Princess and the King

New Post At Toasted Matzoh

2010-08-13T12:28:00.002-04:00

Happy Friday,

For those of you who follow this blog but haven't jumped over to my new blog Toasted Matzoh

I wanted to let you know there is a new post up and ready for viewing.

I truly hope each of you will join me over there as this blog is going away soon.

Shalom!

It's Here

2010-08-07T18:07:00.003-04:00

Hi Everyone,

Well, I have to apologize. I just tried to email all of the followers of this blog and in my "trying to be efficient" I realized I called most of you by the wrong name.

I am so sorry! I hate it when I do things like that.

Anyway, if you did get a message from me, it's because I've moved to my new blog. Yeah!

I hope you will come over and check it out.

www.toastedmatzoh.com

See you there!

Spring

Something New is Coming

2010-07-14T10:53:00.002-04:00

I'm so excited.

Soon, I'll launch my brand new blog. Sadly, this one will be coming to an end, but the new blog boasts for a much brighter future!

New info to come shortly.

Off the Reservation

2010-03-14T11:30:00.002-04:00

My Poor Blog,

I have been so neglectful.

So many wonderful things going on and you have gone by the wayside.

I will be back soon with lots of things to write about.

Can't wait to catch up with all my bloggy friends!

Shalom.

Pictures from Israel

2009-12-21T13:52:00.009-05:00

Tevet 4, 5770

After 36 hours of travel, here we are sitting in the tour bus outside of the Tel Aviv airport. Logic dictates we should have been exhausted. However, the power of adrenaline was in full effect as there was no way we were going to shut our eyes and miss any of this trip.

We drove a little under an hour to the Jerusalem Plaza Hotel, just a 5-minute walk from downtown Jerusalem.

After exploring the hotel and meeting our group, we did crash for the evening since our first full day of touring started the next morning with a 6:45 a.m. breakfast buffet. Meditteranean food...one word...YUM!

First stop on Day 1: Mount of Olives

Here are some views from the top of the Mountain. The gold dome is the Dome of the Rock at the top of the Temple Mount. (we went there too - I'll post pics another day)

We were told that tours do not typically start with a walking tour of Jerusalem because it physically wears the guests out. Therefore, it is usually saved for day 4 or 5. I, however, couldn't have asked for a better way to start the tour. The view from the top of this mountain is burned into my heart. For it was here that I fell in love with Israel.

More pics to come!!

I hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas!

Shalom.

A Hanukah Mishap

2009-12-15T11:21:00.007-05:00

Kislev 28, 5770

Happy 4th day of Hanukah

It's always a challenge trying to find age-appropriate ways to ignite a passion in our small children for the feasts and Holidays that remind us of God. It's a further challenge to remember that we (as Messianic believers) do not do these activities out of religion causing them to be practiced begrudgingly, but we do it out of excitement and love for Yeshua our Messiah. For the feasts and holidays emulate His life and His second coming.

So again, back to the challenge of expressing that to small children who don't want to hear Momma preach!

This year, we took the approach of keeping it simple and making it fun.

As part of our fun, (and I must admit, I snagged this idea from another Mom) I wrapped Hanukah/Christmas books and put them in a basket.

Each night, after speaking the blessings and lighting the candles, the kids get to pick a "present". They unwrap the book and we sit and read followed by a kid-inspired family night.

And, here is where the mishap takes place.

Last night, we deemed it movie night. In our haste, we ran from lighting the candles and reading to the TV room to watch our movie. Well, guess what Mommy forgot to do.

Yep, I forgot to blow out the candles. Here are some better pics since the above pic doesn't do the mess justice.

When we discovered it, the candles were clear pools of wax down in the cups of the candlesticks with barely glowing wicks in the middle.

So, guess what I'll be doing today in order to light the candles tonight! I'm hoping a hair dryer on low heat and a butter knife will do the trick. But....I'm open to suggestions.

On another note....this is the season of miracles. Wether you celebrate Hanukah, Christmas or both, we are all celebrating miracles.

It is my prayer that we will invite the Lord to work His miracles in our lives. It is my challenge to give the Lord free reign in my life to work the miracles He wants to give and not the ones I expect. Surprise us, oh Lord, that we would be blessed in ways our minds cannot forsee.

Have a wonderful week.

Shalom!

Poor Neglected Blog, I'm Back....Again!

2009-12-07T10:39:00.001-05:00

Kislev 20, 5770

Hello again Bloggy friends. I’m so sorry for being gone for so long. I’ve missed reading everyone’s blogs and will spend some time catching up this week.

The reason I haven’t posted in so long?? I’m glad you asked. :-)

We have just returned from Israel!!

We went as part of Sid Roth’s (from the show It’s Supernatural) tour group to the Holy Land.

Sid is a Messianic believer and a dual citizen of Israel and the United States. For me, there was no better way to experience Israel for the first time than through the eyes of another Messianic believer. It was a life changing experience and one I intend to share over the next few weeks.

For now, here are a few photos.

My husband (who is holding the camera, hence his weird facial expression!) took this picture of us sitting on the bus. We are in the Tel Aviv airport parking lot and had been traveling for 36 hours w/no sleep.

Our first day of touring and our first panoramic glimpse of Jerusalem. We were standing on the Mount of Olives looking towards the old city.

David's tower at night.

Due to some impending writing assignments, I will have to cut back posting to every Monday. But, I’ll be here on Mondays sharing what the Lord has put on my heart and more photos of the trip.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving and I can’t wait to catch up. By the Way, this Friday is the first day of Hanukkah so……Happy Hanukkah!!

Shalom!

While Away the Toys will Play

2009-10-21T17:39:00.013-04:00

"For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand. I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness." Psalm 84:10

I interrupt the regularly scheduled Jewish Project for a story of another kind.

Each October, my family treks down to Orlando to spend time in the most Magical Place on Earth: Disney World.

This is a big to-do in our house and we start gearing up for it months in advance. Having made this trip for many years, we have come to expect a certain level of Disney magic that makes all vacations perfect and grand. However, this trip was much different. We had to fight for each moment of happiness.

For example, here’s what happened this past Saturday.

Obstacle number 1)….we spent the day at Hollywood Studios. Most of the attractions at this theme park are shows, so we had to schedule our day in regards to show times. This set us up for a very long day with two preschoolers…..but we were aware of this and had a pre-established grace flowing.

Obstacle 2) My husband and I had made reservations to have lunch at Mama Melrose’s inside the park. A restaurant I love. However, since we switched to a gluten-free diet this past summer, we had to order gluten-free food, which this restaurant does have available. And so my family dined on Tapioca rolls and gluten-free flatbread pizzas. Really….do I have to explain? Yep. I wanted a do-over.

Obstacle 3) The night before was our son’s birthday and all his unwrapped but unopened gifts were back in our cabin. Let’s see…you’re six and you can either walk around in a park all day or go back and play with your brand new toys. Uh-huh.

Obstacle 4) Finally, after a long day in the park, we took Disney transportation back to the “hub” of our resort – Fort Wilderness. Since it was late, we decided to get take out from the restaurant that was there. We ordered and waited….and waited…..and waited…..and waited. They forgot our food. But, we finally got it and off we went to catch the bus that would take us to the “sleeve” of where our cabin was located.

And, Obstacle 5) We boarded the bus that said “Settlement Orange”….the bus we needed. However, as we boarded the bus, the driver changed the sign to Wilderness Lodge. Yeah….we got on the wrong bus! But, in true Disney fashion, the driver was extremely nice and took a detour to take us home.

So, here we are. Off the bus and walking down the road towards our cabin, so very ready to sit down and relax. As we walked up our steps, we noticed that we forgot to put out the “do not disturb” sign.

Opening the door to our cabin we found this:

And this

(If you look close, Ferb is holding the TV remote and the TV which was right in front of him was turned on to the Disney channel)

And this

(This was Squeaker's bottom bunk where she found her brand new Simba plush toy nice and tucked in.)

And this

(Bug's upper bunk where Phineas is hanging out with Piglet)

And this

(Now this picture was taken in the bathroom and the elephant towels were hanging above the toilet. The irony of the scene was lost on the kids however, I'm very much aware that elephants are heffalumps in Disney's Pooh bear series and Pooh is very afraid of Heffalumps.)

And this

(Teddy sitting on the table coloring)

We laughed so hard we cried. All day long we fought for happiness, intent that we would not let little distractions or setbacks destroy our family vacation. In the end, we discovered the Lord had a surprise for us. A personalized comedy show right in our own room.

After finding puppy playing in the trash, we grabbed the camera and went on a treasure hunt to find out what the rest of the toys were doing while we were gone. Each “scene” was met with uproarious laughter that healed a portion of our day.

In the end, my husband and I had tears in our eyes as the scripture listed above came to life in both our hearts.

Why? Because a woman, who does not hold a glamorous job by any means, performed her work as if she was holding the “door open in the house of the Lord”.

The next day, we were checking out of the resort and uncharisterically decided to hang out in the cabin for the last few hours instead of going to another park. Because of this, we were in the cabin when the cleaning lady came to call.

So grateful to meet her, we took the time to thank her for the wonderful scenes she had left in our room and how much joy it brought us.

You will never guess her response….

She explained to us that she likes to create one scene per day in all the rooms she cleans. However, since we had the “do not disturb” on the day before, she didn’t get to make one for us and therefore decided to make up for lost time. Then, she reached in her bag and pulled out two more gifts. She handed our princess a tube of princess bubbles, and our little prince a toy airplane.

She did not expect to meet us. She did not expect gratitude. And yet, in a random moment of her tedious day, she was prepared to be a gift-giver.

Isn’t that all The Lord asks of us?

Shalom!

The Mezuzah and the Lightning

2009-10-14T06:00:00.004-04:00

The Jewish Project

Tishrei 26, 5770

(On Monday, my post reflected the story of how the Lord instructed us to mark our house with a Mezuzah. Here is our testimony of what happened afterwards.)

It was raining.

Upstairs, we could hear the thud of footsteps as the kids ran back and forth playing tag. We sat at the table talking and picking at the crumbs left on our dinner plates.

Outside, the storm raged. Staring through the back window, I remember being amazed by the amount of lightning this particular storm had when a bolt hit the top of our house. The noise was so loud that my simultaneous scream could not be heard. The kids flew down the steps and were standing next to us before I stopped screaming. Half the house was dark while the other half was life as usual.

Checking the breaker box, my husband found half the circuits flipped. He turned them back on and the house hummed.

In the after math, our cable modem was fried and our security system panel sputtered and spat until it choked and died. The only electronic item not on a surge protector was a lone DVD player and it also met its maker, but other than that, the house was intact. We could find no other damage.

The storms continued throughout the week and two days after the lightning strike, I found a wet spot on the upstairs ceiling. Certain this was from the strike; I called the insurance company and filed a claim. But, that evening, we determined the wet spot was due to the horizontal rain earlier that day that had blown into the roof vent. And so, I closed the claim.

Five days after the lightning strike, the rain paused long enough for us to do some yard work. Within minutes of each other, I found a shingle in the back yard while my husband found one in the front. The next morning, I reopened the claim.

Seven days after the strike, a roofer came to give us an estimate. After climbing on the roof and inspecting the damage, he knocked on my door and said, “Ma’am, are you sure you don’t have any damage inside?”

“No.” I said.

“Well ma’am, are you sure there isn’t water upstairs or ceiling falling down up there?”

Again I replied “No” all the while thinking I would know if my roof was caving in so why do you keep asking.

Then, the roofer literally scratched his head and said, “Well, I don’t understand it, but you shouldn’t have a ceiling inside and in fact, I’m not sure why your house didn’t burn down.”

The next day, the roofer came with his team and fixed the roof. Once again, he rang the doorbell. This time he had two pieces of plywood in his hand.

“Ma’am” he said, “This is where the lightning entered the house.”

“This is where it exited.”

“I still don’t understand why you have a house.” Then this roofer, who is not a Christian, said this, “The only way I can explain it is G-d”

To which I replied, “Yes sir, G-d’s favor, prayer and His blood. Our house is marked for Him”

The logistics of the hit: there were two large holes in the top of the roof. The house did not catch fire. Not only that, but it rained for six days after the holes were there. No rain came through our roof (except for the roof vent which caused no damage). The roofer even crawled into the attic space and inspected the insulation. Nothing was wet.

On a major road near our home, on the same night our house was hit by lightning, two businesses were also hit. Both of them burned to the ground.

G-d instructed me to mark our house with His word. He led me to the discovery of the Mezuzah. We obeyed and He honored His covenant with us.

Until next time…Shalom!

Upon the Doorpost

2009-10-12T06:00:00.002-04:00

The Jewish Project

If this is your first time visiting, please click the link above to find out about the project. And, welcome!

Tishrei 24, 5770

“…And thou shalt write them upon the posts of thy house, and on thy gates.” Deut 6:9

I did not understand.

The burden you placed upon my heart was heavy, but my head knowledge was not yet such so that I knew how to obey.

Mark your house with my word…

The command was simple enough and yet the execution lacked the holiness that you so deserve, my Lord. I considered taping index cards with scripture inside my closet and beneath the beds. But, tape fails and the cards fall leaving your word discarded in forgotten corners covered in layers of unseen dust. There were other ideas as well. I could take a pen and write on the house, but ink fades and the words melt into a background of familiarity; once again forgotten.

No, your word deserved more. My Lord, how do I obey?

I called upon your name, Adonai El Elyon – The Lord Most High. I reach my hands to heaven, knowing my answer is on your tongue. Blessed Lord, look down upon me and know my heart is to respect the living, written word which you have bestowed upon us. How would you like me to fulfill your command?

The Mezuzah

The answer came not once but three times. Reading a website of a favorite minister, I found a Mezuzah in his store. Intrigued I researched it and discovered it to be an ancient Jewish tradition of marking ones house with the word of G-d.

The answer came again just a few weeks later while reading a fiction book by one of my favorite authors. One of the characters was a Jewish man whose occupation was to transcribe the scrolls for the inside of the Mezuzah.

The answer came a third time when a friend started a random discussion with me on how she was looking for a Mezuzah for her home.

I sought you and you answered. Not once, but many times. I have obeyed. I’ve marked my doorpost with the word of the Lord. I see it when I enter, and I see it when I leave. Your word is forever before my eyes and upon my heart.

This is my “letter” to the Lord regarding marking our house with His word. In future posts, I’ll write more letters on how marking our house with His word has made a significant difference in our home. As always, feel free to leave comments or questions.

Shalom!

Lighting the Candles Part 3

2009-10-09T06:00:00.000-04:00

The Jewish Project

Tishrei 21, 5770

On Monday, I discussed what we set on our table to prepare for Shabbat:

And, on Wednesday, I detailed our ceremony.

But, today, I’d like to share with you why we as a family light the candles. Many traditional Jewish families follow a legalistic approach to Shabbat that does not allow them to do any kind of work during this 24-hour period. Included in this is no TV, no driving, no working in the house, having all meals prepared ahead of time and some even fast for the Sabbath.

However, like I said earlier, we are a Messianic household. We believe Yeshua(Jesus) came and redeemed us from the curse of the law. He is our light and we follow Him. Therefore, we keep Shabbat as we feel Ruach HaKodesh (Holy Spirit) leads us too.

We gather together and Light the candles, showing through action that Yeshua is the light that we follow in the darkness of the world. We speak the blessing over our house and family and rededicate ourselves to Him. We partake of Holy Communion, meditate on His word and pray together as a family.

And then, for the next 24 hours we celebrate.

In our household, Shabbat is family day and whatever we do during those 24 hours, we do it as a family. Some of our favorite activities are:

· Popcorn and movie night
· Game night
· Going out for a treat after dinner AND the kid’s get the treat whether they eat dinner or not (this is their favorite)
· Zoo day

Or, we just do regularly scheduled activities together. We take this time to reset as a family, reconnect with each other and build memories. It’s my favorite time of week and it sets the pace for the week to come.

So, this is a peek into our Shabbat. Like I said, it only scratches the surface of what Shabbat really is, but I think it’s a great start.

Until Monday, I leave you with this scripture.

“And G-d blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that He had done.” Gen 2:3

Shalom!

Lighting the Candles Part 2

2009-10-07T06:00:00.001-04:00

The Jewish Project

Tishrei 19, 5770

Side Note: Sukkot started on Oct 3 and I do plan to post on this Feast of the Lord but it will probably be next week.

I must say that the more I research and learn about His feasts and Jewish customs, the more I realize 1) how much I do not know and 2) how awesome it is to discover the mysteries that I’d missed all these years in the Bible.

So, again, I must reiterate that my family has only scratched the surface when it comes to studying out Shabbat. But, I promise to post what I discover!

I left off Monday’s post with the items that are on the table for our “lighting of the candles”. Another item we use is prayer shawls.

Recently, my grandmother hand crocheted a prayer shawl for myself and my daughter.

Although these shawls do not look like a typical ornate prayer shawl worn by Jewish women during blessing/prayer ceremonies, it is very special to me and an heirloom that I can pass down. (Thank you Grandma!)

Here is our daughter wearing the prayer shawl.

And, wearing the shawls, it is now time to start the ceremony. I, as the eldest woman in the house, light the candles. I wave my hands over the flame three times to welcome in the Sabbath. Then, placing my hands over my eyes so that I’m not looking directly at the candles, I say the blessing.

First in Hebrew as follows:

Barukh attah Adonai eloheinu melekh ha-olam,
Asher kideshanu bemitzvotav ve-tsivanu lehiyot or
Le-goyim v’natan-lanu et Yeshua Meshicheinu or ha-olam

And then I repeat it again in English:

Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, King of the universe,
Who sanctified us with his commandments, and commanded us to be a light
to the nations and who gave to us Jesus our Messiah the light of the world.

After saying the blessing, Daddy prays over each child for the coming week. We then have a devotional regarding communion followed by the partaking of the elements.

We conclude the ceremony with the kids giving any prayer requests they may have, and then corporately offering the requests to the Lord in prayer.
In the future, I would like to add reading the weekly Torah portion to our ceremony as I just learned that technically you are supposed to that.
For Friday’s post, I’ll sum up our family’s “lighting of the candles” and share how we celebrate Shabbat.

Remember to leave a comment with any questions so we can chat about it.

Until Friday, Shalom!

Lighting the Candles

2009-10-05T06:00:00.001-04:00

The Jewish Project

Tishrei 17, 5770

“Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.” Ex 20:8

“Keep the Sabbath day to sanctify it, as the Lord thy G-d hath commanded thee.” Deut 5:12

Every Friday at Sundown is the start of Shabbat. In many Jewish and Christian homes, Shabbat is welcomed in through the ceremonial lighting of the candles.

As I thought about how to arrange this post, I realized that it had the potential of being very long. So, I’ve decided to break it up over the next three posts.

Knowing this ceremony differs from family to family, I can only base this off how Ruach HaKodesh (Holy Spirit) has guided our family in this ceremony. And, as our family grows in the study of our Hebraic roots, I’m sure the depth of which we light the candles will as well. But, here it is for now.

The lighting of the candles is supposed to take place prior to sundown and, traditionally, no later than 18 minutes before sundown. I would love to know the premise behind the 18 minute rule but have yet to find that answer. I will continue to research that.

So, the first thing I do is prepare the table.

The two candles in the front represent the two ways the Lord told the Israelites to keep the Sabbath in the Torah. It is based on Ex 20:8 and Deut 5:12 (listed above). In Ex, the Hebrew word for “remember” is Zakhor and in Deut, the Hebrew word for “sanctify” is Shamor (which actually translates “keep” or “guard”).

Therefore, the two candles are to Zakhor and Shamor Shabbat or remember and sanctify the Sabbath.

Many families also light an additional candle for each child in the home. The two candles in the back represent our two children.

As a side note, when we started lighting the candles earlier this summer, I went on a mad search to find just the right Shabbat candle holders. I was unsuccessful to say the least. I did find a set online that I loved; however I was informed by the seller that they were on back order. And at this point, they must be on back order for all of eternity since I have yet to hear back from them.

But, I started going through an old box in our garage and discovered a hidden treasure of crystal items that were given to us as presents at our wedding. We had packed them away because in our first house, there was no where to put them. After that, the box was forgotten about. Well, in the midst of this treasure was a pair of crystal Star of David candle holders.

Let’s just say, I wore a smile on my face and heart for the remainder of that day.

