tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85185700781912140702024-02-07T11:28:29.092-08:00Life From ScratchLiving life without an "instant" solution.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-16814410622312153422013-03-06T14:09:00.000-08:002013-03-06T14:09:20.509-08:00Thoughts on my birthday<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's my birthday. 26. Old to some, young to others......and no matter how you view it, its always a reason to celebrate! Even my daughter, who is 3, has been asking all day "When are we going to your birthday mommy?" Obviously she thinks there is always a party involved........hated telling her that all we were doing today was laundry. She had the same reaction I had when I stared at the mountain of responsibility I had for the day......yuck.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can honestly say though that I am glad for the ability to have clothes to clean (*gasp!!* Did I really just say that?) and dishes to do, and toys to clean up. It means that all my needs for clothing, shelter, provision, and love have been provided for. Yep, I am blessed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do you ever think about what will be said at your funeral? (Woah Rachel, you just took a morbid turn from birthdays to death, all in a few short sentences.....) Do you ever imagine who will speak? Hoping that all that is said is a true testament to the wonderful character you assume people see? I do, I hope people want to speak on the fact that I loved Jesus with every fiber of my being, and not speak on the fact that my daughters favorite thing to do is to discipline her stuffed animals for saying naughty words.......naughty words that I might add, are words she has heard me say countless times in moments of weakness. (Can I just say that she is smart? She somehow thinks she can get away with saying the naughty word if it comes out disguised as her stuffed kitty's voice......where in the world does she come up with this stuff?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was brought to a passage today in Genesis 9. At the end of the chapter it talks about a weak moment for Noah. A moment where he did not use the best judgement. A moment when his children had a front row viewing of his failure. (I so feel your pain Noah. Its as if our kiddos know right where to be when we fail.) </span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Gen-9-20" id="en-NIV-226"><sup class="versenum">20 </sup>Noah, a man of the soil, proceeded<sup class="footnote" value="[<a href="#fen-NIV-226a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]">[<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+9&version=NIV#fen-NIV-226a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</sup> to plant a vineyard.</span> <span class="text Gen-9-21" id="en-NIV-227"><sup class="versenum">21 </sup>When he drank some of its wine,<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-227AC" title="See cross-reference AC">AC</a>)"></sup> he became drunk and lay uncovered inside his tent.</span> <span class="text Gen-9-22" id="en-NIV-228"><sup class="versenum">22 </sup>Ham, the father of Canaan, saw his father naked<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-228AD" title="See cross-reference AD">AD</a>)"></sup> and told his two brothers outside.</span> <span class="text Gen-9-23" id="en-NIV-229"><sup class="versenum">23 </sup>But Shem and Japheth took a garment and laid it across their shoulders; then they walked in backward and covered their father’s naked body. Their faces were turned the other way so that they would not see their father naked.</span></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Gen-9-24" id="en-NIV-230"><sup class="versenum">24 </sup>When Noah awoke from his wine and found out what his youngest son had done to him,</span> <span class="text Gen-9-25" id="en-NIV-231"><sup class="versenum">25 </sup>he said,</span></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Gen-9-25">“Cursed<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-231AE" title="See cross-reference AE">AE</a>)"></sup> be Canaan!<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-231AF" title="See cross-reference AF">AF</a>)"></sup></span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Gen-9-25">The lowest of slaves</span></span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Gen-9-25">will he be to his brothers.<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-231AG" title="See cross-reference AG">AG</a>)"></sup>”</span></span></span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Poor guy. The man called to be the "crazy guy who built a big boat" and was faithful to that calling, the man who was in charge of thousands of animals in a tight confined space (its enough to make me crazy just thinking about it), the man who was responsible for re-populating the WHOLE EARTH, the man who worked hard to establish a living for his family by planting a vineyard.....couldn't just sit back with nice glass of wine, without it ending tragically. I feel for him. Bad judgement on the drunkeness and nakedness part......but still. Bummer. You know what it says after this passage?</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Gen-9-28" id="en-NIV-234"><sup class="versenum">28 </sup>After the flood Noah lived 350 years.</span> <span class="text Gen-9-29" id="en-NIV-235"><sup class="versenum">29 </sup>Noah lived a total of 950 years, and then he died.<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-235AL" title="See cross-reference AL">AL</a>)"></sup></span></span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Really? Thats it? He died. No grand eulogy. No going out party. He died. Thats it. HELLO! This guy is responsible for the most popular themed nursery and baby shower to this day. His boat has been recreated by fischer-price for pete's sake. He has a childrens song written after him (**God said to Noah there's going to be a floody floody**.) That is big stuff! I seriously laughed at the irony of how the last story written about him is about a slip-up in character, and then he dies. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All joking aside......that is exactly how God wants it to be. He doesnt want us to be sought after for how great we are, He doesnt want us to be honored for obedience, He may not even want the last story told of us to be about how spotless our character was........He wants His will to be done, and He wants us to be a part of it. Its not about us.....because His way is going to happen whether we are apart of it or not. Of course people know that Noah was obedient, that he was a part of saving mankind, and that animals came to him two-by-two........but the last story also shows that he was human, and it was a reminder to me that God did it all, not Noah. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am real with people. I want people to know that I screw up......mostly because if they see any good in me at all, they will recognize its God in me. I cant be good on my own. I am not good on my own. My daughter is a ever-present reminder that I am not good on my own (does anyone else's kids only repeat the bad words they say and not the good ones?) Of course I still want nice things said about me at my funeral....lol I am not crazy. But I really hope the residing theme in my life is the visible way God's will was done. And that He used me to do it. And that despite my shortcomings, He still saw me worthy to carry out His task. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear Lord- Thank you for another year. Another year to make mistakes and realize I need you. Another year to have many successes and realize I couldn't have done them without you. Another year with You. What a blessing that is! I realize my reactions to the stories found in your Word are less than typical, but I thank you for finally bringing me around to what you are saying. Its all about you. So while I am humbled completely by the well wishes of family on this day of my birth, I pray you constantly remind me that its not about me, ever. Amen</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-57127681326583866032013-02-27T20:39:00.000-08:002013-02-27T20:39:58.433-08:00Turn your eyes upon Jesus<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So tonight Jason took Mikayla out to a local basketball game just to have some bonding time together. Mikayla was so excited to go out! In fact, as we were talking at the dinner table we asked her what her favorite part of the day was and she said "When Daddy takes me to the basketball game!" (Which had yet to happen but she just knew that was going to be the best part of her day!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So with the house to myself, I turned on some worship music and sat down with my bible and journal to have some time with God. I am beginning to really love our weekly dates! As I was reading, I became so intrigued by the specific song that was playing on Pandora.....it was a song by Selah, and the harmonies were wonderful! Then, all of a sudden....mid-song.....the darn station changed! I verbally vented my frustration with the non-responsive Pandora station, as it picked the most inopportune time to change. The song that came on as the interruption was "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus." Awesome song. This rendition was not nearly as harmonic as the song that was so rudely cut off, but talk about a song with enticing lyrics! My mom used to sing this song to us when we were ill, or struggling to fall asleep after a nightmare. I didn't realize the power of the words then, as I do now. I feel like the fact that the station changed mid song was a call for me to "look full into God's wonderful face." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nothing bugs me more than when I am talking to someone and they are looking elsewhere.....it makes it seem as though their attention is divided......it makes me feel as though they don't really care to hear me fully.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I am trying to get my daughter to hear me fully, I have to CONSTANTLY tell her "look at my eyes." So much so, that sometimes we spend more time talking about the importance of paying attention to Mommy than we do addressing the reason for why she was needing to pay attention in the first place!!! Mikayla has even picked up on this cue to the point that when she knows she needs to be listening, she puts her hands to the side of her eyes as blinders so that she can't see anything past them. So funny, so smart, and so something I need to learn.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tonight, I sat down to spend time with God in His Word. I sat down with the intent to hear Him clearly. Then I became completely distracted by the beautiful harmonies of the music I had on. Yes, it was worship music, but God was calling me to "look at His eyes" meaning that He wanted my undivided attention. I communicated to Him that I didn't really care to hear Him fully......but that harmonies of music were more important at the time. I should have taken the cue from my three-year-old and put my "blinders" up to the distraction.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We are human. We are fleshly. Our thoughts carry us away from the task at hand. But it is truly amazing how when we turn our eyes to God how our thoughts, concerns, and cares all become truly dim in His presence. It was not wrong that the music was on, and most times, worship music plays a huge role in my time with the Lord......but today it was a distraction. Instead of giving Him my undivided attention in the beginning, possibly to hear Him on any number of things in my life, I was distracted.......and the time was then spent on reading about the importance of looking at Him fully. Still a good lesson to hear, and a sweet time spent with Him.......but I wonder what I maybe missed tonight because of my distracted self.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Turn your eyes upon Jesus,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Look full in his WONDERFUL face,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the light of His glory and grace. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God, this is my prayer. As much as I want this earth to be dim, I more so want your grace to be bright, in my life, in my vision, in my heart. I want the constant reminder of you grace, I want it to be in my dreams, in my waking thoughts, in my memories. God please allow that to be all I desire. Allow me to always turn my eyes to you. Amen.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-7472254659425631282013-02-15T16:28:00.001-08:002013-02-15T16:28:48.145-08:00It's been a while.....