tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33293801924678046872024-03-05T17:27:26.715-08:00Orchids and Laundryfinding orchids in the laundry....OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-7133859045968907862016-03-24T12:55:00.001-07:002016-03-24T16:52:07.966-07:00The Nightwatch The soft whimpering from the crib interrupts my deep slumber. I roll over sleepily and look at the clock ; 1:50am. "I'm so tired. Father, I'm so tired. It was after 12:00 till I got her settled." My thoughts form a jumbled cry heavenward as I try to waken enough to get to baby's crib. Her cries have increased in volume. I must get her quickly before she disturbs her sleeping 18month old sister.<br />
I wearily lift my little one and sink into the rocker beside the bed. Her fretfull cries turn to contented sighs and sucking. "Oh, you sweetie". I find my weariness melting away. "Father, thank you, for this precious baby girl. Thank you for her health. Help me be the mother she needs. Give me wisdom to guide her to You."<br />
My thoughts have turned to prayer once again. "Lord, thank you for all of our children. Draw them to yourself." My thoughts and prayers turn to our oldest struggling with adolescence and to my youngest brother fighting the allure of the world. My mind goes to his friends. I pray for their struggles and thank God for the victories.<br />
Baby's sucking has stopped. I'm brought back to the present. She is asleep. As I place her gently in her crib, I realize I don't feel nearly as weary now. The time has passed quickly as I spent most of the time in prayer. I realize that happened a lot of nights.<br />
Then God showed me a picture of all the mommies across the world, awake with their babies and....praying.<br />
My baby often wakes every couple hours. My sister's baby wakes around 4 am. Another friend has a newborn who rarely settles before midnight. All across the land there are mommies awake with their babies and somewhere else, in the dark of the night, someone has a need.<br />
My mind began to grasp a beautiful provision for intercessory prayer.<br />
Through out the Bible we see the role of the watchman, who watches while other sleep, to warn of danger and keep guard against the enemy. The New Testament warns us to watch and pray against the spiritual enemy.<br />
Spiritual warfare doesn't sleep. It is even more intense during the dark hours of the night. The demons of hell love the cloak of darkness. Many battles are fought at night when no one sees and no one knows.<br />
Somewhere, every hour through the night, the struggle is real:<br />
It's midnight, a young man lingers on the street corner, feeling the pull behind the neon lights.<br />
12:30, a Mother and Father anxiously watch for the headlights of a wayward son.<br />
1:00, a Father tosses and turns mentally calculating and re-calculating the figures that just don't add up.<br />
1:30, a rebellious daughter, suitcase in hand, hesitates at the open window.<br />
2:00, the blood-curdling snarl of a drug addict, somebody's child, echoes through the abandoned warehouse.<br />
3:00, a tormented soul pulls a revolver from the drawer and slides the safety off.<br />
3:30, a young mother weeps while bathing the feverish brow of her child.<br />
4:00, an invalid wakes in pain, yet again.<br />
5:00, a pastor rises early, burdened with the souls in his care.<br />
6:00, a widow awakens to an empty pillow beside her and anguish washes over her once again.<br />
What if all the mommies were praying?<br />
I have often been blessed to be part of a 24 hour prayer chain. Now I realize I have the opportunity to be part of God's 24 hour prayer chain.<br />
Two scriptures in Ezekiel and Isaiah, haunt me with their need and questions.<br />
Israel was in turmoil, giving into the influences of evil around them and destined for judgement. God needed someone to stand for right and save the people from destruction. He says, "I sought for a man among them to make up the hedge and stand in the gap before me...but I found none." Ezek. 22:30<br />
Where were the intercessors ? Where are they today?<br />
In the account of the destruction of Sodom when Abraham pled for Lot, the words stand out, " ...and Abraham stood yet before the Lord." Never underestimate the power of that.<br />
In Isaiah, again God's people were in chaos, beset by the enemy. The call goes forth, "Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night?"! I feel the urgency of that question today. Are there watchmen who watch and know?<br />
Jeremiah says, "Make the watch strong, set up the watchman."<br />
Again in Isaiah God says, "I have set watchman which shall never hold their peace day or night."<br />
In Lamentations again, " Arise, cry out in the night, in the beginning of the watches, pour out your heart like water before the face of the Lord. Lift up your hands toward him for the life of thy young children..."<br />
All across the land, Mothers, you are awake with your baby. Are you praying? Are you crying out?<br />
What a responsibility! What a privilege!<br />
<br />
Mommies, the night watch is ours!<br />
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OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-20770845624908708602015-05-30T20:10:00.000-07:002015-05-30T20:10:01.863-07:00Are You a Feminist? There is something creeping subtly into the minds, hearts and homes of Christian women. More and more , I see, hear and read of it's symptoms and manifestations. It is feminism in it's new ,ungodly form.<br /> We have always thought of the "women's lib", suffrage, and feminism movements as "out there" , not something that touches godly women, but it is. It has crept in so silently we don't recognize it until it has ruined homes and lives.<br />
Consider how recently you have seen or heard of a marriage being torn apart of a couple you never would have thought it would happen to. How often are you seeing it even in homes with church backgrounds of a strong Biblical stand against divorce?<br />
Consider how often you hear a variation of the thinking; "I need my space", "I need to be who I am", I need to go after my dreams", " I know I may need to change but I need to change for myself, not someone else". <br />
Does that sound familiar? Does that really sound like biblical, godly womanhood? (And incidentally, what's wrong with changing for someone you love? True love will always change a person. )<br />
What was a woman created for? To be his helpmeet- to complete him. God made man in His image, male and female. In the two, as one, they both become complete.<br />
When did that cease to be a high calling and a privilege?<br />
What is the completed oneness of a man and woman supposed to be for? Is there a purpose beyond procreation and the happy, lovey- dovey of companionship? Of course! It is to show Christ and His Bride to the world. <br />
When did that cease to be a high calling and a privilege? <br />
The Bride of Christ loves her Groom, serves her Groom, reverences her Groom, changes for her Groom. Her Groom is her joy, her life!!<br />
When did the earthly manifestation of that, cease to be a fulfillment of all that I need or desire or dream? <br />
Dare I suggest to you a couple things that have allowed this snake into the garden? <br />
Firstly, we have failed somehow to hold up and teach the glorious joy of a woman's calling. We have failed to teach and show the beautiful example of marriages like that of Christ and His Bride. So our young women are not catching that a marriage like that is what will fulfill them . That is where their dreams will be met.<br />
Then we see the "dream catch" syndrome of the world creeping in.<br />
O, we feel godly because we don't say he needs to be a Yale or Harvard graduate or a lawyer, doctor or have a six figure income. We say he needs to be a missionary or seminary student, involved in ministry, or a Bible College graduate. We want the finest catch for our daughters; forgetting to teach them to be worthy of a man of God, regardless of his family name, his vocation, occupation or income. <br />
There is, also, another thing far more subtly feeding the snake. It is the teaching that a young woman needs to remember that "she" is so very, very special. Why, she even should look in the mirror and tell herself that! She needs to wait because "she" is worth it. She needs to be very, very sure she finds the godliest man to take care of "her". She needs to be sure that any man she considers measures up to "her" standards and fulfills her list of credentials. She needs to go after that seminary student or missionary because "she" deserves it. <br />
An attitude like that makes it very hard not to whine or pout the first time you have to pick up Mr. Right's socks. Or when Mr. Seminary doesn't bring you flowers. Or Mr. Missionary neglects to tell you you're pretty or thank you for the supper. <br />
Of course , some of those things are good to teach but before you think I'm off my rocker for saying that feeds the snake, hear me out....<br />
Consider the calling of the Bride of Christ. Who is special? Who is worthy? You're right- the Groom! <br />
We women were created to be "his" helpmeet; to complete "him". <br />
We keep ourselves special because "he" is! We wait because "he" is worth it! <br />
Does that make me less than him? No! No! No! A thousand times, no!<br />
If you want to feel important. That IS important! The man is not complete without the woman, that is why God made you! <br />
You have a need to be cared for, and protected. The man fulfills that need. There's nothing wrong with that! That is okay! That's not "not being who I am"! That is who you were meant to be. That's God's way. Not mine, not someone else's , God's! <br />
Young women ( or older women) you need to grab ahold of your calling! You need to seek God to impress it deep into your hearts!<br />
Parents, you need to recognize the subtle twist the devil and the influence of the world is putting on your teaching. Be very, very sure your daughters catch the difference! <br />
Our young women's lives, the lives of many young men and children depend on it.<br />
Oh, yes, Young Woman, you are important! You can go after your dreams! Lift up the man in your life! See that you "reverence your husband" if you have one or see that you respect the godly young man that may be your husband someday. Put them first! <br />