As a Messianic family (believing that Yeshua or Jesus is the Messiah) we also take communion as part of our candle ceremony and of course the last item on the table is the word of G-d…..

More to come on Wednesday. In the meantime, please feel free to leave a comment with any questions. The more questions I have, the more I know what to research.

Shalom!

Jewish Calendar

2009-10-02T06:00:00.002-04:00

The Jewish Project

Tishrei 14, 5770

Today’s post is in response to two bloggy friends who raised a question regarding the Jewish calendar. I had originally intended to answer the question and continue on with what I had planned for my post however, once I began researching the calendar, I was blown away by its Biblical complexity. Therefore, I decided to dedicate today’s post to the Jewish calendar.

As a point of reference, I’ll start with our calendar. We use the internationally accepted civil Gregorian calendar, established on February 24, 1582 by Pope Gregory XIII. It is an arithmetical solar calendar and uses the Anno Domini counting system for our year. As in, October 2, 2009 years since the birth of Christ.

The Jewish Calendar is a lunisolar calendar. It’s based on 12 Lunar months, each consisting of 29 or 30 days and each beginning with a New Moon.

Because of the time differences between a lunar and solar calendar, the Gregorian calendar is ahead of the Jewish calendar by 11 days. Therefore, when enough years go by that the accumulated days are approx 30, an intercalated month is added to the Jewish calendar. (this information is for the highly scholastic individuals. I, for one, have already forgotten it now that’s it been typed on paper.) J

Here’s the fascinating part (to me anyway). G-d dictated this calendar to Moses. It may have changed some over the millennia or perhaps not. I suppose only G-d has that answer. But, by any means, it is G-d’s calendar and is perfect in its formation. The lunar calendar is devised in such a way that the lunar events are used to determine feast cycles, agricultural cycles as they pertain to dry/rainy, harvest/sewing times. It is also used to determine which Torah portions are read publicly, which is fascinating when you begin to study the correlation between Torah readings and world events that take place at the same time. And, it also determines Shabbat days, seasons and years.

The first month of the calendar is found in Exodus 12:2, 13:4 and Deut 16:1. Depending on your translation it is called Nisan, Nissan, Abib or Aviv. It all translates Spring. (Side note – it was very neat to discover my name in Hebrew is Aviv.)

The weekly cycle is a mirroring of the seven day creation story in the Book of Genesis (specifically Gen 1:5, 8, 13, 23, 31 and 2:2), with a day gauged from sunset to sunset. It translates as follows:

Yom Rishon – first day – Sunday
Yom Sheni – second day – Monday
Yom Shlish – third day – Tuesday
Yom Revi – fourth day – Wednesday
Yom Chamishi – fifth day – Thursday
Yom Shishi – sixth day – Friday
Yom Shabbat – seventh day – Saturday

This was great information for me since now I can answer the question “Why do Jews celebrate the Sabbath on Saturday?” (Remember, I’m starting from s-c-r-a-t-c-h)

And, the answer to the question posed by my bloggy friends. The Jewish calendar uses the Anno Mundi numbering system. Latin for “the year of the world”, this numbering system dates the years from the epoch of one year prior to creation as determined by Rabbinical reckoning.

If I may borrow a quote….how they determined the year of creation is a topic that’s above my pay grade.

The dichotomy between the Anno Mundi and Anno Domini numbering systems brings up many questions that I could ramble on about, but it is late and this post is long, so I will stop.

In light of learning (the very basics) about the calendar, at sunset today Shabbat will begin. My family will be lighting the candles and celebrating with a family night. How that goes should make for an interesting post.

And, I have discovered that Sukkot is the feast of Tabernacles which begins Tishrei 15 or Oct 3rd. I still have not figured out how our family will be celebrating, but I will definitely keep you posted.

Until Monday…Shalom!

Stumbling Block

2009-09-30T06:00:00.002-04:00

The Jewish Project

Today is Tishri 12, 5770 according to the Jewish calendar.

As my bloggy friend Barbara pointed out, last Sunday was Yom Kippur, a day of celebration at the end of the ten days of Awe which start with the Jewish New Year, Rosh ha-Shanah.

I must admit, the only thing my family did that day was attend church which was awesome since Marilyn Hickey was the guest speaker…but I digress.

I did, however, observe the ten days of Awe for myself. Since I haven’t learned all the in’s and out’s of these days, mine was rather simplistic in nature. I used each day as a time of reflection, self-examination, much repentance and prayer. I will admit, by the eighth day I was convinced I wouldn’t survive anymore self-examination! But, it was worth it and Yom Kippur was a very special day for me personally. Next year, my goal is to make it a family event!

Okay, on to today’s topic.

The first stumbling block

As Jewishness is passed down through the mother, I was so proud at the start of this project to announce to my children that they are Jewish and we as a family (with Daddy in agreement) are going to return to our roots.

What is the scripture? Pride cometh before a fall?

Off to the library we went in search of Jewish children’s books. I found a wonderful book called What makes me a Jew? By Adam Woog

With anticipation I checked it out and took it home ignoring the fact that my son kept trying to put it back on the library shelf. The next morning, we sat down to read the first chapter. My son (who adores reading) hemmed and hawed over the whole thing. “Mom, please don’t make us read this book.” “Can we read Clifford instead?”

Trying to keep the event a happy one, we stopped for the day.

The next day, we sat down AGAIN to read the book. Bug, AGAIN, griped and complained until we turned the page and found a picture of a group of school children standing over the Torah, reading it with a Yud.

Ecstatic, Bug yells out, “Mom, those kids are reading toilet paper!”

And, now it’s cool to be a Jew. You get to read toilet paper.

Hysterically laughing and greatly humbled, we returned the book to the library and I’m currently looking for different avenues to try with the kids.

Any suggestions?

In the mean time, I have some studying to do as next week is Sukkot.

Shalom!

The Jewish Project

2009-09-28T13:12:00.009-04:00

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Large rounded head, big bushy eyebrows and an angular nose.

These are my features.

Not embarrassing features in anyway. In fact, I love them. But, growing up, they were just enough to keep me from fitting the mold of the “soft, delicate, small-featured, bright-eyed” American girl.

The problem – my features weren’t blatant enough to explain my ethnicity either so I wasn’t able to celebrate my differences, only endure the status of outcast.

Let me guess, you did a double take on the pictures and asked “ethnic”? Yes, we are.

My family is from the farm country outside Belgrade in the old Republic of Yugoslavia. I grew up understanding we are Slovenian, however by location of our village we are technically Serbian. But, all that aside, we are also Jewish. Sephardim Baltic Jews to be exact.

The two villages my family members come from began immigrating to the States in the early 1900’s around the time of WWI. They settled in Illinois. The relocation continued for 30 years, but after Hitler’s regime was in full swing, not too much else could be found about my family.

And, although I could write volumes about the above paragraph, I must digress back to my original point.

I was not raised Jewish. In fact, my Slovenian family was strict Roman Catholic. As far as I can tell through research, many Jews in the Balkans converted to Catholicism in order to make a living, raise a family, and avoid anti-Semitic behavior.

This leads me to The Jewish Project.

Now that I’m older, have a family of my own and have learned to tame my eyebrows, I’m ready to celebrate my differences. I come from an extremely rich heritage, and want to be able to pass it onto my children.

So, here’s the project. I’m going to learn and blog about what it means to be Jewish. And, I mean everything: the language, the feasts of the Lord, the history, the future according to the word of God, and even a trip to Israel.

I invite you to join me on this adventure and remember, I know nothing!!! I’m starting from scratch here, so please throw grace my way if I mess up.

Let the adventure begin!

She Did It!

2009-08-12T16:12:00.004-04:00

If you missed my post about my grandmother going on her first mission’s trip, please click here to read it.

Last week, my wonderful 79-year old Grandma went on her first mission’s trip to Nicaragua.

Her fear - that she would hold back the group or worse, not be a productive member of the group.

Her goal – to be a blessing in any way she could.

Well…God took care of her fears and I believe He took care of her goal as well. Every night, the group led a crusade. Every night, Gram was asked to speak at two separate points in the service. She told stories from her life. Stories that in hindsight bear the fingerprints of the hand of God. Stories most of the women in the villages could relate too.

My Gram also carried two very full suitcases to Nicaragua. She came home with empty ones. Why? In the words of my Grandma, “Because the people in those villages have nothing. They need this more than I do.”

She even gave away the watch she was wearing and the rings on her fingers. These items went to a 12-year old boy who sold makeshift jewelry that his mom made. This was his family’s sole source of income. My Grandmother gave the items to him to sell for food.

To say I’ve always looked up to my Grandma would be an undermining of my true feelings. She is an inspiration to me. I love her dearly.

And, on a lighter note, she did have a little fun on the trip as well. My dear, sweet, daredevil Grandmother went ziplining through the rain forest. And, not just once. In order to go on the zipline, you had to “fly” through 11 stations, so yes, my Gram ziplined 11 times. I wonder what she will do for her 80th birthday.

Ingenuity of a 5-Year old

2009-08-03T16:28:00.007-04:00

Oh, the last lazy days of summer.

Bug decided to dedicate his last lazy day of summer to working towards the Guiness World Book of Records prize for most hours playing a leapster video game.

Here's the start of the day:

But, too many hours playing causes very tired arms. So, Bug came up with this idea (on his own)

Who would have thought that napkin holders make great video game holders as well.

Now, everyone knows it's hard to read those little screens in the bright sun. Well, Bug came up with an answer to that one too. Late in the afternoon, when the sun shines it's brightest in our den, I found our dear son like this:

The darkness of the box makes for a great theatre feel.

Our son...he is too funny.

Proud

2009-07-31T06:00:00.003-04:00

On July 1, 2009, my grandmother turned 79-years old.

Today, she leaves for Nicaragua on her very first missions trip.

My Grandma second guessed this trip many times. She thought she was too old to do anyone any good and was afraid she hold the rest of the group back. But, then she heard about the poverty level of the villagers of this country. Her heart was broken. She stepped out in faith and signed up for the trip.

She started packing. She cleaned her closet out of all clothing she no longer wears. She shopped for additional clothing items to augment the ones she pulled from her closet. She purchased used luggage from the Hubbard House thrift store, and packed all the items away.

Today, she'll board a plane with two very full suitcases. Her goal - to come home empty handed, as she intends to give everything away including the clothes she brought for herself on the trip.

My Grandma decided not to let the physical obstacle of her age stand in the way of her ability to be a blessing.

My opinion, she may come back empty-handed, but her heart will be very full!

Have a great trip Grandma. You will be continuously in our prayers.

There Shall Be No Wheat in the Kitchen

2009-07-29T06:00:00.003-04:00

This summer, I have discovered that my children and I are allergic/intolerant to wheat.

Oddly enough I’m thrilled over this discovery. Why? Because it’s an answer to a question that has gone unanswered for years.

We have known we have allergies. We’ve been to doctors and to an allergist. There’s been skin tests and blood work, but everything comes back inconclusive.

Over the years we have found a few triggers. I am severely intolerant of all artificial sweeteners, especially aspartame. Our daughter is intolerant of dairy and our son can’t eat certain preservatives or artificial colorings. However, none of these were a conclusive answer to our problems since on any given day, between me and the kids we dealt with many symptoms including:

· Chronic fatigue
· Headaches/migraines
· Mental fogginess
· Congestion/nasal issues
· Inability to focus
· Eczema

Our only other option, according to the doctor was a complete elimination diet of all known allergens with a reintroduction of singular food groups to test for reactions. To be honest, the idea of accomplishing this with two small children loomed over me like Mt. Everest would to an amateur mountain climber. And so, I put it off.

However, this summer I was done! I was done fighting the battle of one or all of us not feeling well. But this time, I went to the cross first. I asked my prayer group to join with me to seek the face of God on these issues. In prayer, I heard the same word whispered to me three times….wheat.

Wheat? I really couldn’t believe wheat had anything to do with what we were going through, but I started researching none the less. In my research, I found a book released just this year titled Healthier without Wheat by Dr. Stephen Wangen.

Reading the book was like reading a biography of my medical history. Pretty sure I was on to something, I put myself on an elimination diet to test the theory. Three days into the gluten free diet (I chose to eliminate all gluten instead of just wheat), I started noticing a difference. After two weeks on the diet, all my symptoms were disappearing.

My transformation was so amazing my husband and I decided to include the kids. This took a lot of planning and preparation. I talked at length with the kids regarding the diet changes, and made sure I had plenty of alternative snack ideas on stand-by. And then, we took the plunge and changed their diet.

Our son’s transformation has been amazing. He no longer suffers from headaches or fatigue. He no longer craves wheat (which was a clue to his pediatrician as to the allergy) and he’s trying, and liking most of the time healthier food options. In fact, his quality of life is so improved that he voluntarily does NOT want to eat wheat. That says a lot coming from a 5-year old.

Our daughter, on the other hand, misses wheat. At one point during the first few days of the diet, she grabbed my leg and started crying and begging for some cheddar goldfish. But, she made the transition and is doing much better.

So, needless to say, our summer has consisted of converting our kitchen to a gluten-free zone. It’s been an interesting journey, which means I’ll have plenty of stories and recipes to throw out to bloggy world, but it has been well worth it.

Here’s to a wheat-free future!

Hiatus Adieu

2009-07-27T06:00:00.001-04:00

I drift from thought to thought as I re-familiarize myself with the silver keys of my laptop whose touch is now more sterile than intimate.

Has the summer been so jammed pack that I have not blogged or written since early June? Where has the time gone?

Perhaps one day I shall find an adage regarding “missing” time in a fortune cookie that will give me the key to the vault where all the wasted minutes are locked away. Then, I shall dive into those minutes and roll around as if bathing myself in unending possibilities of what can be accomplished in an infinite amount of time. But alas, such a Fort Knox of treasured time does not exist, and so I must continue to ponder what can be accomplished in 24 hours, and where did the last 24 hours go?

Which brings me back to summer. What a wonderful and busy time it has been. There have been many adventures, revelations and changes in our household. (Too many to talk about here and so I’ll save them for future blogs.) But now, it draws to a close. School is fast approaching. Extracurricular activities are starting back up, and daily schedules and events beckon to be organized.

The time off this summer has been very refreshing. It was needed and appreciated, but now it is time to bid farewell to my summer hiatus.

So…hello blog, hello work and hello again to the purposes of Adonai. May the work of my hand please you Lord.

On a PS note…the Proverbs 31 SheSpeaks conference is taking place this coming weekend. To everyone attending, I prayerfully hope it is an amazing time and that God is glorified continuously.

Skillet

2009-06-04T16:05:00.005-04:00

No, I'm not going to be blogging about a frying pan today.

Instead, I'm referring to the Christian hard rock band Skillet. I absolutely love their music. This is funny since I was never into hard rock as a teenager. Come to think about it, I was never into hard rock in my twenties either. So, what about turning 30 made me like rock? I have no idea.

But, I do know why I like Skillet and bands like them. They are not afraid.

They're not afraid to love their God and use the gifts God gave them. And, they do have a gift.

So many times, as Christians, we feel we need to fit a mold. Once a Christian, we must lay down that which is fun and become boring. I mean, isn't that why the world doesn't want to turn to the church?

My response...."Are you kidding me!"

We as the church should be pouring out, creating, and prospering in the gifts and talents God has given us. We should be a light unto the world. If we are made in the likeness and image of the one true God and He is the creator of all things, then we should be creative in all the things that God has given us.

Praise God for people like Skillet who aren't afraid to step out in the giftings God gave them instead of making those giftings fit the mold of man.

So, why am I raging over Skillet today?

Well, for the first time (at the wonderful age of 35) I went to a hard rock concert.

Mental note: cell phones in dark auditoriums on the back row of the balcony don't take very good pics but you get the idea.

Can I just say what an awesome experience this was. And, I wasn't the oldest person there. Just across the aisle from us was a man in his late fifties who was dressed very business like and let me say, he was rocking out with the best of them.

Yes, Skillet brought down the house and I even shed a tear or two. Why? Because they are doing what they love and they are doing it because they love God. It doesn't get more awesome then that.

So, what is your gifting?

BTW, ithirst has released their June edition. To read part 4 of Mary's Journal simply click on short story in the left hand side of the www.ithirstnw.net homepage.

Wonderful Tacos

2009-05-21T06:00:00.001-04:00

I previously posted about the wonderful gift Bug's teachers presented to the mother's of the class via a Mother's Day Tea.

Part of that gift was a class "cookbook".

The teachers asked each student what their favorite meal was and then wrote verbatim the children's version of that recipe.

Our son chose Tacos.

His recipe was so cute, I thought I would share. Here it is:

Wonderful Tacos

First you cook the beans. Open the can and pour it in a black pan. Turn the stove on and walk away. (Wow, I wonder why he thinks you walk away. I never turn the stove on and walk away.....) But, come back to check if it's ready so it won't burn. Don't cook the cheese because it's supposed to be cold. Next, you cook the peppers. Cut them up and put them in the pan. Put the peppers and beans inside a taco shell and put the cheese on. Then get a drink and eat it for dinner. I like tacos. I like every part of them.

Isn't that precious? I love it.

Thank you JrK teachers. This is a forever memory.

2009-05-19T10:04:00.007-04:00

I am a self proclaimed scatter-brain. I don't take offense to it. I just know that I get scattered in the moment which causes some "not-so-thought-through" ideas to come to my mind and mouth.

Do you like the teapot?

On our last Disney excursion, we purchased a not-so typical souvenir. This teapot and spoon rest. I'd looked at it longingly for three days until finally, my husband purchased it on the last day of the trip. I love it, and use it constantly for hot tea consumed throughout the day.

Needless to say, I've owned teapots before. I know to well the high-pitched shrill sound that screams "I'm boiling get me off the eye NOW!" Therefore,
I expected no less from this teapot.

Well, see the two steam holes?

It's a little hard to tell in the picture, but one is bigger than the other.

The first day I used the teapot, I placed it on the burner and then promptly forgot I'd turned it on. It's a teapot. It lets you know when it's ready.

Anyway, we live very near to the intracoastal waterway where large cargo ships bring import/export items all day long. On a clear day, you can hear the boat horns from our back porch.

Well, when this little teapot blew, it sounded like a boat horn. A ver loud one. I was in my office when I heard it and kept thinking, "Great day that boat's horn is loud. I wonder what's going on."

I finally walked out of my office with the intention of going on the back porch to listen for the boat when I passed the kitchen and realized it was the teapot!

The teapot sounded like a cargo ship.

After I laughed at myself a good while, I stared at the pot trying to figure out why it would sound like a ship when the irony hit me.

Steam pot Willie.

Get it? I guess you would have to like old school Disney to get the joke. Steam boat Willie was the debut film for Mickey Mouse.

So, now Steam Pot Willie resides in our kitchen and hot tea is all the more fun!

End of School

2009-05-13T10:07:00.004-04:00

Hi Bloggers.

This is just a note to say this is the last week of school and it is a tad bit hectic in our house. So, I will be back to blogging next week when things are quiter and the lazy days of summer have kicked into gear. Yeah!

However, I must leave you with this picture. It is priceless.

Most kids eat their tater tots. Our son creates canon ball stacks. And let me say, he was quite proud of himself.

Have a great week.

Mother's Day Tea

2009-05-07T20:35:00.002-04:00

I can go no further in this post until I say a loud and clear thank you to my son’s teachers for the wonderful event they put on this past Wednesday for all the student’s Moms. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Explanation:

My son’s class hosted a Mother’s Day tea. We were formally invited two weeks in advance and had to RSVP via our child a week before the event. Bug asked me every day if I was coming to tea, and of course I said “yes”.

The day of the event, when I dropped Bug off at school, he jumped out of the car and picked a flower. Handing the dandelion to me he said, “don’t forget to come to tea.”

Oh my little prince, there is no way I’ll stand you up!

At two o’clock sharp, tea started. Each child escorted their mom to a designated seat. We each had a laminated, custom made (by our child) place mat (picture above) to hold our special snacks and drinks and we were presented with special presents made by our children.

I was shocked at how many gifts the kids made for the moms and therefore I’ll only share my favorite. Each child colored a picture of themselves with their mom and on the back of the picture, wrote what they love about Mommy.