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Its been a long time.....almost a year! Let's pretend that did not happen, and pick up where we left off......shall we?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Its been quite the month for me. LOTS of pain, physically and emotionally, ending with a complete meltdown that sent me straight into the arms of God. Definitely a good place to be, but the way I got there was less than desireable. Every night for the last week I have had un-interrupted, focused, intimate dates with God (thanks to my wonderful husband for shouldering our parenting burden known as bedtime by himself!) It's been such a nice treat to snuggle up with a blanket and some yummy tea, and dive into several books that have taken me on an in-depth dive into The Word......for hours each night. I think I have spent more time with Him in the last 5 days than I have in the last 5 months! That is both a sad and exciting realization. It has been comforting, heart breaking, romantic, thought provoking and........exactly what my soul has needed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was brought to a huge realization last night of how much I need to meet with God in the morning before my day begins. I have always fought the idea, because well I am not a morning person, but more so because I have more focus during the hours when Mikayla naps, so that is when I dedicate my time to prayer and devotions. But then I read this in my book last night: </span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Do not have your concert first, and then tune your instruments afterward. Begin your day with God." -J. Hudson Taylor</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every day is to be a concert.....especially as a mother, there are PLENTY of sounds throughout the orchestra of my life. Why in the world do I let myself believe that I can go even half the day on my own strength? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, does that mean I have to spring out of bed with a bubbly disposition? Goodness I hope not. Do I have to wake up hours before dawn to dedicate that time to the Lord? Maybe.....if dawn is when the chaos begins. Mikayla is typically my alarm clock, and she then proceed's to "wake-up" by watching cartoons and eating her cereal for about 45 minutes every morning. SO this morning I decided to use Mikayla's "zombie" time of day to pray and seek God's plan for my day.....and then use her nap time to read and study.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I was journaling this morning, I noticed that I was on the second to last page of my journal! Such a cool feeling to know that I filled a whole book with my conversations with the Lord. As I turned the page I noticed that my dear-little-artist-of-a daughter, drew pictures all over the last page! Determined to finish out my prayer (and have my last page be filled with words to the Lord and not scribbles) I just wrote around the scribbles. Then I laughed at the irony. Even in my private devotional book I am having to work around my child! The thought then occured to me. God wants our devotion. He wants us to push through our distractions of life to dedicate time to him. He wants us to "write around the scribbles" of our life in order to begin and finish with Him. Its not about filling a certain quota of the day.....its not about having hours and hours of prayer in order to mark something off the check-list. Its about loving Him with dedication and devotion........and I am now convinced that my dedication and devotion must begin in the morning, and finish with Him at night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am reminded of the story of how God blessed the people of Israel with manna every day to sustain them for the journey. They were to collect it EVERY MORNING, because when the sun grew hot, the manna melted away (Exodus 16:21). It was easily accessible but they were commanded to collect what they needed for themselves alone, every morning. They were also commanded to not keep any till the following morning, because it would become maggot infested. IT WAS NO USE TO THEM THE NEXT DAY.......huh. My time with the Lord is not made to sustain me for weeks, or even days....my time with Him is supposed to sustain me for that day. It is made to strengthen me for that day. How can I receive that if I wait to seek him mid-day? Like I said, He showed me good stuff these last few evenings!</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear Lord, Thank you for loving me. Thank you for always continuing to pursue me......even in my denial and sin. It is sinful to not love you with my whole heart, mind, and strength. Help me to recognize your subtle love notes throughout the day so that I may be in better tune with the orchestra you have placed me in in this life. I love you God.....so so so much.</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">AMEN!!</span></em><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-14637111750938430192012-02-10T14:07:00.000-08:002012-02-10T14:07:45.014-08:00Post about the father parenting via facebook.....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you have not seen the video, go here:</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.litefm.com/cc-common/mainheadlines3.html?feed=421220&article=9738000"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">facebook father</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I found this video to be incredibly funny, I am not sure how much I agree with his technique. The girl was extremely disrespectful, completely and undeniably wrong. And, shooting her laptop may have been the perfect message to send (I would have sold it personally, laptops cost a lot of money) but why do it publicly? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realize that not every parent desires to raise their children up from a Godly standpoint, but doesn't every parent want their kids to speak highly of them? How in the world is this situation going to keep her from talking badly about her parents? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess I can just speak from personal opinion here. I want my daughter to find safety in me. I FULLY realize that she is not always going to like me, or the things I make her do. She has already made that perfectly clear at the age of two. But I hope that I only catch her complaining about the things I make her do, not complaining about me, or talking badly about me to her friends. I can say that without a doubt, I never said one negative thing about my parents, only the fact that I hated the things they made me do. My parents were strict, they had rules, they made us do chores, and I hated those things. But I never bashed who my parents were. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What I am getting at here is that harsh and strict discipline should be done in private. I feel like if this father really cared about getting to the heart of why this happened, he wouldn't have posted it for the whole world to see. In my opinion, I think he was just sticking up for himself, or maybe proving to the world that he wasn't going to take that disrespect laying down. But parenting is not about what the world sees. Its about your relationship with your child. I don't see how this is going to build more respect in their relationship. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To be clear. I believe in discipline. Every form. But discipline is for the sole purpose of teaching YOUR CHILD what is right and wrong, to show YOUR CHILD that you do not approve of their behavior. It is not to show THE WORLD that you refuse to be a negligent parent. If your child's behavior changes, the people around you will see that, and will automatically infer that action was taken to change it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every parent has a right to discipline/raise/encourage their children the way they see fit, but if you are going to post your parenting on the internet, you open the door for scrutiny and disagreement. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Props to you, facebook dad, for taking action and following through with what you warned your child about. But extreme failure (in my opinion) for making it a public event. I truly hope that for the sake of your relationship, that this does not completely ruin who you are in your daughters eyes, because at 16 years old, the biggest thing that that girl needs (regardless of what a brat she is) is to know that you, her father, love her and have her best interest at heart. Even if it is while shooting her laptop full of bullets.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-13904814922610561442012-02-09T13:32:00.000-08:002012-02-09T13:32:49.776-08:00Dear Husbands....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok, or the ladies who are reading who have a husband......because I don't think any guys actually read this (well aside from my husband because I make him.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is my Valentines day challenge (of sorts) for you:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make your wife feel:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Admired</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Desired</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Inspired</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Otherwise she is just "too tired."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Come on, I know you have heard that one before. But rather than putting the blame on your wife for why you didn't get laid (yes I totally just said that, but I am married, and I am talking to married people, so that is perfectly acceptable. God said so.) why not give some thought to your interactions with her throughout the day? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are you skimming out the door with a just kiss on the cheek? Are you complaining that your work clothes aren't clean? Have you called her just to say that you love her? Have you offered to get up in the night with the child who won't go back to sleep? Have you told her that it is perfectly acceptable that the dishes weren't done? Have you called her beautiful when she was wearing her sweats and a ratty t-shirt....for the third day in a row? Have you thanked her.....for anything......not pertaining to your immediate needs? Have you praised her for a creative meal, or a clever way of organizing? Do you ask her about her day? If you are answering no.......eeek. No good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ADMIRE: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stare at her. Appreciate the fact that she has not gotten her hair done for 3 months, and tell her that you still love her natural hair color. Take a look at those stretch marks, and rather than be thankful that she has clothes to cover them up, be thankful that that was what covered up your child for 9 months. Did she patiently clean up the 3rd cup of spilled water from your toddler at dinner time? Tell her that you noticed her composure. Did she sound mature and articulate in a phone conversation you overheard her having? Tell her. Are you blown away by all the delicious meals she has prepared recently? Don't just assume she knows because you ate it all. TELL HER. We like to know that we are admired outside of when we get all dressed up, it shows us that you notice the things that are un-noticeable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">DESIRE:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all know you men have those "adult" thoughts throughout the day. Let us know. But not in a dirty way. Be sweet about it. Make an inside joke about it. And please don't just do it when you catch us getting dressed or stepping out of the shower. DUH. We know you want us when we are naked. Its when we are playing with the kids, or cooking dinner, or doing laundry that we feel the most undesirable, and that is the time when we could use the pick me up. AND, when the kids are in bed, and the day is done, act on those things that you said. A man that is all talk and no action gives way to the "I'm too tired" excuse.