See if you won't find a joy you've never dreamed possible! <br />
You will, because it is God's plan for women and His way always brings joy! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-33314947302808074332013-07-29T19:13:00.004-07:002013-07-29T19:13:58.120-07:00Do "They" Run or Ruin Your Life?<span class="userContent"><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_51f72073d8f153307523261">
Years ago I cut this out of a newspaper and posted in our frig. Somewhere over the years it got lost. I have finally located it online. I really, really like this!<br /><br /> Ode to the House of They<br /><br /> Have you heard of the terrible family They,<br /><span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> <br /> And the dreadful, venomous things They say?<br /><br /> Why, half the gossip under the sun,<br /><br /> If you trace it back, you will find begun<br /><br /> In that wretched House of They.<br /><br /> A numerous family, so I am told,<br /><br /> And its genealogical tree is old;<br /><br /> For ever since Adam and Eve began<br /><br /> To build up the curious race of man,<br /><br /> Has existed the House of They.<br /><br /> Gossip-mongers and spreaders of lies,<br /><br /> Horrid people whom all despise!<br /><br /> And yet the best of us now and then,<br /><br /> Repeat queer tales about women and men<br /><br /> And quote the House of They.<br /><br /> They live like lords, and never labor;<br /><br /> A They`s one task is to watch his neighbor,<br /><br /> And tell his business and private affairs<br /><br /> To the world at large; they are sowers of tares-<br /><br /> These folks in the House of They.<br /><br /> It is wholly useless to follow a They<br /><br /> With a whip or a gun, for he slips away<br /><br /> And into his house, where you cannot go;<br /><br /> It is locked and bolted and guarded so-<br /><br /> This horrible House of They.<br /><br /> Though you cannot get in, yet they get out,<br /><br /> And spread their villainous tales about;<br /><br /> Of all the rascals under the sun<br /><br /> Who have come to punishment, never one<br /><br /> Belonged to the House of They.</span></div>
</span>OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-43609037448981543462013-05-11T11:19:00.001-07:002013-07-18T20:11:43.044-07:00Mothers and Life<h4 class="itemtitle">
</h4>
<img alt="" data-src="http://xe7.xanga.com/d22f64f200131285040070/z227475146.jpg" src="http://xe7.xanga.com/d22f64f200131285040070/z227475146.jpg" /> Mother's Day....mixed emotions....that I really don't know the words for, or even know for sure if I want to put into words. .....cause , you know, putting something into words makes it more real somehow...and I realize that I have been trying to not make it real.<br />
<br />
It is a funny thing to be a grownup and to know that life has cycles and change and inevitables and that being "grownup" you know that is ...just life....deal with it.<br />
<br />
No amount of wallowing in the confusion and funny feelings and allowing the tears and memories etc, etc, will change any of it.<br />
<br />
So my personality is -deal with it.<br />
<br />
But sometimes I feel like there are realities that I tiptoe softly over like walking on eggshells.<br />
<br />
Like aging, death, empty nesting, change,<br />
<br />
This is the first Mother's Day of my life without a Mother. This is also the first Mother's day ,of my life as a Mother, without almost half of my children at home for the day to celebrate.<br />
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It feels ...kinda.....strange......I really have no words ...and I realize that searching for the words only brings me far too close to that place where I can no longer tiptoe over the feelings .<br />
<br />
And somehow I feel like if I get to that place it would take me too long to make my way back.<br />
<br />
I kinda feel like I'm hanging suspended over a chasm of time on a thin cable that is flinging me forward to the change on the other side and there is nothing I can do about it<br />
<br />
As a grownup with my own full life it doesn't feel like it should feel so much like a house without a foundation to face a Mother's day without my Mom. But....it does......<br />
<br />
I'm not an overly sentimental person. I don't get into mushy displays of family affection. I never really gave the whole "Mother " factor that much thought . It was just life. It was a given. Mothers day rolled around and as a kid I always picked out or made some little gift for Mom. As an adult moved away from home, I always called or visited. That was really all it was. I loved Mom. I appreciated her. But...she was just ...there....I really never thought about it, that in the very basic-ness of life she was a foundation.<br />
<br />
I want to hold on to my kids. I want to be surrounded by them ....to freeze this time.....somehow it seems like it would fill the surreal, vague, empty space that was ...Mom.<br />
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But like I said putting it into words brings tears to my eyes and......today..this moment....this celebration...I choose to focus on what IS, not what Was...That is LIFE...and that really is the only way...the best way...to get through it, until ....<br />
<br />
.....one day we part no more...OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-14368757252082471072013-02-15T12:38:00.000-08:002013-02-15T12:38:28.630-08:00February ThoughtsThe piles of snow are melting, making funky patterns on my deck<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<img alt="" data-src="http://xdd.xanga.com/a9ce122457333284653172/z227134476.jpg" src="http://xdd.xanga.com/a9ce122457333284653172/z227134476.jpg" /> and making my mind want to dare to think of Spring. Which, if you live in the Inland Northwest, is a very pointless exercise! But I can always hope! :)<br />
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Valentine tulips make me smile. <img alt="" data-src="http://xd5.xanga.com/52fe035ad4132284653184/z227134488.jpg" src="http://xd5.xanga.com/52fe035ad4132284653184/z227134488.jpg" /><br />
<br />
The circle of life goes on and in February one tends to think about it more. Nature hangs waiting, seemingly dead and still, for the warmth of life in the Spring breezes.<br />
<br />
I sit waiting on my first grandchild. I never imagined that I would feel almost as impatient as when it was my own. I will fly East on the 20th,my Mom's 71st birthday...if she were still here....I will leave to see my first grandchild, her 23rd great grandchild.....new life, not replacing the old ,just continuing the cycle of life...carrying on the heritage of what went before.<br />
<br />
Today is all sunshine and bright, blue skies.<br />
<br />
I received a gorgeous bridal shower invitation today...another happy reminder of the goodness of the cycle of life.....<br />
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I now am the (not so) proud owner of new pair of reading glasses. A not so happy reminder of life's cycles.....<br />
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<img alt="" data-src="http://xae.xanga.com/58be1a5ad4132284653174/z227134478.jpg" src="http://xae.xanga.com/58be1a5ad4132284653174/z227134478.jpg" /> <br />
<br />
I got a funky purple pair. Not because they look good on me. I'm not sure they do...but I have determined that "when I am old , I shall wear purple"! :)<br />
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<strong>Mom's Menu- </strong>Chicken Fried Rice, Corn and ApplesauceOrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-48870994972365385682013-02-02T10:01:00.003-08:002013-02-02T10:01:34.304-08:00The truth About The Weight IssueWow!! This really hit home!!<br />
<br />
I'm ashamed to admit it....but I think it's time to....<br />
<br />
For far too long I have looked in the mirror and compared the woman there to the 18yr old girl I used to be.<br />
<br />
Crazy , yes, stupid, duh, but I have . I have moaned and groaned about the fact that I was always determined to never gain weight! I would somehow stay slim in spite of 9 babies, 3 miscarriages, my gene pool and middle age!!!!!<br />
<br />
Well, yeh you guessed it I didn't and I have hated myself for it! I have obssessed about the 30lbs I've gained since I was forty. I have dieted incessantly and tried to lose the 50 lbs overall that I have gained since before I had kids. I never, ever ,ever just enjoy a tiramisu. I have one maybe once a year and can't even enjoy the taste because I feel so guilty. I am constantly on a diet..constantly!!!<br />
<br />
I never let my candid pic be taken if I know about it. And if someone sneaks one I delete if I can. I try to ignore it when the kids tell me if I died I they wouldn't even have a recent pic of me. I tell myself that's better . Then they would always remember me thin. I look at pics of others who if I am honest with myself they are in fact heavier than I am and I wonder how does she even pose for a pic and....deep inside I envy her.<br />
<br />
I try to ignore it when dear hubby tells me he'd rather have me happy , than thin. I try to swallow the words when I want to remind him that I'm too heavy , when he tells me I'm beautiful. Just this morning, I told him I didn't want to go somewhere because in spite of being in a weight challenge with some friends the last 3 wks I have GAiNED a pound and half and so I don't feel like going to a neighboring church this Sun. cause I don't want people to think he has a fat wife! Yeh ....Pitiful!!!<br />
<br />
And he just pulled me close and said, "I just want them to know that I have a happy wife." Wow, It had never really struck me like that before. Yeh, that is what is important to him. He wants people to know that he has made his wife happy. How am I showing that if I hide out because nothing in the closet fits the way I want it too. How can people see that if I pull away from people and the outgoing personality I used to have???<br />
<br />
Then I read this blog!! Yep! I'm very, very thoroughly convicted. It won't be easy but I am determined to accept my self, ALL of me.<br />
<br />
So there you have it ...the whole sordid truth...<br />
<br />
Read this blog, She says it all wonderfully!!<br />
