I smile as I look back and recall a blog entry I wrote on the 22nd of March called Springtime… seasons. At the end of that post I wrote: “… And I can truly say that God has had the sweetest surprises in store for me following some of the seemingly most barren seasons. Praise the Lord. He only does all things well. May I never take this for granted.” Additionally, in that post I included the lyrics of a song Spring Time’s Comin’ that’s surely become even more meaningful to me since that post was written — because just…
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To my precious children… how strange it is to be apart from you this day. How interesting that the Lord would, in His wisdom, goodness and mercy, have us to be a million miles apart on this day. But as I have held you in my heart from the day you were born, so also, I hold you in my heart this day. And I am missing you terribly. But I also know that the Lord is in the details, having orchestrated this whole trip, this is His doing and it is marvelous in our eyes. I genuinely rest in…
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Living long. I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. I’ve been wondering to my self: what would I be doing today if I had been living long for the last thirty-some-odd years? What would I have accomplished or done differently had I been living long all these years of marriage and motherhood? This train of thought is the sort of along the same track of thinking as the question: How would God have used me (or my life) had my whole life been yielded to Him? Where would I be today if my whole life had been yielded to…
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Have you ever had a dream plan or a dream idea you’ve imagined so long that you actually hope it never happens — for if it comes to pass, then you’ll no longer have the dream to dream? We’ve had such a dream… well, maybe better said, we long ago had such a dream. A dream that was actually a plan. I never noticed that because so much time had passed and that dream never materialized, I’d stopped dreaming about it and I’d even quit hoping it would happen. In fact, until recently, I hadn’t even realized that I’d sort…
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I received such a beautiful card yesterday. It was a birthday card — but yesterday was not my birthday — well, not technically, anyway. But in a way, it was my birth-day, for twenty-five years ago yesterday I gave birth to our first daughter — third child, first daughter. As I look back, nothing and everything prepared me for that day. O, it wasn’t the gap between her birth and the birth of the son five years previous — though it was. It wasn’t that I knew I was to have a daughter — I didn’t know that; it…
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Today is not my birthday. Yesterday was not my birthday. The day before yesterday… was. Yet, I woke up yesterday expecting that it should still be my birthday – you know, treats, party hats and special treatment. I call this the birthday-princess mentality. It happens. The birthday princess mentality is kin to other princess mentalities — you know, the date-princess, the shopping-princess, the napping-princess. You get the idea. It’s as if whenever some delightful thing/event/outing happens, it ought to continue happening, I mean, I am the birthday (or whatever) princess after all. I woke up this morning to the reality…
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The lacy green leaves are slowly appearing and daffodils are beginning to bloom around the old willow tree. Isn’t it an awesome wonder: Every year, every passing season, has its marvelous reminders of the lavish mercy and everlasting kindness of the Lord. May I never take this for granted nor think it not majestic. Passing through many seasons in thirty-three years of marriage, I so hope I never again take for granted my husband’s care and thoughtful gestures. You know, it’s something we all do — take for granted things that are or have been long present with us. …
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Telling stories of your yesterdays bores some people, encourages some people and inspires some people — embarrasses some people, too. I know, many times through the years, I’ve witnessed the reactions women have when some woman opens her mouth to share her story. I’ve seen it when I’ve shared my story. They’ve heard it all before and they’re weary at the thought of having to hear it ah-gain. People totally write other people off when they’re weary of hearing their stories. Sadly, as some poor woman begins to utter the first sentence of her story (again), her audience, as if…
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That’s how the stories usually begin… that’s how they usually come tumbling out of mouth of a woman sitting beside me. The story is actually prefaced with: Can I talk to you? And after I say, Of course, hot tears seem to well up in the eyes of the one who desperately needs to tell someone — someone who will listen, someone who will understand, someone who will care. [ Because of something I might have shared there in a talk or because of the “safe-feeling” of the setting – maybe it’s after a Bible study, a Ladies’ Tea or…
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Still drinking from my saucer ’cause my cup’s overflowed. And, in light of the horrific tragedy that’s befallen Japan, I want to say what I’ve written today is in no way meant to make light of that whole situation. Just wanted to make those comments before I continue writing today’s blog entry. I want to write some more chapters in my CSA mini-series. I’ve dealt with the results, the unintended consequences or the results of sexualabuse through the years and here and there a thought or reaction will come up. It’s always unexpected, always surprising — but always there. CSA…