tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76004864335061862862024-03-19T06:11:11.623-04:00From the Belly of The WhaleMUSINGS FROM THE HEARTcherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-16629309533766728602012-07-24T12:04:00.001-04:002012-07-24T14:42:20.188-04:00One Smooth Stone...The young boy stood, staring straight ahead, resolved to finish the
battle started by the Giant he faced. Behind rocks and craters the
soldiers peered out at the child and trembled in their armor. This was
the point of no return and in the balance hung the freedom of every man.
Their minds raced back to the comfort of days past, as they recalled
the familiarity of avoidance. Sitting in limbo was a much safer option
than what faced them all right now. How many sunsets had come and gone
since that mighty soldier had disgraced them all? It had
long become more important for this army to be safe than to risk it all
in what appeared to be a suicide mission.<br />
<br />
Until <b>the</b> <b>boy</b>
came along, stirring up trouble and unspoken fears. With his awkward
stance, hands and feet to large for his gangly body. His question raised
the hairs on the back of these mighty men. Soldiers. Really. It
wasn’t about who was mighty enough to fight this monster, because the
truth was he was bigger and stronger than any of them. Despite the powerful jawlines and muscular stance of each of the king’s men no one dared to stand face to face with this enemy and look him in the eye - this
giant that taunted them incessantly. Deep in the recesses of their
heart was a nagging far stronger than the giant’s. "Was the God that
they stood for, who had called their people "Chosen", even strong
enough? They spent their days waiting for a sign, or a flash from the
sky. One that woul densure their safety and prove they served the one
true God. Then, this adolescent entered the camp, stepped on their toes
and dare to insinuate that they should do anything <b>but wait</b>. The
thought that someone should step up and fight sent a wave of discomfort
through the ranks.<br />
<br />
Even after it was agreed that he
would be the one to go, the king looked to secure his victory with the
trappings of a common soldier. But no, the young boy would not don
armor and mighty sword to defend his God, but rather the familiar feel
of five smooth stones. Then, face set towards the enemy, he walked away
from the camp with a backbone no man at camp had ever witnessed.<br />
<br />
He stood alone, stone in hand. And the people for whom he would one day be king, crouched, holding their breath and waiting.<br />
<br />
<b>Either their God was who He said He was or they had all been deceived.</b><br />
<br />
It
was fear that kept them cowering behind rocks, living in
tents, waiting endlessly for someone else to make a move. Even
now, they remained, poised to retreat, fearing the worst as Goliath stood
unhumanly tall mocking the boy.<br />
<br />
Had the giant looked closely he would have
seen the fire of God blazing behind David’s eyes...and might have
glimpsed the destiny of this youth. But rather, mired in conceit, he
spewed threats and barbs.<br />
<br />
And then...shoulders back, arm poised, David threw his stone.<br />
<br />
The scream, the dust flying, the crash seared in the minds and hearts of each Israelite watching.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It
would be a story told again and again over their lifetimes. Through the rheumy
eyes of aged men whose years would fall away like scales as they told the story, "Our God,
young child, the one true God came through that day."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4Xz2bhSCHR1wwFnKtMjJrVnWaX_pkyTCYya7nyzh7xb2qQpVaO37pkYg6GPL1NUbHo7F7znbTeyUrBAC5e0qz-wZK3K9noYmlMxOwgk0-RqIAfMDi_SwSRH4xIJYL9rMBEs8vS21-Jw/s1600/davey_goliath_bkgd_church.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
The
glory was not in the felling of the Giant, but a bolstering of the
faith of a nation and a reassurance in the heart of each man The power
and deity of their maker was laid bare and known to them. The fear that
had immobilized the Israelites had been shaken to its very core and at
its root they discovered the greatness of their God displayed not in the
might of a sword but in a small round stone placed in the hand of a
young boy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4Xz2bhSCHR1wwFnKtMjJrVnWaX_pkyTCYya7nyzh7xb2qQpVaO37pkYg6GPL1NUbHo7F7znbTeyUrBAC5e0qz-wZK3K9noYmlMxOwgk0-RqIAfMDi_SwSRH4xIJYL9rMBEs8vS21-Jw/s640/davey_goliath_bkgd_church.jpg" width="640" /><br />
Do you remember this David & Goliath? My favorite Sunday Morning TV Show! </div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-62537123495240495412011-04-24T08:55:00.000-04:002011-04-24T08:55:58.141-04:00...and Sunday came...<div align="center">But Jesus, with a loud cry, gave his last breath. At that moment the Temple curtain ripped right down the middle. When the Roman captain standing guard in front of him saw that he had quit breathing, he said, "This has to be the Son of God!" </div><div align="center">***</div><div align="center">All of creation surely held their breath waiting. Soon. Humanity would be once again reconciled to their creator. The sting of death and their separation from God, would be swallowed up in the victory of the Resurrection. Instead of a monumental, loud crescendo, God in true form revealed himself to his friends, quietly in a garden tomb, with barely a hint of all that truth would mean for every person who has lived since that day.</div><div align="center">***</div>10 Then the disciples went back to their homes. 11 But Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she cried, she bent over to look into the tomb. 12 She saw two angels dressed in white. They were seated where Jesus' body had been. One of them was where Jesus' head had been laid. The other sat where his feet had been placed.<br />
13 They asked her, "Woman, why are you crying?"<br />
"They have taken my Lord away," she said. "I don't know where they have put him."<br />
14 Then she turned around and saw Jesus standing there. But she didn't realize that it was Jesus.<br />
15 "Woman," he said, "why are you crying? Who are you looking for?"<br />
She thought he was the gardener. So she said, "Sir, did you carry him away? Tell me where you put him. Then I will go and get him."<br />
16 Jesus said to her, "Mary."<br />
She turned toward him. Then she cried out in the Aramaic language, "Rabboni!" Rabboni means Teacher.<br />
17 Jesus said, "Do not hold on to me. I have not yet returned to the Father. Instead, go to those who believe in me. Tell them, 'I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.' "<br />
18 Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news. She said, "I have seen the Lord!" And she told them that he had said these things to her.<br />
***cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-26990479244188732882010-11-03T09:18:00.004-04:002010-11-03T09:52:22.409-04:00...their beloved soldier...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiLcOzhyphenhyphen8txx1dt61gBN9cSDAABJJna7F1HV7Kb93iooMmhjYn4zT6WewJnMOSxdJWaiQXoNF4K-XUeyITbx4CBHiVQ5NlD4kr8asdH_utzWNftws_QhAUcNaaOyEtgsxcvgNvw3RmnTg/s1600/anthony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiLcOzhyphenhyphen8txx1dt61gBN9cSDAABJJna7F1HV7Kb93iooMmhjYn4zT6WewJnMOSxdJWaiQXoNF4K-XUeyITbx4CBHiVQ5NlD4kr8asdH_utzWNftws_QhAUcNaaOyEtgsxcvgNvw3RmnTg/s400/anthony.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Master Corporal Anthony Klumpenhouwer </b></div><br />
The years since I wrote the post below have brought much to this precious family. Births, graduations, and all the many celebrations that come with belonging to such a large family. But, as the days and weeks and years pass, the ache for what could have been, for one more day, never subsides. November 11th is Rememberance Day in Canada. On the 11th day of the 11th month at the 11th hour we stop and remember. As a child I sat in the packed school gymnasium while decorated soldiers spoke of sacrifice. What did that mean to a child? I would stop wherever I was at 11:00am while everything paused for a moment in and I would follow along, quieting my thoughts, fidgeting with the poppy pinned to my coat. Yet, until I observed the sacrifice in the face of a grieving loved one I could never truly internalize the cost. Never before could I picture the mommies and daddies who drop to the ground in devastation, as a uniformed man stands solemnly in their kitchen. Nor could I imagine the ache that each Christmas or birthday party will always bring - an empty seat and a void. Freedom costs... much more than even the lives of our young soldiers. It costs the very souls of many left behind. Those who live on cloaked in the weight of the loss. They will never forget - and we must always remember. <br />
<br />
<br />
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We heard the awful news last night on the way home from AWANAS. The girls told us that their friends’ brother had died in Afghanistan. Immediately my heart sank as I thought of this young man whom we had not seen for a long time. He had been a soldier for a few years now. <br />
<br />
When I got home I looked up the news station on the Internet to see if there were any more details about him. The top story Canadian soldier dies in accident in Afghanistan. Reading that was almost surreal because I could picture the young man they were talking about. I have sat at the family’s long dinner table after church with his whole family – all thirteen brothers and sisters, a mom and a dad … and always a few guests. I remembered the new pictures hanging on the wall as you come in the door of their home. Portraits of the whole family together: a snapshot of how they have all grown together through the years. The later pictures show an ever enlarging bunch as many of the kids have married and brought children of their own into the fold.<br />
<br />
My heart broke as I thought of them. For the media: those who watch the news or read the papers he will be another soldier killed in Afghanistan. A headline too soon forgotten, but for the family, he is a beloved son, a brother, an uncle, a cousin, and a friend. He is a face that will be missing from family pictures and a warm soul that will never sit at their table again.<br />
<br />
My prayers and tears are with them as they begin to say goodbye to a precious piece that makes them who they are.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">...they cried out to the LORD in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress. </div><div style="text-align: center;">He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed...He guided them to their haven. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Psalms 107:28-30</div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-8457135797195022852010-10-18T10:30:00.000-04:002010-10-18T10:30:36.735-04:00What do you SEE?How good are you at SEEing things? Especially things that have not come to pass yet. I love to read about inventors - people who SEE even when that vision is not yet tangible. SEE-ing in ministry helps motivate me to persevere, to put aside my insecurities and ambitions and press on. I just read Mary Beth Chapman's book "Choosing to SEE" about the tragic death of their five year old daughter and how the simple word "SEE" became a choice for them every day. Even now, when things are tough and heartbreaking and even when hope abound they make the choice to SEE.<br />
<br />
This month our children are learning about <b>INITIAVE - SEEing what needs to be done and doing it.</b> We are studying the story of Nehemiah how he chose to SEE not just the visible crumbling wall but the unseen finished work. Nehemiah chose to SEE, and then to plan and act. And as he moved forward doing what needed to be done, others were inspired to follow. They will learn that when we do our part God shows up and does what only HE can do. For some it might appear to be a story about a building project but God knew it was so much more and this quote brings it all into perspective for me...<br />
<br />
"Ezra reads the scroll, and God's word becomes more important to them than it had ever been before, because they actually witnessed and saw what God did. And there was an <b>entire generation of children</b> who had lived in a broken down city and as a result of SEEing what God did through Nehemiah and their parents and the adults of that generation, <b>believed in God</b>, in a way they had never believed in Him before. Nehemiah taught an entire generation to SEE things in a way they had never seen."<br />