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<a href="http://myfriendteresablog.com/so-youre-feeling-too-fat-to-be-photographed/" rel="nofollow">http://myfriendteresablog.com/so-youre-feeling-too-fat-to-be-photographed/</a><br />
<br />
OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-27531844575725913352013-01-31T10:43:00.004-08:002013-01-31T10:43:48.413-08:00A "good kid's testimony"A simple answer in my son's Bible curriculum stopped me short.<br />
<br />
".....I guess I don't have much of a testimony. I was only 12.......but I'm glad I didn't waste half of my life procuring a 'good' testimony."<br />
<br />
Wow!<br />
<br />
Yes, Son, I'm glad too, you didn't!<br />
<br />
But the issue he addresses here is a serious one.<br />
<br />
How often are our "good- christian- home -raised" kids made to feel like this? How often does the "hell raising sinner's" conversion story get repeated over and over and glorified??<br />
<br />
We carefully guard our children's environment. We teach them of Christ before they can talk. We read the Bible to them and then teach them to read it as soon as they can sound out "God". We teach them that we are all lost souls in need of a Saviour . We teach them the story of Adam. We tell them that through disobedience the whole race of mankind has lost a relationship with God and must find it only through the saving power of Christ's blood . We stress there are no Christians by inheritance and God has no grandchildren and clever things like that to try to instill in them that they are lost even though they are being raised in a Christian home.<br />
<br />
We tell them never to do "those bad things"!<br />
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We rejoice when they give their heart to God and acknowledge to Him that they are lost and doomed for punishment without Him. We rejoice and baptize them and we praise God with them.<br />
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And then....then what??<br />
<br />
Who ,outside of their parents ,(if we even do enough)encourages them, walks beside them, reminds them they were a sinner saved by grace!!!? Who affirms to them that they are remarkable , a set apart holy vessel unto God, special in His eyes and ours because they chose Him!!??? Who looks close enough to notice when the dark temptations of this world try to allure that "good kid" ? Who is there to remind him of the reaping and the sowing and how very very blessed he is that he will never have to live to regret???<br />
<br />
Does He see or hear enough of that?<br />
<br />
He sees the "new convert" that everyone flocks around. You know the one, the drunk who lived under the bridge who now sits in the church pew. He hears the exclaiming about the mighty power of God that worked in that man's life.<br />
<br />
He listens to the testimony of guest speaker who spent in his life in riotous living and now found the answer to his soul's cry. And he hears the Amen's and hallelujah's roll when that man says he stands here by the grace of God .<br />
<br />
He watches when the fatted calf is killed for the rebellious son who returns after years of running from God. <br />
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He attends all the returned missionary film shows about the amazing work of God among the sin darkened heathens.<br />
<br />
He sees. He listens. He watches. <br />
<br />
And somewhere along the line , he begins to feel that his conversion didn't really amount to much. He begins to question whether he really knows the grace of God. He wonders if maybe a person does need to continues in sin in order for grace to "abound".<br />
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He feels insignificant. He's <em>just</em> the "good kid".<br />
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And when the tempter whispers that there are good things out there to see and experience, he listens...because he has heard it sound so exciting.<br />
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And when the discourager tells him "who cares" , he listens.... because he's not sure anymore if anyone does.<br />
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And when the dark one taunts 'hath God said" , he wavers, because....he thinks ,maybe ,just maybe, he's not saved.<br />
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And while the saints rejoice over the prodigal and while the missionary recounts the conversion of the demon possessed, the good kid slips outside the door.<br />
<br />
He becomes the runaway, the sinner...<br />
<br />
Then we all pray...we mention his name at every prayer meeting. We rock heaven's gate with our fervent prayers for his salvation and his return.<br />
<br />
But what if he doesn't ...then what...what if the lies and whispers grow so strong ,he takes his own life, as a "good kid", my son's friend, did just yesterday.<br />
<br />
What then?<br />
<br />
It is too late for that "good kid" but then...maybe then.... <br />
<br />
....will we gather our children around and tell them how blessed they are...how valued they are.....how in the sight of God there is no respect of persons? Will we remind them that we are so very blessed by their godly, right choices and tell them how special a sanctified vessel is in the service of God? Will we tell them they are so wise to feel "glad that (they) didn't waste half of (their) life procuring a good testimony"?<br />
<br />
Will we.....then...NOW....??OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-90717557162903707002013-01-30T13:49:00.000-08:002013-01-30T13:49:02.447-08:00It hurts too much to care....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<h4 class="itemtitle">
<span><span>"Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? ...Out of whose womb came the ice? and the hoary frost of heaven, who hath gendered it?....By the breath of God frost is given ..." </span>selected from Job</span></h4>
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<div id="id_50fefacc2ccc87111769921">
<span>Are there days when it just takes too much energy to care? Are there things that just hurt too much to think about because they make you "care"? Is the burden of caring just too much so you try to shrug it off? </span></div>
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<div>
<span>Maybe those questions seem strange to you. Maybe you never felt any of those. </span></div>
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<span>Today I feel like all of those. </span></div>
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<span>Yes, I know that sounds awful. That sounds "UN"- caring.</span></div>
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<div>
<span> But the truth is I <span>...</span><span>have a lot of times like this.</span></span></div>
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<span><span> I started today with being drawn into the little arbor of frosted trees that I shared with you in my photo. There's something about the mysterious depths of a frosty forest that always pulls me in. I want to know the "treasures of the snow". I want to know deeper the breath of the God who made the frost.</span></span></div>
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<span><span> But...in knowing more ...in getting close enough to feel the breath of God, along with all the sweetness of joy you also will find something else.......your heart will be broken by what breaks His.</span></span></div>
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<span><span> It continued for me with a simple question from a friend's status on facebook, "What stirs you?" I thought about that. It wasn't hard for me to think of three things that stir me: the hopelessness of an addict, broken marriages, wimpy Christians. I felt a twinge as I wrote the last and I felt the familiar tightening of caring about something and feeling powerless to do anything about it. </span></span></div>
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<span><span>IF I care enough it stirs me and If I do nothing doesn't that make me a wimpy Christian? </span></span></div>
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<span><span>It grew more intense as I read a link from another commenter under that post, a link about the plight of millions of children in deplorable orpahanages around the world. </span></span></div>
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<span><span>It grew even more reading another's link on the sin of abortion in our country.</span></span></div>
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<span><span> At this moment in time I have little resources to DO anything about most of these things that break my heart.</span></span></div>
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<span><span> BUT...am I ignoring it all because it really takes energy, time and commitment to care and yes, it hurts to care?</span></span></div>
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<span><span> Am I doing what I could be doing? Am I sacrficing wherever and whenever I can to do whatever I can, no matter how small? Am I spending time passing on the burden of the heart of God to my children to give them a heart to care and prepare them for the time when they can do something about it?</span></span></div>
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<span><span> Recently a son told me that he feels like with all the children needing a home he should adopt instead of just having his own. Forget all the questions of theolology or right or wrong of that feeling, was my hesitation because I selfishly just want to see and know MY son's children? Shouldn't I just thank God for that expression of the heart of God in my son? So do I really care if I know deep inside that sometimes I try not to because it hurts too much?</span></span></div>
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<span><span>Today I want to know more intimately the breath of the God who made the frost. i want my heart to break with what breaks His and I want to try to show that caring.</span></span></div>
OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-58342995894145761552012-09-19T01:26:00.002-07:002012-10-07T15:45:26.172-07:00This Moment of Time<img height="198" id="il_fi" src="http://www.cgarena.com/gallery/3d/details/fullimages/scenes/image_4d35ecc70c67b.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="320" /><br />
