been seeking, hidden under the bed.
1. A goodnight kiss and hug from my 8-year-old.
2. A rumbly purr from my attention-seeking kitty.
3. The stray clog for which I've been seeking, hidden under the bed.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
February 3
3 gifts found in writing
1. When I write, things become more clear to me. I am better able to focus and I feel more "me." I have always known this, and intrinsically consider myself to be a writer, but I am terrible about actually putting pen to paper -- or fingers to keyboard -- on a regular basis. Writing grounds me.
2. We sang one of my favorite short hymns after communion today at church. I know the lyrics, but I wrote them down on my bulletin anyway. Just the act of writing them down made my heart sing.
3. Momastery. I found this blog about a year ago -- can't remember who, but one of my friends posted a link on facebook for one reason or another. Every time I read one of her posts, my heart is touched. It's good for my soul, I know.
1. When I write, things become more clear to me. I am better able to focus and I feel more "me." I have always known this, and intrinsically consider myself to be a writer, but I am terrible about actually putting pen to paper -- or fingers to keyboard -- on a regular basis. Writing grounds me.
2. We sang one of my favorite short hymns after communion today at church. I know the lyrics, but I wrote them down on my bulletin anyway. Just the act of writing them down made my heart sing.
3. Momastery. I found this blog about a year ago -- can't remember who, but one of my friends posted a link on facebook for one reason or another. Every time I read one of her posts, my heart is touched. It's good for my soul, I know.
February 2
3 gifts on paper
1. Books. Today I took Jessie and two of our troop to help with a Gold Award project. Our friend built a library in a clubhouse of a community nearby, and she is finishing up. We put labels on the books so they can be organized. She collected over 3,000 books, and it is so humbling to think that some of these families don't have any books in their homes. When she started a year and a half ago, I think the families had an average of fewer than 5 books in their homes -- including Bibles and cook books. Our children have hundreds in their bedrooms alone. So many hours of my life have been spent reading, and I cannot even begin to imagine a book-free childhood. What a gift this library is to these families.
2. Our diplomas -- even though technically mine is printed on sheepskin rather than paper. What a gift it is to have come from families that not only emphasized the importance of education, but also were able to provide them for us. And I just have to say, my college diploma is a work of art.
3. The "Promises and Blessings" scripture verse calendar the kids gave me for Christmas a year or two ago. It sits on my desk just below my monitor, and is a good reminder for me. I don't turn the page every day, and sometimes I will leave it on a particularly fitting verse, but it's always a blessing to see what will pop up on any given day.
1. Books. Today I took Jessie and two of our troop to help with a Gold Award project. Our friend built a library in a clubhouse of a community nearby, and she is finishing up. We put labels on the books so they can be organized. She collected over 3,000 books, and it is so humbling to think that some of these families don't have any books in their homes. When she started a year and a half ago, I think the families had an average of fewer than 5 books in their homes -- including Bibles and cook books. Our children have hundreds in their bedrooms alone. So many hours of my life have been spent reading, and I cannot even begin to imagine a book-free childhood. What a gift this library is to these families.
2. Our diplomas -- even though technically mine is printed on sheepskin rather than paper. What a gift it is to have come from families that not only emphasized the importance of education, but also were able to provide them for us. And I just have to say, my college diploma is a work of art.
3. The "Promises and Blessings" scripture verse calendar the kids gave me for Christmas a year or two ago. It sits on my desk just below my monitor, and is a good reminder for me. I don't turn the page every day, and sometimes I will leave it on a particularly fitting verse, but it's always a blessing to see what will pop up on any given day.
Friday, February 1, 2013
February 1
3 gifts red
1. Red velvet cupcake that the baker gave me for being her 200th "fan" on facebook.
2. Candy cane candleholder that I really need to take over to my newest Girl Scout's house since she was sick during our investiture ceremony.
3.
1. Red velvet cupcake that the baker gave me for being her 200th "fan" on facebook.
2. Candy cane candleholder that I really need to take over to my newest Girl Scout's house since she was sick during our investiture ceremony.
3.
January 31
A gift on a paper, in a person, in a picture
1. My BSF notes/questions.
2. My BSF leader.
3. Today I was telling someone about Josh's premature birth, and I showed her the photos of him that first week. He hates to see the photos of him hooked up to tubes and wires, but I like the reminder. Even though it was a terribly frightening introduction to parenthood for us, it gave us great perspective. Compared to all the other babies in the NICU, he was huge and healthy. I even felt like a fraud, like we didn't belong in there. He just needed an extra week or so to grow. It seems like a thousand years ago.
1. My BSF notes/questions.
2. My BSF leader.
3. Today I was telling someone about Josh's premature birth, and I showed her the photos of him that first week. He hates to see the photos of him hooked up to tubes and wires, but I like the reminder. Even though it was a terribly frightening introduction to parenthood for us, it gave us great perspective. Compared to all the other babies in the NICU, he was huge and healthy. I even felt like a fraud, like we didn't belong in there. He just needed an extra week or so to grow. It seems like a thousand years ago.
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