I must digress a moment (as I often do) and give a piece of background information. As a devout follower of Yeshua, I am often led by Him in even the smallest details of life, including which clothes to wear. For Mother’s day tea, I knew I was to wear a pants outfit with a purple shirt. Purple is a color I have just recently started wearing and in fact, I believe this was only the third time I had worn this shirt.

Back to the story…..

Bug drew the following picture. It is him and I walking to church (so was his explanation). You can see that in the picture I am wearing a purple shirt. When Bug presented the picture to me, he was overwhelmed with joy that I was dressed the same as his picture and the smile on his face was priceless. It was a fairytale moment in the heart of a preschooler, and I will cherish the memory forever.

By the way, on the back of the picture, he wrote that he loves me because I put band-aids on his boo – boos, I wash the dirty linens and I keep his favorite piglet clean.

I will definitely have a new perspective when doing laundry!

Happy Mother’s Day!

To My Husband

2009-05-04T06:00:00.000-04:00

Seven years ago, on this day, God gave me the greatest gift I could have ever wanted…my husband.

I haven’t always done things right in my life. I tried it my way and on my terms and what I received was a lot of garbage that took a long time to clean up. But, when I learned to trust God and wait on Him, I discovered that He knows a lot more than I do.

God knows my quirks, my patterns of OCD, my humor, my love language, my strengths and my weaknesses. And, with all that in mind, he created a man who would be my perfect counterpart.

I believe with all my heart that I found the man God originally created to be my husband when he formed me in my mother’s womb.

My husband brings unspeakable joy, wisdom, security and love to my life. He makes me a complete person.

So, today, I celebrate my husband. I love you with all my heart.

Happy Anniversary!

Delivered

2009-05-01T06:00:00.000-04:00

After years of Disney travel, I think we finally got it right.

Usually, we would take our four day vacation and try to cram five days worth of park time into it. I mean you could spend three days at Magic Kingdom and still not do everything in the park.

However, this time was different. Instead of waking up at o’dark thirty in order to drive to Orlando and get in line before the park opens, we slept in a little, packed, took our time getting down there, checked into the hotel and strolled around Downtown Disney.

Speaking of Downtown Disney, here is a picture of the new hot air balloon ride they have. It takes you up about 30 stories (I think that’s right), hangs out a little bit and then brings you down. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to try it out. The two times we were thinking about it, the wind was too strong and the balloon was grounded. Between you and me, I wasn’t that upset. Not a big lover of heights!

After discovering the hidden treasure of our room upgrade, parks rarely entered our mind. Instead of killing ourselves trying to get every ounce of “fun” out of the parks, we squeezed every ounce of fun out of relaxing, strolling, swimming, eating as a family in the quiet of our room.

For once, we slowed down on vacation. Life is too busy as it is, vacation shouldn’t be as well. Hopefully, the stress-free joy we felt on this trip will be imbedded in our hearts enough to repeat in the future.

Saratoga Springs

2009-04-29T06:00:00.000-04:00

Back from Disney!

We had the absolute best vacation. And, although there were many wonderful moments, the best surprise was the room.

We were under the impression that our reservation was for a 1 bedroom studio at Saratoga Springs resort in Orlando. However, when we inserted the key and opened the door, we were stunned to find a 1 bedroom suite. Either we misunderstood the reservation or we were suprisingly upgraded. Either way....it was awesome. Check out the pics!

This is the Congress Park building in which we stayed.

When you opened the door to our suite, you entered a foryer. Here, is the door and foryer.

This is the furniture in the foryer. Okay, I don't even have furniture in our foryer in our house!

Here's a long shot of the living room, full kitchen and dining room.

Dining room:

This is the view from our balcony. Although the camera makes it look far away, we could see Rainforest Cafe in Downtown Disney and it only took five minutes to walk there via a wooded path behind our building.

The balcony:

The bathroom which I still can't get over. It had three rooms. I won't post the pics cause it's hard to tell in the photos. But, this room had a jacuzzi tub. By the way, never put bubble bath in a jacuzzi tub. Enough said.

Full kitchen. I still can't get over how nice it was to have a kitchen. Especially with kids!!

And, last but definitely not least. The washer/dryer. Have you ever stayed in a hotel room with a washer/dryer? I haven't. I didn't even know you could. Needless to say, this was grand living for me and I thouroughly enjoyed it. Oh, that's my goofy husband who gremlined into my shot.

What an awesome resort and what an awesome room. We are spoiled for life I think. :-)

Baseball

2009-04-27T06:00:00.001-04:00

I have always loved baseball.

My husband has always loved the game as well.

Secretly, I have been in great anticipation of Bug growing old enough to play the game. Last year, he was too young for T-ball so we registered him for Soccer. He hated it!

In fact, during one game, it was his turn to kick the ball into play and instead of kicking it, he sat down on it and took a break.

But, he maintained that he wanted to play baseball and so my hopes stayed high.

This year, he was old enough to register in the instructional league. The first night of practice, we suited him up, bagged his equipment and headed for the dugout.

Our boy ran onto the field a five year old, he came home……well – older.

He drank in the game. Everything the coach did, Bug did right down to mimicking the coach’s stance during the pep talks.

Upon returning home, Bug announced that he was now a big boy and no longer wanted to eat off Disney character plates or drink out of sippy cups. He needs to use grown-up everything.

I never would have thought the game would have had such an impact. It was neat to watch. And, he shows promise for the game as he’s a pretty good hitter. All we have to do now is teach him how to run to the right base.

Potty Training

2009-04-24T06:00:00.000-04:00

A while back, I wrote a post concerning my fear of potty training. Click here to read the story of why I fear potty training.

Well, you can only avoid the inevitable for so long. And so, we began potty training Squeaker two weeks ago.

The good news is, she did remarkably well and what I thought would be a nightmare turned out to be not so bad. But, as I’ve always heard regarding beginning potty trainers, you have good days and bad days.

This past Sunday was our first BAD day.

After church, a group of us went to Mojo’s BBQ restaurant for lunch. The place was packed. Squeaker has decided that 80% of the fun of being potty trained is the treks to the bathroom. We hadn’t been at the restaurant very long when the journeys began.

The problem….she wouldn’t “go”. We took her three times and she wouldn’t “go”.

Squeaker would get into position and then start playing a game with the toilet paper dispenser and the door. She would introduce the two inanimate objects as if they were sitting down to tea and then carry on conversations with them. Meanwhile, my BBQ is getting cold!

I finally get Squeaker back to our table. She climbs in her chair. I am about to sit down when the loudest scream I have ever heard in my life penetrates the atmosphere of the restaurant. Turning, I see Squeaker standing in her chair with pee free flowing down her legs, pooling in her chair and waterfalling into the floor.

Her screams were so loud that taking her to the bathroom across the entire length of restaurant was not an option. Instead, I scooped her up and headed out the door five feet away.

Standing outside, sobbing incessantly, Squeaker looks at me and says, “You didn’t listen to me.”

Didn’t listen to you?

She repeats, “You didn’t listen to me, I said I had to go potty.”

“I listened to you three times, why didn’t you go then?” Is the response that rushed out of my mouth.

But, my daughter mortified, I consoled her and took her to the car to change into fresh clothes. At least I had thought far enough ahead to bring those.

So, hopefully that will be the worst of our potty training days. However, as this is posted we will be at Disney world mapping out every bathroom in the park. Oh, the adventure…..

Have a great weekend.

Love Letters to the King - NEW

2009-04-22T06:00:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Love Letters to the King. If you are new to the letters, click here to find out what they are all about.

I am titleing today's letter - My Security - as it is something we need to feel in these days and times.

I hope you enjoy.

My Lord,

The spirit of your heart runs through my veins and haunts me. Oh, how I need you.

I can do nothing without you. I hear your song in my dreams and I feel your presence when you aren’t there. You have imprinted yourself upon my memories so that every recall of my brain hints of you.

And, this is good.

For today, I’m in need. Today, the god of this world…of my village...calls to me. His seductive melody caresses my soul. My heart knows to run, and to run fast, but my mind has been shrouded in the veil that covers most all our villagers.

But, I did stand against them.

The rumbling of my bowels is the evidence of the heartache their treachery creates insides of me. I cower at their invitation, and I weep at their inability to recognize your grace.

Today was especially hard. Villagers in the shop vexed me with their tongues. The disapproving crease of my brow encouraged them all the more. Cornered, they enticed me with their speech. They offered to exchange my singleness for their company, my beauty for their physical love, and my empty evenings for their entertainment. I declined. They persisted.

How do I explain something they cannot see? How do I describe a fullness they have not felt?

My “no’s” are eventually heeded and the villagers leave, but I know they will be waiting. I know they encamp around me, and will make a point to cross my path upon my exiting of my master’s store. And so, my heart cries out to you.

Come to the garden.

Your voice is undeniable and I know that you are watching. Oh my Lord, please rescue me. As if by enchantment, the back door creaks as it opens showing me a cleared path out of the village. A glance towards my master offers another mystical encounter as he waves for me to leave. Without delay, I headed towards the door, down the steps, along the back road and out of the village. I ran without looking back until I was halfway to the garden’s gate.

My security manifested around me, I slowed my pace. The wind was warm and alive as if you were breathing into me. The gate in view, I exhaled in relief. Somehow, this evening, the garden was personified. The grass shined like emeralds, and the setting sun exploded in the sky like a smoldering fire. Dalzure Lake erupted in a performance of dancing diamonds, and your Willow tree swayed as if entranced in the aura of romance.

You, however, stood straight and tall as an ancient Oak who had witnessed this before and no longer fell prey to the physical jubilee of the occasion, but rather relished it in the interior of the heart. Entranced, you did not hear me approach, so I seized the moment.

I ran towards you as a gazelle in an open field. Throwing my arms wide, I did not slow until the root of your stance stopped me. Burying my head into your back, I threw my arms around you and squeezed until there was no strength left in me. Never once did you falter. Never once did you gasp for breath. The only evidence of my love was the smile spread upon your lips and your arms resting on top mine.

Unwilling to move, I stayed steadfast in my position for what was in my mind an eternity. The sun finished setting, and the moon made its debut. The stars winked down upon us, and the majority of the diamond dancers left the Lake, leaving only those endeavoring for attention. The Willow’s branches draped around us, and your steady breathing ticked the time away.

I could have stayed there. It wouldn’t have taken much effort on my part to resign my life to that position, but you determined to move me and the moment was gone. Taking my hands, you pulled them from your body and brought me beside you. Keeping my hand buried inside of yours, you lowered yourself to the ground and rested against the trunk of the Willow. A gentle pulling of my arm encouraged me to do the same.

Sitting beneath the Willow, you spoke. “Do you believe that I’m always with you?”

“Yes my Lord.”

“Even today?”

“Yes. I could feel you with me”

“But, you were afraid.”

I chewed my lip under the conviction of your words. “I do not understand how I know you and they do not.”

“They do not because they choose not too, dear one.”

“And yet they mock me?”

“Because they fear that which they choose not to believe. It is for that reason that the ones who decline my invitation will always be against you.” Your arm moved around my shoulder and pulled me closer towards you. “But fear not Princess, for I have seen your heart and know your faith, and in that I will always be with you.”

Blessed be the strength that is not my own but is fed from the river that flows from my King. I will rest in you, my Lord, for I know that my security is held dear to your heart.

Love,
Princess

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty, I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’” Psalms 91:1-2 (NIV)

Mighty Hunter

2009-04-20T06:00:00.000-04:00

Oh how I love my cat. She is so funny.

I blogged previously on how we fixed up our back porch and now it’s our favorite spot.

Well, it seems to be Ella’s as well. Especially since she is able to use her back porch time as a way of living out the feral cat fantasy that boils within her.

The other day, while on the porch, Ella proclaimed dominion over the area and declared doom to all lizards who dare enter her lair. Although I felt sorry for the innocent prey, watching the attacks was somewhat comical.......

She tried to deliver them as gifts to us. Yuck!

Beware Lizards, for the great and mighty hunter Ella dwells here.

And, as Ella likes to say (with her food) have a happy day.

Best Friends

2009-04-17T15:09:00.001-04:00

In 2004, I had a miscarriage.

I would want for no one to endure such an event for it brings about an incredibly deep sorrow to which only God can heal. And, in that, I thank Him for His grace.

Beyond that sorrow, I held one regret from the miscarriage. You see, our son was one at the time of this event. I had held high hopes that because of the closeness in age of him and the new baby, they would be destined to be good friends instead of just siblings. In that respect, the new baby had somewhat been planned. However, the miscarriage doused the flames of that dream.

About six months later, we found ourselves expecting again. This baby was not planned. In fact, it was quite a surprise. I must admit that I hoped for a boy so that perhaps, even though the two children would be farther away in age, they could still be close friends. Obviously, that did not happen as we had a girl. And, as awesome as that it (and it really is awesome), I wasn’t sure what kind of friendship they would have beyond being a loving brother and sister.

That is, until last week.

This brings me to the above picture. It was taken one afternoon when Squeaker climbed into the chair her brother was sitting in. She threw her arm around him and he did the same to her. They laughed and shrieked and talked in code.

And then……Nathan announces to us, “Sister is my best friend.”

I couldn’t help the tear that welled in the corner of my eye. We asked them to hold the pose so we could immortalize the moment. And, they did.

My plan didn’t work the way I thought it would, but God’s plan did and our children will reap the benefit of that for the rest of their lives.

Thank you Lord.

Love Letters to the King

2009-04-13T20:26:00.004-04:00

Welcome to Love Letters to the King. Wow, it's been awhile since I posted one of these. If you are new to the letters, please click here to find out what they are all about. If not, I hope you will enjoy.

Love Letters to the King

The Dance

I am tired, my Lord.

Burdened by my insignificance, I’m drained of all ability to believe myself capable of rising above my stature. Aching, my muscles are a reminder to my servitude, as is the bruise on my arm to my invisibility.

Today, as I was sweeping the steps to my master’s store, I was engulfed in a dust cloud rising from the road. And, not taking time to negotiate the dirty haze, villagers ran into me. Their dispassion forbidding them to extend any common courtesy, I was left discouraged, defeated and bruised. The rest of the day’s chores were much the same leaving me want for escape.

I wanted to run into the presence of the one who breathes life to my body and soul. I tried to imagine myself in the garden standing by your side beneath your Willow tree, but the vision eluded me. My fatigue was erasing you from my mind. And, my pain made mockery of your image as a hallucination of a lonely heart.

I fought against the weariness, but energy lost in the battle made room for despair to tighten her grip around my body making it difficult to push back. In the end, I gave in to sorrow. Tears washed my face.

At day’s end, I left the village. Following the faint impression still burned into the secret chamber of my heart, I headed towards your garden. My shoes were filled with gravel from the dry, horse-trodden road, and with every step the stones bit the soles of my feet. My dress soaked with sweat clung to my body. Wiping my brow, the thought of my own bed in the village brought more solace than the journey to your garden, but I pressed on.

By the time I arrived, the sun was dipping below the horizon. The last of day’s light shone through the trees, cloaking the garden in shadow.

Tranquility spilled forth as an intangible cloud that engulfed my body and nurtured my soul. The celestial twilight penetrated my spirit, renewing me from the inside. You were there. I could feel you.

Although the evening’s air began to cool, my skin was feverish. Nearing the gate, I let go of my shawl allowing it to slip from my shoulders, down my back and onto the ground. Two steps before entering I pulled the slip knot from my hair, shaking the dust from my locks and letting them cascade down my back. I stepped out of my shoes and left them at the foot of the gate before entering your garden.

Leaving the path, I stepped barefooted onto the grass whose chill sent shivers up my legs. With each step, the coarse blades scrubbed the dirt from the soles of my feet. The night air dried my dress until it lay loose like gossamer gauze around me.

The cicadas serenaded the evening sky and every living thing in the landscape swayed in the wind to the rhythm of nature’s symphony. I could not help but to join in. As a ballerina who twirls while affixed to the interior of a delicate music box, I lifted my arms in arc formation above my head and twirled. Lifting my leg as far above the earth as I could reach, I raised my eyes the sky before pulling my body into the earth and bowing in the dance. I leapt, I ran, I twirled, and I swayed until my chest beat so hard I could not catch my breath.

My hair flowed across my shoulders and down my back with some tendrils stuck to the sides of my face. I ran a finger across my hairline and down my cheek, scooping the loose strands behind my ear, and in doing so, I caught an image in the far corner of the garden.

I could barely make out your silhouette. There, in the courtyard leaning against an oak, the only aspect of your darkened figure evident was the smile upon your face.

How long had you been watching me?

Inspired by the night music and invigorated by the chill of evening’s breeze, I returned your smile and twirled again, spinning as if I were a dandelion puff caught in the wind. My dress billowed about me making me feel as though I could take flight.

With arms held high above my head, I stopped facing your direction. A smile upon my lips, I lowered my eyes to the ground and curtsied towards you. For you, my Lord, are the true joy that invades my heart and sets my foot to dance.

Love,

Princess

“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever. Psalms 30:11-12 (NIV)

The Kingdom - Prologue part 3

2009-04-07T06:00:00.002-04:00

Welcome to the Kingdom, a blog novel. Click Part 1 or Part 2 to read the previous posts for the beginning of this novel.

I hope you enjoy.

The Kingdom - Prologue Part 3

King Maddox stood in the bowels of the palace. With eyes closed, he caressed the surface of the orb. The sphere of fire pulsed in rhythm with the beat of his heart and the energy of it flowed through his hand and electrified his skin.

“Forgive me Father.” The King whispered. “I have failed you.”

“Failed?” Artimus entered the room and stood behind Maddox. “Dear brother, you have not failed. Only paved the way for my destiny.”

The King, unmoved, replied, “How did you get in here?”

“You should take better care of your secrets.” Artimus moved to the side of the King and rolled the glass object around in his hand. “I have your key.”

Maddox allowed a quaint smirk to appear across his lips. “It doesn’t matter brother. You’re too late.”

The King placed both hands on the orb and leaned into it. The fiery glow inside the sphere churned and crackled under the will of the King. Maddox’s sword handle matched the intensity of its glow and the temperature of the room rose ten degrees.

“What's this magic?”

“Not all secrets are known brother.” Maddox, with reflexes that defied human sight, grabbed his sword, pulled it above his head and thrust the handle into the orb. It shattered and fell filling the air with the sound of a thousand crystal chimes hit by a violent wind.

The palace lurched at the loss of the orb. Instead of hovering in the clouds, it thudded into the terrain with such force that the two tectonic plates below the surface of the earth collided causing the upper plate to jettison rock into the western landscape creating a mountain that shielded the palace from view. The void left on the eastern side by the moving of the earth was filled in with a rush of water creating Dalzure Lake. For now, the palace was secluded.

Artimus picked himself up from the floor of the orb’s chamber. “I did not think you had it in you, brother.”

Maddox leaned against the far wall. A curtain of sorrow spilled across his face. The door to the room flung open as Rosea and his men filled the room, weapons held against the King.

“Wait” said Artimus. “His capture is no longer necessary.”

The Prince’s guard stood down. Artimus crossed the room until he was six inches in front of the King. “My dear brother….you know the rules.”

Maddox lowered his eyes to the ground and exhaled slowly. “I do.”

Artimus turned towards his men, “Hear this. The King has broken the orb. He is therefore forbidden to leave the grounds outside the palace. If he does, you have the permission of the ancient ones to kill him where he stands.” Walking towards the door, he spoke to his brother without turning his head. “I, however, may now do whatever I want.”

Artimus, Rosea and the rest of the Prince’s guard left the orb’s chamber. Laughter muffled their footsteps as they disappeared down the corridor.

Left in the now darkened room, the King opened his fist revealing two shards from the broken orb. They pulsed as if containing fire and emeralds. Opening the leather pouch on his belt, he placed the two shards inside. “I have done as you have asked.”

The old woman stepped out from the shadows. “You did what had to be done.”

“But, will it be worth the price?”

The old woman paused, but was unmoved in her demeanor. “Pray she comes quickly, my King.” With that, she disappeared back into the shadows.

The Hummingbirds are Back

2009-04-03T16:52:00.006-04:00

One of my favorite things to do is sit on my back porch and watch the hummingbirds as they peruse our flower bed and eat from their very own feeder perched just outside our screen.

They leave every year around September and fly back in the next Spring.

As of late, I've been watching for them to come back.

Now, I digress.