Sleep refuses to come. The thousand thoughts of the last several days toss restlessly through my mind...<br />
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No one ever expects to deal with death like this. My husband's dad is dying 2500 miles away. My mom is dying 400 miles away. We've known it was coming but who knew it would come at the same time. My husband returned home late one night from visiting his Dad and we left the next morning to say good-by to my mom.<br />
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You think you prepare for death but you can't; not really.<br />
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I have wanted for days to write out my thoughts but it is always too jumbled. It feels far too jumbled now but I must . That's just the way I am.<br />
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I know the death of a parent is not the same sharp wrenching pain of the loss of a spouse or a child . It is different but it is still somehow a very strange surreal un-moored feeling. The one who gave me birth lies somewhere suspended between time and eternity.<br />
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It seems that sudden death would be ever so much easier than this...this waiting...waiting....watching..... hovering...waiting...<br />
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It seems we live in a funny little vaccuum of space where nothing is as it seemed before and where everything revolves around a phone call.<br />
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Modern medicine has added in it's own complications to whole big picture. More questions, more decisions, ethical wranglings, comfort vs prolonging the inevitable , sustaining life vs delaying death, too many decisions, too many voices, too many opinions...too much to think about .....<br />
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Life seems so fragile. It seems so easy to think ,"What is the point?" But then I remember that because of choices my father-in-law made his children will teach their children about God. I know that because of choices my mom made, her approx 100 descendants now, will teach the next generation about God . Only eternity will tell the impact their lives will have. Life is a big responsibility.<br />
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Little bits of songs , pictures, happenings of today , of yesterdays, turn round and round my head. "...I know that my Redeemer liveth..., ...Jesus hath risen and man shall die..., and I no more as now shall stand..." Scenes of home, my old upstairs bedroom, Mom's voice, the long lane, the creak of the stairs,long evenings canning and reading with mom and my sisters.<br />
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I hear my voice join my siblings in "How Beautiful Heaven must Be", Come Home It's Supper Time", Someday the Silver Cord Will Break, and "Safe In the Arms Of Jesus" . I cry inside as I hear Pop's unforgettable bass join in on "Fear not , O Child, I Will Take Care Of Thee".<br />
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How do you watch your Pop tell his wife goodbye every day, lots of times through the day , never knowing when it will really be the final goodbye?<br />
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Every turning leaf, every wispy cloud, every crisp Autumn breeze, somehow seems more beautiful than before. Every kiss from my husband, every word from my child , somehow seems to hang suspended in time for a fraction of a second longer than normal.<br />
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But all of it somehow seems surreal as you know you stand facing something so much bigger than you; some plan far bigger than time or space.<br />
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One thought comes incessantly, I do not know how one lives if he says there is no God.<br />
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If I did not believe there was Someone who understood this all, I think I would scream and rage at this huge cosmic plan. If there is not Someone who will one day wipe away the tears and tell the reason why, I would shake my fist at a universe that throws together atoms into human pawns and sits back to let us live , die and decay for no purpose whatsoever.<br />
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I know some say the very existence of these seemingly endless ,unanswered questions makes them say there is no god , or rage against him if there is.<br />
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But I know. I know in part and sometime I shall know fully. I know man was created for life and fellowship with his Creator and that was ruined for time when man chose evil over good. I know that eternity will tell the story . I know that then we'll know how often a loving Father had to step back and let this whole thing work out to the final victory of good over evil, life over death. I'll understand why He chooses not intervene in the natural course of earthly death.<br />
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I don't know how one watches a body fight to live and not realize we were created for life, not death.<br />
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I stand in hope that one day I shall see the final victory. "O death where is thy sting? O grave where is thy victory?"<br />
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I shall one day stand with the One of Eternity and all my questions will be answered<br />
<br />OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-43214005644765973712012-07-03T11:20:00.001-07:002012-10-07T15:46:08.510-07:00A Little Child Shall Lead ThemThe familiar knock came on the bedroom door. Someone neeeded to talk. The teary voice of our youngest answered our query. <br />
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When he entered and came to our bedside, we knew big things were on his mind. He has always thought deeply and asked so many out -of the-blue questions about life and philosophy.<br />
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"I just think I need to be saved'. There it was out. <br />
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My husband and I both had the same thoughts , I knew.<br />
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This child is ...just a child.<br />
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I know there are many differing ideas about when a child is ready and they all tumbled through my head. He was not the first to come at the this age ,nor was this the first time he had come.<br />
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The first time was several months ago. We talked and determined that he was worried by the sermon and just wanted assurance that he would go to heaven. We prayed with him, told him to keep listening to God and he went merrily on his way.<br />
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Should we do the same tonight?<br />
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We talked. He was very knowledgable about the whole process , who God is and who he is without God. <br />
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He told us he had been doing a lot of thinking and reading. He mentioned that overhearing a conversation by older siblings about their concern for his behavior had bothered him. He mentioned the "Ten Commandment" plaque on the wall. <br />
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But after talking awhile my husband still felt some hesitation. He agreed to prayer and thinking it over.<br />
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His prayer was simple and sweet. "God, I want to hear You and know it's You and I want to know how to go all the way with You."<br />
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My husband and I talked seriously after he left. After eight other children you would think this decision would be easier to truly know how best to lead them through but somehow as always with child-training they each one throw their particular little curve into it.<br />
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We rolled over to sleep trusting ourselves and our child to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit's direction and voice.<br />
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.....A knock at the door...<br />
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"You know, I just really think I need to take care of it now."<br />
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There was no denying that certainty.<br />
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He added, "It was a weird thing when I was waiting in the hall and coming into the room, I kept hearing the word, 'someday', 'someday'......I think it was the devil...."<br />
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Ah, yes, even a child can know.<br />
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Again his prayer was simple , though longer than before. He started " Thank you....God, I pray to be a good soldier for you......I'm sorry.....I pray that I can go all the way with you and never give up......"<br />
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Yes, Lord!!!OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-56826505116857128872012-06-15T09:44:00.002-07:002013-07-18T20:11:43.046-07:00The "Home-making" FatherWomen are known as the homemakers and I think rightly so, but what about all the "home making" that the dad's do? I thought of that as I was thinking of the normal "mom post' and Father's day. Home would not be home, Mom would not have a home to make a home ,truly a home, without Dad. I know , of course, there are instances when one spouse has to carry on alone but home in God's plan is Mom and Dad.<br />
I was thinking of the two father's in my life.<br />
My Pop has always been ...well...just "Pop"! He was never a Dad , he was never a Father. He disliked both of those terms and for some reason neither really suits him. He was and is just "Pop"! For those that know him that explains him! <br />