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">INSPIRE:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a hard one to do. I get that. But give your wife the ability to be inspired. Encourage and appreciate her creative thoughts. Sometimes all it takes is a loving and supportive man to get us through our work day, to push us to complete a project, to force us into a frame of mind to be loving and creative with the kids. We know that listening about how our day went isn't always thrilling, but if you show interest, then you will be the person we look forward to being with at the end of the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realize that these are easy concepts, but they are so simple that they are easy to skip over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe I am writing all this because I have seen these things in my hubbie lately. He has been through a truly stressful season at work, this week especially. Really long days, lots of problem solving and messes to clean up. And because his days have been like that, MY days have been like that. So rather than just complain about his day, he recognizes that my days have been hard too. He has picked up dinner for us 3 days this week. He has been gracious about the laundry not being done, even though he barely had any clean clothes. He has praised me for the things I have done with Mikayla. He has made me feel desired, even though I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I have looked.....and probably smelled....awful at times. He keeps his mouth shut when I am a crabby grouch in the morning. He bought me ice cream. He is apologetic. He has prayed for me. I love him to death. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I can truly say, that even though the long days at work have made him "too tired" lately, it is definitely not something he has heard me say <span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, and ladies, I will be writing to you soon, so don't think you are off the hook <span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-82252075940470716642012-02-03T13:14:00.000-08:002012-02-03T13:14:55.963-08:00Letter DaysSo on Monday I decided to start working on letters with Mikayla. I was bored with our normal day-to-day stuff, so I thought that working on a different letter each day with her would bring out some creativity in me. I think she is enjoying it, and learning little bits here and there. She does get the letters and the sounds mixed up, but I can tell that the wheels are turning. Here are some pictures and some of the activities we did. <br />
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<div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><u>Monday: The letter A</u></div><div align="center">Apple painting</div><div align="center">Applesauce for a Snack</div><div align="center">Making Play-doh Apples and Alligators</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3-2wBq3w2CwHVvIp5XtGBx7CxwbxfdAp376HCUer7_oTyDvK7zJYgtho2gJxuLagT4t2AapgVsPpxtOSar48CXcdkI4IsFVWEs1wfEq6BooFaQ-QM7BjuMtjJqk8gInun0EzcGQxXO0/s1600/IMG_0692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF3-2wBq3w2CwHVvIp5XtGBx7CxwbxfdAp376HCUer7_oTyDvK7zJYgtho2gJxuLagT4t2AapgVsPpxtOSar48CXcdkI4IsFVWEs1wfEq6BooFaQ-QM7BjuMtjJqk8gInun0EzcGQxXO0/s400/IMG_0692.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHEyF69j90tX0QtL2zFE_bd9wfAxB5tExO8fG7Xz7e4rUxEAmeuHKyQhdRfubDgIUqBcE5gWzhAElIvSEjPjEtk4nBSc-KsROJq49IHeiLFbBGUDSnNLy3xz_3EhrgRCw7YiNWdo3r64/s1600/IMG_0687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHEyF69j90tX0QtL2zFE_bd9wfAxB5tExO8fG7Xz7e4rUxEAmeuHKyQhdRfubDgIUqBcE5gWzhAElIvSEjPjEtk4nBSc-KsROJq49IHeiLFbBGUDSnNLy3xz_3EhrgRCw7YiNWdo3r64/s400/IMG_0687.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><br />
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</div><div align="center"><u>Tuesday: The letter B</u></div><div align="center">Painted a Brown Bear picture</div><div align="center">Made a TP roll Bumble-Bee</div><div align="center">Band-Aid Butterfly Picture</div><div align="center">Bounced Balls into a Basket</div><div align="center">Played with Bubble wrap</div><div align="center">Played with Balloons</div><div align="center">Read 'Brown Bear Brown Bear'</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyblqnoK9MqWQp0uv42s9YeegFRYP8QVPtgjltvot-Hq_SXPdbSE5I3pDTopo_uWhXUeIpWBdkyaux9GrMqC2TXBlkP9UYPVoZgvRMRC8mrMThNe3A6vp7c34pUJe_D26lYKliwSuD0g/s1600/IMG_0717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyblqnoK9MqWQp0uv42s9YeegFRYP8QVPtgjltvot-Hq_SXPdbSE5I3pDTopo_uWhXUeIpWBdkyaux9GrMqC2TXBlkP9UYPVoZgvRMRC8mrMThNe3A6vp7c34pUJe_D26lYKliwSuD0g/s400/IMG_0717.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqM28-0Ukt_NTtEWJbafhyphenhyphenNDjzsD_yiicv_M0fT37gbsnkvKBKBoVAjAXXcQthgIb1szVcsAAoBG5aUQwcbnwB1o1stIZRR6QYYSebMeKKcyPvzOEabJWs8jUdhhG8PypCIBkJzXGT74/s1600/IMG_0730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiqM28-0Ukt_NTtEWJbafhyphenhyphenNDjzsD_yiicv_M0fT37gbsnkvKBKBoVAjAXXcQthgIb1szVcsAAoBG5aUQwcbnwB1o1stIZRR6QYYSebMeKKcyPvzOEabJWs8jUdhhG8PypCIBkJzXGT74/s400/IMG_0730.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><br />
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<div align="center"><u>Wednesday: The Letter C</u></div><div align="center">Colorful Construction paper Cat</div><div align="center">Colorful Cup Caterpillar</div><div align="center">Made a Card for Daddy</div><div align="center">Built a Castle out of Blocks</div><div align="center">Made Crowns</div><div align="center">Read Clifford</div><div align="center">Watched Cat in the Hat</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhut1SPrulb2i7HGnjqudeK0h5MVYa3BYB3BSJQKwymfW9ZFZq70bxDzXBgOUukAOXegjsdx5nCwBYyZkWwSdalJ5zarsPqNwTpQKhoZjjzpxXW0TdPHSA5rejawxzq-wPSNuS1GiDUR0A/s1600/IMG_0734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhut1SPrulb2i7HGnjqudeK0h5MVYa3BYB3BSJQKwymfW9ZFZq70bxDzXBgOUukAOXegjsdx5nCwBYyZkWwSdalJ5zarsPqNwTpQKhoZjjzpxXW0TdPHSA5rejawxzq-wPSNuS1GiDUR0A/s400/IMG_0734.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEuE9L5wWOBb-iwp9u5IphNHU5snQHNOK4BWtQq1Lm4SXRk5SNkMLbh1fRfTBrZtNDbhksNGJxK-BT70biIJTOqX_m1QrGPEdF9IgO-OE9-Gn9_6msEoMC-AldMmAkSxB65smhd1zNSnI/s1600/IMG_0790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEuE9L5wWOBb-iwp9u5IphNHU5snQHNOK4BWtQq1Lm4SXRk5SNkMLbh1fRfTBrZtNDbhksNGJxK-BT70biIJTOqX_m1QrGPEdF9IgO-OE9-Gn9_6msEoMC-AldMmAkSxB65smhd1zNSnI/s400/IMG_0790.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u>Thursday: The Letter D</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wore a Dress</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Went out for Doughnuts</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Doodled</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Bought a new Dance Game for the Kinect:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyYGwsYA7h7LZEG9hrgsnP1k3eZrEbIoHRBFLp3A7Mc32BXRxA-gJnV5LUmveb9Bk936cWCdb36wGxOYRy7lw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">We definitely had a lot of fun, and I am looking forward to next week already!</div><div align="center"></div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-5875798217501249862012-02-02T13:17:00.000-08:002012-02-02T13:17:11.963-08:00Work in Progress.....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How often do you hear that saying? "Oh its still a work in progress," or as my husband at times says about himself, "I am a work in progress." Artists tend to say it when they are showing their un-finished artwork, because they don't want viewers to have a true opinion based on how it looks at that point, because it does not look the way it should or will look in the end, it may even look bad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Normally that saying comes as an <u>excuse</u> for the way something or someone is/appears/acts NOW. It lends way to the idea of "I am just human" or "Nobody is perfect." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But what if we reversed the thought to a "glass is half full" mentality. What if "a work in progress" became an indication of the beauty THAT IS TO COME? What if it gave a glimpse into the wonderful-ness (yes that is a word. My blog. My rules.) beyond the point that the "work in progress" comment was made. Suddenly, things are just a little brighter. It gives people something to look forward to instead of giving them a reason to be ok with whatever it is now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am tired of hearing people, Christian and non-Christian alike, say "Well he/she is a Christian, they shouldn't be doing that." or "Wow, he/she is a Christian, and they are acting that way? How hypocritical."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is the thing:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being a Christian does not automatically make you faultless on this earth. Likewise, being "of the flesh" or "only human" does not let you off the hook for making bad choices. But we are God's "work in progress" and there will always be beauty beyond that point of disgrace, mistake or shame if we belong to Him. When judgement creeps up in my mind about someone who knows Christ, I hear God telling me "Just think about how much worse this situation could be if they didn't have me. They are still a work in progress, and there is goodness in their future, because I am their future."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dear God, I will, forever and always, be a work in progress. I know that. But would you remove the negativity and show me the beauty in that statement? Would you allow me to be excited about the greatness in my future, and would you allow me to learn and move on from my mistakes. I am tired of living in a "glass is half empty" world. I want to live in the knowledge that there is goodness in my future because my future, hope, faith, love, and life is in You. Would you remove the judgement in me, and allow me to see myself especially, as well as those around me as you see them? In your righteous, blameless and hope-filled name I pray these things, AMEN.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-59843292040935459912012-01-25T12:55:00.000-08:002012-01-25T12:55:19.868-08:00Cleaning isn't the hard part..........<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's the putting away of the clean items that has me falling low on the "good housekeeper" list. Cleaning the laundry is the easy part, but when it comes to folding the mountain of laundry and putting it in its designated space, I fall extremely short. You know your clean laundry has been sitting too long when it starts to become dirty and you need to wash it again :) Oh and dishes, don't even get me started. It takes effort to maneuver around my two year old to get all the pots and dishes put away when they are clean. Maybe its laziness, but humor me for a minute and just call it a convenience issue :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it sounds like this is something I have in common with a lot of women and mothers. Thank heavens I am not the only one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But isn't it true with our life too? Its much easier to take a step in the right direction and clean up our lives. Accepting Christ was the easy part for me, but what do I do with this life now that its clean? I would much rather let it sit there, but like with the laundry, if it just sits, its susceptible to getting dirty/wrinkled/lost. BUT AT TIMES IT FEELS EASIER TO LET IT SIT....right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But what about those days when you actually did your wifely duty and put away the laundry, and you didn't have to run down stairs to retrieve a now wrinkled piece of clothing. OR when you went to reach for a clean spoon, and low-and-behold, there was one there! Its kind of a nice feeling, isn't it? It takes all the guessing/frustration/work out of the moment. We can eat our food at that moment without having to clean a dish, or we can get dressed knowing that all our options are folded and right in front of us. SO much easier! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We need to do something with our freshly-clean selves. We need to put us to good use. What if we sat down and filled our head with Psalms or Proverbs, or the words of a worship song. When it comes time to need it, and its right there, its a nice feeling. You don't have to go digging, you don't have to go without, its right there waiting for you. </span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><strong>But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it, and how from infancy you have known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work. (2 Timothy 2:14-17)</strong></em> </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know that as a mother, the line of the verse that says "All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness" is the encouragement I needed to "put this clean laundry away" today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do you have some laundry that needs to be folded? :)</span><br />