<br />
That's a challenge for me - and a vision I want to hold tight to. When we, as leaders, <b>see what needs to be done and do it </b>God can speak into our children and youth in ways we can only imagine... and do what only God can do. Can you SEE it?!cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-4386342214719281382009-03-06T08:28:00.006-05:002009-03-06T10:27:06.071-05:00...flipping ahead...<div style="text-align: justify;">March 16th the doors will open and the children will race through the doors of our church for a week of Day Camp. Some will be hesitant, some will cling to a parent and many are ready to run (literally) from the minute they get there. They all know that something is going to happen that week but are not sure what that something is. By about three in the afternoon everyone has become acquainted and the place is buzzing with excitement. I can stand on the platform now and ask for volunteers and just about every hand will not only be raised, but children will begin to moan and whine and hold their hand higher, hoping for the chance to be the "chosen one". As I look down at the crowd and call one out I promise you they don't sit down and smile and my gesture, but rather they race to the front of the stage, ready for whatever is coming next. Not an ounce of hesitation is evident, they are completely present in the moment and awaiting your next words. They know that whatever I have for them to do is going to be good.<br /><br />And then I am humbled.<br /><br />Humbled at the realization that this is what Jesus is looking for in me. When he calls my name. When He choses me for a job, I know He would love me to race to his side eager to hear His instructions. Attentive to His voice and calling ready to act. <br /><br />There was a day when I was like that. I was a child then. I embraced the call with everything that was in me and doubts were squashed under my readiness to act. Now, I have grown, and matured, discovered many of my weaknesses. I've realized my list of shortcomings is huge and accepted that I'll never be wise enough, talented enough, educated enough... I've become adept at making excuses and settling for a big pile of mediocrity. Kind of like the man we are going to be learning about at Day Camp.<br /><br />Meet my buddy Moses.<br /><br />This guy stood, barefoot, in front of a burning bush, listening to the <span style="font-weight: bold;">voice of God</span> and his response was basically, "Sorry God, I'd love to help you out but...well, there's these sheep... and I have a bit of a stutter, so THAT would work would it?... and well, I could recommend my cousin if you're still interested in this whole, letting your people go thing... do you want his number?" <br /><br />I've been reading about him, preparing for camp and smiling at His foolishness. I confess I have an advantage over him. I can flip the pages of my Bible and read ahead. I know about the plagues, and the passover, and the parting of the Red Sea. I've read about Joshua and the wall of Jericho, of the Promised Land and the fulfillment of all God's promises. I can flip back and read about his sister, Miriam, caring for him in the bulrushes, and his childhood amongst Egyptian royalty. I can see how his whole life had prepared him for this task and I know what God did through Moses. <br /><br />But, sitting on a hill, all this shepherd could see was the Midian landscape where he had taken up residence. This vista represented his escape from his mistakes and from an identity he wanted to deny. In this field, a world away from the king's palace, Moses had safely curled up amongst the sheep content to live out his days in complacency. <br /><br />But God could see, and we know God had a plan.<br /><br />Jeremiah 29:11 promises us that God still has plans. Just like unsuspecting Moses, He has a job for me, for you, for all of us. His desire is that we become like the children in Mark 10 who race to his side, eagerly anticipating what His words, not like Moses hunkered down amongst the sheep making excuses. (As if it was about me in the first place!)<br /><br />Do you ever wonder what Jesus said as they ran to his lap? What did He see as He looked in their faces? What does He see when He looks in yours? Maybe it's time to climb on up and hear for yourself...<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The people brought children to Jesus, hoping he might touch them. The disciples shooed them off. But Jesus was irate and let them know it: "Don't push these children away. Don't ever get between them and me. These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God's kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in." Then, gathering the children up in his arms, he laid his hands of blessing on them. Mark 10:13-16</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Jeremiah 29:11</span><br /></div><br />When the LORD saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, "Moses! Moses!" And Moses said, "Here I am." "Do not come any closer," God said. "Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." Then he said, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob." At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God. The LORD said, "I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey—the home of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites. And now the cry of the Israelites has reached me, and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them. So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt." But Moses said to God, "Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?" And God said, "I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain." Moses said to the LORD, "O Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue." The LORD said to him, "Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the LORD ? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say." But Moses said, "O Lord, please send someone else to do it." Then the LORD's anger burned against Moses and he said, "What about your brother, Aaron the Levite? I know he can speak well. He is already on his way to meet you, and his heart will be glad when he sees you. You shall speak to him and put words in his mouth; I will help both of you speak and will teach you what to do. He will speak to the people for you, and it will be as if he were your mouth and as if you were God to him. But take this staff in your hand so you can perform miraculous signs with it." Exodus 3:4-12 & 4:10-17<br /><br /><br /></div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-2768015273918155452009-02-26T13:50:00.002-05:002009-02-26T14:05:36.350-05:00...fingerprints...<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">My friend would have turned 51 this year. As I read this again I am reminded of the legacy she has left in her children and the empty place at every family dinner. Despite their loss</span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"> I can see the smudgy fingerprints she has left all over them, and indeed any</span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">one who crossed</span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"> her path. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LZj9rBvEWwGYUJv14XjWIyWf7VNOoPl5nqhRyQzGflHLyjM7ofKSzVzaYyyCtb60li6ZlUU-1JrcOUrtad4-qB4_e6qY-OKttqQsG06_Qn07Fkf9prnwMnD3YZa6-NiRuUoblQC7rLY/s1600-h/MaryAnne.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LZj9rBvEWwGYUJv14XjWIyWf7VNOoPl5nqhRyQzGflHLyjM7ofKSzVzaYyyCtb60li6ZlUU-1JrcOUrtad4-qB4_e6qY-OKttqQsG06_Qn07Fkf9prnwMnD3YZa6-NiRuUoblQC7rLY/s320/MaryAnne.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307184012785466354" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">I was standing outside the house, gardening the day she drove up and told me she had been to the doctor. The cancer had come back she said. It was so matter-of-fact that I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly but in the days to come she, her family and friends began to process the news.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Her story has been nothing short of a miracle really. Before we had even met she had been diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma and given two years to live. I remember her telling me how she began at that time to pull away from her friends, from her family...preparing to say goodbye. And then, with only the intervention of God, she was healed. She went on to have twins and when they were about a year old we met. Our boys were nursery buddies.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">It wasn’t long until we were welcomed into the fold. You didn’t stay a stranger long in her circles. Hers was a house you walked right into - the door was always open. No need to knock - just pull up a chair, pour a coffee and join the conversation. She share her home, her life and her faith. Often she would tell me about someone here or there she had met, shared her story with and led to the Lord. Oh, yes, and they would be coming over shortly if I wanted to meet them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">The year the cancer came back the two of us were home schooling our children and spent time almost every day together. It was that year she went through her first round of chemo. She was determined to stay strong, not let it affect her but even in the early days it was a struggle. Despite her weakness, with God she was strong. Bad news, cancer or otherwise was to be taken to God in prayer and WE were to keep on being obedient. During that time I watched her continue to touch those she encountered every day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">I remember one ladyspecifically from our small town who also had cancer. The two of them had their appointments on the same day in the city hospital. She recognized her in the waiting room and went over to talk. She shared her story and gave hope to one who sitting quietly in a hospital needed something greater to live for. Cancer was not as strong as faith on that day. It wasn’t just because she was a people person either - it was because she knew the power of a life saved. Saved from sin and saved from death.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">She loved. Her friends and her family. If you were over in the afternoon she would always get the coffee ready so that when her husband came home it would be waiting for him. She was always looking for ways to honour him. She was a typical mama and fiercely proud and protective of her children. She prayed over them, worried over them, bragged about them - loved them. They each bear a part of her and will carry a legacy of faith throughout their lives.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">She loved life. She fought and prayed to live as long as God would allow. She reminded me often we have not been promised a life without struggles and heartache but we are called for a greater purpose. It is not that grand purpose for which many ascribe; fame, or knowledge, or significance, but rather a life of obedience and service. In the seemingly mundane "daily-ness" of life you could catch glimpses of Heaven as bodies were healed and even more miraculous lives were restored. In was in those everyday events, with everyday people that she became the hands and feet of her Savior.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">On her family, her friends, and even strangers, she left indelible fingerprints that have touched our hearts and made us so much the better to have known her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">She is finally in the place her heart has resided for so long. Today, she sees it all, not as a mere reflection in the mirror, but clearly revealed in the face of her Saviour. For her there is no more suffering but only joy as she saw Jesus, waiting at an open door to take her in His arms and welcome her home.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153); font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" >Now our knowledge is partial and incomplete, and even the gift of prophecy reveals only part of the whole picture! But when full understanding comes, these partial things will become useless. When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. 