In fact growing up his own children were not the only ones that called him "Pop". Most of the other young people in the church did , also. I thought perhaps it was because we were a small church and everyone knew each other so well. But as we grew older and had friends visit from out of state and meet him for the first time, soon they all called him Pop too! When several years ago he moved from that church to a new area, everyone again, very quickly just called him ..."Pop"!<br />
He is a one-of-a-kind person! If you ever meet him you'll never forget him.<br />
He worked hard for his family. He worked in the woods most of my growing up years. It was hard , tiring work with hardly ever enough money to stretch far enough, but we made it! <br />
I remember surprises in his lunch pail brought home to show us kids. I remember long winter nights of "Authors", "Aggravation", Probe"and building "Lincoln Log" houses. And stories,...always stories.<br />
He believed in firm discipline and hard work. Many were the times as a child I thought he overdid both! <img border="0" data-src="http://www.xanga.com/images/winky.gif" src="http://www.xanga.com/images/winky.gif" width="15" /> But I'm thankful for the things he taught me. <br />
Today it is just him and Mom left in their home and Pop truly is the homemaker. Mom is bedfast with ALS brought on by Lyme's disease. Pop lovingly cares for her every need! Some one of the family is alwasy there to help but Pop is really the one who does all Mom's care.I thank God for Pop!<br />
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I think of my own husband, the Father of our 9 children. Without him our home would not be a home the way it is.<br />
He is the steadying. He is the anchor.<br />
He is the one who works tirelessly to provide food and clothing and a roof over our heads. He is the one who fixes the leaky faucets, the screeching vaccuum sweeper, and the door that sticks. He is the one who gets up to check on the bumps in the night. <br />
He is the fun-loving one ; always ready to show the kids something or play with them. <br />
He's a friend to all the kids. He's the hugger and soother for the little ones and the counsellor for the older ones. <br />
He is the one where "the buck stops" . He is the go to man for everyone. <br />
He is the one who leads the family prayer. He is the one who answers their questions about God. <br />
My man, my husband, my children's Dad, is the one behind this "home-maker"! He is the one who holds me up and gets me through the day. <br />
He's the one who encourages me when things are tough and assures me that we'll get through it. <br />
I grocery shop. I feed him. I wash his clothes .(sometimes he even does that! ) I pick up his dirty socks. I keep the house clean. I listen when he needs to talk and I give input. I "mother" the kids.<br />
But.....<br />
It's the man of the house. It's him. It's the father here who provides, the food , the house ,the vehicle, the clothes,even the wash machine! <br />
It's the Father who provides what Mom needs, materially, physically , emotionally and spiritually and to be a homemaker.<br />
It's the Father who is the REAL homemaker!! <br />
Thank you, heavenly Father, for a godly man!<br />
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This post is linked at Homemakers by Choice<br />
<a href="http://www.homemakerbychoice.net/2012/06/friday-homemaking-link-up_14.html">http://www.homemakerbychoice.net/2012/06/friday-homemaking-link-up_14.html</a>OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-72432413342140970612012-04-24T22:26:00.004-07:002012-10-07T15:47:18.523-07:00The Emmaus Road<a href="http://x89.xanga.com/b45d970566234117894663/m84647876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="picture 0013" border="0" data-src="http://x89.xanga.com/b45d970566234117894663/m84647876.jpg" id="x-image" src="http://x89.xanga.com/b45d970566234117894663/m84647876.jpg" /></a><em></em><br />
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<em>Luke 24:13-35 "...two of them went...to a village called Emmaus...And they talked together of all the things which had happened....while they communed together...Jesus himself drew near and went with them...."</em><br />
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This is probably my favorite painting. The particular one pictured here is even more special to me because it was my Grandpa's. As a very young child I remember looking deep into it's shady quietness as it hung over my Grandpa's desk. That desk and the corner where it stood was "Grandpa's Space". As a child, that picture drew me in, not only for it's meaning, but also for the glimpse into Grandpa's heart. Why did he choose that picture for over his desk? Grandpa's been gone now for nearly 20 years. I never did ask him and I wish I would have. ...So because of Grandpa it is special to me.<br />
It's appeal for me goes deeper than just Grandpa, though. I have always been intrigued with the story recorded in Luke and I love this depiction of it.<br />
Last night I was looking at this again. It really made think about it in light of the timing of just celebrating the Resurrection. How must it have felt for those men, saddened and bewildered, to talk with Christ? They give us a little glimpse when they say, "Did not our hearts burn within us?" Then immediately they wanted to tell others. Walking and talking with Christ was different than the ordinary walk.<br />
I have also pondered the question of Jesus, "What things?". A young friend made that question even more real to me, when she said that has been a comfort to her. When she is perplexed by all of life's 'things', she likes to imagine Christ asking her that question and inviting her to tell him every little thing, and putting them all into perspective.<br />
It also brings to mind the day my , then 6 yrld, son came to me and wanted me to hear a poem he had made up. His words struck my heart because he had a difficult time with some of his speech, R's in particular, and was often teased because of it. This is what he softly said to me that day-<br />
<em>"On the Damascus road, that was never mowed,<br /> I met God, and He was not odd.<br />We talked and talked, and I was not mocked,<br /> On the Damascus road, that was never mowed.</em><br />
His road was the "Damascus"...the men's in Luke was the "Emmaus"..we may be on just any road..and still it is the same. When He comes we do not feel Him strange and He does not make us feel uncomfortable. He just gently says, "Child,tell me about it".......When He comes, wherever we are, let's just tell Him about it... and let Him take it from there......OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-7750205991008979492012-04-11T20:46:00.002-07:002012-10-07T15:47:25.719-07:00Through a WindowIt is finally Spring! Or...at least Spring-y enough to let me pretend it will last. <br />
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We were able to work outside today. As I was working with all the kidlins and hubby, I was reminded of a Spring-time memory that I had recorded a few years ago on my xanga. I want to share it with you!<br />
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I named it then "Through a Window". Kinda reminds me of one of my favorite book names "A Window in Thrums" by J.M. Barrie. I like the book but not really as much as I like the name. yeh, I know I'm kinda weird like that. I like Paint color names , too! :)<br />
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Anyhow let's take a peek through my window that Spring ....<br />
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I chanced to glance out the window, across the tiny stream, to the children's play area under the arbor of plum trees. An old bench sits under the lilac bush.The swing set is bedecked with a red sheet across the support bars of the seesaw. From under the sheet small bare feet and the hemline of a yellow jumper is showing. The sheet trembles......<br />
Wait....I am looking through the window into a grand old hall, the high overhead beams of a towering cathedral ceiling frame a rich wine tapestry sweeping the marble floor of the stage. The curtain trembles....<br />
...then is thrown aside with a dramatic flourish. Poised , there she is.... in a shimmering yellow gown of the finest taffeta with matching slippers. From my vantage point, even outside the window, I can hear the gasp of the audience. She tips her head , smiles, steps out from the curtain, down the step and bows in a dainty curtsy.<br />
Stepping softly, she begins a slow pirouette across the stage. She is speaking now, though I can't catch all the words, I know it is an old tender ballad spoken in tones clear and low. The audience leans in to hear her every word. She is the favorite, the one whom they all have waited to see and hear.<br />
She continues across center stage and seats herself gracefully on a tufted settee under the hanging draperies. Now the sweet low tones of the poetry give way to a song of tinkling bell-like notes. She is singing. Again the people hang on every note....she finishes the song with one last flutelike note....<br />
The spell is broken.... my small barefoot daughter rises from the bench, all make-believe gone and slowly crosses the old bridge across the little stream toward the house. I let out my breath and sigh... then smile..<br />
Oh, for the imagination of a child once again.... for the ability to turn the ordinary in to the extra ordinary....to take a swing, an old sheet , a grassy spot.....and turn it into a place of beauty and grandeur.....fit for royalty!!!<br />
... Or to take a mop, a tea towel, a livingroom carpet.... and turn it into a place of beauty and peace fit for royalty ... my husband, my children.....<br />
... Oh, for the faith to see that I must take my sin stained heart....my weary spirit... my unworthy soul and give it to the One that can turn it into ROYALTY!!! <br />
Lord, give me the heart of a child , able always to see the beauty in the ordinary and imagine the impossible....<br />OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-83285038177575650792012-03-21T20:24:00.001-07:002012-03-22T11:15:02.822-07:00"Special" Date Night :)Yesterday afternoon when my husband and I returned home from town, our 13 yrld daughter said she and her two younger siblings wanted to make and serve supper for us.<br />