Last weekend, I woke up to a beautiful Saturday. The kind of day that seduces you into coming outside and enjoying God's creative genius. As I jumped out of bed, my friend Jesus whispered to me. "Fix up the back porch today."

We built our house four years ago. Last summer, we have our back porch screened and additional patio poured beyond the screen. We had great intentions for the area but instead it turned into a cement mudroom where the kids dumped what ever they felt like dumping.

I loved my friend's idea. I went downstairs and told my husband, "I think we should fix up the back porch today."

He said, "it's supposed to rain around lunch."

I went back to Jesus. "Lord, how can we fix the back porch, it's going to rain."

"Sweetheart, it won't rain until you finish."

That's all I needed as I learned a long time ago to 1) discern the voice of Holy Spirit and 2) to obey.

I told my husband we'd be okay and agreed to go for it.

First step, clean...clean...clean.

Second step, go to Lowe's and purchase outside carpet.

Third step, lay carpet and final step.....replace everything (after throwing most of it away!)

The wild thing? According to weather.com it should have rained at 1. We finished the porch around 4 and it started raining at 5. Coincidence you think? I don't.

That was Saturday. On Sunday, I made a cup of hot tea and sat on my porch. I took the time to thank my friend Jesus for this gift when I looked up and saw a Hummingbird visit our feeder.

I never want to know life without Jesus as my friend. I hope and pray your walk with Him is as intimate.

Have a great weekend.

The Kingdom will return next week. I skipped this week as most of Florida is on Spring Break. Also, Mary's Journal part two has been published at http://www.ithirstnw.net/ under short story. I hope you will check it out.

Gifts

2009-03-31T17:33:00.008-04:00

I happen to believe, that no matter what may be going on, you can always find a "gift". Sometimes, the gift is obvious, sometimes it's found depending on the condition of your heart. Here are a few gifts I've been given over the past month.

There's the multitude of flowers my children love to pick for me. This one came from our front yard. Sometimes, it's not always right for them to pick the flowers such as the "look don't touch" garden at the zoo, but I love the gift none-the-less.

Oh, the picture doesn't show it very well so you'll have to use your imagination. Our kids thought it was a good idea to mark the front of Squeaker's bedroom door with red crayon. There is a very purposeful red X placed across the center of the door. When they showed it to me, I must admit that my initial reaction wasn't to be grateful. But, before I could scold, a still small voice said, "It sure does look like they anointed the door with the blood of the lamb, doesn't it?"

That made me laugh, which is a good thing because it checked my attitude for the next thing the kids showed me.

This is the picture they drew on the inside of Squeaker's door. Can somebody give it up for artstic ability and if you just gave that a holler, then bring me a can of paint!

This is one of my favorite hidden gifts. I fed our cat some wet food on this paper plate. She ate it and left me a smiley face. Ahhhhhhhh.

Last and certainly not least, this is a gift I found sitting on my sink in our bathroom one random Monday morning. It's a dress from Anthropologie and a present from my dear husband who just decided, for no reason, to buy it for me. LOVE IT!

How about you? What are some gifts you have found in some obvious and not so obvious places?

The Alarm Works!

2009-03-26T06:00:00.000-04:00

One thing I have learned about being the mother of preschoolers is to expect the unexpected.

Why have I learned that? Well, I shall share an example. Last week, after returning from Squeaker’s tumbling class, my 78-year old Grandmother stopped by to pick up her empty jelly jars and a current family photo of our family. (By the way, my Grandma makes the BEST grape jelly!)

After a short visit, I walked my Grandma to her car. While standing on the lawn saying goodbye, two police patrol cars rolled up to my house.

That’s strange you say? It would be, if our house didn’t have two very curious children living in it.

My Grandma smiled at me, jumped in her car and left. I can’t imagine why she wanted to leave so quickly, but she did.

I walked back to the door and yelled to my husband, “Hey, the police are here.” Not something you expect to say, but none the less. My husband came to the door and we greeted the two rather large, burly men with menacing guns on their belts.

“Are you guys okay?” They ask. “Someone at this address pressed the silent panic button on your alarm.”

And, it all becomes clear.

Let me digress. After tumbling class, we returned home and waited for Grandma to come over. In the meantime, I started dinner while my husband was working at his desk upstairs. During this time, random buttons were squawking over the alarm speaker, but it never said it was armed. (Yes, our alarm talks to us – also strange). Needless to say, I thought my husband was doing something to the alarm and he thought I was. After investigation, I found Squeaker, standing on a stool, making music on the alarm key pad. It didn’t look like she had “done” anything so I scolded her and let it go………

And, back to the story. We profusely apologized to the officers and explained what had happened. They stayed slightly stern and proceeded to write us a warning for answering a false alarm.

The really funny part….while these men were standing there, I decided to use it as a teaching moment. So, I called Squeaker over.

“Squeaker,” I said, “This is Officer Kelly and Officer Sanders. You called them and now they are here. “

Squeaker, in her pale pink tumbling tutu and Shirley Temple curly hair, looked at the men and apologized and before my eyes, these menacing giants turned to puddles pooling around the ankles of our three year old.

In the end, four police officers (there were two patrol cars mind you) stood in the street and waved to our little princess as if she had just performed the lead role in the Nutcracker.

Moral of the story? I’m not sure. Perhaps it should be to teach the kids that the alarm key pad is not a piano.

Prologue Part B

2009-03-23T22:15:00.003-04:00

How good it is to be back in the world of blog. Life seemed to slip away for a couple of weeks. But, we're back on track now. And, I've a few funny stories to share too. But, that is another day.

As for now.....Welcome to The Kingdom, a blog novel. If you missed Prologue part A, all you have to do is page down as it is the previous post. :-) Here is part B. I hope you enjoy!

The Kingdom - Prologue Part B

“Destroy the orb” the old woman said. “For now, it is your only chance.”

“Then we will no longer phase.” King Maddox sat on the corner of his desk, his hands clasped in his lap. For the moment he was safe within his inner chamber, his only company the woman in front of him; the last of the tribe to have witnessed the birth of the palace.

“This is how it must be,” the woman, bent over her cane, turned to leave, “fret not my King, for this time has been known of from the beginning.” With that she disappeared through a side panel in the northern wall of the King’s room.

King Maddox stared through the window, watching the emerging sun. A child’s nursery rhyme tickled his mind. Its syncopation was one that could be remembered through the ages and was sung by mothers to their children in hopes of instilling a hidden truth within their heart. He had never given place to the song’s meaning until now.

“The orb shines bright behind closed doors
Hidden in the heart of a King

Shattered, it falls, and grows very dark – lost in obscurity

But, the love of one will finally come and heal the heart of the King
And in return, the King shall save all eternity.”

As the melody danced on the wings of his thoughts, shadows filled his room and his heart. Change was now inevitable. And, the journey of finding the one would begin.

Cavernous echoes from pounding feet in the marbled halls outside the King’s room disclosed the need for his departure. Grabbing his sword, King Maddox fled through the same hidden panel as the woman. He headed towards the orb’s chamber.

The Kingdom

2009-03-09T06:00:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the Kingdom. This is the first installment of my new fantasy fiction blog-novel. Hope you enjoy.

Prologue Part 1

The palace emerged from the setting sun amidst the black void of space. The ebbing fire from the yellow star immersed the palace in an orange aura, and lit the darkness as it moved from that star’s universe and phased into a parallel one.

Space, as it spanned in front of the castle, was split by the light of a star centered in a universe in which the palace would rephase. This new destination was home to a world whose inhabitants resembled those that lived inside the palace. For this, Artimus had been waiting.

… … …

“This is the key?” Artimus held the object towards the ceiling, allowing the light from the chandelier to pass through it. The glass the key was made from glowed and the interior of it moved as if filled with molten lava.

“It is my Lord.” Rosea bowed his head in sworn duty to his Prince. “I am sure of it.”

“Then we wait no more.” Artimus placed the key in the interior pocket of his vest. Plucking his sword from the wall, he plunged it into the sheath tied around his waist. “Find him and bring him to me.”

Rosea turned on his heels and left the library.

Staring through the window, Artimus watched as the soft glow of the new world peaked above the horizon. Soon, the palace would emerge.

“At last” the Prince said, “my time has come.”

Love Letters to the King

2009-03-06T06:00:00.001-05:00

Welcome to my parable devotional series, Love Letters to the King. If you are new to the Love Letters, click here to find out more.

Again, this is an older letter that has been revised and expanded. I was going to post a new one but this letter hit close to home today, so I decided to post it. I'd love to hear what you think. And, don't forget to come back Monday as I'll be starting a new fictional series, The Kingdom.

Hope you enjoy.

Love Letter to the King:

They were waiting for me, my Lord.

Never have I been so aware of your absence until I was in their presence.

A hidden predator in our garden, they set a trap to ensnare me. I had come to the garden to meet with you, but instead I found your enemies. Or rather, they found me.

There, beneath the Willow tree, I was waiting. Staring at the lake, I was unaware of the rope beneath my feet. Slapping my ankles, the rope was cinched tight and the force of it knocked me to the ground. I was surrounded. Towering above me, I counted four of them. Their taunts brought fear and confusion. Their feet kicking my body brought pain.

Their leader grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet. Squeezing my face, he demanded I tell them where you were. I could not betray you, and so I did not answer.

Their rage grew. I tried to be brave in the midst of the torment, but I could not stop the tears from splashing down my face. They laughed. I cried harder.

Becoming impatient, they decided to leave the garden and take me with them. One of them bent down to remove the ropes from my legs while another tied my wrists together. Seizing the moment, I bit the arm of the one in front of me and kicked the one at my feet. With rope dangling in an uncompleted knot from my arms, I ran away from my captors at Dalzure Lake and headed towards the gate.

The screams escaping my throat matched the intensity of the panicked beating of my heart. My captors were not stalled for long. The thumping of their feet on the broken bedrock grew louder and I could feel the heat of their pursuit on the back of my neck. I looked over my shoulder to gauge the distance between me and my enemy, but in doing so I missed seeing you step onto the path from behind the oak trees.

You’d heard my screams. You’d come to my rescue.

At full speed I ran into your chest, but my momentum was absorbed by your sure-footed stance, and your body never budged from the brunt of it. Your arm encircled my waist, lifted me and tossed me to safety behind you. I lay on the ground and watched.

My assailants, still running towards us, drew their swords. So did you. The proportion of your weapon to theirs was monumental. It was a King’s sword, and it held against the force of all four of theirs. The metal clanged with such intensity I had to cover my ears. You pushed your sword against theirs, and your enemies fell to the ground. Jumping to their feet, they regained composure and attacked again.

I cowered in your shadow and watched as the battle ensued. Your sword was swift, your strength unyielding and your fierceness unstoppable. One by one, my enemy thudded to the ground in lumps of unmoving flesh. The stench of sweat and blood filled the air. The battle was over and my King was victorious.

I watched as you returned your sword to its sheath. For a moment, you surveyed the garden making sure there was no other lurking with ill-will as their intent. Once satisfied that the garden was safe, you walked back towards me.

As you knelt beside me, I leapt into your arms and buried my head in your chest. I felt one of your arms wrap around my back while the other slipped beneath my knees. You scooped me up and carried me to the pavilion at the center of the courtyard surrounded by roses.

Placing me on the bench, you walked to the well and drew water. Ripping the hem of your shirt, you wet the rag and returned to me. You washed the dirt from my face and cleansed my wounds.

The compassion in your eyes sequestered my fear, and the healing in your touch defeated my pain. I rested in your embrace, and absorbed your strength for my own.

Kissing my forehead you said, “To this I vow…I will forever watch over you and protect you, Princess.”

I know my Lord. As I will forever take refuge in your shadow, for you are my protector, and forever my King.

Love,

Princess

“A King’s rage is like the roar of a lion, but his favor is like dew on the grass.” (Prov 19:12 NIV)

Don't Hurt the Socks Feelings!

2009-03-04T06:00:00.000-05:00

When I was a child, I often assigned emotions to inanimate objects. For instance, my stuffed animals (and there were a lot) carried a multitude of emotions that led to imagined stories of plush toy kingdoms and teddy bear adventures. I cried with them when they were sad, and nurtured them when they were hurt. I cuddled them when they were scared, laughed when they were happy, and threw fantasy parties on imagined birthdays, which in teddy bear land arrived more than once a year.

But, the emotional attachment to inanimate objects went much farther than that. Example….passing through double doors at stores was a terrible conundrum for me. You see, it’s very difficult to walk through both doors. You have to pick one, but if you pick just one than the other one is left out. If I could pull it off without my parents invading my secret word, I would walk through one door, and then walk back through the other door, and then rewalk through the other door. That way, every door was used and therefore appreciated. More often, however, my parents did not indulge me, and I secretly whispered apologies to the unused door while being dragged away.

This avenue of my imagination came to a dead end during the preteen years, and was all but forgotten until I caught our son doing something……well, very imaginative.
Our son is a Thomas the Tank Engine fanatic. One could even say he is train obsessed as he (at 5) could guide you through any train museum and explain every engine top-to-bottom in the yard.

This past Christmas, I was thrilled to find Thomas the Tank Engine socks. The small treasure came in a set of two socks.

One pair of Thomas socks and one pair of Percy socks.

For some reason, I kept finding these socks mismatched in the dirty clothes. They were paired as follows:

After a few washings, I started thinking that maybe Bug is doing this on purpose, so I asked him.
“Mom” he said, “Thomas and Percy are friends. They will be sad if I separate them.”

Enter a flood of memories from my own childhood. Ahh, the apple does not fall far from the tree.

Now, I mismatch the socks on purpose. I mean, we wouldn’t want Thomas and Percy to be lonely inside the sock drawer. It gets so dark in there……..

New Beginnings

2009-03-02T06:00:00.000-05:00

Happy Monday!

Usually, Mondays (on my blog) are reserved for installments of Mary's Journal. To find out what MJ is, click here. However, I have an announcement....

Mary's Journal has moved!

Ithirst ezine has agreed to publish the series. The first installment "God's Favor" is in their March issue.

My parable devotional can be found at http://www.ithirstnw.com/ . The magazine's homepage lists the table of contents on the left hand side. Mary's Journal:God's Favor is located under the heading 'short story'.

As for Monday's.....

If all goes well, next Monday will lauch the start of "The Kingdom".

In my mind, I had so much more to say today, but Bug seemed to be feeling better, so my family did too much of this

And this

over the weekend, and therefore my Monday blogging is a little lack. Unfortunately, we have suffered a relapse and are now sequestered to the house once again. Oh well. When is the flu season over?

Have a great day and be sure and stop back by for Whimsical Wednesdays.

Friday Shout Out

2009-02-27T13:12:00.004-05:00

What a week! I am very thankful it is Friday.

I started the week with the goal of finishing a writing project. In fact, my plan was to cut the world off until I hit the send button and officially submitted the project.

At this point in my life, I should have seen that this was a set-up, but hoping for the best I continued on.

Monday started out perfect. I spent the day editing, packaging and polishing. Loved it. Thinking ahead, I knew I could take some extra breaks since my husband had a meeting that evening, and (after dinner) I'd be able to go right back to work.

Sounded good.

Well, regardless of how accomplished I feel in any given moment, my children have a way of knocking me back into reality.

As I was working, I noticed the house was too quiet. (And, every one with kid experience chuckles). Then.....I heard water running upstairs.

With a heavy sigh and not the nicest words running through my head, I ran up the stairs and found this.......

The picture doesn't do it justice so I'll explain. Bug and Squeaker decided it would be a good idea to style their hair with Colgate strawberry toothpaste. However, much to their avail, toothpaste does not provide the luxurious bubbles that one creates in the tub so they augmented their styling product by mixing the toothpaste with antibacterial soft soap. (let me digress by saying I hope Glade never decides to create a scent that combines strawberry toothpaste and plain antibacterial soap. Take my word for it, the product would not sell)

Talk about a mess! And, as an FYI, toothpaste leaves a very strange residue on sinks and fixtures. Ugh.

As for their experience? They may have had fun free stylin' their hair, but they learned the hard way as to why Mommy and Daddy choose to use Tears free baby shampoo instead of antibacterial soap. "Put your head back so the water doesn't get in your eyes" has taken on a whole new meaning for these two little bathroom chemists.

So, that was Monday.

My submission was prolonged to Tuesday, but I was okay with that. Well, I was until the simultaneous pressing of the send button was met with round 2 of Bug coming down with a virus. We have missed our second week of school for the month of February. That's a lot of make-up work. I'll be glad when flu season is over!

Well, now that's it's Friday, the project has been submitted, and Bug is on the upswing, I have rejoined the Land of Blog. Yeah!

Please swing by on Monday as I will have a pretty cool announcement. And, hopefully, this will be followed by a few more very cool announcements including a new weekly story series and the lauch of my new dot com. But, we'll get to that later.

As I gravel at the feet of my friends in blog land, please forgive the few and far between posts. It shall return to normal. So....come back and come again and I hope you enjoy!

Have a great weekend!

Love Letters to the King

2009-02-23T20:31:00.003-05:00

Welcome to Love Letters to the King. If your new to the letters, you can click here to find out what it's all about.

This week's letter is a revisitation of an older letter. It's been revised and lengthened and I like the result. I'd love to hear what you think. Hope you enjoy.

Love Letters to the King

Do you remember, my Lord?

The first time I entered the garden?

I remember….

Standing in a doorway, sweat dripping from my brow as I swept the front step of my master’s store, your messenger found me.

No words spoken. He leaned from his saddle with a gold-sealed note in his hand. Accepting it, he turned and disappeared into the dust cloud emanating from the horse-trodden cobblestone road.

Alone, in the midst of the crowded village market I stood, a peasant girl in thread-bare clothes holding a note from the King. I slid my finger beneath the pressed wax and broke the seal, revealing the message inside.

Come to me.

Three simple words, and yet life altering. The paper was lead in my hand, and my fingers trembled under the weight of it. My heart skipped a beat, and my brow furled until my forehead hurt.

Why me, my Lord?

With tears free-falling down the hollows of my cheeks, I fell prey to the attack from the enemy within. Feasting on my insecurities the voice whispered its poison into my ear. You’re dirty, used, broken. You cannot go to the King.

But, your note. Come to me. The words jumped off the parchment and grabbing my heart, pulled it from the ebbing tide of my destitution. Hope demanded I obey. I must go to the King.

I released the broom letting it thump on the wooden steps outside my master’s store. Clutching your note to my bosom, I ran. Away from my servitude, away from my village, away from all that was familiar, I ran hard and fast. The chill of the evening’s air burned my lungs, and my breathing grew shallow, but I refused to stop until I reached the wrought iron gate that stands as a sentinel at the entrance to the garden.

And, I didn’t. Not until I crashed into the fence, letting the metal bars absorb my momentum. Catching my breath, I lay my head on the cold metal bars and wept.

I wept for the unworthiness of my soul, and for my undesirable condition that I would dare enter into the presence of the King. I flirted with the idea of turning around and heading back to the village, but a ghostly wind blew past me nudging the gate open.

I stepped inside. It was quiet. The leaves of the trees did not rustle in the wind and the cicadas did not serenade the setting sun. The weight of the garden’s silent worship was heavy making it difficult to press forward.

Broken bedrock lay scattered on the ground in a weaving path that led from the fence to a stand of ancient oaks. Passing beneath the trees’ canopy, the path fed into a courtyard of roses. Pausing, I picked a velvety pink rose, pinned it behind my ear and drew in its delicate perfume. Intoxicated, my insecurities subsided.

At the end of the courtyard, the path disappeared into Dalzure Lake. A Willow tree of unnatural proportion stood at the water’s edge. It was there that I found you.

Beneath the draping branches of the Willow, you stood staring at the last of day’s light dancing on the ripples in the water. Peace exuded from you as if it were ripe fruit hanging from a tree. The temptation of partaking from the sweet harvest drew me closer towards you.

I reticently tread the remaining length of the path until I was standing behind the Willow. You did not acknowledge my presence, nor did you remove your gaze from the lake. Staring at your back, I could not help but drink in your form. Shoulders broad with strength, arms that promised a secure embrace and ebony locks of hair that would please the eyes of many a maiden, but it was not that which caught my eye. It was your stature. Your appearance was young, yet your presence held the authority of the ancients. And though your glory seemed to emanate from the pores of your skin so that even the garden worshipped you, there was still a cloak of humility wrapped around you that fostered approachability. Here, standing behind you, my heart was pierced by the realization of how much I wanted and needed you.