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<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-9446456019599243442012-01-06T13:05:00.000-08:002012-01-06T13:05:55.055-08:0020/20 vision<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I finally went to the eye-doctor, after....ahem....5 years, thinking my vision was going to be horrendous. I apparently have "healthy eyes" with just small needed adjustment when driving. Score! I was excited that I didn't need anything stronger than the occasional need to wear glasses, and I was excited to be able to read street signs without having to pass them first. Getting from location A to B is not going to take as long now!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I got my glasses and put them on, and WOAH. At first I thought that I had the wrong prescription. It felt so strange. But then, I looked at a billboard sign in the distance, and I could read it! But why did my eyes feel so strange? Shouldn't seeing clearer be an easy adjustment? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess not. Its a weird and uncomfortable adjustment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apparently seeing God clearer is a weird adjustment too. I have been in a rut this week of wanting to WANT Him. I still don't believe people when they say "I love my quiet times with Jesus. I can hardly wait to sit down in a quiet moment and hear from Him." I don't know what that means. I love my times with Jesus, but I don't love it until I am in it. I often times sit down thinking "Man I really would rather be doing X, Y, Z......but I know I need this." WHY????!!! Its so infuriating to me this week. Why can't I just want to sit down with Him? Why is it that I don't desire that? I love it when I am in it, but its hardly ever something I sit down excitedly wanting to do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grrrrr.....I don't know if I am explaining this right. I love my relationship with God, and I love Him, and the way God speaks to me is unfathomable, because I never thought I would be where I am right now with Him. But the whole adjustment phase to see Him clearer, to read His signs, is uncomfortable. I have become so used to just <u>trying</u> to see Him better, that maybe now I am seeing Him better, and it just feels funny and awkward? Huh......maybe that's it. Maybe I am seeing Him better now than I ever have before, but I am just not used to the "prescription." Like with my new glasses. I have been given a solution to see better, but my eyes (or my fleshly nature) doesn't know what to do with it yet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Excited about the prospect of "seeing" clearer. Lol maybe getting from location A to B won't take as long now.</span> <br />
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<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-63902537473679129872011-11-12T22:07:00.000-08:002011-11-12T22:07:53.709-08:00A Daddy one and a Mikayla one.....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tonight Mikayla and I were waiting in the car while Jason ran into Walmart to get a couple things we needed. Which, can I just say that its never actually "running" into Walmart, its more like "getting what you need quickly and standing in line for at least 15 minutes wondering why there are so many gosh-darn checkout lines and registers, and only 3 employees working them" into walmart. Just sayin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyways, Mikayla and I were chatting and she looks over and sees the inflatable santa they had on display outside the store, and there was also a little lit-up santa right beside it. Mikayla then says:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Look, look, look! Its a Daddy one and a Meekayla one!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes honey, you are right! You are very smart!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Where's the mommy one?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(silently wondering to myself why the bigger santa was automatically Daddy and not Mommy. I am with the beautiful little stinker ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, and I don't get to be the 6-foot Jolly Santa? Doesn't that just figure? :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I am not sure honey, I don't think there is a mommy one."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"That's okay mommy, its just a Daddy one and a Meekayla one."</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gotta love a sweet girl who adores her daddy.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Isn't that how it should be though? The automatic realization that its a "Daddy one." The realization that the big things we notice in our life (aka: the big Santa) is because of God, and not some other thing that may be contributing to our lives? It is so easy to put the credit of something good into something that is visible every day, friends/family/co-workers/luck/timing/good sleep etc. </span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was so heart warming to me that she automatically dubbed the bigger Santa as Daddy. It meant that she was acknowledging his presence in her life, and the value of his presence in her life was at the forefront of her little brain, and her heart. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want God to be "the Daddy one" in my life too.</span> <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioPpNNeu_3PNuFXkVkNhg8EPQvAul9KjbFrd9AnX98fLHqi5Mw1wS4yVAgTBfC4q_yMAHTvbCC7Voerm_T_Sr62i66FAt3NLRVWfkhFD0hjiSIbDVUTHDBE-ENO8-hSfAfBGy5-cOFErs/s1600/IMG_9222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioPpNNeu_3PNuFXkVkNhg8EPQvAul9KjbFrd9AnX98fLHqi5Mw1wS4yVAgTBfC4q_yMAHTvbCC7Voerm_T_Sr62i66FAt3NLRVWfkhFD0hjiSIbDVUTHDBE-ENO8-hSfAfBGy5-cOFErs/s400/IMG_9222.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHBZxLe6UXJ9nFQiRbBE1KrIjgR4h1ir94-dhAZIvFCcknsV4J27Ac-rr_GIe8SKSK1F1s2z3yqyYMoLFTR8oauqBi5axsbMJ15ylkPIf-QMLBR3-vV7C3yoVwZgLUe0ifX7towa-jlQ/s1600/IMG_8344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHBZxLe6UXJ9nFQiRbBE1KrIjgR4h1ir94-dhAZIvFCcknsV4J27Ac-rr_GIe8SKSK1F1s2z3yqyYMoLFTR8oauqBi5axsbMJ15ylkPIf-QMLBR3-vV7C3yoVwZgLUe0ifX7towa-jlQ/s400/IMG_8344.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-46502134960477182392011-11-10T21:49:00.000-08:002011-11-10T21:49:53.976-08:00Re-fashioning.....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like the ring of that. I mean, I am refashioned. Made completely new.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe that is why I have been in love with my sewing machine lately. My husband's a little jealous. My new love is 50 yrs older than Jason........so he has no right to be jealous.......not really anyways. :) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have been going to town with my sewing projects lately. First it was Mikayla's Daisy Duck costume:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0Pu1C9qAtMfB4z6OxQs-sHrW9jPuqI0Aa3nscOBHuqsCRaicV8VGxzC3BxoYwpVMWnXEbT8lULwN1tlP8WmhF4EAIoJ-N9Zq6bw03wSkGp_DTbT4863cUfRsT-6hGlxMHzqJdvNgraM/s1600/IMG_8446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0Pu1C9qAtMfB4z6OxQs-sHrW9jPuqI0Aa3nscOBHuqsCRaicV8VGxzC3BxoYwpVMWnXEbT8lULwN1tlP8WmhF4EAIoJ-N9Zq6bw03wSkGp_DTbT4863cUfRsT-6hGlxMHzqJdvNgraM/s400/IMG_8446.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then this week, two re-fashions!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first was a pair of too short jeans (All her jeans are too short. Poor thing, she will probably always have this problem. I hope she has nice looking ankles.) that I turned into a fab skirt! The ruffles are made out of a dress shirt of Jason's that had a hole in it. Here is the result:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTy_vdPuMagz-Elv6Aalg-c64iHqxN3nfwlC442XO6kmaEeAV7oMQLuJ7FVY6jn25bkekDWCbOL254ACW2STkGXPNEGlHutJis6JBIb7VBQS1fIHSWdLFDxuGlCBSxixabzyV2AyL2avE/s1600/IMG_9799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTy_vdPuMagz-Elv6Aalg-c64iHqxN3nfwlC442XO6kmaEeAV7oMQLuJ7FVY6jn25bkekDWCbOL254ACW2STkGXPNEGlHutJis6JBIb7VBQS1fIHSWdLFDxuGlCBSxixabzyV2AyL2avE/s400/IMG_9799.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgYagzdrfZYGpOEHcZXy2-uQNNcXMIa8uLQp12pcYRs_5-TtWY7vl8rI8aBYrBgzlk4ZgPJmZpFlq9OU6AVeSPuE_AhPyhM2UngunFxfF6upMhVEqhsQIBSibJKNeJGEUlSb6wWdAKPI/s1600/IMG_9752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgYagzdrfZYGpOEHcZXy2-uQNNcXMIa8uLQp12pcYRs_5-TtWY7vl8rI8aBYrBgzlk4ZgPJmZpFlq9OU6AVeSPuE_AhPyhM2UngunFxfF6upMhVEqhsQIBSibJKNeJGEUlSb6wWdAKPI/s400/IMG_9752.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The second re-fashion was an old sweater of mine that I turned into a cute little jumper/dress. Its a teeny bit short, but looks cute with leggings and her sweet boots:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9jOX9GJJq3nW7zPAVQyihqc8t458JX1yrGZsK4LJMiddp30x9u4Lzl_vHC9C8rDKT0F1qASyYaoIT9n_11vDaqzXCfGv1fhK1UlVKCaJujyeufOWdpXVf5Ynmoq7kxic3CmU2VWTLek/s1600/IMG_9686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9jOX9GJJq3nW7zPAVQyihqc8t458JX1yrGZsK4LJMiddp30x9u4Lzl_vHC9C8rDKT0F1qASyYaoIT9n_11vDaqzXCfGv1fhK1UlVKCaJujyeufOWdpXVf5Ynmoq7kxic3CmU2VWTLek/s400/IMG_9686.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmZMy1LgHOrW5e4g_dp7V7eAA8z1qh2UxO8wnPj4SHcwwsCTFUgzHA-yKu6zwc0rFnGjyiNxS_y4kcMQ70ABysPx6epkqWotjRxEW2ezjbA12RNGF3GYLnvgxpsmWQS0wJw4jvoCYOvw/s1600/IMG_9703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmZMy1LgHOrW5e4g_dp7V7eAA8z1qh2UxO8wnPj4SHcwwsCTFUgzHA-yKu6zwc0rFnGjyiNxS_y4kcMQ70ABysPx6epkqWotjRxEW2ezjbA12RNGF3GYLnvgxpsmWQS0wJw4jvoCYOvw/s400/IMG_9703.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Could she be any cutier?</span></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lovin my new hobby! Pretty soon my house is going to be a "Hobby Lobby" with all the hobbies I have picked up in the last year. </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-50919498776038103442011-11-09T13:21:00.000-08:002011-11-09T13:21:48.597-08:00Unfortunate Timing......<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mikayla and I were "bwilding" with her blocks this morning, having such a great time. We began building tower after tower, and they ALL ended up looking the same, because lets be honest, not much can be done with toddler blocks.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37iASzQ9Ro3EKAJUBVEaL0TaXlhVwZFSXqN-mHeclc7vEuYTinjxhz2LvgVHrusCFeNZtwGQEWSCGDROQlbMwTVIRa9h_MWKmk1CP1Qu7MnAbUZrwd013-9c7BGwjZXz9praPUMIqsY8/s1600/IMG_9658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg37iASzQ9Ro3EKAJUBVEaL0TaXlhVwZFSXqN-mHeclc7vEuYTinjxhz2LvgVHrusCFeNZtwGQEWSCGDROQlbMwTVIRa9h_MWKmk1CP1Qu7MnAbUZrwd013-9c7BGwjZXz9praPUMIqsY8/s400/IMG_9658.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then Mikayla would hold them up to her eye and say "I see you mommy" and I would do it back to her. Then I got the idea to take a couple photos through the hole in the blocks, and see what my outcome would be. So I got out my camera, and Mikayla became my willing model:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwF4CSbnFiArvsVLcFWxTb8n0OnvfbNMkZHVCBXAPkzV7RVweOeuVg4MLJHYxVkxCdBuwzqVtfdKsWbWeBssFbS-BbYOujuSGW3dpw1tUK89CB0s1COAFojO8_CNNBpjsP6yWdYLXTtZ4/s1600/IMG_9649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwF4CSbnFiArvsVLcFWxTb8n0OnvfbNMkZHVCBXAPkzV7RVweOeuVg4MLJHYxVkxCdBuwzqVtfdKsWbWeBssFbS-BbYOujuSGW3dpw1tUK89CB0s1COAFojO8_CNNBpjsP6yWdYLXTtZ4/s400/IMG_9649.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia34Cm-QumNvpvt5Ujx7iEKHYkd69eCrP3ci33mlzdFkKtea55HTHfOOEamJghkfNXBFWqpCJpxBdK94TKUmUf7PqkP-ht03KBHK3ObQOasRR6AovPljStP5GJ4YbPvN6bF2l6VJRL6H4/s1600/IMG_9632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia34Cm-QumNvpvt5Ujx7iEKHYkd69eCrP3ci33mlzdFkKtea55HTHfOOEamJghkfNXBFWqpCJpxBdK94TKUmUf7PqkP-ht03KBHK3ObQOasRR6AovPljStP5GJ4YbPvN6bF2l6VJRL6H4/s400/IMG_9632.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGCRKg3r-6nWTJaMAJX5ohNZqMJltONDl-VWpGnuUjNtiFfq6UoHOaRc9rebTteoR06DSXHD94GbhmlgvyvBs5Hn7NwmotyqOYi3YHjP8NX3OMO4UYfWFNOwH9A0zGG6b6sLs1y0DAzo/s1600/IMG_9628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGCRKg3r-6nWTJaMAJX5ohNZqMJltONDl-VWpGnuUjNtiFfq6UoHOaRc9rebTteoR06DSXHD94GbhmlgvyvBs5Hn7NwmotyqOYi3YHjP8NX3OMO4UYfWFNOwH9A0zGG6b6sLs1y0DAzo/s400/IMG_9628.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then............ I snapped this beauty.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seriously unfortunate timing. Couldn't have been worse......and yet, on the flip side, the best timing ever because I managed to catch that split second with her finger in her nose, and it captured a photo that made her and I giggle like silly little girls. Obviously not the most flattering photo of my gorgeous girl, but so so funny. And definitely one of those "I can't believe my mom showed people this photo" photos that will haunt her when she is older. I love it, and I will be keeping it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Funny how life captures us in hideous, frightening, ugly moments. Moments that at that time may be considered painful, shameful, embarrassing, or hurtful. But at the same time, the fact that the moment happened in a split second, and changes the course of our lives, it might be considered good timing. Because that moment, as does all moments, passes into an afterthought, and if you are lucky.......a funny, blessed afterthought. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Think back to the worst moment of your life........would you consider it bad timing even though looking at it from this vantage point, it has made you who you are?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember my mom talking to me when we were in a season of struggle with Mikayla. She said "We won't even be talking about this issue in a few weeks." And she was right (as she normally is :) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So are you able to take the "unfortunate timing" moments in life with a little more peace, knowing it will fade away? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Scripture that encourages me in those moments : Luke 12:22-34.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong><em>Lord. Anxiety consumes me. Worry about the future and thinking about tomorrow overwhelms my thoughts. You tell me not to worry, so there must be so much good that comes from NOT worrying. I want that goodness. I want to rest in the best that you have for me while I am not worrying. I know that life deals bad timing all the time, but I want to view those moments as good timing, because they are a part of <u>your</u> timing. I want to giggle when its all over. I want to see you when its all over. Lord would you do that? And God, would you do that for those who may be reading this? I don't know who they are, but, I know they need your peace too. Amen.</em></strong></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-71530214113582376812011-10-12T14:08:00.000-07:002011-10-12T14:09:29.234-07:00Here I am....So the worst feeling as a parent happened to Jason and I the other night. I am just now recovering.<br />
Jason had just come home from grocery shopping and I was cooking. We were both busy putting away groceries and trying our best to move around each other in our itty-bitty kitchen when Jason says "Its too quiet, I am going to check on the little girl." I continue with meal prep when Jason says, "Rachel I can't find Mikayla, please come help." I immediately stopped what I was doing and went to search but thought nothing of it until I noticed that our front screen door did not get locked after Jason came home with the groceries. Mikayla can open that door when its not locked.<br />
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Instant panic.<br />
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I ran outside, Jason ran outside. He ran down the street shouting her name. I ran inside to check all the places I thought she would hide, shouting her name. I picked up my phone, went outside and ran the other direction shouting her name, preparing to call 911. Jason ran inside and searched some more. For <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3-4 minutes we did this.........when she emerged from behind the couch. I sat down sobbing, completely unable to move. Paralyzed. The thoughts that ran through my head in those 4 minutes were awful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mikayla, being the concerned child that she is asked, "Mommy, whats wrong?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Mommy was so scared we lost you."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I scare you mommy?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes baby. When you hear mommy and daddy saying 'Mikayla!' you need to answer us and say 'Here I am!'"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Big hug from my confused toddler. I held tight and we prayed right then and there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know if she thought she was in trouble, or if she thought we wanted her to do something, and if that was why she didn't let us know where she was. Who knows. It was scary.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think sometimes God just wants me to say "Here I am." Obviously God always knows where I am, but I think just declaring it, maybe even shouting it, is all that is needed. I think sometimes I fear answering Him means that He wants me to do something, or maybe I am in trouble........but I think sometimes He just wants to know we are here, and will answer when He calls our name.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here I am by Downhere</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes your calling, comes in dream </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes it comes in the Spirit's breeze, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You reach for the deepest hope in me, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And call out for the things of eternity. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I'm a man, of dust and stains, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You move in me, so I can say, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CHORUS:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here I am, Lord send me, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All of my life, I make an offering, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here I am, Lord send me, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Somehow my story, Is part of your plan, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here I am </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When setbacks and failures, and upset plans, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Test my faith and leave me with empty hands, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are you not the closest when it's hardest to stand? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know that you will finish what you began.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These broken parts you redeem, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Become the song, that I can sing </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(chorus)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Overwhelmed by the thought of my weakness, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the fear that I'll fail you in the end, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In this mess, I'm just one of the pieces, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't put this together but you can.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">HERE I AM.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-65103078703939118352011-10-03T14:27:00.000-07:002011-10-03T14:57:06.886-07:00It's Fall Y'all<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you ever given a single thought to all the leaves changing colors? I mean it's fall, so with that comes: football, homecoming, school activities, Halloween, winter clothes shopping, etc......so I am guessing you all have plenty of things to occupy your time without having to think about a silly orange leaf. BUT, if you live in Colorado, the colors of the season are a big deal. BIG. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It truly is remarkable. All the gold, red, and orange colors of the trees. The crisp feel in the air. Its nostalgic. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But all the fuss is really over death. Yes, death. The leaves are changing colors because they are dying! Its the end of the run for the sad little guys. Gone are the days of blowing in the wind, being a home for a little critter, showing off their green physique. It's time for them to kick the bucket. And they sure do go out with a bang. It is truly beautiful. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Funny, those leaves have it figured out. They are leaving with grace and beauty. They could just shrivel up and die without so much as a yellow speck. But they age gracefully with a myriad of color and then drift pleasantly to the ground. Stunning.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I could take a note from the leaves. I have been through many, shall I say, season's......and I have fought said seasons tooth and nail. There was nothing beautiful or stunning about the way I ended. I didn't even leave a beautiful impression behind. I simply shriveled up and fell flat to the ground. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, have you ever considered what would happen if we didn't have an autumn season? The leaves would remain on the trees and would add weight to the trees when the snowy season hits, which would in turn cause broken tree limbs on homes and power lines. The leaves would die anyway, but would leave destruction in their wake. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess the leaves get this. (I realize leaves have no intelligence whatsoever, but humor me, OK?) So they end their season gracefully. Leaving a beautiful memory of what they were, a colorful indication that they are accepting of their purpose.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to be like a leaf. When seasons come and go, when death hits (both literal and figurative), when a time has come for me to accept the will of my life, my purpose, I want to do it colorfully.....beautifully. Trials happen, death occurs, pain hits and tragedy strikes. But what do we look like when it happens?</span><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Psalm 96:11-12 </strong></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; let the field exult, and everything in it. <u>Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy.</u></span></span></span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The trees are here for nothing other than to give glory to God. They fulfill His purpose for them beautifully. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But what if I don't know my purpose? What if I don't know His will for this season.....for my life? Should I wither, or should I fulfill His purpose for my life beautifully? If I don't, will it make things harder later on when the inevitable will happen anyways?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-70443399738853770682011-09-22T20:30:00.000-07:002011-09-22T20:31:34.102-07:00Rate your pain level.....I hate that question. If I say 10, it might be unnecessary, but if I say 2 they won't take me seriously. Then I have to take into account that I went through 32 hours of labor, and while that was hard, sometimes instant pain, like say.....grabbing a hot curling iron, hurts worse at the moment. Labor and burns are two very different types of pain.....why would they ask the same question for both? Ahhh, that question stresses me out.<br />
<br />
I had to answer it last night, at the ER, when I broke my toe. Definitely didn't want to be at the ER, and when I get there they put me in a wheel chair, so I felt even more ridiculous. Some guy comes in coughing up blood, and I am sitting in a wheel chair with pain to my pinkie toe. So lame, yet it hurt so so bad. I answered the stupid question with an 8 at the time of being rolled in. Because that's what it felt like. But as I sat there for 3 hours, waiting to be seen, I saw so much pain in the ER. Physical pain from girl with a severe migraine, emotion pain from family members helpless to do anything to speed time up to be seen, mental pain from a very angry lady who looked like she felt awful, but was just told to sit down and wait. Lots of pain. Suddenly the pain in my toe began to drop. <br />
<br />
When the doctor FINALLY came in, she apologized, and I told her it really wasn't a big deal. If it weren't for the fact that I have an always moving toddler, I wouldn't have been there at all, but I needed it fixed. She began asking me all these questions, "Do you have any medical allergies? Any existing heath problems? Are you pregnant? Are you on any medications? What is your pain like if I do this?" All I really wanted to know was if it was broken or not, why the whole run around? Why not just come right out and say it? It dawned on me later that she wanted to get a real feel for my pain level before the told me it was broken because I imagine that mentally knowing something is broken may cause you to think you are in more pain than you are, which would cause you to push for pain meds. Makes sense right? Smart doctors. They know what they are doing.<br />
<br />