1Corinthians 13</span><br /></div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-49408819328488238792008-05-30T10:19:00.000-04:002008-05-30T09:52:55.249-04:00...perfect timing...We celebrate Little T's birthday this weekend. Surrounded by family and friends I am reminded of the visible hand of God carrying our little guy right to our home. We've shared 3 birthdays now with our little guy and he is a growing mixture of life. He never stops and as tiring as that is - birthdays remind me to slow down and enjoy the journey... This old entry is a good reminder of where we've been... Happy Birthday Little T!<br /><div align="justify"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIpLQd8hNpRKu-BAiXlDZnev7TCcYU5cOZWma3IyvFjZPp5OOkHg2KmC8WCvTbDIBgCLM9klMl4JMBAQrYMSpHrpq3nFH82Y70v7Wks43BKRLsdSvJtXczZ8UVbC70Gdd95vtAfi1sMM/s1600-h/P1010406.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIpLQd8hNpRKu-BAiXlDZnev7TCcYU5cOZWma3IyvFjZPp5OOkHg2KmC8WCvTbDIBgCLM9klMl4JMBAQrYMSpHrpq3nFH82Y70v7Wks43BKRLsdSvJtXczZ8UVbC70Gdd95vtAfi1sMM/s400/P1010406.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206167560528923570" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">**post from last March**<br /></span></div><br />Part of sitting in the belly of the whale is waiting. Waiting to change. Waiting for what will be. Waiting on God. While you sit, you may know in your head that God has something in store but your eyes cannot see what it is. It is a place where all of Heaven is busy working at what is unseen through our eyes.<br /><br />It was in that place that we began to pray for our youngest son. In the spring of 2003 we started the very long process of becoming foster parents. Papers were filled out. Screenings and interviews were done. Finally, the day came and we were finally approved to be foster parent. Our hearts beat in expectation.<br /><br />Then nothing happened.<br /><br />What did happen was a long process of praying, waiting and wondering if a child would ever come our way. We were encouraged to be patient. To wait for the right match. But, to anyone that knows me patient is the last word they would use to describe me. I'll work hard, come up with great ideas on how to accomplish something, to speed up the process, to make t happen...anything but wait.<br /><br />And then, on a Friday afternoon, when we were going about everyday things, we got the call.<br /><br />Our worker had a "referral" they would like us to consider. The referral being a 19 month old boy. Reports were faxed over and we spent the weekend trying to digest every morsel of who this little guy was and all the pain this he had experienced in his short life. We wondered what he looked like. What he liked to do. We were unsure how he would fit in our family. Did we have the ability to do this? In many ways this wait was like birthing a baby - soon we would see his face, hold his hand, gather him in our arms and never let him go.<br /><br />A few days later we found ourselves driving up to a home where "Little T" lived. Peeking through the back window was one the most beautiful children I had ever seen. His gerber baby cheeks and huge blue eyes were mesmerizing. He was perfect. We had not been in the house for more than a few minutes when he began to bat his eyelashes and turn on the charm. He warmed up to Big T right away, bringing him toys and books. In that instant every doubt was driven away. I just sat and watched him play. Telling myself over and over again that I was going to be his mommy. This was our new son. The one that we had prayed for. Soon, we would bring him home and he would meet the rest of his family. A big brother and two big sisters. A forever family... and we would be so much the richer for him being there.<br /><br />And now two years later our little guy has grown leaps and bounds above all hopes they had for him. What a testimony to God’s perfect timing and fit. Every day he teaches me patience. To live right here - in today - and let tomorrow rest in God’s hands.<br /><br />In fact it was quite a while after he came into our home that I realized how perfect that timing was. You see we began the process of becoming foster parents, and of praying for the child that would come into our home in the Spring of 2003. That was the exact time that Little T was born. I believe we were left waiting all that time because he needed his mom and dad to pray him through through that tumultuous time in his life. If we had rushed ahead in impatience we would not have felt that empty unseen spot that Little T would eventually fill. We would not have seen so clearly the exquisite tapestry that God was weaving as he brought us together as a family. While his face was unseen to us before his first heartbeat he was fully known to the God that holds him in the hollow of his hand.<br /><br /></div><div align="center">***************</div><div align="center"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" >For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" >PSALMS 139:13-16<br /></span></em></div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-18197527477805767212008-05-09T13:25:00.009-04:002008-05-09T13:51:10.858-04:00...coffee anyone?...<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwaEmgpLiCOgTNHSSrVvkV1dCwpeVqkHqbmvhY0wcajkcsX8Z89dR3uEZKMFpFaehvACfsqAO8vxPERBadpsmg8p4FqwY2-F6BQw0xBiBjpE0QngtvU3sChx_IH0dIACtp_h7IVreYR9A/s1600-h/P1010124.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwaEmgpLiCOgTNHSSrVvkV1dCwpeVqkHqbmvhY0wcajkcsX8Z89dR3uEZKMFpFaehvACfsqAO8vxPERBadpsmg8p4FqwY2-F6BQw0xBiBjpE0QngtvU3sChx_IH0dIACtp_h7IVreYR9A/s400/P1010124.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198431116818050018" /></a>This Red Rock called Coffee Pot Rock can be seen out our front door. In fact everywhere you look you see these majestic rocks. They surround you! This picture is from a hike to the top of Sugarloaf mountain on one of the MANY trails you can walk to and through in Sedona.<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVOZey8wpkboA04Vy8zqDTsZaDhYPA6zeTyT4A_T2vFQVjkXtZlvAky9vvAKBIy9t9Ljlb6CaBJxHUXmYsA7EXQeKlIzk1VWw92M2T3Ku_o-YcEIbfQFMgSYVHw5CsuQ5CehzwycrWsc/s400/P1010108.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198433968676334642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"> And as you can see by the </div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "></span><div style="text-align: center;">choices, it a pretty easy trek.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_MlRYW2F4TJzOnSLYIiyc1lSFq2-LWd0cIo-Unm25wDDouuHGUV2ZvjSxfW4mXMWNqz_BY-abeX7vJbo2kdpmUIQMd1nBXRFKjErxWVvf0hiCgWiWxp-NjB1crGQkkK6hZkS9fsRIdj0/s400/P1010134.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198435128317504594" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;">But oh, so beautiful!<br /></div><div> </div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWICKyH3hYJBgIlo0io534n-OrZBsl3z1l51-m9Z2qsjgrozA-yj6IGNYhJrVTHTsOIB7wY6MVvmYWIPkBIkBkLF4Q4yr99hCFw03_hYyrwsrVN50GMHOzKA3g1-RUvrdABIc98rh2BV4/s400/P1010144.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198432096070593522" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; " /><div style="text-align: center;">They made it to the top and as you can see, Little T was busy creating his own castle in the red sand!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6KXgRjy_LyBUEyiTX35J1_J6XbINVNoUKtw6uE7Efw2ZHwlQZvKdhkMO2wGh8rt5bC-P8LPHuGP5RDIBcDqUwWvw8Mt_RGegE1JJskfMRx8zhUsfnZ8t6JvJR_2pR4HKWbV-9P7FNP9w/s400/P1010151.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198436202059328610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA45QaVK0ZsYVMnLUH1QpzQ_ib4Mp4xRZ8ZpEIDmtRovuC6ykCtEFhppXHaBLLTtoGBs-PpVsh_KYIXWQr67pSJFLpY0h_Ey5tZQBuQqEhDcr-66J7YkMc9oW4li7WPEhXWrWhZCmPrXo/s400/P1010153.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198436227829132402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;">And the big kids were applying their War Paint.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-18888997274236059682008-05-01T12:28:00.005-04:002008-05-01T12:38:41.833-04:00...two more sleeps...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPa3S5dTgEti3QVtx8b8fisha1wPuUb9jLHvrm81eB5SVKlcYatGfOpmUTWzQoyZcrCR7W9Qq3Lhx_5GD_hau2TGLFvlG2SC-a6DBT8h0kpzgrYjYV09bGH5dOBxrhkrBqzNwVwXoeO-s/s1600-h/sedonaredrock.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPa3S5dTgEti3QVtx8b8fisha1wPuUb9jLHvrm81eB5SVKlcYatGfOpmUTWzQoyZcrCR7W9Qq3Lhx_5GD_hau2TGLFvlG2SC-a6DBT8h0kpzgrYjYV09bGH5dOBxrhkrBqzNwVwXoeO-s/s400/sedonaredrock.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195447535699000882" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. Romans 1:20</span></span><br /></div></span><div><br /></div><div>Only two more sleeps and we are off to see the beauty of Arizona. Pictures are as close as we have been to the Red Rocks of Sedona or the majesty of the Grand Canyon. Soon we will see it all face to face. We are looking forward to a relaxing and inspiring vacation. Hoping that time stops for just a few weeks as we relish in, not only the beauty of our surroundings but the bliss of being a family. Come along for the ride, we'd love to have you join us.</div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-64156728430151261912007-08-27T11:17:00.000-04:002007-08-27T12:28:00.523-04:00...Is God Afraid of Our Questions??...I have been listening to the accounts of the news about Mother Theresa. They are headlining her crisis of faith...her doubts about God...her deepest questions. <br /><br /><a href="www.markmallett.com/.../ Mother_Teresa.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="www.markmallett.com/.../ Mother_Teresa.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I find it strangely comforting to hear that. <br /><br />In fact, I find it hard to relate to those who plod along without question. Because as a human, with only finite wisdom, questions are surely part of our walk whether we are a nun, or a pastor or an ordinary girl who calls herself a Christian.<br /><br />In 1 Corinthians 13:12 Paul writes..."Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."<br /><br />Seems to me that God must have meant for us to questions life and God, otherwise He would have given us the whole picture. But that is the hope of Heaven. We will see it all. Laid bare before us will be the understanding of the masterpiece that is God's plan for creation. In knowing this every tear will be wiped away, every lingering doubt cast off and all sorrow laid to rest. Here we will know to the very core of our being that God is good and His ways are perfect. <br /><br />...what a hope...<br /><br />But until then I am so glad that I can come to God to question. Is He good?, does He exist? and why?... why?... doubting God gives Him the opportunity to show Himself to us, to stregthen our faith. <br /><br />And when my striving wearies me I will "be still and know that He is God." Even if at times the knowing is the faintest of convictions. I will believe that God is who He was when I was most close to Him. I will trust that when my feelings change, God doesn't. He remains truth. <br /><br />truth.<br /><br />And, if you wonder why Mother Theresa and a multitude of other doubters hung on, even limply, to their faith, I think that it is because while we are weak and wavering, God is strong and woos us to His side. He never stops revealing Himself to us. I bet God sees our spirit's core belief in Him, even when our head and our heart pile up with doubts and questions so thick we can't see through them.<br /><br />And in that place where we accepted Him, spirit to spirit, we hold on, and wait for the day when we will know fully - like Mother Theresa and many others - even as we are fully known.<br /><br />Question Him. Ask the questions buried deep inside that stand in the way of complete faith. Shed the pretense of religion and propriety, if you must, and be honest before the King of Kings. He is big enough, and strong enough to take it from Mother Theresa... and the likes of you and me.cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-77859344431114929152007-08-23T09:53:00.000-04:002007-08-23T10:43:08.148-04:00...the new puppy...It's not unusual to come into my kitchen and see a cute blonde boy and a big white hairy dog curled up on the carpet. Usually the boy is feeding the dog his peanut butter sandwich or individual pieces of kibble. The dog is usually slapping his tail on floor with a happy thump, thump. I love their relationship. From the day Little T came into our home almost three years ago they have loved each other. When all the people around him were still strangers that big gentle dog was a safe place to head for a hug. Little T doesn't care if she smells, or leaves hairs all over his clothes. Their love is unconditional and their relationship has warmed my heart. <br /><br />And that is why I was so concerned when our dog went missing.