I was terrified. I was also excited.

Your note still in my hand, I walked to your side. I bowed my head in respect for you and in shame of me.

Expecting to hear your voice, I felt your hand instead. You lifted my chin with your fingers, and raised my head until my eyes met yours. Meeting your gaze, I could feel you penetrate my soul.

Taking my face in both of your hands, you wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Peasant girl no more,” you said, “from now on, you are my Princess.”

I remember that first day in the garden, my Lord. And, I will never forget.

Love,
Princess

“No longer will they call you Deserted, or name your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah, and your land Beulah, for the Lord will take delight in you…” Is 62:4 (NIV)

Banana Bread, Chocolate and Trains

2009-02-19T15:07:00.009-05:00

Welcome to whimsical Wednesday a little late. Yes, it's been that kind of week.

My son had an interesting homework assignment this week.

He was instructed to cook something with bananas. And, since it just so happened I had rotting (oops, I mean overly ripe) bananas on the counter, we made banana bread.

Yeah, Bug's eyes are closed but my camera batteries were dying so I had to go with it.

Now, since this was a homework assignment, the kid's had to help. So, Mommy was brave and let them operate the mixer. Thankfully, we didn't have any mishaps. And, with my children, that is nothing but answered prayer!

Of course, in my house, we add a secret ingredient to banana bread.

That's right. We put chocolate chips in the bread. I have to give Bug credit for this one. It was his idea.

And, thanks to a Christmas present from Grammy, we were able to do something else special with the bread.

We cooked it in a train pan.

The finished result......

Very cool banana bread. Thanks Grammy, the pan was a big hit! And, the kid's actually enjoyed their homework assignment.

PS
Stay tuned as a new Love Letter to the King will be posted on Monday.

Mary's Journal: Joseph

2009-02-16T06:00:00.000-05:00

Wondering what Mary's Journal is all about? Click here to find out.

Did you miss last week's Mary's Journal: Telling Joseph? Click here to read it.

And now, MJ: Joseph. I hope you enjoy!

Shrouded by your peace, I slept through the night even though Joseph’s response to my condition was still a mystery to me.

At day break, however, doubts crept in once again. Would he divorce me? Would he “out” me to the authorities? The questions lingered in the early morning air like ripened fruit hanging from a tree tempting me to pick and eat.

Despite the crease seared into my brow, I forced a smile and refused to worry about questions to which I had no answer. Instead, I focused on my daily chores.

The hours passed by, and though the sun was not at its peak sweat beaded on my forehead and dampened my clothes. Our small house ensnared the mid-morning heat, causing me to feel as though I were baking in an oven. I went to the door hoping to let in a breeze, but when I reached for the handle someone burst in from the outside.

Jumping back to avoid getting hit by the door, I came face-to-face with Joseph. His skin was flushed, and he spoke in garbled, broken sentences. Grabbing my hands he pulled me close until he aborted the motion, turned and lead me to the chairs by the table instead. For a moment, we sat staring at one another. But, Joseph could not sit still. Pacing one minute and sitting the next, I was unsure whether I should worry or let out the laughter I was stifling. I cast a smile towards my God, and hoped He would bring clarity.

Tiring, Joseph planted himself in a chair and stared at his hands. I held my tongue.

“Gabriel.” Joseph whispered the name and the rest was clear.

Before he could finish his disclosure of the night’s events, I threw my head back and shouted praise unto my Lord. The rising well of emotion within me overflowed as stored up tears broke free and poured down my face. Thank you, my Lord. Thank you.

I fell at Joseph’s feet, grabbed his hands in my mine and let tears drip into his lap. “Do you believe me now?” I asked. “Please say you believe me now.”

Joseph leaned forward and kissed the top of my head. “Yes, beloved. I believe you.”

His words were as honey to my soul. I stayed, grasping his hands and bathing in the warmth of his protection until my legs went numb beneath me.

For the rest of the afternoon Joseph spoke out loud of plans for a quick wedding, and strategy for dealing with people’s gossip, but all I heard was the sound of a thousand answered prayers falling from heaven and landing at my feet as manna did for the Israelites in the desert.

The Lord answered my prayers. I would not walk this road alone. Staring into the face of my betrothed, I was overwhelmed with the fullness of God’s love. In Him and with Him, I shall endure the destiny of my life.

Mary

“…an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” Matthew 1:20-21

May the Lord go before you and make a way where there is no way that you may freely embrace your destiny.

Valentine's Day

2009-02-11T06:00:00.001-05:00

I know it's early, but since I'm in the mood from all my party preparations I decided to say Happy Early Valentine's Day!

Did I say party preparations?

Ah, yes. As a member of the "party team" for my son's K4 Valentine's party that takes place this afternoon, I've been busy putting together the party snack. Being a little tired of the cookie routine, I opted for a new, more creative route.

Valentine Trail Mix!

I mixed:

Honey nut chex, valentine m&m's, yogurt craberries, sweet hearts and pretzel goldfish.

Finding cellophane treat bags with hearts on them finished it off with quite a nice touch. The only problem? Sweet heart candy is much harder than honey nut chex, and tends to crush the delicate cereal if tossed too much. Oops. I hope the kids don't mind.

I have to admit, I was feeling quite proud after coming up with the treat bags. For a brief moment, I felt as if everything was under control. The only thing left to do was to have the kids write out their valentine's.

Class list in hand, the family sat at the table to fill out cards. Princess valentine's for the girls and Disney Cars mixed with Thomas the Tank Engine for the boys. The kids put the cards together, Mommy and Daddy taped the candy to the each one, everything was going great until....

"This one is for Carlie." Nathan proudly proclaimed.

"Carlie," Daddy responded. "Is she your friend?"

Not even looking up from his card Nathan said, "Yeah, she's my best girl."

After picking myself up off the floor and staving off hyperventilation, I had to clarify. After all, I am Mom. "Nathan," I ask calmly, "Carlie is your best girl?"

"Yeah, she's special."

"Really? What makes her special?"

"She's beautiful."

At this point, I had to leave the room. Beautiful? She's beautiful? You're five and you have a beautiful special friend? I must admit, tears were in eyes. It's not everyday your five year old makes such an announcement.

I decided to take the upper hand and NOT embarrass our son. "Perhaps Nathan, you would like to tape two candies to Carlie's card instead of one?"

Nathan stopped writing, looked me in the eye and said, "No Mommy. If you tape two candies to the card you will cover up her name."

Duh! And we wouldn't want to do that because her name is beautiful, right?

So, as you go about your day toss a prayer my way as I head off to Valentine's Day party in our son's K4 class where I'll need to meet and be civil to his special girl.

I wonder if her Mommy will be there?

Mary's Journal: Telling Joseph

2009-02-09T06:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome! If you are new to Mary's Journal and would like to know more about it, please click here.

To read last week's MJ, click here

And now, Mary's Journal: Telling Joseph

I spoke to Joseph today.

Trembling, I hid my hands beneath me as I sat across the table from him. How do I tell you I’m pregnant with the Son of God? I scanned the room looking for anything that might cause a distraction, and delay this conversation. But, nothing did.

Joseph sat staring. Not knowing why I had called him here or what I was about to say, he bore a stare in me that demanded full disclosure.

Taking a deep breath, I braced for the inevitable. “I’m pregnant.”

In whispers, I recounted Gabriel’s visitation, God’s favor, and my destiny. But, the words soared from my lips and pierced Joseph like arrows hitting a target. With each blow his shoulders slumped lower and his face fell further until his head was buried in his hands and his elbows braced on the table were the only things holding him up.

He did not believe me.

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs I did not betray you. I would never betray the one betrothed to me by my father, but my screams would do nothing but feed the fire of unsettled emotions already burning within the room.

Instead I confided, “This is good news Joseph.” Using a tone I’d hoped would soothe his broken heart. “I am pregnant with the child of the Most High God. The very child all of Israel has been praying for. This is answered prayer my beloved.”

Joseph was silent. Rising from his chair, he averted his eyes and didn’t once look at me as he left my father’s house.

Fear tapped on the door of my heart, begging to come in. He will divorce you and have you stoned. You do know that. Your child will never see the light of day, and neither will you for that matter. The voice inside my head boomed loud, as though someone or something stood beside me and breathed poison in my ear.

“You’re right.” I said, answering the invisible intruder. “Joseph can rightfully do all those things. But….I choose to trust my God.”

My determination boarded shut the mouth of the intruder, and he fled from my presence. In his absence, your peace poured from heaven and infiltrated my heart, and I knew you would hold me up and renew my strength.

I bowed my head and offered up this prayer.

My Lord, I do not know what tomorrow may bring, but I trust you. And, I trust you with Joseph. Speak to him that he may know the truth. Allow that truth to pass over his mind and penetrate his heart. And, if it is your will, let him walk this path with me. Amen.

I can do nothing now but wait, my Lord.

Mary

“This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit.” Matthew 1:18

May the Lord, who answers prayer, give you the strength, wisdom, and peace to receive His way for working in your life. And, may the Lord protect you “watching over your coming and your going both now and forevermore.” Psalm 121:8 NIV

Love Letters to the King

2009-02-06T06:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome to Love Letters to the King. If you are new to my love letters, click here to find out what the mystery is all about.

Click here to read last week's letter.

And now, Love Letters to the King.

My Lord,

My heart had become as coal. Hardened by a fire that was fueled with the misery spawned from my life.

A void of darkness in which I endlessly fell, drowning in a torment of my own making. Used, beaten, cast aside, I learned to shut others out while I protected the wounds that festered within me. The walls surrounding my heart were impenetrable, and I took great care to keep them that way.

And then, I met you.

A message, delivered by a man on horseback, invited me to walk through a door I never knew existed. I entered. And, when I did, I found you waiting for me in the garden.

Your garden. Walking through the wrought iron fence, I shook hands with peace and was wrapped in glory. The trees radiated a green that leapt off the surface of each leaf and fed life to my soul. Their bark was the deepest shade of cocoa, as if the trees had never known the bite of winter. The path, laced with broken bedrock, led me to the lake where I found your willow tree. Used to bowing in worship of you, the branches bent forward and draped to the ground in a canopy of majesty. The sun danced on the surface of the crystal clear water and even though I shaded my eyes, I was unable to see across the length of it. Each breath, drawn deep within my lungs, exhaled the darkness that was left in the wake of my broken past and stored up within me.

No longer impenetrable. No longer clouded in despair. With each visit to the garden, the walls of my heart were dismantled brick by brick. Each visit with you removed pieces of the debris and resurrected that which I had long since buried.

Dead no more.

Now, as I stand below the willow tree, drawing the air into my lungs I realize there is no longer a stinging sensation upon my exhale. The familiar ache that came as my despair was pulled out of me was now a memory. No more pain. Today, I am new. “Thank you.” I whisper, “Thank you for the garden.”

“No, thank you Princess.”

Startled from my solitude, I turn to find you standing a few feet behind me. Staring into your eyes, I’m again swept away by the tide of your passion that flows from somewhere I have yet to travel.

Finding my voice, I ask “My Lord, why say thank you to me?”

I could tell by the lowering of your eyes and the pained smile upon your lips that you were saddened by my response.

“Dear one,” You said, “It is your love for me that awakens this garden to life. The magic does not lie in the trees or in the grass or even in the lake. It lies within you. As your heart grows for me, so does this garden. Therefore, thank you Princess, for believing in me.”

Dipping your head, your hand closed in a fist and landed above your heart as you bowed towards me. As you did, the garden silenced. Neither a bird, nor cricket made a sound. Even the wind slowed as not to wrestle the branches of the trees, all in honor of this moment and of our King.

It was too much to bear.

I ran, throwing myself into you, and forced you to embrace me. “No.” my cry muffled in your chest. “It’s not me. It’s you.”

“Princess, I am always here. As is my garden. But whether or not you see this place is up to you. Many have been invited, but few have ever entered. You, my dear, have chosen wisely. And now, the garden is yours. A gift that I have given to you.”

Your hands lifted my face from your chest before they rested upon my shoulders. Pushing me an arm’s length away, you squared my shoulders and caught the gaze of my eyes. “Now, the question is…What will you do with this gift?”

A smile slid across your lips while a spark flashed from your eyes, and hinted of a much larger mystery, which tickled my mind. With a laugh you turned and headed down the path, away from me.

I watched you, frozen in the flash of your enigmatic prelude. With each step that took you farther down the path, the garden awakened. The birds, again, began to sing and the crickets started their serenade. A faint breeze blew in from the lake and carried on it the words you had spoken from a distance.

“Until tomorrow Princess.”

Yes, my Lord. Until tomorrow. I will be here.

Love,

Your enraptured servant.

“Praise the Lord, all you nations; extol him, all you peoples. For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord.” Psalms 117:1-2

May you enter the garden and accept His gift, for His love will not betray but will restore that which has been stolen. You, dead no more, will arise adorned in the love of the King.

Silence

2009-02-04T06:00:00.000-05:00

In silence I sit as a tug-of-war ensues within my mind. A battle between life’s responsibilities and the destiny God has called me too.

So much to do….

So many to email, call, or just make contact with…

Tumbling class, baseball practice, church, school and social events…

Grocery shopping, household chores and pets

And, I cannot forget the most important thing of all: breakfast, lunch, snacks and dinner as little mouths must be fed…

My destiny lies dormant underneath a canopy of to-do lists. It whimpers under the weight of such a heavy load and yet, I must hope and dream. I must trust God with what He has called me too.

But, does God trust me?

My God has entrusted me with a destiny, just as He has entrusted you. And, He is waiting to see what we will do with it.

Destiny starts as a God given desire, gifting or talent. It’s the dream within our heart. The one that screams this is what you were born to do. When I hear its call, I can either answer or dismiss it.

I answered. And, I called upon God to show me how and what to do with it. Covering the dream with prayer, I waited for the Lord to open the door and show me the next step.

But, in the waiting, I became busy.

I used to say, “I know what God wants me to do, but I have small children and I’m buried in life. It’s hard, but He understands.”

That, however, is no longer good enough. I’ve seen and tasted the things of God. I have heard His call and understand that He is waiting on me.

Well, I’m ready.

I’m ready to stand up and take the challenge. So, today I break the silence and say, “Yes Lord…here am I…send me.”

No matter how hard, no matter how inconvenient, no matter how time consuming, I will pursue the destiny the Lord has called me too.

Today, I return God and His call to the top of my priority list.

Are you ready to answer “yes” to the call? If so, I’d love to hear about it, in hopes of encouraging each other in the destiny of our lives.

Mary's Journal: Overshadowed

2009-02-01T16:44:00.004-05:00

Welcome to Mary's Journal. If you are stopping by for the first time you can click here to find out what Mary's Journal is all about.

If you missed last week's MJ, please click here.

Thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoy.

Mary's Journal: Overshadowed

May it be to me as you have said.

This was my “yes” to Gabriel. No sooner had I uttered the phrase then he dissipated from the room as a vapor disappears into the air around it.

Gabriel gone, I was alone with the enemy of my mind. It can’t be. He was an illusion. The ill-seated will of a poor peasant girl. Besides, you are a virgin. How can you become pregnant? You can’t.

The voice inside my head was relentless. It dug its poison like sharp fingernails into my skin and I bled doubt from underneath its tightening grip. How could God choose me? It just can’t be.

Flooded with despair, I crawled to my mat and prayed for sleep to overtake me. With eyes held so tight no tear could fall, I lay underneath my thread-bare blanket with muscles tensed. Waiting for precious slumber to release me from my torment, I was instead flooded by a chilling breeze. It started at my feet and moved up toward my head. As it passed over, it felt as if a metal ball covered with a thousand needles rolled over my skin, pricked me and continued on its course until all my hair was standing on end.

I jolted from my mat. The room was dimly lit with the aura of a million subdued points of light dancing around each other as if miniature shooting stars were piercing the darkness just above my head. I lifted my hand, penetrated the cloud with my fingers, and reached towards the lights. Some stars glided around my hand while others seemed to shoot through it. It tickled, and I could not help but laugh at their random choreography.

It occurred to me that fear should grip my soul, but it could not, for a tangible peace filled the room and covered me like a warm blanket. I drank in the scent of roses, myrrh and fire until I was intoxicated.

In my mind, I heard every thought of doubt that harassed me earlier replayed one phrase at a time. After each one the Lord spoke His truth, causing the infection of distress that had plagued me to unleash its grip and flee.

In the wake of my deliverance, I was left full of the Holy Spirit. It was then that I knew His will had been done. My destiny was underway.

For fear will not embrace me my Lord. Doubt shall not have its way. I am a servant of the Most High, born to love and worship Jehovah, my God. And, I will stand on the promises of heaven.

May it be as you have said.

Yes, let it be as the angel has said. And, let the Son of the God come forth.

Mary

“The angel answered. ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.’” Luke 1:35

May you be overshadowed by the Most High God, for you have been given promises of a destiny, and it awaits you. In that destiny, He will bestow upon you, and equip you with everything needed to fulfill the work of the Lord. May fear be dispelled, and let the yielding of Holy Spirit operate within you that you may become that which God created, a purposed son or daughter of the King.

What is Mary's Journal

2009-02-01T16:41:00.003-05:00

Welcome to Mary’s Journal

Mary’s Journal is a series of parable devotions written in first person narrative. My intent is for the reader to feel as though they have stumbled upon a journal written by Mary, mother of Jesus.

As you read my fictionalized version of Mary’s feelings, thoughts and lessons learned, I pray it will bring you closer to the life of Jesus and therefore closer in your walk with Jesus.

Love Letters to the King

2009-01-29T21:24:00.003-05:00

Welcome! If you are new to my blog and Love Letters the the King, please click here.

If you missed last Friday's love letter, click here.

I hope you enjoy this week's letter.

My sin overshadows me.

Like a thick cloak, my shame wraps around me and forbids forgiveness to enter. The weight of it growing heavier with each step, I tread through the garden looking for you, and avoiding you at the same time.

I did not mean to take it as far as I did. The provocation of such a thing seems childish now that it’s behind me. But, the crowd, my Lord. What was I to do? Not defend you?

They did not believe me. The explanation for the glow of my skin, the smile upon my lips, and the light-hearted way in which I now walk. They heralded me with accusations of being bewitched by an unholy incantation, for only that would cause such a change within me.

I told them, my Lord. I told them about you, and about our garden. I left no detail out as I dictated your love in insufficient prose. I tried to explain the part of me that is alive because of you, but they would not listen.

They threw slurs around like poisonous darts that penetrated my soul, and darkened my heart. “It is all in your mind.” They yelled. “A lie of your making used to belittle us. You are no better than we are.”

They are right. I thought, I am no better than any of you. And to some, I am less than that.

Their accusations turned to counsel and their counsel became my beliefs. In an instant, I believed in their version of your truth. As the crowd dissipated, I stood alone. Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. How could I have been so wrong? Shedding my hope, I laid plans to return to my old life. To once again become that which I fought so hard to forget. For, in my mind, it was the only place I could find solace.

Come.

At first, I wasn’t sure I heard it.

Princess, come to me.

The tears that filled my eyes now spilled down my face. My head bowed, I ran towards your garden. Yes, the garden. How could I believe another above you?

Now, walking in our sacred place, I feel the weight of my shame from being so easily persuaded from the truth. My heart, bubbling over with love for you, fears the reprimand that should come, and the sadness that will fill your eyes when you look at me. It is almost too much to bear.

My feet saunter down the path toward the willow tree that stands alone in front of your lake. Head bowed, staring at the broken bedrock, my arms swing mindlessly by my sides in cadence with my footsteps. Intermittent tears trickle to the ground.

From the corner of my eye, a shadow joined me along the path. Footsteps, now audible, fell in rhythm with mine. And, as my arm swung back behind me, your hand grabbed mine and interlaced your fingers into my fingers.

My momentum slowed as we strolled, hand-in-hand, along the path towards the lake.

We stopped at the water’s edge and, fearing the calm before the storm, I braced for your anger. Instead, you smiled. Stepping behind me, you wrapped your arms around my shoulders and pulled me back into your chest.

Your lips brushed my ear as you whispered, “No matter how much you doubt, Princess, I will never leave you nor forsake you. You are mine and mine alone. Call upon me dear one…..I will always answer.”