But do we as humans? When someone is in pain, how often do we jump to the rescue or solve the issue with the "answer" to their problem? Sometimes I think stating the obvious to someone might cause the pain the be worse at the moment. Think about the last time you didn't get a lot of sleep, or may have been up all night with the flu? How helpful is it when someone says "Wow, you look like you have been hit by a bus!" Doesn't that normally make you feel worse? (Or maybe in your sleep-deprived mind make you wish that THAT person would get hit by a bus. Obviously not a healthy thought, but we are blaming it on lack of sleep, remember?)<br />
<br />
My favorite is when someone says "Oh you think that is bad, just wait until.........!" How the heck is that helpful to my situation? Did you even listen to what I was saying?<br />
<br />
Sometimes I think we all could get better at just listening about someones pain. Maybe in listening and asking questions we will be guided to the right way on how to help them. <br />
<br />
This is a big lesson as a parent for me. Mikayla falls and I make a big deal out of it, so she instantly panics. But if I wait for her to tell me that something hurts, the boo-boos tend to be few and far between. Sometimes I think pain is caused when someone draws attention to something that should be painful, when in reality it doesn't really hurt that bad. I don't want to point out hurt that may not really be there in the first place.<br />
<br />
*** I really don't know if any of this post made sense, just lots on my mind.***<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-35596986101655494902011-08-24T14:44:00.000-07:002011-08-24T14:44:14.467-07:00Never given more than we can handle.....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many people claim this "truth". Heck, I was even tempted with the thought today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mikayla has been a mess today. From the moment she woke up she has had a temper-tantrum for everything under the sun. I have tried my best to not give in to what she asks for, because I need the behavior to stop. I need her to know she can't have all that she wants. I need her to know that this life is at times, disappointing. Sounds awful right? Wrong. How much greater is happiness when it follows disappointment? How much greater does it feel to be given the gift of a reward when you know what it feels like to not receive it? Lessons that my sweetie is learning today through the act of not getting her chocolate milk until she eats her banana. Not too cruel of a mama, am I?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well you would think so by the way she has been acting. It has been......dare I say it......Hell. The hardest day I have ever had since my sweet bundle of joy was placed in my arms for the first time. Then the whisper came to me "You are never given more than you can handle...." Ya I am pretty sure that was Satan whispering to me. What? You are shocked that Satan would use scripture to get to me? He did it with Jesus, why wouldn't he do it to me? He wanted me to think that I could get through this day on my own. He twisted scripture, like he did with Jesus, to draw me away from the truth of the Father.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You see, so many people who may not understand this verse will use it to get through a tough time of trials. But have you ever read this verse? It says:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">13</span></sup></strong> No <strong><u>temptation</u></strong> has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is used when talking about temptation. We are never given more TEMPTATION than we can handle. Why in the world would God <strong>NOT</strong> allow trials we can't handle in our lives? There would be no reason for us to come to Him if we could do it on our own. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I so could not, and cannot do today without HIM. I was given WAY more than I could handle today, and if it weren't for that, if it werent for God allowing more than I could handle, I might have listened to the lie of the enemy that said "You are never given more than you can handle." It would have allowed me to think that I am powerful, when I was powerless. And I might have been a terrible mother today. But I wasn't. I was a great mother today. I cried and begged and I pleaded for God to have mercy. He gave me the peace and patience of a monk, and He gave Mikayla a 3+ hour nap :)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So glad for the ability to be driven by weakness to His feet. And so thankful for the work of the Holy Spirit in my life that allowed me to recogonize the covert lie of the enemy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Praying for a better afternoon.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-79752496787677309412011-08-22T12:52:00.000-07:002011-08-22T12:52:01.758-07:00Speed up to stop...<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tangible conversations with God. Have you ever had one? I have had several moments when I felt the Holy Spirit leading me to a decision or realization, but never have I had a true, audible conversation with Him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Until a few days ago.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was driving to my moms after a somewhat crummy afternoon. I found out I wasn't pregnant this month, and it hit me badly. Whether it was the hormones or true sadness, I was a mess. We have only been trying for baby #2 for a few months, but with the news came the flood of memories of trying to get pregnant with Mikayla. The month-by-month game of "was this the month?" that lasted over a year. We have not done anything to prevent pregnancy since Mikayla was born, and I can't help the creeping thoughts that suggest that maybe we won't get that opportunity again. Again, that is probably the hormones talking. Of course, it doesn't help to hear the well-intentioned but super unhelpful advice of "it will happen when its supposed to." I know that, but it doesn't make it easier. I just can't wait to see Mikayla with a baby brother/sister, and it seems that any amount of time waiting feels too long. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anywho, I was driving. Trying to kick the sadness, I was doing my best to sing along with the praise music I had playing in the car. I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw for the third time on my drive, ANOTHER car on my bumper. Was I going too slow? Was I oblivious to the speed limit? I was about to speed up when the car quickly swerved around me and then immediately halted to a stop. Red light.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: Speed up to stop! Super smart you stupid car. That will teach you to try and speed me along.</span><br />
<em><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God: Funny, that's how I feel.</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: What?</span><br />
<em><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God: That's exactly what you are doing Rachel. You are trying to push things along only to swerve around and halt to a heart-breaking stop.</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: I don't get it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><span style="color: #990000;">God: You want to be pregnant, but you don't really talk to me about it. You just try to push Me along when you think the timing is right, and then end up swerving around me only to be stopped in sadness by the realization that it didn't happen this month.</span></em> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: I have prayed about this though.</span><br />
<em><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God: Yes at the beginning of the month, maybe, and sometimes at the end when you say "God, please let this be the month." But never daily, never seeking whole-heartedly.</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: So you are saying I am like that car? That I am right on your bumper when I want something at the moment, but then I get impatient, swerve around you, only to be stopped by a red light......a red light I create for myself?</span><br />
<em><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God: Yes.</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: Oh.</span><br />
<em><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God: Its not that I don't want this for you, and I am not saying that this road trip you are on towards having another child is not what I want for you, I am just saying that I want you to not take matters in your own hands. Quit trying to drive over the speed limit I have set for you. You are still going to get there, maybe just not as fast as you would like.</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me: Not sure how I feel about that......</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then the song "Ready Now" came on the radio. The song says:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So take my heart<br />
and make it new<br />
make it true<br />
And make it like You<br />
Take my hands<br />
I lift them high<br />
They're Yours not mine to do<br />
Do what You will <br />
Do what You will<br />
Do what You will<br />
I'm ready now, Do what you will.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do what you will. Do I want that? Of course I want God's will in my life.....what kind of Christian would I be if I didn't? But do I REALLY want His will if I swerve around His plan for my life? If I want to speed ahead of Him by not ever consulting him? Maybe if I truly sought out His will for this specific area of my life, I wouldn't want to swerve around it. Maybe I would like His plan. After all, I prayed for His perfect will when trying to get pregnant with Mikayla, and she could not have been more perfect. I shudder at the thought of what things would have been like had God let me skid past His will for me then. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am ready now. God, do what you will. I will wait because you said I must. I will ask for the desires that I believe you have given me, but if now is not the time, then, OK.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a><br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-42579624080065552482011-08-18T08:54:00.000-07:002011-08-18T08:54:45.941-07:00This little light of mine....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, let me guess.....you all have been sitting on the edge of your seats, waiting for my next blog post, right? Well if you are my mother, then your answer is yes, but if you are anyone else, well are you anyone else? :) I still don't know if there is anyone who reads this blog.....and well lets be honest......there isn't really anyone who WRITES this blog either. What happened? I would say I fell off the wagon, but if that were the case, I have been on one too many wagons without a seat belt. Nope, wasn't the wagons fault....definitely mine. I have not done a thing. No writing, no working-out, no crafting, just a lot of child rearing. A LOT. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But here I am, to talk about said child.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She is a funny thing, that little Mikayla. In the last month she has learned to sleep in a toddler bed, speak in sentences, sing songs, take off ALL her clothes multiple times a day, use the potty, and work my last nerve. And at the very moment she kills that last nerve, she is miraculously able to re-instate all of my sanity with the bat of her killer blue-green eyes, and the showing of the sweet little dimple on her right cheek. Love her, but, she is exhausting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were playing with flashlights today because we created a super-fantastic fort in the basement. Yep, I was a cool, fort-building mama today. Don't let me fool you though, I have not done many cool things lately. Haven't felt like being cool...too tired to be cool. Thought I would change that today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of our flashlights is a little emergency flashlight that doesn't require batteries, and it charges by shaking it back and forth, a lot. Mikayla quickly pinned it as "Mee-kayla's Flash Light" (That is how she says her name, so cute). Since it doesn't work without shaking it a bazillion times, it is never working when it is in her hands. So she brings it to me this evening and says "Fix-it mommy." So I start shaking it, but her little, over-eager, two-year-old body couldn't take the waiting, so she snatched it from me, super excited to see the dim little light peeking through the top of the glass of the flashlight. It would only work for a few minutes before we started the whole routine over again. Never once was it fully charged. Needless to say, I have hidden "Mee-kayla's" flash light for a while.