<br /><br />During the warmer weather she sleeps outside and has an invisible fence collar to ensure she doesn't wander out of the backyard. The collar is largely uneccessary as she is generally found sunning in my garden beds or lounging in the sandbox under the deck - or playing with the kids. When I went out on Sunday morning I didn't see her anywhere. We were on our way to take the girls to camp and rushing around so I sent Coco out to fill up her food bowl and water and soon we were off to camp. <br /><br />That night I completely forgot about checking on her and Monday morning I went out to give her food and the bowl was still full. Then I began to worry. We hunted through the neighbourhood, called the vets and dog catcher but no one had seen her. She had seemingly gone missing.<br /><br />I don't think it fully hit me as I expected to look out the window and see our white furry friend come bounding up to the front door to see his best friend. But she did never show up. And my mind went quickly to Little T and what we were going to tell him. I called him over and gave him the news. He looked up and matter-of-factly stated we needed to get a new dog. As if it would never occur to a four year old that a house would not have a dog in it.<br /><br />When my husband and I spoke about it that night he agreed that we needed to look for a new dog for Little T. But we both agreed that we would never find a dog more gentle and perfect anywhere.<br /><br />I got on the internet the next day and began researching breeds and sizes and availability. We agreed on one breed that we wanted to look at and found a place nearby to go visit. That night we headed out with little T and his brother Coco to see the dogs.<br /><br />And, that night we came home with a little 10 week old Schnauzer/Wheaton terrier cross. Her name is Lucy and she is a little perky doll. She is remarkably quiet and cuddly for a puppy and Little T is beside himself with happiness. He has been carrying that dog around everywhere creating another special puppy/boy relationship.<br /><br />I wasn't really sure I wanted to take on another pet. When our golden came into our house whe was already 2 years old, well mannered and extremely hairy. I cleaned up fur constantly wondering what I had gotten myself into. There were many days I wished we lived in a pet-free house. And when she went missing I thought back to those days wondering if we could be free of that. And then I looked at Little T and remind myself of the love they share. I counted the cost of the training, the pooping and peeing, the grooming, the vet bills, the whole package. It was going to cost me convenience and stretch me to clean up messes but it was going to give our children, especially Little T a relationship that is worth the cost. When we got to the breeders the puppies all looked exactly the same. How were we going to chose. And then we picked up little Lucy and I handed her to my husband. She promptly laid her head down on his hand and made herself at home...and we just had to bring her home.<br /><br />We will miss our big puppy - maybe someone will find her and bring her home and we will have double the mess and double the joy. But if not we will enjoy little Lucy and this new puppy chapter and remember fondly our big white mutt.cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-45312565315355411232007-08-03T11:36:00.000-04:002007-08-03T12:50:22.747-04:00...leave it to beaver has nothing on us...<a href="http://www.donhamilton.com/photos/mls708942.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.donhamilton.com/photos/mls708942.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><br /><div>We went to look at an awesome old house in town this week. I have been through it before the last two times it has been for sale. Both times we decided that it was more than we could afford and walked away. When we saw the for sale sign this time around, even with the increased price tag we considered it again. So earlier this week we trekked around the property, tape measure in hand, checking old beams, sloped floors and possibilities. </div><br /><br /><div></div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.donhamilton.com/photos/mls708943.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>I have to confess that I am a sucker for an old house. If only the walls could speak I would sit and listen to the stories of marriages and babies, of celebrations and wars, of change and progress. It was that I thought of as we wandered the halls countless padded feet had called home. This house, I found out, was the birthplace of Horatio Walker. I didnt know who that was until a few weeks ago when we visited the art gallery in Montreal and saw his name on a painting from our hometown. His art hangs in many art galleries in Canada as well as the Smithsonian and New York Art Galleries in the USA. Visions of a Bed & Breakfast danced through my brain. </div><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.donhamilton.com/photos/mls708944.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div>Having lived and renovated a few old homes I tend to look critically at things most romantics might overlook. Dry rot, decaying stairs and porches, overgrown gardens, leaky roofs and uneven floors. Not to mention lack of air conditioning and closet space. If I have learned one thing a coat of paint, no matter how nice the colour, does not hold a house up. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>But this house was in pretty good shape and we are finally in a position to afford a real renovation where we could hire people and everything. So we left and thought... Back and forth we went that night, discussing the ideas for improvements, how to market a B&B etc. We just didnt come up with a clear and peaceful answer.</div><div></div><br /><br /><div>The next night I went out to water the garden. I love to stand hose in hand and give refreshment to my plants. I imagine them perking up and blooming for me. As I stood by the pool trying to revive a drooping hydrangea I heard the sound of the kids screaming.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>My son Coco had discovered a nest of mice under the composter. Enough that if you lifted the side you could see them scurry away. It didn't take long for him to bring over the neighbours to see the brood. As he lifted the composter a critter scurried across the vegetable garden only to be caught stunned under the hockey stick of a 12 year old boy. And that's when the squeals began. Within a few minutes there were a half dozen or so kids chasing the mouse all over the lawn, grabbing at whatever they could find to catch it. Alas, it was the hockey stick that again caught the dazed mouse under its blade. Somehow they caught it up in one of my Ikea laterns off the patio. Inside its little prison the all came running over to me huge grins on all their faces. I smiled at their prize and turned the hose on the crew. Again screams filled the backyard as they all went running for cover. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Then I smiled. Before we built the house we live in this yard was just a cornfield. I watched the machines come and dig a foundation while I dreamed. I wanted my children to grow up like Beaver and Wally. With a street filled with friends of every age. Where I didn't have to make play dates but rather, after dinner people just headed outside to play. Where spontaneous games of hide and seek intermingled with the discovery of rodents. Where the neighbours looked out for your children and trusted you to look out for theirs. It was a great dream but the reality is so much better. I love that we can give my guys this kind of childhood. I'm thankful that it still exists. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And, as we walk these halls, we leave stories also...hidden in walls that remain silent. But the memories are clear in our hearts and minds. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Another round of screams erupts from the side of the house, its the mouse again. I focus again on watering my plants and smile. Sometimes decisions are not decided on paper but in the the laughter of children.</div></div></div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-69185691144896262942007-07-27T11:03:00.000-04:002007-07-27T14:06:52.942-04:00...mystery in the newsA mystery was revealed in the news this week...only a few blocks from where I grew up, in a house that looks very similar, a package was found. The "Package" contained a tiny mummified baby boy wrapped in newspapers, dated 1925. An initial autopsy was done that determined the baby was not murdered, nor did he die of a disease however, they were unable to determine whether the baby had been born alive. Further searching by reporters noted that a couple purchased the house in 1925 and it was sold by the state in 1941 when the man died and the wife was living in a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Psyciatric </span>hospital. What was she tormented about?? I want to know... Was it her son or someone she knew...<br /><br />I've stated before I hate to NOT know something. I remember being a child and hearing about a young girl who had gone missing. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Every time</span> we would drive somewhere the news would be on and I would hear further details that had been divulged about the investigation. It may have been the result of reading too many Trixie <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Belden</span> books but I grabbed an empty notebook and set out to find some answers. I titled my page: "Who Killed ____ _____" which of course was the headline. And then I wrote down the facts as I knew them, figuring that once I got the details straight, me, not the police, would have the answer... or not...<br /><br />This baby in the ceiling story though, begun long before I was born, grips me. I want to know what happened. I want to know who these people were. What was going on and why she was sent to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">asylum</span>. If the news doesn't divulge this information I may just have to sit down at a keyboard and create my own story - if only to satisfy me own curiositycherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-54369372005563484442007-06-26T12:08:00.001-04:002007-06-26T12:14:26.954-04:00...the Clampetts hit the Concrete Jungle...Day One...<div align="justify">So I’m wondering if this past weekend was someone’s way of giving me blog fodder ‘cause it was choc' full of stuff. We took the three older kids on a mini vacation to Montreal to soak up the French culture of our Quebec neighbours. It was a road trip - eight hours of driving across the province. I spent the earlier part of the week planning, catching up on laundry (my Favourite pastime - ha!) And perusing the internet for things to do and places to eat that would give us the whole experience. Big T booked a hotel on this site where you choose the number of "Stars" you want to pay for and they suprise you with a hotel that has a cheap room available. We got a 4-Star Sheraton room for just over a hundred dollars a which was a far cry from their $300 regular price - the reviews online were mixed but thie weekend was all about spontanaiety and I could rough it at the Sheraton right?! So what if the tiles are onlyceramic and not tumbled marble...we were ready!</div><div align="justify"><br />The morning dawned - VERY EARLY. After last minute packing and sandwich making til after midnight we were tired. The crew packed everything in the car, got Little T settled at Pre-school reminding him that Grandpa was going to pick him up at lunch and off we went.<br />The day was bright and the fields we sped past were green and teeming with cows and horses enjoying an early morning breakfast of grass and sunshine. We broke out the fruit and veggies and sat back for the drive...