Your words stung. But just as salve stings before it soothes, your words brought healing as well. My cloak of shame was ripped from me and thrown to the wind. Peace infiltrated my mind and body as I lay engulfed in the security of your embrace.

Under the willow tree by the water’s edge, we stood until the sun was tucked beneath the horizon. And, I wished I could have stayed there forever.

May I never doubt your love again.

Love,
Your enraptured servant.

“…Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5

What are Love Letters to the King?

2009-01-29T21:21:00.002-05:00

Welcome!

“Love Letters to the King” is a set of letters that take you on a journey to explore the fictional account of how a peasant girl arrested the heart of a King, and how the King transforms her into a Princess.

Written as individual first person letters, you feel as though you have stumbled across a young woman’s account of an age-old love affair.

My prayer is that, as you unravel the mystery behind the letters, you’ll discover there’s a King waiting to start a love affair with you.

More Disney Fun

2009-01-28T06:00:00.000-05:00

Happy Wednesday everyone!

Recently, my family went on vacation to our favorite recreational spot. Disney World!

Last week, I shared pics of the golden chariot that carried me around the park. (For those who are just stopping by I have a disability. You can read about it by clicking here.)

This week, I have to give Disney major kudos for their new ride Toy Story Mania inside their Hollywood Studios park.

This ride is so much fun. It's a 3D virtual reality tour de force of carnival games.

(Sorry I don't have better pictures. We were so taken by the decor, we forgot to snap more pics)

The cart sits four people (two on each side) and each person has their own popper gun. The cart twists and turns along a track, stopping in front of wall size TV screens that flash up differnt carnival games such as shoot the swimming ducks, or hit the plates with arrows. And, it's all in 3D thanks to the beautiful yellow glasses they make you wear. Your goal....to get a high score. Of course, my husband won. But, there's always next time.

Now, I must digress.

The ride was fun, yes. But, there were two other things about this ride that made it a memorable experience.

One, Disney pulled out all the stops in designing this ride where the handicapped are concerned. The thing that stood out the most....No one had to wait on disabled guests to load into a cart. We were on a completely separate loading dock. A cart would leave the main drag, enter our loading dock and could be disassembled to accomodate even the bulkiest of wheelchairs. Once the person is loaded, the cart finds its way back to the main track and off it goes. For me, this is awesome. I hate making people wait just because I move slower than everyone else. Man, that stresses me out! However, on Toy Story, I could be as slow as I needed to be, and no one was put out. Loved it!!

Two, Zach. This begs explanation. You see, the Toy Story ride is new. Therefore, the line was LONG. My kids and waiting do not go very well together and if they have to stand in line for more than five minutes they get bored, which leads to straight out goofiness.

Regan, being a climber, decided it was a good idea to scale the metal poles. She continued to do this even after the Disney worker asked her not to climb. Yes, that's our girl. Inevitably, she fell and hit her mouth on the pole. Crying ensued, Mommy consoled and Zach entered the picture.

Oblivious to me there was another family behind us. However, it wasn't Mommy or Daddy that had the disability; it was there son, Zach. He was maybe two years older than Regan and he had Down Syndrome.

As I sat in my scooter with Regan in my lap, her head buried in my chest, Zach moved around and stood in front of us. With compassion in his eyes, he began stroking the back of Regan's hair. When she turned her head towards him, he leaned in and gave her a big bear hug and asked if she was okay.

Immediately, Regan's tears dried and we spent the next fifteen minutes getting to know Zach.

I was almost sad when we loaded into the cart and said bye only to find that Zach and his Mom loaded into the cart behind us and (due to the logistics of the carts) Regan and Zach faced each other for most of the ride. So, instead of these two preschoolers shooting the wall sized TV screens, they instead shot each other and when the popguns didn't seem to work, they made faces and laughed.

After the ride was over, Zach came and hugged Regan and kissed her on the cheek. We said goodbye and never saw him again.

Long lines are not always fun and can bring about many frustrations, but this line held a gift and I was happy they we were the family that unwrapped it.

Stay tuned as this Friday we will have another Love Letter and Monday will hold the next installment in Mary's Journal. And, next Wednesday, I may have to share the vacation inside the vacation....carrot cake cookies. Hmmmmm.

Mary's Journal

2009-01-26T06:00:00.000-05:00

How awesome are you God that nothing is impossible with you? That is what Gabriel said when he visited me, and he was right. To think, my dear cousin was barren. Wanting a child all her life, she was left with an empty womb and empty arms until such a time as this.

A time of your choosing. I am still in awe.

Amazed at your glory and of your love, for you looked down upon her….upon Elizabeth…and you filled her womb. Even in her old age, when others said it was no longer possible, you gave her life.

How awesome are you God that you would do such a thing?

In your presence, my heart is set to song and takes flight among the eagles. For, my very bones ache with the knowledge that possibilities are endless with you.

She’d waited for so long. My dear Elizabeth, whose dreams had years ago become distant memories. She’d pushed them from her mind and yet, you did not. And, for that I am grateful.

But I wonder, how many more have forgotten dreams. How many more serve you in gladness but, secretly look to you with hopelessness? If you delivered such blessings upon my cousin, then I know you can do the same for many more.

My God, the one in whom I trust. I plead to you that we are a desolate people my Lord. The Romans bear down on us every day. Our hardships are evident in our calloused hands, our impoverished land and our broken hearts.

But, you are a deliverer of forgotten dreams. A resurrector of barren hopes. Can you not show up for everyone as you have Elizabeth?

In this moment it occurs to me that perhaps you already have. For my cousin’s womb is not the only one that has been touched.

Mine is filled as well.

He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. Is this not also what Gabriel said to me? But, in truth, I wonder what that means. Will he fulfill dreams, my Lord? Will he be the one we have been hoping and praying for?

My mind is filled with questions whose answers cause my heart to tremble.

I have become so accustomed to hoping and praying for the Messiah that I cannot imagine that he is already here. This baby growing inside of me…is it him my Lord? I’m scared to hope and yet scared not too. For why else would you have bestowed such a thing upon me except to answer the cries of your people?

Because my Lord, you are the restorer of hopes and dreams. The one who looks down upon us, and in mercy and grace, fulfills that which we believe to be impossible.

I am in awe of you my Lord and forever will be.

Mary

“Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.” Luke 1:36-37 NIV

May the Lord resurrect in your life that which you thought to be lost for He has not forgotten the God-given dreams of your heart. For when you least expect it, you will find that nothing is impossible with God.

Love Letters to the King

2009-01-23T06:00:00.000-05:00

I saw myself today.

The garden was soaked from a mid-morning rain. Droplets scurried down branches and dripped from the tip of each leaf lending its girth to the growing puddles beneath the canopy.

With each step, my feet slipped deeper within the saturated earth. Bending down to dislodge my sandal, something caught my eye.

Entangled in the roots of an ancient oak, a pool of water gained refuge from the sun. The puddle, undisturbed, was a perfect looking glass that reflected my every movement. I leaned over the muddy water and was disheartened by the girl staring back at me.

I tested the reflection by touching my cheek only to find the girl in the puddle touched hers as well. But, surely that could not be me. Dampened by the humidity, hair stuck haphazardly to her face and neck. Her cheeks, sallow and gaunt, looked out of place amidst a rose filled garden. Unwoven threads spilled from the aged-shawl pulled over her shoulders and lay threat to unravel the garment there beneath the tree. Dipping my finger into the pool, I’d hoped the ripples would make her disappear but she did not. The smile evaporated from the girl’s lips as it did mine.

How can I visit you in such a state? I’d seen the reflection and realized my own displeasure. How can I possibly please you?

The sun grew taller above the trees. And, I knew you’d be waiting.

Not willing to deny my heart’s desire to drink in your presence, I walked toward our meeting place.

Within minutes, I spanned the distance of the garden and found you waiting beneath the draped branches of the willow tree. Casting my eyes to the ground, I took my place by your side.
My shame stood between us. Your silence suffocated me and my heart felt as though it would shatter.

My foot turned and my body twisted until I was facing the path once again. Stepping forward to leave, your hand caught my elbow.

“Come” you said.

With your arm, linked in mine, you guided me to the edge of the lake. Dropping to one knee, I followed suit and knelt by your side.

We leaned over the water’s edge and a smile spread across your lips.

“Look into my water.” You said as your finger cracked the glassy surface and swirled the water until, at your whim, it turned into a crystal revealing secrets of yesterday and tomorrow.
Instead of my reflection, I saw old turn new. Darkness invaded by light. And, fear dispelled by truth. Drawn into the crystal, I watched images of my life replayed before me only this time I saw you etched into the picture.

You were there when the midwife handed me swaddled in a blanket to my mother. You were there standing next to me at the funeral of my father. And, you were there when the messenger brought the note calling me to your garden. Always there, always watching, always protecting. You were with me.

Your finger brushed the water’s surface again and the image changed. Tears welled up in my eyes until they spilled down my cheeks as a new vision came forth from the crystal. The girl from the puddle was standing in a great hall. You reached out and took her by the hand. A cacophony of music poured in as the couple danced across the floor. With each turn, my dress underwent a metamorphosis changing my appearance to that of a royal courtier.

Your laughter shattered the image as the crystal dispersed into a thousand water droplets and disappeared beneath the surface.

Leaning towards me, you whispered in my ear, “Do not trust your eyes Princess, trust mine.”

Yes my Lord, I will trust.

For I will forever be yours.

Love,

Your enraptured servant

“I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and a bride adorns herself with jewels.” Isaiah 61:10 NIV

Disney and all things Scooterized

2009-01-21T06:00:00.000-05:00

I saw a woman wearing stiletto heels in the middle of Disney Hollywood Studios in Orlando, Fl. (If you have ever been to one of the Disney parks then you know that the parks span multiple acres and require a crazy amount of walking.)

The shoes looked nice but the only thing I could think is “we are in the back of the park. That means you walked from the parking lot to here in those shoes and what’s worse…..you have to walk back.” Bless you young lady. Bless you.

Now, I admire anyone who can wear “fashion before comfort” type shoes. Why? Because I can’t. I would love to wear some styling killing-my-feet-while-I’m walking-but-who-cares-cause-I-am-strutting-my-stuff kind of shoes. But, if you have read any of my previous Wednesday posts, then you know that I have a completely fused spine and walk with a cane. It would be impracticality and an impossibility to don those type of shoes so I vicariously live through other’s hurt feet.

So, when and why did I notice this woman’s shoes? I noticed them this past weekend during our impromptu family get-a-way to Disney World in Orlando. Our favorite place to vacation. And, even though we have been too many times to count, this trip was distinctly different.

My husband, who was tired of me being in pain due to hobbling around the parks, decided it was time to embrace my disability and rent a scooter. Yes, I am now a scooter-riding Disney chic. I wonder if there is a club I can join…..

Anyway, here I am atop my golden, I mean white metal, chariot. We’ve decided that the next time we go to Disney, I am going to wear a special ordered T-shirt while riding my scooter that says “BEWARE FAULTY WANDS…..my fairy godmother zapped a pumpkin and this is what I got”

I must admit though, if you’re kicking it handicap style, Disney is the place to do it. Check out the Disney bus that transports guests from the resorts to the parks.

Riding a scooter? No problem, the bus is fully equipped to take you and your noble steed to the park. And, you get first dibs on the seats.

Notice my husband driving the scooter onto the bus elevator thingy? I am a bad enough driver on the road. You do not want me backing up a scooter in a crowd, on a bus or anywhere else!

And here it is parked on the bus. Nestled into its transportation spot, we sit back and enjoy the ride to whichever park we are heading too. Very nice Disney. Thank you for making it easy.

Stay tuned. Friday will host a new Love Letter to the King, Monday features the latest Mary’s Journal and next Wednesday will be more Disney adventures.

Holiday

2009-01-19T07:17:00.002-05:00

Happy Martin Luther King Day

Please enjoy the latest Love Letter to the King for a couple more days.

I'll be back on Wednesday with some whimiscal posts from our family vacation; a new Letter on Friday and back to Mary's Journal on Monday.

Hope you had a great weekend.

Love Letters to the King

2009-01-16T06:00:00.002-05:00

Oh my Lord,

The darkness has overtaken me.

The gloom of it pierces my heart and poisons my soul and I fear I can bear no more. And, I wonder, how do I know the sun will rise, my Lord? How do I know this darkness will flee from me?

For I fear it is a nebulous dark that arises from the underworld and threatens to destroy me.

It’s as if death itself has rested upon me for I am cloaked in shadows that have no beginning or end. I am lost amidst a black abyss that drips from my skin and springs forth eternal sorrow.

Here, on the path that runs through the middle of our garden, do I sit hugging my knees to my chest. I rock back and forth, physically willing the hands of time to quicken and bring the light of day sooner, but they do not. Instead, the broken rocks imbedded in the path bite my skin to the point of bleeding so that tears of pain join my tears of sadness as they waterfall off my cheeks.

I could leave.

I could stand right now and run out of the garden and back to the safety of my own room within the village. I could climb into my bed, pull the covers tight around me and find warmth in my own trapped body heat. I could go back to that place, to the constraints of a world of my design, and find a frail security. But I would be alone. I would no longer have the hope I find in you. I would no longer have the joy I feel in your presence. And, I would no longer see the look in your eyes that tells me how beautiful I am.

Having known to well the bitter taste of such an empty life, I do not dare leave the garden. Even while gripped in a darkness that masks the truth of my surroundings, I choose to wait.

And, in the waiting, believe that the sun will again come up.

For in one moment, the darkness will be lit with the brilliance of a thousand rainbows birthed by fire. The sun will ease above the horizon and chase away my demons. The trees shall awake, shake the inkiness of night from their branches and spread their leaves in honor of you. The morning dew will wash away every hint of lies that the shadows cursed upon the land and the garden will be new once again.

In that moment, I will rise. The rays of sun spilling into the garden will burn the sorrow off my skin and dry the tears from my face. A smile will cascade across my lips as I head towards the lake. For I know that when dawn kisses the earth, I will find you beneath the willow tree, waiting for me.

Yes, my Lord, right now it is dark. I am surrounded by all that I fear. But I choose to believe the sun will rise.

I will rest in the knowledge of that which I know but cannot see. And, I trust I will find you there.

Love,

Your enraptured servant

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1

Ella

2009-01-14T06:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome to Whimsical Wednesday – where laughter gets us through the week.

This is Ella.

She was a gift this past November and I’d like to take the opportunity to say thank you to the giver.

I love cats. However, my husband hates cats. About every six months over the last seven years, I have asked if we could have a cat and the answer has always been NO. End of story.

Having played every angle, including the “but the kids really want a cat”, I had come to terms with never having a cat. But, then one fateful Thursday afternoon my inbox was infiltrated with an email profiling an abandoned cat who was in need of a home. My heartstrings were once again pulled.
Being that it was way too late in the afternoon to ask my husband about the cat (as his nerves would already be shot from a long stressful day at the office) I decided to wait until the next morning.
Friday came and I sent my husband off to work, made sure he arrived safely and then I popped the question.
Forwarding the original cat email, I asked if we could give this abandoned kitty a second chance. I even added a smiley face for added sentiment.

To my absolute surprise my husband said “yes”.
After making sure he was serious, I had that cat signed, sealed and delivered within thirty minutes. I couldn’t believe it. We had a cat.

Later that afternoon when my husband arrived home from work I asked him why he changed his mind after all these years. His response, “I didn’t have a choice.”
He recounted the story that during his bible study meeting the previous Tuesday, God spoke to his heart and told him to get me a cat. He’d been wracking his brain all week trying to figure out how to surprise me with a cat when I forwarded the email to him.

The funny part of the story….this cat is identical to a cat I had in my childhood that was unfairly taken away from me. This cat from the past was just one of many things taken away from me as a child. God had long since promised restoration and has delivered on many accounts, but now he is delivering on finite details. As He has restored a favorite pet.

Ella has made a wonderful addition to our family and is a constant reminder of God’s restorative power. So thank you Lord for your gift. And thank you to my husband for being obedient.

Mary's Journal

2009-01-12T06:00:00.000-05:00

Today, I sing.

I sing a song that is mine and mine alone. Walking towards Elizabeth’s house, the path is deserted. But instead of loneliness I find peace, and so I sing.

“There is a joy in my heart. A joy I do not understand.
There is a joy inside my soul.
And, it threatens to control the very essence of who I am.

I am nothing. I am something. I am yours and yours alone.

My God. Precious God. To you am I thankful.
For this gift that you have given me.

To the one placed inside of me. My thoughts are always of you.
I dream of who you are and what you will do.
Will you change the world? I know that you will. But how and when escapes me.
My thoughts they do betray me. For I fear that which will come for you.
I fear what wants to destroy you.

My baby. Small one kept secret for now.
You’re safe, you’re growing, tucked away from the world.
Baby of mine and yet, I am yours. For my heart already bears the scars of loving you.

Jesus. I’ll call you Jesus. The name bestowed upon you by God himself.
What plans he has for you? What meaning shall come from your name?
Will the world love or hate you? I’m haunted by these questions whose answers I know not. But today, you are mine. Kept safe within me.
Yes, safe within me.”

This is the song within my heart Lord. Today, I release it to you. As I walk towards my cousin’s house, I feel as though I am walking towards destiny for at this point there is no going back.

With each step that I take, the song in my heart grows louder. Perhaps it will grow so loud it will drown my fears and yet the grand noise of it shall betray my secret to Elizabeth. And, I fear what she will think of me. Will she believe my story? Though I am sure that he cannot, I wonder if Gabriel could go before me and tell my story that I may not have to explain this mystery.

I think that I shall not tell her.

For now is a time of rejoicing over the child that she is carrying. A miracle child in and of itself. Yes, today I will rejoice with Elizabeth.

But, this song. It threatens to consume me. I do believe my secret is written all over my face Lord, that I shall not be able to keep it no matter how hard I try. For, how can one hide the great mystery that is you.

Oh Lord, I promised to trust in you and you alone. Pave the way before me and be sure to hold my hand. For I go to rejoice and care for my cousin. I pray she will rejoice with me as well.

Mary

“He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord.” Psalm 40:3 NIV

The song of the Lord is as springs of living water and when the song is uttered it releases waves of healing restoration for your soul. So, regardless of circumstance, regardless of all that is around you, release your song unto the Lord.

Love Letters to the King

2009-01-09T06:00:00.002-05:00

Today, my Lord, I have grown tired. The burden of my insignificance heavy upon me. The bruise on my arm a reminder that there are those who do not care I am here.

Sweeping the front step of my employer’s store, surrounded by a dust cloud perpetuated by a dry land, dispassionate villagers care not that they knock me to and fro.

My day’s chores seem unending and unrewarded.

I want to escape. To run into the presence of the one who breathes life upon my soul. But the dust did not only shield me from view. It darkened you from my mind as well.

I tried to daydream of you, to find happiness amidst the mockery of hope, but the dream did not come. Your image faded as if covered beneath the debris of my brokenness. For a moment, I thought I would not find you, that maybe I had never
found you. Sorrow filled my heart and tears burst forth.

But I cannot forget our garden, my Lord. And so, at the end of the day, I left the village. Tears washing the dirt from my face, I walked towards you.

My shoes were filled with gravel and, with every step, bit the soles of my feet. My sweat soaked garment clung to my body. Wiping my brow, the closeness of my own bed in the village brought more solace than the journey to your garden, but I pressed on.

By the time I arrived, the sun was dipping just below the horizon, casting shadow upon the wrought iron gate.

Tranquility spilled forth as an intangible cloud that engulfed my body and nurtured my soul. The celestial twilight penetrated my spirit, renewing me from the inside. You were there. I could feel you.

Although the evening’s air began to cool, my skin was feverish. Nearing the gate, I let go my shawl allowing it to slip from my shoulders, down my back and onto the ground. Two steps before entering I pulled the slip knot from my hair, shaking the dust from my locks and letting them cascade down my back. I stepped out of my shoes and left them at the foot of the gate before entering your garden.

Leaving the path, I stepped barefooted onto the chilled grass. With each step, the coarse blades scrubbed the dirt from the soles of my feet. The night air dried my dress until it lay loose around me.