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It got me thinking. Being a light in this world requires a lot of work. It requires patience and diligence, and the second the light becomes dim, we need to and should re-charge that light. But how often do we become content with the dull, dim light. I mean, there is still light right? We are still being somewhat helpful and Godly, right? The darkness has not yet taken over, so there is still good......right?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is it right? When I am walking in the dark while, say, camping......I rely on that flashlight to reveal all in my path. The dimmer the light, the less that is revealed. Sure, my immediate path may be illuminated, but how close do I come to say a snake or maybe a big rock I could trip over. Or what if I am walking with someone on this figurative camping trip. Is my dim little light going to help them any?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being a light in this world does not mean to just keep ourselves out of harms way. It means to radiate light so that people can't help but be guided by and thankful for God's work in you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The few times I have been camping and caught without a flashlight, it is a bit terrifying, and I find myself stuck, seeking ANY source of light to get me to where I need to go. I can't help but smile at the thought that someone around me is stuck in the dark, and I may be the only light they see. I want it to be BRIGHT!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is my little light, my Mikayla "Ray" of sunshine. I don't know if my brother will be thrilled I posted this, but....oh well :)</span></div><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-64990024355121497152011-07-18T21:30:00.000-07:002011-07-18T21:30:46.712-07:00Cleanin up!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">OK, so I just can't get the hang of writing lately. Its not like there hasn't been a lot to write about, because, well, my world has pretty much turned upside down in the last month. But I am not someone who feels like writing "Today Mikayla finally fell asleep" or "I woke up this morning and practically squashed my toddler who somehow managed to fall asleep on the floor next to my bed without me knowing." Who really wants to read that? Besides, that is what facebook is for. I want my blog to be a reflective outlet. Something I can look back on years down the road and feel just as inspired then as I was the day I wrote it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With that being said, we will see if today fits the bill.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do any of you have something that is totally de-motivating to you? Like perhaps when you begin a new diet/workout routine and you walk though the checkout lane with your cart full of HEALTHY groceries and see the latest celeb clad in a bikini on the cover of a magazine with a headline that reads "How I lost 50lbs in 5 weeks post-pregnancy." Yep. DE-MOTIVATION to the extreme.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While some women have super-model envy, I have clean home envy. It seems to me that every woman who writes a blog has a model home. Their houses are gorgeous and I am constantly thinking "Do they really have kids?" I just have one kid, and with the amount of cheerios and macaroni on the floor, you would think I had a houseful. My mom always said that you could mortar a house with wet cheerios. Once they are stuck to the floor, they are there for forever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mopping the kitchen floor is the worst. You know you don't do it enough when your husband walks in and says "Your mopping? Wow. I am impressed." That should not be impressive, I am a house-wife for pete's sake. And my kitchen is the size of a thimble, mopping requires me to stand in the center and spin in a circle. Not that hard, and yet, never gets done. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was grossed out tonight, so decided to just bite the bullet. I began mopping when Mikayla bounced in wanting to help. She wanted to use the broom, so I let her. But as I was mopping, she followed behind me with the broom, basically making dirty streaks because of the previously wet area that I just mopped. At first I told her to go out of the kitchen, but she was so set on cleaning (or "key-nan" as she puts it) that I just tried to mop around her as best I could. It took a bit longer than I intended, but the floor is clean!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got to thinking about it though. About how as Christians we are called to live a life of morality and character, and that often requires a "clean-up" of our lives. Sometimes we can cause messes along the way like Mikayla did with the broom, but if our heart desires cleanliness, why does it matter how long it takes? I knew Mikayla wanted to help clean, and I showed her how to do it. Sure, she made some messes, and it took much longer than if I did it myself, but she also learned. I don't know that God cares how long it takes for us to "clean-up" as long as our heart desires cleanliness, and we learn along the way. And sometimes the "messes" happen when we take control of the cleaning process ourselves, instead of relying on The Ultimate Washer of our filthiness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wonder if God hates mopping just as much as I do.........</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-39236094434400436202011-06-23T12:44:00.000-07:002011-06-23T12:46:16.431-07:00I melt in your peace, its overwhelming.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wow it has been a while. I am so very sorry. Things around my house have been hectic to say the least. I started taking care of two kids for two days a week, we have been building a HUGE deck in our backyard, Life group and barbeques every week, and Mikayla recently decided to embrace her inner two year old (which is still technically 2 months away). I am seriously tired ALL THE TIME.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here is a bit of what our summer has looked like in the last month:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGbCSTXtSxWP5Kj9d4MrGTwtA5LfAI-BBONZ8ZD4fRDJyIilUN5_93Sp41_obvQC2nahaKLol8RzMTGDFCntmLG7qllu-K-opGIDqIXBnkjlUcVqRzlwJe8SjuR6SEOjY31isVQbVtXXc/s1600/IMG_5634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGbCSTXtSxWP5Kj9d4MrGTwtA5LfAI-BBONZ8ZD4fRDJyIilUN5_93Sp41_obvQC2nahaKLol8RzMTGDFCntmLG7qllu-K-opGIDqIXBnkjlUcVqRzlwJe8SjuR6SEOjY31isVQbVtXXc/s400/IMG_5634.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">New deck being built, Daddy and his helper.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWNgqrxJ5NUSPjkNJYdFKanW__Ae-dm27VsIbjJQWj6JIoGgFJ2D9vHw7HPb4FUEg_YML_DpJTQ0NunQHj-sqnumKcpF8dTfyhEKkQ83nUEwliidNQ5HNvQUjT0rqYC07fXwaoTovE9w/s1600/IMG_5649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFWNgqrxJ5NUSPjkNJYdFKanW__Ae-dm27VsIbjJQWj6JIoGgFJ2D9vHw7HPb4FUEg_YML_DpJTQ0NunQHj-sqnumKcpF8dTfyhEKkQ83nUEwliidNQ5HNvQUjT0rqYC07fXwaoTovE9w/s400/IMG_5649.JPG" width="266" /></span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fun in the sun! Isn't that little ruffled tooshie so stinkin cute?</span></div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGlXky-M6-U7FybsIJQmx1a8OJmtjWd5jqsJ7MfmoIpah6QCl-YzihRZra5QFPfl7uUtthUDDM9e_JtBFRVpB4M8pWq_JFF-DMW65u5P3_GXAHjUo0w3_UAGgEX2Bg7w-wIUyzuKnBqs/s1600/IMG_5664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGlXky-M6-U7FybsIJQmx1a8OJmtjWd5jqsJ7MfmoIpah6QCl-YzihRZra5QFPfl7uUtthUDDM9e_JtBFRVpB4M8pWq_JFF-DMW65u5P3_GXAHjUo0w3_UAGgEX2Bg7w-wIUyzuKnBqs/s400/IMG_5664.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Coloring on the floor!</span></div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpe3Yb48rhoE1BcVzymmk-ePzZlY_3bK430FwKdIVj4TjrSJi_eNP4i9w6pT6A9k19OgPs6TjH4-Y4c5ZMTr667BDCcq8ph-FHqPBLvLIb25-5JD1OBbL39GmWLkPinDR3OMMWOHzuv5I/s1600/IMG_5669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpe3Yb48rhoE1BcVzymmk-ePzZlY_3bK430FwKdIVj4TjrSJi_eNP4i9w6pT6A9k19OgPs6TjH4-Y4c5ZMTr667BDCcq8ph-FHqPBLvLIb25-5JD1OBbL39GmWLkPinDR3OMMWOHzuv5I/s400/IMG_5669.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tie-Dying beach towels with Sharpies (a fun way to teach science too!)</span></div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So all of these wonderfully happy images were from before "the change." When I say "the change" I mean the change Mikayla made from being a perfectly content, loves to sleep, happy baby TO a total "no"-monster who has decided to test every limit with the cutest but conniving little smile on her face. She knows how to work it, and she so did not get that from me.....I don't care who you ask.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The past few days have been super hard for me. I have become so accustomed to having an easy child that this has totally thrown me for a loop. Jason likes to call it the "we have finally entered real parenthood" stage. It sucks. Not. Gonna. Lie. It has taken anywhere from 45min-3 hours to get her to sleep, and today is the first day I succeeded at getting her to nap. We are making progress, but it is slow. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The silver lining in all this is, I feel like I know why God blessed me with a singing voice. It's so that I can use it to soothe my sweetie. It was a fun hobby when I was younger, and its something I enjoy doing most at church, but I have never felt more thankful for a pleasant singing voice until just this week. It is the only thing that has worked, and talk about work! I sang the same song for 45 minutes STRAIGHT last night and the night before! I turned it into worship, because I was trapped at the mercy of a toddler, so why not sing praises?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As tired as I am, and how hard it has been, I am thankful for my daughters new lullaby, it has granted me peace and is as soothing to my spirit as it is to her body.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The more I seek you, the more I find you.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The more I find you, the more I love you.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to sit at your feet, drink from the cup in your hand,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lay back against you and breathe, feel your heart beat.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This love is so deep, its more than I can stand.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I melt in your peace, its overwhelming.</span></div><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-67527454619025889282011-06-01T12:15:00.000-07:002011-06-01T12:16:44.812-07:00First Newborn photo shoot<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A couple weeks ago I had my first ever newborn photo shoot! Boy was I nervous! I did not do myself any favors by getting ideas online from google images. Do you have any idea how beautiful some newborn photos can be? It freaked me out, and at the same time, challenged me and opened my mind to the limitless possibilities there are in the world of children/newborn photography.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From the beginning of this photography adventure of mine, I knew that I wanted to TAKE great pictures, not edit great pictures. I don't want to rely on the editing to make the photo great, I want the camera to do most of the work for me. Also, I don't have $800+ to spend on photoshop, so I really need to have my skills be with the camera, not the editing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here are some before and after shots. I am showing you all this as my "I need to expose my success and failures" journey. I am learning a lot about exposure, and the light changed so much on this specific day, so I had some trouble:</span><br />