<img alt="" data-mce-src="http://xfa.xanga.com/849e11f443d32281286398/z224111008.jpg" src="http://xfa.xanga.com/849e11f443d32281286398/z224111008.jpg" /><br />
As she worked in the kitchen, her younger siblings whispered down the hall. At the "appointed time" she told us all was ready and we should wait at the top of the stairway to the basement. <br />
Our young waiter , in black pants, white shirt and tie , appeared and with an elaborate gesture motioned us to follow him down the stairs and into the library.<br />
<img alt="" data-mce-src="http://x27.xanga.com/97af87f523d33281286396/z224111006.jpg" src="http://x27.xanga.com/97af87f523d33281286396/z224111006.jpg" /> <img alt="" data-mce-src="http://x16.xanga.com/5c0f92fbc7631281286453/z224111060.jpg" src="http://x16.xanga.com/5c0f92fbc7631281286453/z224111060.jpg" /><br />
There we found an alcove formed around the library table with tablecloths and curtains. Behind the curtain was a beautifully set table with silver candlesticks and flowers. Goblets of ice water, placecards and a molded chocolate rose were at both settings. We were seated and after assuring us dinner would be served shortly, he disappeared.<br />
Music began to play in the back ground and a pretty waitress in white ruffled cocktail apron appeared. Pointing to two small bowls , she told us to start with our appetizer and she would be back. The appetizer was apple slices and honey peanutbutter.<br />
The kitchen overhead was full of hurried footsteps and quiet voices. Occasionally footsteps came part way down the stairs, paused and hurried back with a whispered observation.<br />
Soon the waitress appeared with our full plates. Dinner was served. It was delicious; perfectly seasoned pork strips with green pepper and onions served over a bed of fluffy mashed potatoes and topped with a fried egg. (I'm sure this was a spinoff of a recipe older brother brought back from Thailand, usually served over rice) :) <br />
<img alt="" data-mce-src="http://x0c.xanga.com/856f91fbc7630281286463/z224111070.jpg" src="http://x0c.xanga.com/856f91fbc7630281286463/z224111070.jpg" /><br />
Our waiter appeared to refill our glasses and ask if we would be wanting coffee.<br />
We ate in privacy except for a quick "duck-in" from the waiter who smiled and said to me, "The cook wants to know if you're on a diet." (A little late for that. The plate in front of me was heaped! I assured him I was setting aside any dieting for the evening and to tell the cook the meal was delicious.)<br />
Soon the waiter appeared to take our plates , quickly followed by the waitress with coffee.<br />
They reappeared with Chocolate,Vanilla Ice Cream garnished with chopped peanutbutter cups , piled high in sundae glasses.<br />
<img alt="" data-mce-src="http://x0f.xanga.com/7c2f9361c7631281286460/z224111067.jpg" src="http://x0f.xanga.com/7c2f9361c7631281286460/z224111067.jpg" /><br />
After awhile the waiter returned to take our plates .Then the cook with the waiter and waitress all came to our table while the waiter as elaborately as possible around his dancing dimple, told us "We hope you enjoyed your meal and do you have any words for the cook." :) After profusely thanking them,they prepared to leave us. The cook whispered behind her hand,to the waitress "curtsey!" She daintily obeyed and they left our alcove.<br />
Silence ...then the waiter reappeared and told us "You can go upstairs whenever you want to". :)<br />
We left them all a tip and exited our romantic restaurant.<br />
Sometimes you know it's all worth it! :)<br />
<br />This post is linked at Raising Mighty Arrows<br />
<a href="http://www.raisingmightyarrows.com/"><img src="http://webzoom.freewebs.com/ouralaskaadventure/RaisingMightyArrows/ProverbsButton.jpg" /></a>OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-65020782292077350012012-03-15T22:20:00.002-07:002012-03-16T10:48:47.291-07:00The Health Nut???Coming from a background of great cooking and baking, delectable treats and meals from the kitchen were a requirement for any good little housewife. We were taught at a very young age to take pride in our pies and cookies. We oohed and aahed over the array at a church potluck and exchanged recipes. Every church had their "best cook". Huge, gooey, cinnamon rolls, golden crusted, pies, and perfectly browned, chocolate chip, cookies, were in our DNA. Mounds of perfectly mashed potatoes, creamy corn swimming in butter,or airy melt in your mouth pancakes were what set the "best cook" apart from the rest. This cook was known for her "to-die-for" chicken and that one for her always perfect donuts.<br />
<img alt="" data-mce-src="http://x17.xanga.com/f328556ad4078222708022/z174833370.jpg" src="http://x17.xanga.com/f328556ad4078222708022/z174833370.jpg" /><br />
And then ...occasionally...there was the health nut. You could pick out their contribution to the potluck. It was that bowl of dried apples, that plate of dry mounded looking things called cookies, or that crockpot of some unidentifiable vegetable soup.<br />
That's what "healthy" cooking was. <img alt="" data-mce-src="http://xbf.xanga.com/945e15f1d1232281137867/z223972430.jpg" src="http://xbf.xanga.com/945e15f1d1232281137867/z223972430.jpg" /><br />
O, yeh , sure we all tried to fix a balanced meal: meat, starch, vegetable, fruit and...sweet! We were good cooks, you know. We take care of our families with well rounded meals three times a day.<br />
And then...somewhere, sometime, something begins to happen. For the truly wise woman, she begins to really think about what health means and that maybe, just maybe, it is different than she always supposed. Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn't be so quick to scorn those dried up little mounds passed off as cookies!<br />
Somewhere along the line that happened to me and I started to change our family's eating style. I started to rethink the cups and cups of white sugar in my favorite cookie recipe, the white flour in that perfect loaf of bread, the airy "nothingness" of that beautifully fried donut and the loaded carbs in those "best of the best" mashed potatoes.<br />
BUT...I refused to believe I had to settle for dried apples and cookies that tasted like cardboard! So the process has been a loooonng one!<br />
Recently, I've renewed the effort to provide my family with truly healthy foods and treats which also satisfy my "DNA"! :)<br />
Articles like this one fuel the effort <a data-mce-href="http://wemustknow.net/2012/03/world-renown-heart-surgeon-speaks-out-on-what-really-causes-heart-disease/" href="http://wemustknow.net/2012/03/world-renown-heart-surgeon-speaks-out-on-what-really-causes-heart-disease/" rel="nofollow">http://wemustknow.net/2012/03/world-renown-heart-surgeon-speaks-out-on-what-really-causes-heart-disease/</a><br />
And, I'm proud to link to my daughter's new blog who is on her own journey for perfectly, delicious, good for you, cooking and baking!!!<br />
<a data-mce-href="http://mysliceofsky.blogspot.com/" href="http://mysliceofsky.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow">http://mysliceofsky.blogspot.com/</a> <img alt="" data-mce-src="http://x2f.xanga.com/7d5e06e538035281137885/z223972448.jpg" src="http://x2f.xanga.com/7d5e06e538035281137885/z223972448.jpg" /><br />
Here's to happy baking and cooking to a new breed of "health nuts"!OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-5106243508463175712012-03-05T10:21:00.003-08:002012-03-16T10:59:58.187-07:00My Jesus Knows Just What I NeedMy sister related a precious story to me that happened Saturday evening at my Mom's.<br />
<br />
My Mom was "diagnosed" over 6 yrs ago with an incurable, terminal, motor neuron problem of undetermined cause or name. Within the last year we have come to understand that it was most likely Lyme disease left untreated. They began to call it Lou Gehrigs a year ago.<br />
About 3 yrs ago she lost her ability to communicate verbally and this past summer became unable to type or write or eat.<br />
She has been bedridden for the last few months.<br />
<br />
In the Spring of 2011 Drs. told us to expect her to be gone by Fall '11, then changed it to Christmas, then said she could not make it to her 70th birthday Feb 20, 2012.<br />
<br />
The process has been long, drawn out, and full of challenges, difficulties and emotions. One of the hardest to deal with has been the difficulty of communciation, expecially because it is evident that her mind and ability to comprehend has been largely unaffected.<br />
She is no longer able to make any signs except occasionally to wiggle her toe in answer to a question.<br />
My Dad does most of her care. Hospice nurses and we, children and grandchildren take up the extra. Someone of the family is there all the time.<br />
<br />
This past weekend 5 of my siblings, and several of the in-laws and grandchildren were there. My niece who lives about 450 miles away wanted to show Grandma her new baby and the others had various other reasons.<br />
<br />
Saturday evening as they sat and visited around Mom's bed , she became increasingly agitated , trying to communicate something to them. They tried and tried but were unable to determine what it was. My dad finally gave up in weariness as my sisters still struggled to understand.<br />
<br />
It was then that my 13yrld nephew stepped over quietly to his Mom and asked if he could sing a song for Grandma. When he was told to go ahead, he slipped from the room to where the shelf where Mom's hymnals are kept and returned with it open to his selection. He stepped to the side of Grandma's bed and began to sing...<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ss5d7TVBwGZVecf4bjzPQao30nU1apgjQ41xKy9jt14pr2p5j2V81h7qcPA-vCklSd08BwRfJHEaOHictJvVSI0lMfl8FTHtet1RYPSPhrh4W8s8_tOZyzP_AKWJaqMbs2iyGAD6ZdY/s1600/good+shepherd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ss5d7TVBwGZVecf4bjzPQao30nU1apgjQ41xKy9jt14pr2p5j2V81h7qcPA-vCklSd08BwRfJHEaOHictJvVSI0lMfl8FTHtet1RYPSPhrh4W8s8_tOZyzP_AKWJaqMbs2iyGAD6ZdY/s320/good+shepherd.jpg" width="229" /></a>My Jesus knows when I am Lonely <br />
He knows each pain, He sees each tear<br />
He understands each lonely heartache<br />
He understands because He cares <br />
Chorus:<br />
My Jesus knows just what I need<br />
Oh yes! He knows just what I need<br />
He satisfies and every need supplies<br />
Yes, He knows just what I need <br />