</div><div align="justify"><br />The first leg of the trip was to end at one of my favorite places - IKEA!! Yep, I got my fix wandering around the biggest of all big box stores. Heaven - pure bliss! I got great deal on a terracotta planter that I’m going to fill with succulents and a million ideas on how to arrange MDF laden, ready to assemble, strap it to the roof of your car and bring it home furniture. We ended by springing for the obligatory 75 cent frozen yogurt for the kids and off we were.</div><div align="justify"><br />With five and a half hours left we also made a stop at my other favorite big box store, Chapters, (also known as Borders I think in the USA). We picked up an audio version of Tuck Everlasting to listen to while we drove. It was a good book and made me think a whole lot for a children’s novel... perhaps another blog??</div><div align="justify"><br />As dinner time closed in we finally saw the sign - Welcome to Quebec - only it was in French! After that every sign was in French and the kids spent the last leg of the trip attempting to pronounce with reeeeally bad accents all the French words.</div><div align="justify"><br />And then we were there. Driving down the city streets in all their glory. It felt good to be back in the concrete jungle and all its familiar sites. Overpriced parking lots to begin with. The hotel parking was ON TOP of our room rate and after picking up our little ticket we drove deep through the low ceilinged abyss of the underground lot. Four floors below the sidewalk we finally found a spot, pulled our bags out of the trunk and headed for the elevator.</div><div align="justify"><br />The hotel was really nice... escpecially the lobby. We requested a room with a view and got one on the 28th floor. Other than the CN tower this was probably the highest building they had ever looked out. I have to admit the view was incredible and I spent a lot of time trying to take a picture of the vista only to continually take a picture of the reflection in the mirror!</div><div align="justify"><br />We got cleaned up and wandered down to the city streets to find our first French restaurant of the weekend. That’s when reality hit me...my children are like the <strong>Country Mice</strong>. They have no sense of danger, or the meaning of street lights or crowds. They are so un-citified and think they can talk to everyone they meet. They are their dad’s children in that way. I grew up in Toronto and the energy of the city gets my heart pumping. No where else can you find such diversity in so little square feet. The business man walking purposefully, head held high in his four-thousand dollar suit ambles past the man dressed in rags, looking up from a step, coffee cup in his hand, waiting for a dime. The students in their artsy clothes and trendy hair stand around as if this is their backyard and in a way it is. The women, out on the town, dressed up and adorned with jewellery and perfume walk up the street beside old man, walking with a cane down the familiar street he has traversed for almost seventy years. People, everywhere, some with a place to go, some still looking.</div><div align="justify"><br />I love to watch them sweep their eyes across the unfamiliar view. To see it for the first time. To know how different their little world really is.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">By the time we pulled the covers over our shoulders and tried to settle the troops it was after eleven and the weekend had only just begun.</div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-61524674097585589182007-06-12T11:27:00.000-04:002007-06-12T12:18:00.134-04:00...when life gets in the way of blogging...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0pImtLpYIuFiLM6FYdlTrls6fkslUXZGxl5gQTp7PebmJchr3KwEQVHu7Ghh3HnAJUW3pRpH1fYwZ3VLHlsYWdnRjAYTjQaEdbq_UQ_OVsUXGnaDsEcLyaEvSmyczhh3OBG4k6Qit7M/s1600-h/Picture085_25May07.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0pImtLpYIuFiLM6FYdlTrls6fkslUXZGxl5gQTp7PebmJchr3KwEQVHu7Ghh3HnAJUW3pRpH1fYwZ3VLHlsYWdnRjAYTjQaEdbq_UQ_OVsUXGnaDsEcLyaEvSmyczhh3OBG4k6Qit7M/s400/Picture085_25May07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075209347003968178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">On the camera phone coming out of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">anesthetic</span>!</span><br /></div><br />Well, ya... that is my excuse for not typing here for almost a month. Not great when my initial goal was to write everyday. The perfectionist in me wants to write an inspired post every time and sometimes in the midst of running after a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pre</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">schooler</span> who has escaped onto the road yet again and trying to educate 3 often unwilling students inspiration is lacking. So, I'm going to forgo the clever excuses and keep writing - not because I have inspiration or even because anyone is reading but because I made that commitment to myself and its a good one to keep.<br /><br />...and so to sum up the last month of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">bloglessness</span> we have been enjoying the beautiful weather that has come to our neck of the woods...<br /><br />We have opened the pool, fertilized the grass, mowed a few times, stained a fence and 2 decks (almost!), tidied the yard and attacked the weeds. We have also spent much time in the hospital since "Pickle" started off the season by breaking the two bones in her forearm... Big T and the older kids were at his baseball game when Pickle fell off the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">monkey bars</span> she was hanging upside-down on. She came wandering up nonchalantly to the ball diamond and asked one of the girls if her arm was supposed to look like "that". And by "that" she meant bent in a horribly wrong way between the wrist and elbow... She soon found out that no, they were not meant to look that way and a long night in the emergency room was in order.<br /><br />You know you live in a small town when the doctor has to call her husband a few too many times on his cellphone so that he can leave his post-soccer game to come administer the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">anathesic</span> to our daughter. Around midnight she finally tracked him down and he came in. Not long afterwards she was fitted with a beautiful green cast.<br /><br />The next week she had to go to a larger city nearby to see the orthopedic surgeon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">who</span> removed the cute green cast that was set just below her elbow with a boring white one that is set just below her underarm.<br /><br />We remedied the white cast with a blanket of colourful sharpies but she still is not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">happy</span> that she cant move her arm for 6-8 weeks.<br /><br />Also... our cat Emmy had kittens. They are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">soo</span> cute! Cats take 9 weeks to gestate. That is wonderful knowledge if you know when she um...had relations with the neighbour cat - but if you just sent her outside because of her incessant meowing you might not recall that date exactly... you will be able to make an educated guess by the size of her growing belly and the discontent that she seemed to be feeling the day of. The evening of actually. She was meowing and complaining and hunting for a spot to birth - even though I had made a nice one. Then, just after dinner she crouched down in the hallway and made a horrible noise. Cookie starts yelling, "Mom. the cats limping, she hurt her leg!!" I counter that her leg is fine but she must be about to have the kittens. I yell for my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">farm boy</span> husband to come and gently carry her to the box. He respond to the cries by scooping her up before she heads downstairs and as he is heading for the box out drops kitten number one... momma proceeds to stop in the hall to clean her up while Big T proceeds to record the icky goodness with our camera's video tool... I wont post that here. But a few hours later she had given birth to three mini-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Emmys</span> and a black kitty and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">a tabby</span> kitty who obviously look like their dad... One cream baby has died but the other ones are almost a week old and growing and getting cuter by the day.<br /><br />Other than that - life has been uneventful... just the way we like it!!cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-45921318559037406222007-05-16T17:33:00.000-04:002007-05-16T17:36:08.156-04:00...growing up...I can remember vividly the excitement of going away on a Youth Retreat for the first time. Everything was thoughtfully packed away in my bag. I made sure that I had the right clothes, the right makeup and hair products. I thought about who I would sit with on the bus and where on the bus we would park ourselves for the three hour ride to our destination. I was so excited.<br /><br />The details of that weekend are a blur now. After all it was over 20 years ago that I boarded the bus that first time. But many other weekends followed and I eagerly anticipated each one during my years at youth. They were weekends spent with friends, old and new. Rushing to look my best at breakfast in the morning. Eyeing up the boys sitting together, trying so hard to look cool. Countless campfires and hikes and Games of capture the flag and snow volleyball. Services where my heart was moved and altar calls where we prayed together, cried together and grew together. I remember trudging back to cabins with friends, talking until late into the night. I remember pranks we pulled on the boys and the ones they pulled on us. Incredible memories and monumental decisions were packed into those days away from home.<br /><br />And where did the time go?<br /><br />Was it just yesterday I turned around and that life, my youth, was gone? The years slowly pile on each other, one by one, until you finally start to feel “grown up” but a small part of still feels 17 with all the same intense feelings that define those times in our life.<br /><br />And now I find myself at the other end of the spectrum. My son will go away on his first youth retreat this weekend. Its hard for me to believe he’s old enough but underneath the boyish face I look at a young man is starting to emerge. I’ll send him on his way understanding just a little of the excitement he’ll be feeling. I’ll be the one to wait and pray while he begins his own journey to independence. I’ll start to trust others to begin to help influence and shape him. I’ll (try to) pry my fingers, ever so slightly, from the tight grasp I have on him. Knowing the One who loves him best has a secure handle on every detail of his life.<br /><br />And I’ll anticipate the minute he comes back home full of stories and his very own memories. Oh. I’ll bask in those moments, knowing how fast life moves and how very few years I have left to keep him this close to his home and his mom.cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-84369137917957496272007-05-14T10:07:00.000-04:002007-05-14T13:01:22.231-04:00...Spring Fever and Chocolate Bunnies...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7tjShL5tGZXw_LxZVVvO7mSl-aVYQGvXsQsnypkUoQPHMDF47kh2lzdIeLrT-hACrjUHu0Jc0PaKEpnKQdajPf0mmCAtsi3RWcTrCpl9bOmto6tSKsbuN8lQ_txsIaC9kXuCCT6SsZU/s1600-h/P3100100.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064462294376416098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7tjShL5tGZXw_LxZVVvO7mSl-aVYQGvXsQsnypkUoQPHMDF47kh2lzdIeLrT-hACrjUHu0Jc0PaKEpnKQdajPf0mmCAtsi3RWcTrCpl9bOmto6tSKsbuN8lQ_txsIaC9kXuCCT6SsZU/s400/P3100100.JPG" border="0" /></a> <em><span style="color:#333399;">Big C searching for minnows.</span></em><br /><br /><div align="justify">After an extremely snowy winter spring has finally come to stay in our little neck of the woods. It may have been posted on the calendar a while ago, like March, but in Canada THAT is just a number on a page. Here we are unable to slip a pair of colourful capris over our white legs and don a new pair of sandals permanantly until May.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064454572025217858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizvgz5tFZx4ts-sQhSAXAcCs310xr8gp3G66oON_aBp5NuG6uDc9fMLHiB0zRkLOqtB_k6dd3meA9iLDz_QJb3KgLwZvJLjf4qsTKPjvcDPlpQftmo_gDzHnBKzFcR0fmET98EqbYg8sM/s400/P3100199.