The cicadas serenaded the evening sky and the garden erupted in dance. I could do nothing but join in. My arms lifted and pulled my torso from side to side. Reaching towards the earth, I skimmed my fingers along the blades of grass before leaping into the air and throwing my hands towards heaven. Twirling, I joined the garden in rhythm and song until my lungs hurt from the sting of inhaling too much cold air too quickly.

Pausing to catch my breath, I saw you in the distance. Barely making out your silhouette, the only aspect of your darkened figure evident was the smile upon your face. You were watching me.

With one foot in front of the other, I bowed towards you. For you, my Lord, are the true joy that invades my heart and sets my foot to dance.

Love,

Your enraptured servant

“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever. Psalms 30:11-12 (NIV)

Dance, sing and rejoice in the one who sees you no matter your circumstance. And know, his refreshing is for evermore.

Time to Potty Train

2009-01-07T06:00:00.000-05:00

Welcome to Whimsical Wednesday, where laughter gets us through the week!

Yesterday, my daughter changed her own diaper.

It occurs to me that this is a sign of her readiness to potty train, and yet I cringe at the very thought of it.

I am no good at potty training. Why do I say I am not good at it? Because I know that I am not good at it.

For instance, we tried the immersion method with Squeaker (our daughter) once before. We bought her underwear of her choice and announced the special day that would be potty training day.

Squeaker proudly wore her underwear and sat on the potty every 20 minutes for about two hours with no success. Considering all the juice she had been drinking, I knew we would need to “go” at any minute so I was trying to watch her closely. But, the minutes ticked by and I got distracted.

Squeaker climbed into a dinette chair and sat down for lunch. She took a bite of her food and released her bladder all in one simultaneous motion. I yelled, “Squeak, you’re wet.”

With a bit of sandwich hanging out of her mouth, she climbed out of her chair, swooshed her hand across the seat spraying pee all over the floor, shook her hand off, climbed back into the chair and resumed eating.

After we washed everything, the diapers came back into being.

Now, this in itself is not enough to scare me out of potty training. No, this is a small blip on the radar. The real root of fear was planted with our first born.

Enter Bug, our son.

At 2 years of age, we tried everything with him. Nothing worked. He simply did not want to go on the potty, so I let it go.

One day, I took Squeaker (who was still in an infant carrier) and Bug to meet a friend and her kids at the library. As we walked into the lobby, Bug announced his immediate need to use the potty.

I was speechless. I looked at my friend for guidance.

“Well, you have to take him.” She said.

“But, I don’t have the diaper bag.”

“Take him!”

So, leaving Squeaker with her, I ran Bug to the nearest restroom yelling all the way, “Hold it son, hold it, we’re almost there, hold it!”

Into the restroom and into a stall we went. Now mind you, I had to carefully remove the diaper so we could reuse it as I had nothing with me. Careful not to touch the inside of the diaper to the dirty floor, I laid it on the ground. And of course I’m yelling all the while “Hold it son, no don’t touch that…no, don’t put your hand in the water….Son! Just wait on me.”

Finally, I get the boy on the potty and he says, “Oh, I don’t have to go.”

You don’t have to go? Boy, you better squeeze something out.

Trying to win the good mommy of the year award, I bite my tongue….lift Bug carefully off the potty seat, replace old diaper and re-dress him. It was sometime during this process that a strange image flashed across my mind. What was that weird thing on the wall by the sinks.

That’s when it hit me. That’s right. It was a urinal.

Okay, I say to myself, this is a bad dream. That wasn’t a urinal. We really are in the right restroom. Just in case we’ll sneak…….

Nope. No sneaking. At this point someone turned on the water and started to wash their hands. I was cornered and Bug was getting antsy.

Out of the stall we walk only to be caught like a deer in headlights in the glare of a man whose expression could only be described as “Oh dear Lord, I am going to jail!”

The worst part is, he started looking around to make sure he wasn’t in the wrong restroom.

Now, you would think I would quickly slink out of the restroom, leave the library and never step foot in there again. But, you have to understand that I am very OCD and my 2 year old had just touched a toilet. We had to wash our hands. So, standing at the sink, next to the man, I wash my son’s hands and apologize profusely trying to plead my case.

“He had to go.” I said.

The man finished washing his hands and backed his way out of the restroom, never taking his eyes off of us.

With head bowed in disgrace, I exited the restroom to the sounds of my friend’s hysterical laughter.

So yes, potty training is terrifying and with child #2 ready to take the potty plunge, I grit my teeth and pray that at least part of my dignity remains intact after the ensuing battle.

Mary's Journal

2009-01-05T06:00:00.002-05:00

My hands are still sweating. Favored one. Me? Favored for what I must ask.

I still do not fully understand. If my heart could be anymore torn it might break in half. Joy and fear threaten to battle for occupation of my mind and I’m not sure which will win.

Favored one. Me?

Can tears fall from happiness and terror? Can one tear drown fate and another spring life? For my tears deceive me and they know not why they fall. In my pillow do I allow my tears to soak through like a bloodstained cloth. For one moment I am at peace and the next torment.

Favored one. Me?

His light was so bright. The one you call Gabriel. Heavenly to be sure for none could possess such a light source and be of this earth for he emanated that which could only be replicated by the sun itself and yet, it did not burn me. No, his presence was cool, peaceful, like a babbling brook whose source evades all capture. His words were soothing as silk coursing against one’s skin and yet they were loud as if rattling around the inside of a great cavern. My heart ached in his presence and I could not doubt he was sent by you, my Lord.

But, favored one. Me?

Am I not a poor peasant girl? Simple in all manners and ways? For today, I was doing nothing much of consequence. Nothing that would stand out to anyone of importance, but tonight…your angel. Gabriel. I fear my life has changed forever. I fear what tomorrow holds.

But, I will trust in the one who holds my tomorrow.

For I know You, my Lord. I have followed your ways and trusted your heart. I sought you in all things and believed you in all things. Why now, upon such great evidence, should I stop? No, I shall not for You are mightier than the sword, stronger than all that would test my faith. No, my Lord, I shall not leave you now.

Now, I will trust you all the more.

Bestow upon me what you will, my Lord. May it be to me as the angel has said.

“For nothing is impossible with God. ‘I am the Lord’s servant,’ Mary answered. ‘May it be to me as you have said.’” Luke 1:37-38

I pray that you see yourself the way God sees you. For you are not forgotten or unnoticed. You are not “poor” in the sight of the Lord. No, you are favored. You are a daughter of the King and nothing is impossible with God. Trust in him. Throw all cares on him and today seek God for the purpose of your life for He is ready to bestow your destiny upon you.

*author's note: This Mary's journal is similar to the original one in Dec however, this new revised version is the first official journal entry for the "Mary's journal" devotionals. Hope you enjoy.

Love Letters to the King

2009-01-02T06:00:00.000-05:00

I was tired, my Lord.

The day behind me had been difficult. My work seemed unyielding and it warranted no merit. I laid my head to rest but sleep eluded me even in the darkened hour.

Restless, I drifted between our world and the one where dreams come to life. But my dreams could not keep me.

Immersed in Cimmerian shadows I left my bed and entered your garden. I knew you would not be there until the sun broke through the darkness and yet I had to come. In my malcontent, I needed to feel the remnant of your presence. To stand where I knew your foot had stood. To touch the smooth bark of the willow upon which you often rest your hand. I needed you. So, I waited.

The shroud of darkness screamed in my ears and yet, I thought I heard the approach of footsteps. I tried to turn but your hands took hold of my shoulders and squared my body in its place. Your grasp was firm. I was captive to your embrace.

“My Lord, are you not pleased to find me waiting?”

Your hand left my shoulder and covered my lips. Your skin was not smooth as it had been before. Calluses scraped my lower lip and an earthy malodorous smell filled my nose. I laid back into your chest hoping my submission would ease your grip, but you moved your other hand across my chest and held me closer than before. The stubble of your unshaven chin bit into my cheek. And your voice….

“Why do you love him?”

My breath was arrested within me, threatening to take my life.

“Why can you not love me?”

“You are not my King.”

“No. But, I should be for I can offer you so much more.”

The spittle of his words wet the inside of my ear. I could no longer hear the garden. I could only hear his filth and I was unwillingly intoxicated. Like filling my veins with poison, he purred his promises from a forked tongue masking all that I loved from view.

The muffled sound of a whimpering heart was all that was audible from my lips. My thoughts crying out for the only one whose love could break his hold.
The sun crept over the horizon and the lake danced in its presence. The scales of the arm that held me at bay turned to flesh in the glow of the sun.

Like a warrior riding in from the distance, the light flooded the garden and again I heard the approach of footsteps.

“Let her go, Lord Viroth. She is not yours to hold.”

His hand left my mouth and his embrace released. Curses slip past his lips as we turned to face the King.

You towered in front of him, the sun illuminating your face so that it hurt my eyes. Your arm outstretched towards me and I ran into your embrace.

“Leave us Viroth and do not be so quick as to come back again.”

With your words still lingering in the air, Lord Viroth disappeared into unnatural shadow.

I buried myself within your grasp. The gentleness of your touch renewed my strength. The brush of your finger across my lips healed the scrapes of my captivity.

“Forgive me my Lord, for in my weakness I thought he was you.”

Your lips buried within my hair, you kissed the top of my head. “Know only me Princess for what I offer cannot be duplicated.”

I will know you King. I will seek you always and in your embrace will I find refuge.

Love,

Your enraptured servant.

May you know the heart of the King and the voice of the one who loves you for in his embrace you will find refuge and peace for your soul.

“For your name’s sake, O Lord, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble. In your unfailing love, silence my enemies; for I am your servant.” Psalms 143:11, 12 (NIV)

Confessions of a Closet Dancer

2008-12-31T06:00:00.001-05:00

Well, it’s whimsical Wednesday and I have a confession to make.

If you read my previous post titled “God Knows” then you know that I have continual back problems due to scoliosis. Well, Monday I woke up in a tremendous amount of pain. It was so intense that I was unable to complete my physical therapy session that morning. My therapist kept asking what I did over the weekend and I couldn’t think of any specific thing that would have caused such a flare-up.

Tuesday morning, still in pain, I was wracking my brain trying to think of what I could have done. I even asked God during my prayer time what could have caused it. Now, I’m not sure if God was answering me or if my brain chose that exact moment for sudden recall but as if watching a movie, I saw a scene from Sunday night that cleared up the elusive pain causing incident.

But, before I confess, I must digress.

As many of you know, I am a writer. And, for a very long time, this has been my work space.

I’m also a stay at home mom of two small children who find it hilarious to invade this stuffed-in-a-corner-of-a-room workplace and attack anything and everything, including me. I’ve learned to live with the invasions, even cherish them at times, but it does make forward progress on any large writing assignments tedious.

However, over the Christmas break, my dear sweet amazing husband whom I cherish beyond life itself made a decision. He decided the work space I had been using was no longer viable for the goals I have set for the coming year. Therefore, over the past weekend, he did some rearranging and created a home office just for me.

This is my new office.

That’s right. My own office complete with a door. Those who have or have raised children understand how a door (at times) can be the most beautiful sight in the entire world.

This incredible creation was completed Sunday. And now, it’s confession time.
Sunday evening, my family allotted me some time to escape into my office and work…by myself…with the door closed.

The quiet of the room screamed in my ears. The peace inside the four walls ignited fireworks in my head. The excitement was such that I could not sit at the computer and type away. No! That would not be a proper inauguration for such a wonderful gift as this.

Instead, I turned on my media player, picked a song of my choice (yes, that’s right…I got to pick my own song in my own office) and danced myself silly all over this brand new office.

Yep, you read that correctly, I danced my back out.

So, as I sat in my prayer time with a vision of myself playing air guitar and living out fantasies of being a hip hop dancer I couldn’t help but fall on the floor hysterically laughing. The joy of my new office was worth the dancing but the dancing was not worth the pain so I will probably not do that again but I will continue to enjoy my new office.

Happy New Year!

I Forgot the Turkey, God Didn't

2008-12-29T06:00:00.001-05:00

Christmas 2008 is finally over. The dishes have been washed, the wrapping paper cleaned up, presents have been put away and family and friends have gone home.

Now there is quiet, and in that quiet a time for reflection.

For me, the month of December brings with it a to-do list that can only be mastered by a ninja of time management, which I am not. I start the month out with the intention of staying on top of my game. My gifts are bought before Thanksgiving. Holiday shopping lists are prepared and kept on hand. Event plans are penned down before December 1st and the day planner kept open for all to see. But, then we enter December and a snowball of “I forgots” begins to take shape.

I was ready for our nuclear family Christmas events, but I forgot that in the midst of that I had writing assignments due, school functions I was heading up, and physical therapy sessions. Oh and then there was the class party I forgot I was hosting and the cookies I forgot I had to make for the fellowship following the school Christmas presentation.

I took all these “I forgots” in stride. I was overwhelmed, I was exhausted, I cried more than once but I was able to stay the course. That is until the Titanic of the “I forgots” was remembered. We were traveling out of state the weekend before Christmas not to return until the night before Christmas Eve. That’s right. The weekend when Christmas meal shopping is done and the last minute details are taken care of (including wrapping presents); I would be out of town.

It wasn’t that I forgot we were traveling, I forgot when we were traveling. So, the night before the trip while we were packing, I was listing everything that had not been done and could not be done now that we would be out of town, including the purchase of a turkey for our Christmas meal. By the time midnight rolled around and the last suitcase was zipped, I had sworn off all future holiday travel.

I must admit this declaration of travel free holidays brought with it a sort of relief. Knowing this would be the last time I would be drowning in “I forgots” with no time to remember made the trip north quite bearable. Well, it would have been bearable had the Lord quit trying to convict me. I wasn’t listening though so it was okay.

We reached my in-laws house and by the second day, something had changed. I was no longer drowning in “I forgots”. I was embraced by the love of family.

You see, I love my husband’s family. In fact, I have no problem calling my husband’s parents Mom and Dad because I love them as a Mom and Dad. They are my second parents and I know they are gifts from God.

Although I was basking in my family’s company, I still held my declaration of “no more holiday traveling” in my heart. And, the Lord was still convicting me.

On the third day of our visit, I was sitting in the living room talking to Mom. We discussed family and society. It seems a lot of her friends would be alone this Christmas because their children were too busy to take the time to travel home. More than that, we discussed how the view of “family” in society’s eyes has degenerated over the years. Where children once cared for their elderly parents, now it’s common to turn them over to nursing homes and visit when it’s convenient.

Our conversation took a personal twist when I learned that some of our own family members have become too busy to invest in family. Tears welled in Mom’s eyes and my heart broke.

When did I forget the true gift of Christmas? God invested in us when he sent His only son to this earth. That birth was a gift to us. That gift grew up and Jesus spent his life investing in people. Why would I take that gift and turn it towards selfish things. Is wrapping presents, cleaning the house before Christmas morning and shopping for our holiday meal more important that the investment into the lives of family?

As I finished talking with Mom and walked back towards our room, I repented.

Lord, please forgive me for my selfish declaration of no more holiday traveling. Please forgive me for putting my to-do list above your to-do list. Thank you, Lord, for my family. I treasure my time with them and will always stop what I’m doing to invest in them for investing in your people is my gift to you.

For the first time in weeks, peace flooded my heart. The “I forgots” faded into the background and Christmas looked a whole lot brighter. As I entered our room, my cell phone beeped with a text message from a friend whose family would be dining with us Christmas day. She asked if we had bought a turkey yet. Still covered in peace, I replied no. “Good” she wrote back. Her message went on to say her neighbor had just given her an 11 pound turkey for us to eat on Christmas day. That’s right. A free turkey delivered to my friend’s door for us to cook on Christmas day. I didn’t have time to get a turkey. God did.

December is busy. With school-aged children and everything else life has to offer, it’s the nature of the holiday. But, I will never again place that busyness over my family. For the true gift of Christmas is expressed through the love we share with each other. I love you Mom and Dad and although I’ll see you many times throughout the year, I am already excited about next Christmas.

Merry Christmas Again

2008-12-26T06:00:00.000-05:00

Author's note: due to overexhaustion from Christmas festivities, I will be back to the world of blogging on Monday. Merry Christmas

Christmas Cookies

2008-12-24T06:00:00.001-05:00

Hello Bloggy Friends,

We have just returned home from our Christmas travels and in light of that I have no inspired prose to post today. However, I thought I would share my absolute favorite Christmas cookie recipe. I would have a picture for you but I haven't made them yet. It's on my to-do list for Christmas Eve.

Unfortunately, I am the only one in my family who loves the cookies but maybe I will find a fellow lover of the Christmas wreath cookie among one of my new friends.

I will back on Friday with a love letter to the king. I hope and pray everyone has a safe and wonderful Christmas. May each of you enjoy your time with family and friends and create memories that will last a lifetime.

Christmas Wreath Cookies

1 cup softened unsalted sweet cream butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 eggs separated
2 cups sifted flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups chopped nuts (I usually get away with 1 cup)
maraschino cherries or chocolate kisses

preheat oven to 375

Cream butter and sugar.

mix in egg yolks, flour, salt and vanilla

Form 1" balls, dip in egg whites and then chopped nuts

Bake on greased cookie sheet for five minutes. After five minutes, use thumb or back of spoon to smoosh cookie in the middle. Place cherry in the middle and bake for 10 more minutes. (if using chocolate kisses, put them in the middle after total baking time)

Enjoy!

Again, Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas

2008-12-22T06:00:00.001-05:00

4 more days until Christmas!

As we celebrate the birth of our savior this week,

I pray each of you finds

peace during last minute preparations,

joy in the company of friends and family

and true love from the one who sent his only son.

Merry Christmas

Love Letters to the King

2008-12-19T06:00:00.000-05:00

Do you remember, my Lord?

The first time I came to you?

I remember….

Standing in a walkway, sweat dripping from my brow as I swept the front stoop of my master’s store, your messenger found me.

No words spoken. He leaned from his saddle, a gold sealed note in his hand. I took it, and he disappeared into the dust cloud from the horse-trodden cobblestone road.

Alone, in the midst of the crowded village market, I stood.

A poor peasant girl, in thread-bare clothes, holding a note from the King.

I broke the seal and read the letter.

Come to me.

Three simple words. My brow creased. My heart skipped a beat. Why me, my Lord? With tears streaming down my cheeks, my condition resonated within me, tormenting my soul. Dirty, used, broken, I cannot go to the king.

But your note. Come to me.

My heart moved beyond my torment. I must go to the King.

The broom fell from my hand. I clutched the note to my bosom and ran. Each step carried me farther away from the village and closer to your garden. My heart beat explosively in my chest until each breath was harder to grasp than the last. I pushed on until I reached the gate. Holding fast to the iron bars, I lay my head on the cold metal and wept for the unworthiness of my soul.

The setting sun threw roses to the earth that illuminated the lake in a ghostly glow. As I looked towards the water, I found you standing beneath the willow tree; its branches bowing in your presence.

The gate was not locked. I passed through the entrance and tread reticently down the path. The closer I came to you, the more I was enveloped by the peace that emanated from your stature. I cared less and less about my appearance. I only wanted you.

At the end of the path I stopped. The great lake spread before me, smoldering in the setting sun. You did not acknowledge my presence. You stood staring at the water. Your shoulders broad with strength, your head held high in majesty and your heart…I could hear calling to me.

I was eager. I was also scared.

Your note in my hand, I walked to your side and bowed my head.
Expecting to hear your voice, I felt your hand instead. You lifted my chin with your fingers until my eyes met yours. You looked into my soul as if you were studying a great masterpiece.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, you spoke, “Peasant girl no more. From now on you are my Princess.”

I remember my Lord. And, I will never forget.

Love,

Your enraptured servant

“No longer will they call you Deserted, or name your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah, and your land Beulah, for the Lord will take delight in you…” Is 62:4 (NIV)

May you run to the one who beckons you that he may delight in your presence.

Nathan and the Cookie

2008-12-17T06:00:00.001-05:00

This is my son.

After six weeks of grueling bed rest to keep him in the womb and then a 12 hour induction to get him out of the womb, Nathan burst forth into the world and stole mine and his Daddy’s heart.

Ever since, he has confounded us to no end. Why? Because there is no parenting book known to man that explains our son.

Our biggest issue with him…food.

Here is the look that Nathan gives us every night at the dinner table.

Nathan avoids any food that contains color. The exception to this rule is cheese. His favorite dish – kashi crackers and sliced cheese.