<br />
My Jesus knows when I am burdened<br />
He knows how much my heart can bear<br />
He lifts me up when I am sinking<br />
And brings me joy beyond compare <br />
<br />
When other friends seem to forget me<br />
When skies are dark, when hope is gone<br />
By faith I feel His arms around me<br />
And hear Him say, "You're not alone"<br />
Chorus:<br />
My Jesus knows just what I need<br />
Oh yes! He knows just what I need<br />
He satisfies and every need supplies<br />
Yes, He knows just what I need<br />
<br />
He satisfies and every need supplies<br />
Yes, He knows just what I need<br />
<br />
When he began to sing, Mom quieted and long before he finished all stanzas, every adult in the room was in tears.<br />
<br />
Yes, My Jesus knows just what I need , what anyone needs, even when know one else can understand.<br />
<br />
A little child shall lead them.OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-623212562582504482012-03-02T09:41:00.002-08:002012-10-07T15:48:19.119-07:00Improvising for Decorating DilemmasMoving into a new house always creates new decorating fun and challenges.<br />
The deocrating is especially sticky if you are on a limited budget and can't just go buy some new curtains or decor. Making do with what you have on hand is always a fun challenge to me!<br />
With this most recent move, I was faced with many such challenges! <br />
Three of which I will address here....<br />
(1) The master bedroom is big but it also has 3 BIG windows so a place to put the bed became an instance "head scratcher" . The situation is made more more difficult because my husband has a very large desk/hutch that needs to go in the bedroom also. The only solution came in putting the bed under the smallest window. I dislike beds under windows! But as our bed does not have a headboard (never really got the money and the "find" to coincide) it was low enough to fit and looked passable temporarily..<br />
(2) Dilemma #2 is caused by those same 3 big windows. I have never had that many of that size to contend with, so do not have matching curtains for that. <br />
(3) A huge mirror that is a prize possession of mine usually has hung above a mantel or the piano. There is no mantel in this house and the only spot for the piano was on a basement family room wall that is concrete. So hanging the mirror became an issue. <br />
We searched the house for another spot for the mirror. There were four options that presented themselves as big enough but three were immediately ruled out because of conflicting decor or furniture. We settled on the entry hall but as it is quite narrow the mirror, instead of enlarging it , only seemed to close it in more. <br />
Roaming throught the house , thinking, thinking, and looking through my curtain stash, thinking, thinking; I came up with an idea!<br />
If I can somehow come up with a window treatment that doubles as a headboard or bed treatment, then the other window treatments do not have to match, just coordinate! So I only have to have two matching curtain set ups!<br />
This is the finished product (well as soon as hubby fixes my attempt at hanging the rod,) :)<br />
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I combined a long ,cream, lace ,scarf with a smaller, red, valance/panel combo curtain and propped the mirror on the windowsill! Voila! I like it!! <br />
And THREE decorating dilemmas solved in ONE, I like that, too!! :)<br />
<br />
This post is linked at<br />
<img alt="Feminine Adventures" src="http://feminineadventures.com/images/blog-button-thrifty-thursda.jpg" />OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-61131637540088152752012-02-27T09:32:00.003-08:002012-10-07T15:49:12.169-07:00A Little Child...Big questionsHis little voice was teary and very serious. He had some very hard questions for Daddy.<br />
<br />
At the first hesitant words, Daddy stopped what he was doing at the desk and took him on his lap. He is almost getting too big. His legs dangle on the ground. He is 9. <br />
<br />
"Dad, how do you know if you want to be a Christian for the right reason? " His words kinda tumbled and jumbled from there. His thoughts were difficult for him to form.<br />
<br />
Paraphrased something like this, "I don't really <em>intentionally</em> do wrong things. But I do wrong things sometimes. Does that mean I will go to hell? I don't want to go to Hell . I want to go to Heaven. But I don't know if being afraid of going to Hell is a reason to be a christian."<br />
<br />
Wise little man.<br />
<br />
Mommy had stopped on the stairs at the first words and came back to join the conversation somewhere in the middle there. This was going to be an important conversation.<br />
<br />
My husband gently , slowly, explained salvation, discipleship, love and fear , motivations and convictions with him. Big concepts, are sometimes hard to put into words clearly enough for such important questions in one so young.<br />
<br />
It was one of those moments when you know the gravity of your responsibility of training this little one for life, for God , for eternity.<br />
<br />
Big questions; Hard questions; Wise questions. Thank you , Lord for your infinitely, gentle, leading of your little ones.<br />
<br />
Questions....questions that a lot of us adults need to ponder long and hard ourselves.<br />
<br />
Are we a Christian for the right reasons?<br />
<br />OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-65111930685196597292012-02-18T22:23:00.000-08:002012-02-18T22:28:46.022-08:00Moving and Normalcy I have been unable to post for awhile since we have been moving. <br />
I wonder each time we move , "How in the world do we accumulate so much stuff!?" <br />
This time had it's own little challenges ,moving belongings for 11 people with 3 of them missing. The eldest daughter married and moved away and couldn't take all of her things. The eldest son is away working for 6mos. so most of his stuff is still here. The second oldest son, is overseas for 6mos in missions. Most of his stuff was boxed up before he left , but we still needed to move the boxes!<br />
Added to the mix was about a foot of snow, a steep winding driveway and a broken snow plow. Needless to say putting on tire chains every time in and out was NO fun!.<br />
As I posted before, my clothes washer and my Bosch mixer gave out also! It has been one of those times you just close your mind and focus on the task at hand. It will somehow get done . It always does.<br />
When my mixer gave out I declared we would just buy bread until the move is over as I did not want to mess with making it by hand. We did buy a few loaves but........for me bread baking is normalcy. The smell is "home". The kneading and forming it are therapeutic. So.....I just did a couple small batches in my KitchenAid. :) <br />
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Soon I hope to be back to normal ( whatever that is)! :) </div>
<br />OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-32003213118199245432012-02-10T10:27:00.000-08:002012-02-10T11:50:33.054-08:00Parenting?<div>
Ok, I saw it once too often....<br />
The video circulating through facebook of the dad who found the disrespectful letter about her parents on his 15yrld daughter's facebook. I am not posting the link because of the bad language on it.<br />
The Dad proceeds to make a video and posts it on his daughter's wall of him reading the letter and addressing her issues and her subsequent punishment.<br />
He takes issue with her foul language ; which he should. He reprimands her disrespect; which he should. He sets her straight on her viewpoint of her "unfair" life; which he should. He addresses her lack of appreciation for what he has done for her; which he should. And he clearly lays out punishment ; which he should.<br />
When I saw it , it had over 6800 comments on it. I scrolled down quite a way and couldn't find one single one that disagreed with him. They applauded his "tough love" parenting, his being "willing to stand up", his "not taking it anymore off a spoiled brat daughter". They said more parents should parent this way then we wouldn't have kids who think they're entitled to everything and are lazy and disrespectful. And on and on....applauding his parenting.<br />
Might sound good if that was really what it is, but it's not.<br />
Let me address his "parenting"--<br />
How is public punishment and humiliation any way to show your love and respect for your daughter.<br />
He addresses her in the same tone of disrespect she uses.<br />
He uses the same kind of language she uses.<br />
He says that at 15 she should be out of the house holding down a job and boasts how he had left home by that age and was taking care of himself.<br />
When he's done telling her how he feels , he stands up walks to her laptop and proceeds to put 7 bullets into it. Enunciating as he does so what this particular bullet is in response to, throwing in one as he says his wife asked him to.<br />
Then he sits down and says he hopes all the kids who thought she was so cool can see this and he hopes parents will stand up and put boots ** ***** kids' *** for doing things like this and not take the **** **** off their kids anymore.<br />
Really? Are you serious? That's good parenting?<br />
No wonder the daughter has no respect. No wonder the daughter uses bad language. No wonder the daughter won't let her parents have her password and posts bad letters about them.<br />
The problem here started long before this episode.<br />
What happened to "Fathers provoke not your children to wrath"? What happened to " train up a child in the way he should go".<br />
I'm all for good old-fashioned discipline. I often implement grounding and taking away privileges. There is definitely a place for tough love. I agree children of today are spoiled. I agree parents shouldn't take disrespect.<br />
But I will not agree with punishment that is disrespectful and done in an ungodly manner. That will not reap the outcome we are looking for in our children!<br />
Our children's training is a sacred trust. We must go with God and walk in His way to do it!</div>OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-61356837733300617452012-02-09T09:36:00.000-08:002012-02-10T10:28:30.208-08:00Twenty Years AgoTwenty years ago,today, morning dawned with a beautiful baby girl for our family! After losing 3 babies in the early stages of pregnancy and two deliveries with complications , the 9mos. prior to that were spent in a lot of prayer. We were blessed with only 7hrs of labor and no complications! <br />