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><p align="center"><span style="color:#333399;"><em>Little T and his sister "Pickle" playing with kittens.</em></span></p><br /><p align="justify">There is something about this season that is so invigorating. New baby kittens and budding tulips aside, the brightness of the mornings and the soothing feel of the warm sun gives me the push I need to get us out to clean the yard, pick up all the toys, shoes, discarded mittens and other clothing that has found its way to the backyard. There are a few advantages to the snow however. In fact there is something revealing about spring's thaw that I wrote about <a href="http://fromthebellyofthewhale.blogspot.com/2007/02/blankets-of-grace_6710.html">here</a>. </p><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064442374318097186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8TmztyyUjg_cw2wl70yaOoG-S_1aFQsm1sqKUlTWkce8HkLn8Xr3jU6pnuhO6zPY2xBE5DeBGkPJirRpf7BqeVj_pFk0KwvHDl22oyuvRWKKnh6dsKpJEuNUY14nXte_KyiNdzXqTIQ/s400/P3100526.JPG" border="0" /><em><span style="color:#333399;">This is a view of our pool - wanna go for a dip anyone??! </span></em></div><br /><br /><div align="justify">This spring we purchased an invisible fence for our dog. She is a beautiful golden retriever with the most gentle personality. Her only flaw is that she can't find a spot on our 1/2 acre backyard that is QUITE RIGHT to do her "business" on. The neighbours yards all seem to have much more enjoyable spots to leave her treasures. And let me tell you how endearing that makes us to the neighbours. Because we have a huge backyard that would cost thousands of dollars to fence we just tried ever so hard to keep the dog on out property. But wanderlust reared its head again this spring and we gave in and spent the $399 on an invisible fence with a collar that zaps her if she runs too far. IT WORKS AMAZING. She sticks close to home and doesn't need to be tied to a rope outside. If you need one of these we found out after the fact that there are many sold on E-Bay because they work so well after a month or so people don't need them any more. It would have been useful information to have had before we spent $399 but it was worth every penny to me. The delightful side effect of the fence is her "tresures" seems to land near our back door which, while good for neighbourly relations can be a little hazardous for our shoes. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064454589205087058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_L3f2tksU78HV8DNpxkcGAh-2yMKYU6ApAHjpUXGkoQqORpjzmy-jx8UnH9Dz2hp8E6XWyKUpFB0OmJF4_4MmAFximt4QbAl2k0KX58xABT6P09I6x6r7DyRGwxsxoT8j91sziHuIQeA/s400/P3100505.JPG" border="0" /><em><span style="color:#333399;">The dog & toddler contained...best buds!</span></em></div><br /><div align="justify"><br />It got me thinking/wishing for an invisible fence for toddlers.<br /></div><br /><div align="justify">Another advantage of having four feet of snow surround our house is that it is very HARD for three year old boys to walk very far. Even if he didn't have to be bundled up in boots,, snowsuit, hats, mittens and scarves that cover all but your eyeballs its hard. It tends to become a huge sandbox where he can sit oout for 10 MINUTES and make castles and snowlumps before he wants to come back inside to play.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify"><br />But come spring thaw, the word "boundaries" leaves his vocabulary. (if it was ever there) He has found that a three year old can run so much farther when there is only grass beneath his feet. He can run right past the neighbours yard and onto the road. He can run towards the field where the green tractor plows the field, or he can hop on his bike and head to the park at the end of the street . Yes three years olds can head just about anywhere they take a notion to go when they have 4 wheels and orange crocs.<br /><br /><strong>And so...these are the first places we looked when Little T went missing the other day.<br /></strong><br />I was doing laundry and trying to keep him inside (HA!) but he kept escaping out one of the doors. Then I would either yell for him, cofirming the "Crazy lady" rumour going around the neighbourhood, or run around looking for him, drag him back inside kicking and screaming, get him settled down and watch for his next escape attempt. He keeps me on my toes but I am developing a great radar.<br /><br />But one slip up can cause the whole household into chaos. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">This time I looked all the usual places the escappe usually heads and he was nowhere to be found. So I dispatched the troops (aka. my older kids) to the park, the road etc. We could not find the boy anywhere. I looked in closets, under beds and in bathrooms. I wondered if there had been a partial rapture for a minute even. But for the life of me I could not find the him. My heart was beginning to race a little faster and I had begin to offer up desperate little prayers.<br /><br />Then I went back in my room for a minute and looked at my unmade bed. I thought I saw the duvet moved ever so slightly and figured I better investigate. Sure enough under my blankets I found this:<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064424936750875362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_c4brQP0xJR4/RkhzpcKqguI/AAAAAAAAAGM/WvmjlwyrtOU/s400/Florida+And+Spring+Stuff+009.jpg" border="0" />Yep... little stinker had kept quiet for a reason. I looked at him sternly and said, "DO NOT MOVE A MUSCLE BOY." and I ran to grab my camera.<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064428548818371314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiym5M7R9Lwp6CM95Z_TIgZjZWOSM3bonZqqkzO_86j8wDreXhjy92oFc_wau2S9o83B-h1mP7rAnRr-NgceSpEXOEJ0Nl9Xpm4vefXnAzVk-T9oUECZ4tOLQxdEjNuqaxixrSE0-h0aDU/s400/Florida+And+Spring+Stuff+013.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><p align="center">Then I asked him. "Little T, what are you eating?"</p><br /><br /><p align="center">He replied as the brown drool puddled on my sheets, "NUFFIN!"</p><br /><br /><p>"I See." Looking at him trying not to laugh and asked, "Well, there seems to be a few chocolate bunnies missing. Do you know who ate them?"</p><br /><br /><p>He nodded, a confession was forthcoming, "Yes mommy, Pickle. Pickle at the Bunnies!"***</p></div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-68563080706348237322007-05-11T20:04:00.000-04:002007-05-12T16:44:25.001-04:00...summer reading...<div align="justify">So I am deciding on the books that I want to read this summer as I play lifeguard by the pool. Hopefully the writing will inspire me, make me smile, make me think and maybe nudge me to my knees a few times. Here are my picks. If you want to, join in and leave yours too.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMG8H_gSgZzevD7_lCgXeKZ9tGaw4t1DD3CKVFT7SZvv9CrlrHDZ_PgrWYaNLdc53Ywoe8YDWG9tboHugG315hjTElsJJ8InhGAX0aCzJsv2iTTooTahSzEk2qtTmVBii9Fb5x929so8/s1600-h/quakersummercover.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063471750363906690" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 98px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 139px" height="192" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMG8H_gSgZzevD7_lCgXeKZ9tGaw4t1DD3CKVFT7SZvv9CrlrHDZ_PgrWYaNLdc53Ywoe8YDWG9tboHugG315hjTElsJJ8InhGAX0aCzJsv2iTTooTahSzEk2qtTmVBii9Fb5x929so8/s400/quakersummercover.jpg" width="98" border="0" /></a><strong>Quaker Summer by Lisa Samson</strong>- I have started reading this one on a recommendation from another blog. Here is the description for this book:<br /><br />Every year I think there must be more to life, and every year, despite a new car or a trip to a new land, new milestones and triumphs in my son's life, or a redone deck, a pool, a spa, or entertainment system, I take stock and think once again, I was made for more than this. But I love my stuff.<br /><br />Heather Curridge is coming unhinged. And people are starting to notice. What's wrong with a woman who has everything--a mansion on a lake, a loving son, a heart-surgeon husband, and soapstone countertops--yet still feels miserable inside?<br /><br />Yet when Heather spends the summer with two ancient Quaker sisters and a crusty nun in a downtown homeless shelter, she suddenly finds herself at a crossroads.<br /><br />Sometimes you have to go a little bit crazy to find the life you were meant to live.<br /><br />I am VERY slow going through this one, which is strange, because its a novel. Its not that its boring but I haven't sat down for a long stint and the book hasn't sucked me in emotionally like say a Karen Kingsbury novel.<br /><br />But I am thinking and thinking is good.<br /><br />I just read this:<br /><br />"...normally read fast-paced mysteries and suspense, and quick reads in magazines and online. Quaker Summer by Lisa Samson wouldn't let me do that. The pacing of the book, which was perfect, slowed me down, forced me to think. The characters and setting are so vivid, so real, and the story so poignant, this book will stay with me a long time."<br /><br />...and am glad cause it means I am not just losing my brain cells at an ever quickening rate!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixvIU6y5bFEk7hOPUpaGuSU0u5XKrDIG4qlEPEqZpxDG5aDFIm_kucjhrKFOL57NgDOkK4cZcd_b0MDZYad506ULUQdAHOZjs_CZAf2hl4shYuAd7MVAozCgmmFJQQWvMj4vWNnWb5nhY/s1600-h/mere+christianity.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063472450443575954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 105px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" height="277" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixvIU6y5bFEk7hOPUpaGuSU0u5XKrDIG4qlEPEqZpxDG5aDFIm_kucjhrKFOL57NgDOkK4cZcd_b0MDZYad506ULUQdAHOZjs_CZAf2hl4shYuAd7MVAozCgmmFJQQWvMj4vWNnWb5nhY/s400/mere+christianity.jpg" width="128" border="0" /></strong></a><strong>Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis </strong>- This is one I have wanted to read for a while. It is simple and yet there is so much I want to understand in it that I am reading along at a snails pace. Maybe I should take notes - like on this blog - hey!!?? there's an idea.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xvAMEHOKnpDzZysM3_8hZYEeUsdpdP5FIRHfm27KYNpPcqkkMVqS2qp8EcC4h6QY1IpZP2vCg1oo134dzxW2W15HSOq4kihYFErTduzJ3Q53zQVj2RB_olVqqeS69F8bl3tG952td0M/s1600-h/Cecil90Minutes.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063474202790232754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 109px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" height="257" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xvAMEHOKnpDzZysM3_8hZYEeUsdpdP5FIRHfm27KYNpPcqkkMVqS2qp8EcC4h6QY1IpZP2vCg1oo134dzxW2W15HSOq4kihYFErTduzJ3Q53zQVj2RB_olVqqeS69F8bl3tG952td0M/s400/Cecil90Minutes.jpg" width="110" border="0" /></strong></a><strong>90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper</strong> - Ever wanted to know what Heaven was like? This author was pronounced dead for 90 minutes and went to Heaven. Meanwhile a stranger on began to pray for this dead man and he came back to life and to this Earth. I have a lot of friends and loved ones that have recently gone and a friend said they were really encouraged after reading this book. That and the cool title helped it make my "must read" list.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Fw6vGKzKDtJthktJQfozN1cTlHGWjYG77NNoPSVu7YSSSJRUiNPh5E25NoKSKbFklU9wsF6LNr5X8pAibpciHKAUrbhM0coomsbhk9VLGMGM_srfzQkgVgWKQxwzh4UdfewSB-RECzA/s1600-h/0060175400.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063474898574934722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 108px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 144px" height="290" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Fw6vGKzKDtJthktJQfozN1cTlHGWjYG77NNoPSVu7YSSSJRUiNPh5E25NoKSKbFklU9wsF6LNr5X8pAibpciHKAUrbhM0coomsbhk9VLGMGM_srfzQkgVgWKQxwzh4UdfewSB-RECzA/s400/0060175400.jpg" width="162" border="0" /></a><strong>The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver</strong> - What a totally cool title. It intrigues me greatly. From the reviews I read its about Missionaries that head to the Congo with all they think they need and find out what they really need. Isn't that just how we all are...all the things, ideas etc. we really need - how much of that gets in the way of what God wants to do?