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<div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BEFORE: (obviously way overexposed)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwQ6OUI2Qznt8cM_7BzBbZHWK-DlBhvdCDig4_RCn4YnrNpR8sQ9sW6ogWmz2vea-d7156DlbhOhyphenhyphenjXkzcB4M1YxRLbh7O4prgMecHgFUDF5MDWXReRTwlBP3noQsPLK8lJX5pfP2_Sk/s1600/IMG_5137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwQ6OUI2Qznt8cM_7BzBbZHWK-DlBhvdCDig4_RCn4YnrNpR8sQ9sW6ogWmz2vea-d7156DlbhOhyphenhyphenjXkzcB4M1YxRLbh7O4prgMecHgFUDF5MDWXReRTwlBP3noQsPLK8lJX5pfP2_Sk/s400/IMG_5137.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">AFTER: The only way I liked this photo was to make it a black and white. This was the most editing I have done on any picture)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThAT9s0Zu2Rn9wnpgEqggRTRJAx9ZjfPay0tufWerN7LbeKvqnrus3C_WEIjuaw23kIpLTAMUn69ZEHtDmHyg6lTF7qB0BVbqGd0i3aqPKhKlgnydWpBpp0Xbb9vjlSLvl_F3Lup6cCs/s1600/IMG_5137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgThAT9s0Zu2Rn9wnpgEqggRTRJAx9ZjfPay0tufWerN7LbeKvqnrus3C_WEIjuaw23kIpLTAMUn69ZEHtDmHyg6lTF7qB0BVbqGd0i3aqPKhKlgnydWpBpp0Xbb9vjlSLvl_F3Lup6cCs/s400/IMG_5137.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BEFORE: My favorite of the whole day</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigJgCrBWo5vT_wBkAGH5fneVLnsEWy5U7QScr6ehun4hTPfT1BCUvmQmaLHw4tGACb-72ytGuY1kwe13HukciRoXCG7mtvEgg2TazBtGFoFf8bgU_271K-4k_QYRMdCMqwK9ER3j_v1JQ/s1600/IMG_5038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigJgCrBWo5vT_wBkAGH5fneVLnsEWy5U7QScr6ehun4hTPfT1BCUvmQmaLHw4tGACb-72ytGuY1kwe13HukciRoXCG7mtvEgg2TazBtGFoFf8bgU_271K-4k_QYRMdCMqwK9ER3j_v1JQ/s320/IMG_5038.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">AFTER: Not much change! I did it all with the camera!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_Z5FqzLijUIqDzY0P8y_xM1jVl7aV6LMulUiVqPuTkY_f-7gDUAYGmtk6j0ybRklnZ1gG1InfIICuOKCaGsB_wCR5KLBwC_IpW9uGCqFMZhwXtXZfP8BDe1qY6wXiNy7RbGYFQnUt80/s1600/IMG_5038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_Z5FqzLijUIqDzY0P8y_xM1jVl7aV6LMulUiVqPuTkY_f-7gDUAYGmtk6j0ybRklnZ1gG1InfIICuOKCaGsB_wCR5KLBwC_IpW9uGCqFMZhwXtXZfP8BDe1qY6wXiNy7RbGYFQnUt80/s320/IMG_5038.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BEFORE:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Llq2NinKYX8QMeNSBOR6Ix-HgUK7iaZrs_XPAZulagpfd60ndmIUmUno8WrHlJrGXjEdomK5pfU_ccSlXZshHl4vYlUv9IvoxXoRR6k4QUHpDBE8e55NDgGmgM-Cz9NnqLvoAExrpKA/s1600/IMG_5154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Llq2NinKYX8QMeNSBOR6Ix-HgUK7iaZrs_XPAZulagpfd60ndmIUmUno8WrHlJrGXjEdomK5pfU_ccSlXZshHl4vYlUv9IvoxXoRR6k4QUHpDBE8e55NDgGmgM-Cz9NnqLvoAExrpKA/s320/IMG_5154.JPG" t8="true" width="213" /></span></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">AFTER:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviLHtAe6cqP9wFNrzabEKWq77LmERbzKwn_IGLly-0IQsHMy6WC88dyR0_uTav_-Zdf0aQ2Dzmt1pv65LR_UBixB2i5ixOro-tASXoDgqsB9BqsGLG27Y3wJ5lhQJ0rROUVzTGJq9zt8/s1600/IMG_5154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviLHtAe6cqP9wFNrzabEKWq77LmERbzKwn_IGLly-0IQsHMy6WC88dyR0_uTav_-Zdf0aQ2Dzmt1pv65LR_UBixB2i5ixOro-tASXoDgqsB9BqsGLG27Y3wJ5lhQJ0rROUVzTGJq9zt8/s320/IMG_5154.JPG" t8="true" width="213" /></span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope this will inspire fellow beginning photographers that you can have good photos without photoshop!</span></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-76516135073551509682011-05-23T20:02:00.000-07:002011-05-23T20:02:32.247-07:00Well, I did it.....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I ventured</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> into the world of sewing and made something wearable on my first try! I am SOOOOOOO thankful to my grandma for giving me her sewing machine, not to mention all the other sewing necessities to go along with it! What a blessing! It was SO COOL to see this come together. I gotta be honest though. I think I made it up as I went. I didnt measure anything, I kinda eye-balled it, and I don't even know if its technically put together right, but it sure looks cute on my sweetie! Ok, here's what I did:</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I turned my daughter's old jean dress:</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdtoFrkay50y7BgGG9Wz3cLg2tRcS-TAc54niK9EewVxdNKpiQs0OMVXNsI2wDqO1i3MCT0D-g4gF_Ptw_Q2attC5ZoYvm7VG5lwbjx8309bdylWDOEjSIvgmbLJSJypuUyxKlmyiYAY/s1600/IMG_4834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdtoFrkay50y7BgGG9Wz3cLg2tRcS-TAc54niK9EewVxdNKpiQs0OMVXNsI2wDqO1i3MCT0D-g4gF_Ptw_Q2attC5ZoYvm7VG5lwbjx8309bdylWDOEjSIvgmbLJSJypuUyxKlmyiYAY/s400/IMG_4834.JPG" width="266" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">into this:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjElsyrAiIAiGWVvNe2qPl9QDgmSeBgv1xe12jQjsBv2YqfCzH0eG5w0HhwiYr58vY5B_mwe70NhqSKBA3xwFtCmsBF5-4FrE5nOmpwjkftRwq7a-toS3VOtSvhJazpEhy9BZdfGrE8A8E/s1600/IMG_5485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjElsyrAiIAiGWVvNe2qPl9QDgmSeBgv1xe12jQjsBv2YqfCzH0eG5w0HhwiYr58vY5B_mwe70NhqSKBA3xwFtCmsBF5-4FrE5nOmpwjkftRwq7a-toS3VOtSvhJazpEhy9BZdfGrE8A8E/s400/IMG_5485.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-3iv0v7fU1qVVNFSipmlyehfVFo_foJIxR1fUVXwQLHW9Jm8KqiD1FaEFuO_0WOqRpktBv8JKj_bdZ8FwwzbJkHApHlWl5sH1NwPj0mGdn8mcCOkMJ8vnOtAZ6TnS_dRXG0ku4Hx7nA/s1600/IMG_5507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-3iv0v7fU1qVVNFSipmlyehfVFo_foJIxR1fUVXwQLHW9Jm8KqiD1FaEFuO_0WOqRpktBv8JKj_bdZ8FwwzbJkHApHlWl5sH1NwPj0mGdn8mcCOkMJ8vnOtAZ6TnS_dRXG0ku4Hx7nA/s400/IMG_5507.JPG" width="266" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2XvImfcLaceV8HOeorIFKxI3tNmJmDZa4kkMDSP6h4pow6BmlgEQhOFUcBaZA-AjZ5DiWFJqgb9EqhrZHZdJu-9UajYaudO74ogl1Uvqf3tN6PD8HiQAXcF9JSWpd806QfStWKhx8ic/s1600/IMG_5491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2XvImfcLaceV8HOeorIFKxI3tNmJmDZa4kkMDSP6h4pow6BmlgEQhOFUcBaZA-AjZ5DiWFJqgb9EqhrZHZdJu-9UajYaudO74ogl1Uvqf3tN6PD8HiQAXcF9JSWpd806QfStWKhx8ic/s400/IMG_5491.JPG" width="266" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What do you think? Any suggestions from all you professional seamstresses out there?</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-19611416874860255052011-05-18T12:05:00.000-07:002011-05-18T12:05:54.450-07:00Little Momma in the making<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So Mikayla totally put her baby doll, affectionately named "Baby," in time-out today. She sat her on the couch and said "Baby, you wait!" (which is what I tell her to do when she is in timeout.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The kicker of all of this, aside from the fact that it was the cutest thing I have ever seen, was that she put Baby in time-out just moments after she pushed Baby down the stairs in the stroller. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I should have punished Mikayla for throwing her doll down the stairs, because we don't treat our toys that way and she knows it, but I was honestly just so relieved that the LOUD THUMPING DOWN THE STAIRS was the stupid doll and not my sweet baby girl tumbling to her death. I about had a heart-attack.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I had a mommy "duh" moment. How often do I punish Mikayla for doing something naughty, when it was my neglegance in the first place that spawned the naughty behavior. Case in point: Ball point pen artwork on the couch: naughty behavior from child. A mother that walked away to go do laundry knowing that her 19-month-old had a pen in her hand: naughty behavior from mommy. DUH.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So Mikayla was just in fact doing what mommy does. Punishing Baby for something she herself did. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a lot to learn in the rules of parenting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First on my list: Remove all pens from the reach of an exploring toddler. Oh, and.....never do laundry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check!</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-41864601880068860482011-05-17T13:13:00.000-07:002011-05-18T07:57:28.363-07:00Interchangeable baby headbands<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What? Two posts in a day? It can't be?!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes my lovely blog followers, it is true! I have a lot of making up to do!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is a photo of a gift I made for a friend who recently had a baby girl (who I am hoping does not see this :) She was worried about having to do her little girls hair, and headbands were my FAVORITE thing when Mikayla was an infant. I am obsessed with girly hair bows!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudJQugKSbI7NdyIKgVrQ5-caCdVKS8mSzxx7flTquGK2f6j6Xok8SZY8H9n0snttCxK8Qp7BrjcfOSQuIIaRMAuRiUzG_QzhN0OZjiC2WMjShfInbGqYTMah60QcAbdo-7rUPL9iKROk/s1600/IMG_4818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudJQugKSbI7NdyIKgVrQ5-caCdVKS8mSzxx7flTquGK2f6j6Xok8SZY8H9n0snttCxK8Qp7BrjcfOSQuIIaRMAuRiUzG_QzhN0OZjiC2WMjShfInbGqYTMah60QcAbdo-7rUPL9iKROk/s640/IMG_4818.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I used metal snaps on the 4 headbands and 8 flowers that I made so they are all interchangeable:</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fvJR7mjb-HmUp4b5AQHGcGGh-dYgU3wP0OjvGeKgl5XvCq6rkw9C3q90eqZLQIDSldB1cR6-yLfgBBbDe3qbOFIj4iwj_Hu7kqs9RZ5Iulh-sj476AqLAtrhyphenhyphenIMxdqNUSS81R9lUGu0/s1600/IMG_4824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fvJR7mjb-HmUp4b5AQHGcGGh-dYgU3wP0OjvGeKgl5XvCq6rkw9C3q90eqZLQIDSldB1cR6-yLfgBBbDe3qbOFIj4iwj_Hu7kqs9RZ5Iulh-sj476AqLAtrhyphenhyphenIMxdqNUSS81R9lUGu0/s640/IMG_4824.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tons of combinations! Perfect for all those cute little baby outfits! I also covered a piece of cardboard in felt and glued snaps to the board so she can easily store the un-used flowers!</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Super cute! Hope she likes it!</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Linking up here:</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://www.pollywantacrafter.com/2011/05/craft-link-party-33.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:%20PollyWantACrafter%20(Polly%20Want%20A%20Crafter?)">Polly want a Crafter</a><br />
<a href="http://sumossweetstuff.blogspot.com/2011/05/market-yourself-monday-monogrammed.html">Sumo's Sweet Stuff</a><br />
<a href="http://www.lilluna.com/2011/05/lil-luna-link-partay-26.html">Lil Luna</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ccenter%3E%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.pollywantacrafter.com/%22%3E%3Cimg%20border=%220%22%20src=%22http://i866.photobucket.com/albums/ab229/remodelaholic/PartyButtonSmallSize.jpg%22%20/%3E%3C/a%3E%3C/center%3E"></a></div><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8518570078191214070.post-65157155008492642242011-05-17T12:37:00.000-07:002011-05-17T12:38:58.575-07:00Hmmmm<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok, so I am an awful blogger. Started with a bang, sizzled to a bust. I feel like a bust. Not sure what happened. Oh wait, yes, I know what happened..........I have been slacking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Slacking on my workout, my blogging, my crafting, ick all the things that have made me happy the last few months. But that is the problem, my happiness has been reliant on doing xyz. Not good. Especially since I was sick and out of town, which makes doing all of the above a little tricky. I don't want these things to be my happiness, I want them to ADD to my happiness. Big difference. So today I am happy and I am blogging.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So in my quiet time study today I was asked the question "How would you describe God's trustworthiness?" Hmmmmm..............Well I...................He is..........................ick, I dont know how to answer! I mean I can spew out the Christian test answer and provide verses for how the Bible says He is trustworthy, which is incredibly encouraging to veteran believers, but if I were talking to a person who didn't know Him personally, what would I say?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think I would say that there has not been one thing in my life, looking back, that I am not thankful for. There has been physical and emotional pain, drama, sadness, failure, and I am thankful for them. I have a hard time with the phrase "That which doesn't kill us, only makes us stronger." I personally don't think that pain or struggle makes you stronger, because when a new pain hits, it still hurts, a lot. Like childbirth and labor for instance: There was not one broken bone or smashed finger that made that situation any easier. It hurt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I do think though that painful instances shape us into who we are. My struggles and problems in my past have not strengthened me, but rather, have pushed me to the ultimate source of strength.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 2Corinthians 12:9</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This describes God's trustworthiness in my life because I put my life in His hands, and I can proudly look back on my life and be thankful for those times of struggle and hardship. How many people can truly say that? God is absolutely trustworthy because He has guided me through a life, yes maybe scattered with the occasional regret, but regrets that I am thankful for.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/74/73B7C65D4B395F6D589907A70BAD2C38.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3