She joined two brothers 4 and 2 who were as delighted with her as we were. At last we had our tiny girl. At 7lbs and 13 oz , she was much smaller than her two brothers.<br />
She was an excellent baby, She slept through the night after 4mos and you could just lay her down anywhere in the middle of anything and she would go to sleep! She crawled late becasue she had a difficult time figuring out how to get her knees up under her. many times we laughed at her little push-ups trying to get herself going. She went quickly from crawling to walking and walked at 10 mos.<br />
She grew to be chubby short little toddler . Mommy had so much fun dressing her!<br />
She quickly became my helper , as 6 more difficult pregnancies and 6 more babies entered the family in the next 10 yrs.<br />
She learned housekeeping at a young age and became a better housekeeper than her mommy.<br />
Throughout the years sometimes our relationship was a bit rocky. She liked cleaning and sewing-- Mom liked baking and cooking. She loved crafts--mom hated crafts. She loved bright , splashy colors-- Mom stuck to more muted tones and patterns. She could sit for hours writing stories and poems-- Mom didn't have the patience and aptitude for either. She was shy and aloof as a child and effervescently, outgoing as a teenager--Mom would have preferred it the other way around.<br />
If Mom would have been wiser, much wiser so many years ago, things would have gone easier.<br />
Then suddenly.... or probably not so suddenly really.... it just seemed that way.. somewhere in her mid-late teens....<br />
We became FRIENDS....good friends! :)<br />
Her chatter turned into long talks with mom. We discussed everything and anything. I sought her advice on decorating the house, arranging the furniture, and dressing styles. She learned to cook and bake. She was amazing at it! She was creative, talented, and gifted in nearly every aspect of managing a home and a whole lot of delightful "extra- ciricular" activities to accent those skills.<br />
She was/is what a mother wants...a godly, beautiful, talented daughter!<br />
Then suddenly.....or probably not so suddenly really...it just seemed that way...<br />
She was courting....she was married....she was gone.....<br />
She found a young man whom we love. She was a beautiful bride.<br />
But she moved 2500 miles away...<br />
I miss her...we miss her...<br />
<span data-mce-style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;" style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Happy Birthday, Vonda LaRose!!!!!!!! Thank You, God for my Daughter!</span><br />
<span data-mce-style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;" style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"></span><br />
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<span data-mce-style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;" style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span data-mce-style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;" style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span data-mce-style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: large;" style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><img alt="" data-mce-src="http://x12.xanga.com/3cbe145032032280833389/z223720812.jpg" src="http://x12.xanga.com/3cbe145032032280833389/z223720812.jpg" /></span></span></span>OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-72601200861453416162012-02-08T09:32:00.000-08:002012-02-08T10:14:44.499-08:00Wordless WednesdayWordless Wednesday is supposed to be a post wth pictures and no words. Well, as anyone who knows me would tell you, "wordlessness" is hard for me. :) <br />
<br />
But....this is my kind of wordless.....<br />
<br />
We are in the process of moving ...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">AND......</span><br />
<br />
my washer broke down<br />
AND....<br />
my Bosch mixer.....looks like we will be buying bread during this move.:(<br />
<br />
there are .....<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">NO words...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">It's a little difficult to find the "<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Orchids"</em> </span><span style="font-size: small;">today....</span></span>OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-415159490802746562012-02-04T00:54:00.000-08:002012-02-08T10:15:58.266-08:00He's Just a Little Green (and yellow)Turtle<em>Simply Saturday</em><br />
<br />
He's just a little green (and yellow)glass turtle. He is just big enough to hold a 4" flower pot or candle. He has survived 3 household moves. He really has never even made it to the "perfect" spot in a delightful herb garden for which I first invisioned him.<br />
He was just sitting in the middle of a whole bunch of random glass stuff on a secondhand store shelf when I first saw him. He was a castoff. He never made it to someone else's "perfect" spot and they (perhaps wiser than I )decided it was time for him to go.<br />
So there he sat.<br />
I stopped.<br />
He smiled.<br />
Now really that is where he's special. If you see his smile you can't resist him. So he went home with me. He has sat and smiled ever since. It really doesn't matter how he gets pushed around he still smiles.<br />
Today he got pushed from his windowsill and...he broke...<br />
As always when one of the children break something, I tried not to make a big deal about it. He was after all just a little green glass turtle.<br />
But....then .... Over my protesting, my husband stopped his work on taxes, pulled out the super glue and painstakingly glued all the pieces back together.<br />
I really won't mind the cracks you can still see, when he is tucked into that "perfect" spot . And those cracks will always remind me of a very dear man who knew what that little glass turtle had some how came to mean to me . It would be hard for me to even tell you. It really is rather dificult to explain , but with a true friend , I didn't need to. He knew.<br />
And the little green (and yellow)glass turtle...he still smiles.....and my heart smiles with him.<br />
<img alt="" data-mce-src="http://x49.xanga.com/355d957547534119279836/z85774814.jpg" src="http://x49.xanga.com/355d957547534119279836/z85774814.jpg" /><br />
<strong>Mom's Menu: </strong>Spanish Rice, Tossed Salad, Applesauce, Biscuits w/ honeyOrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-8341929670557434282012-01-30T21:56:00.000-08:002012-01-30T21:57:48.239-08:00<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>If I could change the world, I would.<br />
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If I could take away the hurt, I would.<br />
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If I could take away the questions, I would.<br />
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If I could take away the sorrow, I would.<br />
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<img alt="" data-src="http://x83.xanga.com/2fbe327bd0c35280755908/z223658547.jpg" src="http://x83.xanga.com/2fbe327bd0c35280755908/z223658547.jpg" /><br />
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If I could make everyone smile , I would.<br />
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If I could give everyone food, I would.<br />
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If I could show everyone love , I would.<br />
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If I could give everyone hope , I would.,<br />
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<img alt="" data-src="http://xc3.xanga.com/140e137ac4732280755922/z223658560.jpg" src="http://xc3.xanga.com/140e137ac4732280755922/z223658560.jpg" /><br />
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If I could take away the pain, the hurt, the sorrow, for one, would I?<br />
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If I could give hope, a smile, food, love, to one, would I?<br />
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Why don't I??<br />
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It starts with one reaching out to one.<br />
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<!-- Start Quantcast tag -->
<!-- End Quantcast tag -->OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3329380192467804687.post-37675076686373059062012-01-28T16:21:00.000-08:002012-02-08T10:15:16.893-08:00"These are a few of my favorite things..."<em>Simply Saturday</em><br />
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Most of these today from the men in my life :)<br />
<em>A gift from my 12yrld(now16) son . A Howard Miller he found at a thrift sotre and got it running again---</em><br />
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A Christmas gift from my eldest son this year for my snow man collection<br />
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Brought back for me, by my second son , when he was 17, from a missions trip with the Tarahumara Indians in Copper Canyon Mexico. Real hammered copper<br />
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The vase a Christmas gift from my youngest son then 6 (now 9). The table scarf brought back from Cambodia 3yrs ago by oldest son<br />
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Handmade for me for a Birthday gift by my then 11yrld son (now 16)<br />
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A favorite spot under the stairs <br />
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Oil on velvet from the Navajo Indians on our honeymoon 26 yrs ago.<br />
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The vase a Christmas gift from my oldest son<br />
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<em>Simple ordinary...........special</em></div>
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<strong>Mom's menu: Supper made by the 13 yrld daughter, Meatloaf, Italian seasoned Fried Potatos, Tossed Salad</strong></div>OrchidsandLaundryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07153856424563733569noreply@blogger.com0