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9EJ594jPV7pbfNV-JwYvVT_OtXbDnmd3oCUfyraycJBvXLjK_SzwSCuzvSXFe1N0fbue3XeCHc80APfyyr850XdbJBSdDYrmEzUVJMn1NZwvHcmOifLkAR1aH4D4Ogz2YWC3KVbVExOI/s1600-h/tale+of+three+kings.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063472944364815010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9EJ594jPV7pbfNV-JwYvVT_OtXbDnmd3oCUfyraycJBvXLjK_SzwSCuzvSXFe1N0fbue3XeCHc80APfyyr850XdbJBSdDYrmEzUVJMn1NZwvHcmOifLkAR1aH4D4Ogz2YWC3KVbVExOI/s400/tale+of+three+kings.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a><strong>A Tale of Three Kings by Gene Edwards</strong> - I bought a new copy of this a while ago and though I have read my favourite snippets again I want to read this one from beginning to end.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hT4WMrTHGbrGZBVceimrTr58P9Y1dfXZAuA7kJURUA46mWKs1HAzz7CzYNdPTXW9S2v8rBLWNmeIH3yvoJkvRNI2F-O96zpYVDvxf_RMi2fKXKHy3H4CH8JXZlyKowEMreMgLDO7fo0/s1600-h/11687815.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063776997984600786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 84px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px" height="144" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hT4WMrTHGbrGZBVceimrTr58P9Y1dfXZAuA7kJURUA46mWKs1HAzz7CzYNdPTXW9S2v8rBLWNmeIH3yvoJkvRNI2F-O96zpYVDvxf_RMi2fKXKHy3H4CH8JXZlyKowEMreMgLDO7fo0/s400/11687815.gif" width="84" border="0" /></a>Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Rolling by Neta Jasckson - YIPEE - the Yada Yadas are my favourite novels. Don't let the bright covers fool you - they are FAR from chick lit. Seriously, if you haven't read any of these books get thee to a store or a library AS SOON AS YOU FINISH READING MY BLOG!! This is a brief description of what cannot be encapsulated in a li'l ol' nutshell of a blog:<br /><br />What do an ex-con, a former addict, a real estate broker, a college student, and a married mother of two have in common? Nothing, or so I thought. Who would have imagined that God would make a group as mismatched as ours the closet of friends? I almost didn't even go to the Chicago Women's Conference -- after all, being thrown together with five hundred strangers wasn't exactly my "comfort zone." But I would be rooming with my boss, Avis, and I hoped that maybe I might make a friend or two. When Avis and I were assigned to a prayer group of twelve women at the conference, I wasn't sure what to think. There was Flo, an outspoken ex-drug addict; Ruth, a Messianic Jew who could smother-mother you to death; and Yo-Yo, an ex-con who wasn't even a Christian! Not to mention women from Jamaica, Honduras, South Africa -- practically a mini-United Nations. We certainly didn't have much in common. But something happened that weekend to make us realize we had to hang together. So "the Yada Yada Prayer Group" decided to keep praying for each other via e-mail. That worked for a while, but our personal struggles and requests soon got too intense for cyberspace, so we decided to meet together every other Sunday night. Talk about a rock tumbler!--knocking off each other's rough edges, learning to laugh and cry along the way. But when I faced the biggest crisis of my life, God used my newfound girlfriends to help teach me -- Jodi Baxter, longtime Christian "good girl" -- what it means to be just a sinner saved by grace.<br /><br />Every book deals with an aspect of the women's lives. You will come to love each quirky character for their real-ness. You will wish you were a part of Yada Yada. This one book deals with facing really painful situations, letting go, growing up. God is prodding them on. As the father Denny tells his daughter, “Sometimes God knocks the props out from under us to help us grow up. Life goes on. We have to keep rolling.”<br /><br />Ouch and Amen!<br /><br />And so... I am off to use my Chapters discount card to mail order the books I don't have on this list. In the meantime I'm gonna brew me an un-sweetened ice tea with lime and get ready to READ... please join me, there's plenty of room on the swing!</div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-4314493307973884522007-05-11T10:45:00.000-04:002007-05-11T12:31:40.069-04:00...pureed fries anyone?...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lWpSRrEMOas1UOy57ytGu86ARuWIFw1hZ4URXn-6Uwsaue-SW_as4c8QryhkZ9nj1Hv8m5W0GeXHgpU1rpPnjGeB-XnmXALTs-0NJvpfAXsmlRCWWXJmo8O25p4SCpJ3FDrmHzT5laA/s1600-h/baby-ronald.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lWpSRrEMOas1UOy57ytGu86ARuWIFw1hZ4URXn-6Uwsaue-SW_as4c8QryhkZ9nj1Hv8m5W0GeXHgpU1rpPnjGeB-XnmXALTs-0NJvpfAXsmlRCWWXJmo8O25p4SCpJ3FDrmHzT5laA/s400/baby-ronald.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063341316502094434" /></a><br /><br />I'm lovin' it...baby Ronnie!cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-12236701187190661392007-05-09T20:13:00.000-04:002007-05-09T21:52:13.835-04:00...as quoted...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEP-lj49x_c55bupw6qSTVSkyIbTU1EpnbEBftPap-rN8_ZMpWquKItAR3V1r39bkB-owFA1pkIwq6iVSGnpt3_fjT9nOOeMGL0dj3xSQcZ8Ova0zdHJe2l6CbvItdPeDxGIg1Zv1iOzY/s1600-h/P5080286.JPG"></a><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqf0l7gmUsAxyTATSA0f1efod_4gVsBtqa5U3qjrNngTgLnZfGV9JAOHKx-TOJpAcVrBegQx-oW4LBWz78pRU73H-hxhQr9bujXfSmcJZ3MPrUFUR91Ne4eKapDYC5B-AbpKOzwQLNB_Y/s1600-h/P5080287.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062742310298223170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqf0l7gmUsAxyTATSA0f1efod_4gVsBtqa5U3qjrNngTgLnZfGV9JAOHKx-TOJpAcVrBegQx-oW4LBWz78pRU73H-hxhQr9bujXfSmcJZ3MPrUFUR91Ne4eKapDYC5B-AbpKOzwQLNB_Y/s400/P5080287.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="color:#336666;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"All children not claimed within 24 hours become the property of The Walt Disney World Corporation. They will be taken to the "It's a Small World" ride, their little feet crazy-glued to a piece of cardboard and taught to sing that ANNOYING song in 37 different languages!"</span> </span><div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;">- <em>Cruise Director on Disney's Jungle Cruise.</em></span></div></div></div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-54248771149192033732007-05-02T08:43:00.000-04:002007-05-02T09:14:19.863-04:00...Silly Songs With Sanjaya...the part of the show where we...GET BACK TO THE REAL SHOW!<div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">I have to confess that I would love to have seen Sanjaya back as a side show - JUST TO SEE what he would have done with his hair and clothes...imagine "Headbanging with Sanjaya".</span></em></div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><div align="justify"><br /></span></em>...I am secretly a "rocker chick" at heart and I love me some Bon Jovi. But seriously was this not an amazing week on Idol? The kids stepped up and rocked the joint...</div><div align="justify"><br /><strong>Phil</strong> must have earned himself a few million votes by picking this song. <strong>Blaze of Glory</strong> is one of those power songs and all his years of singing it with a comb in the mirror finally paid off. (How many stars got their start on a hairbrush I wonder?) Seriously he was da’bomb!</div><div align="justify"><br />I mentioned to my hubby that he might want to get one of those Leather Jackets that Phil was wearing but he wasn’t sure it would go with his khakis and oxford...</div><div align="justify"><br />Oh <strong>Jordin</strong>... you have some Rockin’ hair so don’t take Simon’s jabs to heart. But honey, you know after that performance you may just be "<strong>Stayin’ on a Prayer</strong>". I loved, loved that you agreed with the judges when they said it "wasn’t your best". </div><div align="justify"><br /><strong>Laskisha</strong> and Simon Sittin’ on a stage<br />K-I-S-S-I-N-G<br />First comes love<br />Then comes marriage...<br />Oh yeah, "<strong>This Aint a Love Song</strong>" but the girl rocked! She was great, not screechy this week but I just can’t get over the fact that Simon liked Lakisha’s lips. Sooo...funny!</div><div align="justify"><br />And for this week, I am officially a "<strong>Blaker Girl</strong>"... if I was 17 and single I’d be swooning. I was really worried what he was going to do "<strong>You Give Love a Bad Name</strong>". I mean, Beat Boxing Bon Jovi??!! Come on! But I was more than pleasantly suprised. He kept the rocky essence of this power-house song and added an incredible TWIST. </div><div align="justify"><br />I was watching Gilmore Girls last night and one of the characters had to eat a big bowl of shredded wheat so that she could get her throat all scratched up so she could sing all "gravelly and rocky" <strong>Chris </strong>coulda used some of that cereal. He was a cutie this week, however, and while "<strong>Wanted: Dead or Alive</strong>" needs more guts and raunch to do it justice, the performance, like all the rest, was good.</div><div align="justify"><br /><strong>Melinda DOOlittle</strong>... you DOO everything so well. From a gospel standard to BON JOVI! Seems that you channeled your Inner-Tina-Turner to pull this one off. You had fun, laughed at yourself and you "rocked-on" with perfection, thank you very much! I can’t wait to do church with you someday! <strong>You are my American Idol girl!</strong></div><div align="justify"><br />Now, unlike last week someone has to go home. I think it will probably be Chris or Jordin.</div><div align="justify"><br />Phil, Melinda and Blake have got to stay.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Rock On Internets!</span> </strong></span></div><div align="center"><em>Back to <a href="http://boomama.net/?p=1122">Boomama</a> for more...</em></div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-37915483989215527252007-05-01T13:39:00.000-04:002007-05-02T09:06:08.073-04:00...secret obsession revealed!!...So.. when I'm not blogging or chasing children or doing laundry <strong>again</strong> and <strong>again</strong> and <strong>again</strong> I am peeking into my secret obsession - blog reading. Here I can laugh with moms all over the world, share in their sufferings and try out a few new recipes. Some day I'll get my techie-head screwed on right and post my fav's on the side but until then... let me introduce you to some of the best writing in Bloggetyville.<br /><br />The momma of all mamas is Boomama...She's got a heart of gold and her southern accent just makes me smile. I know I have never heard her in person but her writing is that good. Here are some of my favourites. Firstly, in honour of the less than stellar colour I am now sporting may I present <a href="http://boomama.net/?p=837">Me and My Hair-Brained Ideas</a> as an appetizer.... for a main course lets go with <a href="http://boomama.net/?p=967">Serving the Internets One Clogged Artery at a Time</a> and for dessert lets go with the trends and talk <a href="http://boomama.net/?p=413">skinny jeans</a>... If you are a TV kinda person <a href="http://boomama.net/?p=854">this</a> and <a href="http://boomama.net/?p=870">this</a> are hits. But be warned - her charmingness is addictive and you might never come back!<br /><br />And a few new blawgs I am beginning to love.<br /><br />Mental Tessarae has this post "<a href="http://mentaltesserae.blogspot.com/2007/04/from-hazardous-area-of-my-mind.html">From the Hazardous Area of my Mind</a>" that shares the reality of worrying over our children's safety. Me and my imagination can so relate.<br /><br />And another new favourite is My Best Investments. It is a blog written by a dad that takes an oh so funny view on life with kids. Hard to pick fav's but <a href="http://mybestinvest.blogspot.com/2007/03/its-going-to-be-mantastic.html">here</a> and <a href="http://mybestinvest.blogspot.com/2007/02/going-global-with-this-thing.html">here</a> and <a href="http://mybestinvest.blogspot.com/2007/01/add-one-more-name-to-axis-of-evil.html">here</a> are great starts.<br /><br />And for a challenge to your faith and a glimpse into the strength of the human spirit read Heather's battle with a Brain Tumor <a href="http://www.especiallyheather.com/">here</a>. She is really amazing and this Thursday she will be operated on to remove the tumor in hopes of saving and prolonging her life. There is an amazing prayer chain started by <a href="http://www.living-in-grace.net/">Kelli</a> who has her own story of waiting for a transplant. Another blog that I peek in on is about <a href="http://www.ashleyadamsjournal.blogspot.com/">Ashley Adams </a>a little girl who is fighting for her life. She has had a triple organ transplant and now is fighting cancer. The miracle and glimpses of grace her mother shares are inspiring.<br /><br />These three remind me life can be so hard but God is Good - ALL the time.cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-71696032275128384802007-05-01T09:31:00.000-04:002007-05-01T09:46:33.876-04:00...the perfect guy....<br /><div align="justify">I met the perfect guy in church 2 Sundays ago! He was tall, had dark hair and eyes and olive skin. He was dressed pretty well too. But, what really got me was that he was really praising God as he sang. While I tried to sing my eye kept being drawn to him and as he raised his hand in worship my heart skipped a beat...THERE WAS NO WEDDING RING ON HIS HAND!!!<br /><br />Perfect I thought. I looked over at my husband, two seats down from me and began to plot and plan. How was I going to get an introduction to this guy? Me, being the quite shy and only bold in my own head type of person, decided hubby would have to do the introductions and we would take this slooow and casual-like. But let me tell you, on the inside I was already picturing the wedding. He would be standing at the altar, waiting for his bride...<br /><br />And my awesome (once) single friend would head down the aisle on her daddy’s arm to meet him. I would sit at the back of the church silently rejoicing at how God had used me that Sunday morning to find the love of her life. ...makes you want to get out a hanky and wave it in the air don’t it??!!<br /><br />You must realize that this is all going on as I am trying to sing "Blessed be Your Name" with the rest of the congregation in majestic praise, but I think God understood that there was something going on here (right!?). And then the song changed. The atmosphere in the church became quiet, somber as we sang a slow song. I focused myself, closed my eyes and leaned forward with my hands on the seat in front of me to sing. After a moment I opened my eyes and looked down...And.There.It.Was...just staring at me...taunting me, if you will. A filled out visitors card for the very boy I was trying to get an "in with". Truly this was a God moment and my ol’ heart did a hallelujah... well, that, and all my self control fought within me NOT to be NOSY but to SING THE BEAUTIFUL SONG. But, alas, my flesh was too weak and I looked. I did it. I read his name. And I noticed that he lived in a nearby town...excellent I thought, no need for anyone to move away...Now, what church would they attend?? Hmmm... As I pondered that,, I looked down again to the bottom of the paper. He wanted a pastoral visit...this was really impressive...this man was serious about God. Oh, and as I read further it said "healing for my family" and, isn’t that wonderful that he loves his family. And then, oh yes, I read the word I never thought would be there. WIFE... He had a wife and wanted prayer to restore their marriage. And in that instant, while the band played and people all around me worshipped, my hopes and dreams crumbled into a little pile o’ sand at my church shoes. As I watched my matchmaking dreams go belly up (yet again) I had one small, TERRIBLE thought. "Maybe, it just won’t work out with his wife and then..." AND THEN I REPENTED and turned away from the closed door. I learned a long time ago not to sit and stare at doors God has closed wondering what might have been. Let me tell you though. It was hard.<br /><br />You see my friend is the greatest. The friendship started when she was still in youth group and we helped out the pastor and his wife. She would sneak sugar laden donut-bites to my toddler hoping he would get hyper. And then I watched her grow into such a strong, beautiful woman. She has always been a support, someone I could ask to pray for me. She has told the truth, had my back, laughed with me and cried with me. We don’t hang out often enough. She’s a social butterfly, busy with a multitude of friends and activities.<br /><br />And did I mention that she is single?<br /><br />While she attended the weddings of her friends and siblings we all hoped that "the one" would come along for her. If anyone deserved a great guy it was this chickie. And, while I never meant to become a matchmaker I seemed to find these guys, like the one described above that would be just perfect, if not a great story to tell at the reception.<br /><br />But in watching her in her singleness, I have come to admire her even more. While many guys have come her way over the years she has never met the right one. She might tell you, as she laughs, that she is just too picky, but I think it is deeper than that. She is really waiting for God’s best. Even if that means being single and leading a life that is different from the traditional one she might have envisioned. If only we could all do that with "stuff" in our life. God’s ways are good. His plans are perfect. Waiting for His gifts is worth the time. She has taught me that... not in words, but through her life and example. Its one of the reasons I love her.<br /><br />Someday I hope to sit at the back of a church, watching her stand by the back door, arm linked in here daddy's, beaming and in love. I’ll smile as I remember all the guys that "got away" so that the perfect one for her could be standing, tall, dark and handsome, at the end of the aisle, waiting to take her in her arms.<br /></div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLw18tb_5BZgNralfSub8IT-EWSaN7IcPyF93cBaKYencuICjKc55oSVtFSkUuvhlI4I7ieBFuyaUv-uK3ECviKddY1PqcLP6DoG80Dbd9XK-fCm7xFPH7IF95f1RewALGG2VPY9DEOfw/s1600-h/yenta.jpg"><em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059587515085390098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 158px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 107px" height="147" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLw18tb_5BZgNralfSub8IT-EWSaN7IcPyF93cBaKYencuICjKc55oSVtFSkUuvhlI4I7ieBFuyaUv-uK3ECviKddY1PqcLP6DoG80Dbd9XK-fCm7xFPH7IF95f1RewALGG2VPY9DEOfw/s400/yenta.jpg" width="192" border="0" /></em></a><em>...and if God wants to slip his phone-number to me sometime to pass on... I will willingly do my part as "Yenta, the matchmaker" yet again... anything for a friend!</em></div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-41434122932423958102007-04-27T11:33:00.000-04:002007-04-27T12:14:06.961-04:00...I’m glad I’m not God...<div align="justify">In the book "A Tale of Three Kings" there is a passage that is one of the most beautiful and difficult quotes I have ever read.<br /><br />Gabriel is giving out destinies to men that will one day become kings. To one, he gives the gift of power. He explains that the gift of power will not change the inner person but rather: "Outer power will always unveil the inner resources or lack thereof."<br /><br />The second king receives an "inheritance". The angels explains: "A gift is worn on the outer person; and inheritance is planted deep inside - like a seed. Yet, even though it is such a small planting, this planting grows and, in time, fills all the inner person."<br /><br />As the king steps up to receive his inheritance the angel goes on... "I must tell you that what has been given to you is a glorious thing - the only element in the universe that can change the human heart. Yet even this element of God cannot accomplish its task nor grow and fill your entire being unless it is compounded well. It must be mixed lavishly with pain, sorrow and crushing."<br /><br />And, that is why I would never want to be God.<br /><br />I watched my friends, an entire family, crushed under the grief of losing a brother, and a son. The sorrow etched upon their faces, in the recesses of their eyes was something I could never willingly place upon another human. It doesn’t seem right that a 25 year old young man has been taken from this earth. The gaping hole it will leave in the hearts of 12 brothers and sisters, in a mom and a dad, can never be filled. The reality of the loss will be part of them always and each will grieve in their own way.<br /><br />While I know that the crushing and bruising of brokeness is what creates the beauty found in God’s children. That it is the the source of the perspective and the gentle grace seen in the faces of the oldest of saints It still seems so cruel to put a heart through that wounding.<br /><br />And...if I was God...<br /><br />As I witnessed the tears shed while this family looked at their soldier, lying in a coffin, I would have resurrected his body, shaken off their sadness and set their feet to dancing. I would orchestrated events so that they seemed "right" in my own heart and mind. Yet, in doing that, I would have stolen the beauty that will come only through this sorrow.<br /><br />Soldiers who sat in church with the family, hearts softened at the loss, might never have heard the gospel. The family, in their grief, might not have leaned their ears so close to their father, seeing him as the spiritual head and protector of their family. Eternity, and the short breath that is this life, might may not have been so real. Hundreds of people would not have been praying for these children, these parents - this family. And so much more, that I will never see, would have been lost to eternity.<br /><br />I heard a saying once, "Don’t sacrifice the eternal on the altar of the immediate". They are noble words, but, held up to the light of reality, it is so much easier as humans to live in the immediate. To take action with our feelings instead of trusting that there is so much more, of eternal value at stake.<br /><br />While I would have done things differently in this boy’s life and would have spared the family this week’s agonies, God knows best. And while we only see a dim reflection of the big picture, I know His ways are perfect and what he does is eternal and excellent.<br /><br />And for this family, for the days ahead, <strong><em>He is enough</em></strong>. </div><div align="center"><br /><br />Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a <em><strong>living hope</strong></em> through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an <strong><em>inheritance</em></strong> that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.<br />1 Peter 1:3-7<br /><br />I will bring (them)...<em><strong>through the fire</strong></em>,<br /><strong><em>Refine them</em></strong> as silver is refined,<br />And <strong><em>test them</em></strong> as gold is tested.<br />They will call on My name,<br />And I will answer them;<br />I will say, ‘They are My people,’<br />And they will say, ‘The LORD is my God’”<br />Zechariah 13:9<br /><br />And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, <strong><em>hope</em>. </strong>And <strong><em>hope does not disappoint</em></strong> us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.<br />Romans 5:2-4<br /><br />Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 1but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. <em><strong>Now I know in part; then I shall know fully</strong></em>, even as I am fully known.<br />And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.<br />1st Corinthians 13:8-13</div>cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7600486433506186286.post-39630066357926772532007-04-18T14:30:00.000-04:002007-04-18T17:02:45.078-04:00Blessing HeatherWhat exactly does one do when the doctor tells you that you have a brain tumor? When they begin predicting the number of years you will live? If you are Heather you step foward and face the challenge with the grace and dignity that only comes from a daughter of the King. <br /><br />If you haven't heard Heather's story read here. Read her "Brain Stuff" links and then read about her cute Emma Grace. You will be moved to pray for her and her family and she will bless and challenge you with her transparency.<br /><br />Today the whole of "Bloggetyville" is stepping up to bless Heather and help her with the many unforseen expenses they are about to incur through this cancer battle. As of 1:30 today internets far and wide had raised $5150.00 for her family already! God is good!<br /><br />So... give if you feel led and pray if you feel moved. Its not everyday you get to be part of a miracle.cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08987546735549819313noreply@blogger.com0