Our pediatrician has given us many ideas to try and we have put forth our best effort only to have each idea crash and burn.

For example, there was the “grow your own food” idea. That way, he is invested in the food and will enjoy his bounty at harvest time. He was invested alright, but his idea of bounty was watching us eating it.

Then there was the “let him cook with you” idea. Nathan was very excited about this idea and had a blast cooking. But, in the end, he plated the food and offered it to his sister. As he is a very good big brother.

After running the gamut of ideas, we had only one option left. Bribery.

Enter “blue iced star cookie”. (I would have had a picture but my husband ate the cookie.)

We have a friend who makes the best iced cookies in the whole world. But, since it takes three days to make these cookies, we only get them at Christmas and Valentine’s Day. Last Friday, we had one cookie left. A blue-iced star cookie. Nathan had been eyeing it the entire day.

Daddy and I decided to use the cookie.

We sat down to dinner. Now mind you, we had already had our daily discussion of what’s-for-dinner-I-don’t-like-that-fix-me-something-different, but this time we had ammo.

“Nathan,” I said, “here’s the deal. All you have to do is taste a piece of roast. Chew it up real fast and swallow it. Then, take half a sliced carrot and do the same. If you do that, you can have the blue-iced star cookie.”

We even put the cookie on the table so he would know the reward was real.

Dinner went as usual. Mommy, Daddy and sister ate. Nathan stared at his plate. Mommy, Daddy and sister finished their food, sister asked to be excused, Nathan stared at his plate.

Then, the bartering started.

“Why Moooommmmy, why can’t I just have the blue-iced star cookie noooowwww.”

This is now evoking not so calm responses. “Nathan, for all that is decent and holy, please eat the food. One bite son. That’s all we ask. Don’t even chew, just swallow and we’ll call it good.”

We sat for another ten minutes.

Losing all hope, I was about to clear the table when Nathan’s face lit up. He jumped out of his seat and ran around the end of the table to stand between us.

“Mommy, Daddy, here’s the deal” he started, “I am going to take the blue-iced star cookie and tear it in half. I will give one half to Daddy and one half to Mommy. Then you can eat the cookie.”

“But Nathan….” I tried to intervene.

“No Mommy, it’s okay. You guys eat the cookie. I will not eat the cookie and I will not eat the food. Okay?”

With Mommy and Daddy’s jaws on the ground, Nathan then asked to be excused from the table. No food. No cookie. May I get down now?

“Yes…..yes you may.”

Perhaps one day he’ll eat something nutritious. Until then, Kashi crackers and cheese are my specialty.

Mary's Journal

2008-12-15T06:00:00.001-05:00

Oh my Lord, why choose me?

Why should I be the one to carry such a burden and yet such a gift?

I am no one special. A poor young girl who tends to her family and prepares for her wedding and yet your angel visits me with this message.

I am afraid.

I’m afraid I won’t live up to that which you need to be.

I’m afraid of what the people will say.

And, I’m afraid Joseph will no longer want me. What will I do then? Will you take care of me then Father?

Fear has arrested my soul and trapped my breath within my lungs. Everything within me wants to scream “no” to your call. But, how can I turn down the God of heaven and earth?

Since I was a little girl, I have believed in you.

I have remained faithful to your ways every day of my life. To this end, I will lay down my fears and rejoice in that which you have called me to do.

Bear your son.

I will trust in you, Father. I will stand in faith. And I will submit to the will of the Lord.

But, please be with me to calm my fears and point the way, as I cannot do this alone.

-Mary

May the Lord that declares your purpose, also calm your fears that you may submit to his will and rejoice as you walk by faith into your destiny.

Love Letters to the King

2008-12-12T06:00:00.000-05:00

They were waiting for me, my Lord.

Never have I been so aware of your absence until I was in their presence.

They lay silent in our garden and set traps to ensnare me. I came looking for you, but was instead met with the ones who hate you the most.

They encircled me in our beloved garden. I fought to get away and the torn hem of my skirt and bruise of my cheek speaks of the struggle that ensued.

Breaking away, I ran. My screams matched the panicked beating of my heart.

They were close behind. I could feel the heat of their pursuit on the back of my neck. I turned to find them and in doing so missed you.

You heard my cries and rushed to my aide.

Your arm captured my body and lifted me to safety behind you. Your sword, drawn, met theirs with such intensity that the clash of metal hurt my ears.

I cowered in your shadow. Covering my ears, tears were left to stream down my face and drip onto my knees.

Your sword was swift and followed by the thuds of unmoving flesh. The stench of sweat, blood and defeat filled the air.

The defeat was theirs.

I did not open my eyes until I felt your arms encompass me and lift me from the ground. I buried my face into your neck as you carried me to our sanctuary.

You washed my wounds and dried my brow. Kissing my forehead, you took me in your arms and held me tight.

Forever will you be my strength, my protector, my King.

Love,
Your enraptured servant.

I pray that you know and trust the one who loves, honors and protects you.

“A King’s rage is like the roar of a lion, but his favor is like dew on the grass.” (Prov 19:12 NIV)

How to Dress a 2-Year Old

2008-12-10T06:00:00.001-05:00

Whereas Mondays are reflective and Fridays are dedicated to Love Letters to the King, Wednesdays must bring with it a little witticism to get us through the week. Because girlfriend, if we aren’t laughing on “hump” day, we just might not make it through.

I am wondering if anyone else has trouble getting their young children dressed in the morning. You see, I have long since decided that I did not birth a precious little princess who stole my heart before I ever laid eyes on her. No, that is the fantasy version of it. In actuality, I birthed a fashionista whose Diva standard hits new heights on a daily basis.

Where her attitude is concerned, I take most of the blame. When choosing names for this little sweetheart, I begged my husband to let me name her Regan. This was our first glimpse into the battles that awaited us since Regan is Gaelic for “queen”. Of course Mommy, being a very OCD type-A perfectionist, had to pick a middle name that matched the first so we chose Nicole which means “ruler of the people”.

Now, anyone in their right mind would have seen the set up and sidestepped it, but I just figured she was headed for a life in politics. What I forgot was all the training that would need to take place before her first cry and her first oath of office.

So, this morning as I was once again tackling the “you must get dressed now – we have to leave – your brother is going to be late for school” daily routine, I remembered a how-to clip I wrote about a year ago on how to dress your sweet precious little girl and I thought I would share.

Here it is.

How to Dress a 2-Year Old Girl

It’s morning and once again you must dress your 2-year old daughter. Here are some simple steps that will make the procedure as painless as possible.

First, stretch out. Remember, she is younger, faster and more flexible.

Second, have two completed outfits ready for her to choose from. Any less would cause dissention in the ranks, any more and you will be there all day.

Third, you’ll need to catch your child. Make sure you plan your strategy carefully much like a lioness would when tracking a gazelle. Don’t forget to make a mental note of all the toys in the floor. It would do no good to end your chase with a broken leg.

Once your daughter is secure, you move to the fourth step of exchanging pajamas for day clothes. Please make sure her pacifier is out of her mouth before you remove her shirt or the neck hole may become permanently lodged around her nose and head.

Now that her outfit is on, finish the ensemble by fixing her hair and putting on her shoes. (Special note: always keep an extra pair of socks with you because hers will go missing.)

Be sure to compliment her on how beautiful she looks as she runs off posing as if she did all the work.

Finally, reward yourself by sitting down, taking a deep breath and drinking yet another cup of coffee because any minute now you’ll have to do it all over again.

Can anyone relate?

As I Think About Christmas

2008-12-08T06:00:00.000-05:00

The steam from the mug warms my face. With every breath, the sweet indulgent vapor of cocoa penetrates my body. On the couch, snuggled beneath my mother’s quilt, I am surrounded by a domesticated display of northern lights emanating from the tree adorned with memories past.

It is here that I think about Christmas.

I think about the time I spent selecting each present bought for loved ones. Each gift that is painstakingly decided upon with the hope that the smile displayed at the unveiling of the present matches the joy exploding within my heart.

I think about the tears I will shed over the delight of our children on Christmas morning as they run to the tree to find their anticipated treasures. I am amazed at the rejuvenating power of a child’s laughter, joy and faith in that which can’t be seen.

I think about the food that will be meticulously prepared and the family that will gather to partake of it. Each one, in love with the day, will come in contentment to sit and visit, renewing and strengthening their bond of kinship.

But most of all, I think of a child nestled at the breast of a virgin mother. Born in a manger, born in seclusion, born to be chased, mocked and scorned, yet born a King, born to save, and born to be our greatest gift.

Amidst the dreams of a beautiful Christmas will I rest in the arms of my King. I will hug his neck, kiss his cheek, lie beneath his shadow and offer him my heart, for it is the greatest gift that I can give to the one who gives all things.

Christmas Give-A-Way Winner

2008-12-07T18:19:00.002-05:00

Congratulations to Rachel Ann!

She is the winner of Glenn Beck's new book and Barlow Girl's new Christmas CD.

Thanks to all who entered.

I hope to see you here again!

Love Letters to the King

2008-12-05T06:00:00.007-05:00

Lysa's Christmas Give-A-Way

Thanks for coming over from Lysa's blog for the give-away. If you are already one of my bloggy friends who came here without stopping by Lysa's, be sure to head to her blog for chances to win more stuff! (You can do this by clicking on the Chritmas give-a-way button)

My Give-Away:

Glenn Beck's The Christmas Sweater and Barlow Girl Home For Christmas CD

To win simply leave a comment with your email address in which I can contact you for shipping details. The winner will be chosen Sunday morning. I hope you enjoy Love Letters to the King Fridays. And, I look forward to seeing you again.

Love Letter To The King

Oh my Lord. I sought you today.

The surprise of morning caught my breath within my throat at the thought of catching you.

I rose to sneak away to our garden. It was cold. I wrapped a sweater around me and held it tight.

Without a sound I walked through the wrought iron gate, careful not to let the aged hinges announce my presence. I wanted to slip behind you and throw my arms around your shoulders before you even knew I was there.

The haze of unfallen dew cloaked my approach. On the tips of my toes I slipped down the path covered in shadow of the aged trees that hovered above my head. Running my hand along the leaves of a trailing vine, I felt the wet kiss of morning. I paused at the end of the path, I rubbed the petals of an opening rose bud, releasing the scent of untouched beauty and allowing its velvety touch to caress my skin.

Where were you? I stood, scanning the garden for any sign of your presence. I found none.

My heart and head low, I walked towards the stream where I stood below our weeping willow losing my sadness to the sorrowful shower of the willow’s branches.

Did I miss you?

The sun rose in the morning sky. Its glow warmed the back of my shoulders. I released the hold of my sweater and brought my hand to my throat holding the necklace I wear in honor of you.

A rush of wind caught the hem of my skirt and the heavy steps of someone’s approach arrested my heart. Before I could turn, your arms were around my shoulders, holding me and washing away my disappointment.

You were there all along. Watching me pursue you. And, when I least expected, you met me where I was at.

My King, I will always love you.

God Knows

2008-12-03T06:40:00.001-05:00

I have scoliosis.

Defined, this simply means curvature of the spine. For most, it is easily treated with no long term effects. For some, it has major repercussions.

I was diagnosed with this disorder in the sixth grade and had to wear a brace 23-hours a day over the next two and a half years. During a time when I wanted to wear the latest fashions, I instead dressed to conceal the brace. Instead of playing sports with my friends, I cheered them on from the stands. Instead of being a go-getter, I hid to avoid ridicule.

At the end of the two years, it was determined that the curvature of my spine was still progressing and I underwent spinal fusion surgery. This brought another onslaught of preteen issues as I spent the first half of my eighth grade year in a hospital bed in the front room of our house taking classes from a state paid tutor.

The years ticked by and I hid this disability beneath the appearance of a normal body. With no outward expression of the metal fused to my bone, no one need know that I was limited. Especially me.

I lived as if the problem did not exist. Despite the pain, despite the physical limitations, despite the second fusion 14 years after the first, I lived as if there was not nor had been a disability.

My cloak of denial was dismantled when earlier this year, my disability took on an outward appearance. Now, at times, I walk with a cane. Not only did my limitations become visible to those around me, they were now visible to me.

I began to cry out to God, “Why can’t I do the things everyone else can do? Why can’t I be normal?”

These cries were followed by a laundry list of everything I wanted to do and have never been able too. I cried on the shoulder of my God until he moved upon my heart.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “I know.”

Through this He showed me that when I spend time telling God everything I can’t do, I am telling him something that He already knows. But, if I will get quiet before Him, lay my circumstances down at His feet, fall at the foot of the throne and listen; then I will be primed to find out what He wants me to know.

Proverbs 19:21 says, “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” (NIV)

My God purposed me for a destiny created just for me. He knew my limitations before I did and that did not change His mind about the things He created for me to do. When I let go of my predisposed beliefs about my purpose and I take on the purposes of God then I realize that “I CAN do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Phil 4:13

Is there a circumstance in your life that has limited to you? Is there something you need to lay at the cross? Let’s take time today to get in touch with the one who created us and find out the purpose He has for each of our lives.

And, let’s encourage each other along the way.

The Challenge, The Goal and The Blog

2008-12-01T11:02:00.003-05:00

Thanks to my friend Glynnis Whitwer’s blog challenge, an inspirational fire has been lit under the creativity that drives my writing.

Glynnis challenged her blog friends to join her in holding each other accountable for whatever goal we are trying to reach. Mine is to begin writing on a consistent basis and breathe life back into my career. This is a career path in which the God-given desire of my heart forces me to run in order to see the smile upon the face of God and know He is pleased. (Oh how I could rabbit trail on the desire of God to see our dreams come true but that is surely another blog and another day.)

My initial goal was to complete one blog entry a week along amidst other projects, however I have enjoyed blogging so much and have been encouraged by so many that I can’t stop at just one blog. So, I have changed my goal to three times a week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday will be my blog days. And, since life has a way of getting away from me, I welcome my blog friends to please keep me accountable to this goal.

Since I am new to blogging, I have spent some time visiting friend’s blogs, asking questions and trying to “learn the ropes”. I must say I have been truly inspired.

My friend Sonya has been blogging for awhile and her advice was to use this blog to find my voice. That rang a bell that has resounded the question “what is my voice?”.

Like all writers who write because God has called them do so and they simply can do nothing else, my voice belongs to Him. Only in the one who created me can I find the true inspiration for the words that spill from my pen. As water shoots forth from a spring so does the voice of a writer spill forth from the heart of God. Therefore, I dedicate this blog to the one who created me and beckons me to write…Jesus Christ the King of Kings. And, as part of that dedication, Friday’s will be set aside for love letters written from the heart of all the King’s princesses to the King.

Thank you to all my blog friends who have inspired me and to those of you I have yet to meet. Happy blogging.

Love Letter to a King

2008-11-26T05:48:00.002-05:00

The sun has not yet risen my Lord.

As the tide rises and kisses the shore, so does the anticipation within me, alluring me from my slumber. I wonder if you will be there.

Quiet as a church mouse I slip out of my room and down the stairs; careful not to wake the slumbering court and cut short our secret rendezvous.

Down the hall and into the front room I arrive at our meeting place. Are you here, my Lord? I am calling. Begging you to come.

How I long to rest in the arms of the one I call King. King Jesus.

I have snuck away with you today not because I need you but because I want you. For you have changed me in such a way that I delight at the mere thought of your presence. You show me rainbows in rainstorms and laughter in sorrow. You hold me up when I want to fall down and your shadow is my constant companion.

My King, I have come to you this morning while the stars still temper the darkness to see if there is anything I can do for you. Can I sing? Can I dance? Can I bring a smile to your face? In a world of so much torment where the sorrows of your people must at times burden you, how can I enchant your heart?

Today, my King, I will love you. I will love you with all my soul and all my mind and all my heart. And, I will love your people for each one is your child and to each one you are King.

Love,

Your enraptured servant

Treadmill, Exit Stage Left

2008-11-24T10:09:00.002-05:00

I am a very weird person in that I love my treadmill.

For me, the treadmill was not simply a tool in which you run to lose weight and stay healthy. It was a means of escape. For forty minutes and two and a half miles 6-days a week, I could put headphones in my ears and transport to anywhere, be anyone and accomplish anything. It was a place where surreal experiences could become a reality.

It was until God began to deal with me about it.

Earlier this summer, He whispered in my ear and reminisced about how far He has brought me and what an amazing transformation my life has been. But, then he nudged me and suggested how much more incredible it would be if I gave him everything.

“Everything Lord?” I asked. “I have given you everything.”

“Give me the treadmill.”

The words hit hard. It was the hardest thing He could have asked at this point in my life. As long as I had my treadmill I could eat what I want since I could walk it off later. If I was angry, I could use the negative energy to walk an extra mile. If I was in physical pain, I would walk on the treadmill and prove that I could do it in spite of my disability. You see, to give up my treadmill would mean I would have to be completely dependent upon God.

It took a little prodding, but in the end I released the treadmill to the Lord. I stopped getting on it. The dust began to collect and I left it there untouched. Each day I would temper the desire to beat myself up on the treadmill by spending time building myself up in the presence of God.

In God’s funny way, this lesson came just in time as I have had scoliosis since the sixth grade and have already undergone two spinal fusion surgeries. After encountering more back issues this year, it turns out that walking on the treadmill was causing more harm than good.

Yesterday, we sold my treadmill. If this transaction had taken place earlier this year, the buyer would have had to peel me off the machine, but as it was, I was happy to see it go.

God is my strength, my provider, my counselor and my All. No longer will I need a machine to prove that.

Now let’s just hope the number on the scale doesn’t go up...

Queen of Sheba

2008-11-21T14:13:00.004-05:00

I have a cat. She is the sweetest cat I have ever met. We adopted her about a month ago after a friend found her in the parking lot of a post office where she was abandoned.

We brought her into our home where she was introduced to our two children and our 11 pound MinPin. After smacking the dog into submission and learning to stay out from under the kid’s feet, she fit right into our family.

My daughter and I named the cat Ella. Short for Cinderella. A precious name for a precious cat. However, our precious cat has started to be a bit high maintenance.
She eats six times a day. At first, I indulged this since when we brought her home you could count her ribs by sight. But now, not having been able to break this six meal habit, her belly is so big it sways when she walks. And please, do not try to withhold food. She will search you out and meow at you until the nerve in the side of your temple threatens to beat a hole in your skull. Sanity demands you fill her bowl with food. Even if it’s three in the morning.

She has also declared the stairs as the place to which she rests her sleepy head. She stretches her long body across the entire length of a step and doesn’t mind when you step over her to descend or ascend the stairs with laundry in your arms.
But, when she jumps in your lap, curls into a ball and soothes the stress of the day away with her gentle purrs, all of her habits become endearing. At least they were until last night.

Recently, we ripped the carpet from our stairs and replaced it with hard wood flooring. It’s the pinnacle attraction of our house. It has also left our arthritic, 10-year old dog unable to move between the first and second floor. Now the dog stands at the top or bottom of the stairs and does a sort of half hopping rain dance until you pick her up and carry her to her desired destination.

The cat, having watched the dog, has discovered how much less energy she could expend if she would only demand a ride up and down the stairs. Unfortunately, she decided to try out this idea in the wee early hours of last night. That cat sat at the bottom of the stairs and meowed for two hours until my husband got out of bed and fetched her highness up the stairs, where she curled up and went to sleep for the rest of the night.

I have decided Ella was an inappropriate name. We should change it to Queen of Sheba. She apparently believes she is royalty.

Terror Behind the Screened Door

2008-07-26T16:32:00.005-04:00

I love to write. The process of putting pen to paper to spill prose across the blank page creates an atmosphere in which my heart is as a bird escaping its cage and my imagination is set free to explore unlimited possibilities. These moments inspire me to live to the fullest and dream the unthinkable. However, as a stay at home mom of a two and four year old, these moments are few and far between.

Since returning from the Proverbs 31 conference, I have been unable to write three emails in a row let alone a paragraph, article, or even my writing assignment that is due in a week. Shrouded in conviction, desparation and exhaustion I sat down at the computer to hammer out at least a few sentences. Breathing deeply, I rested my hands on the keyboard begging inspiration to come to me. I started by replying to an email in which a (very good) friend was politely yelling at me for my lack of writing. In my first sentence, I defended myself. In the second, I made an excuse. In the third, I admitted she was right and was about too provide a list of items I was working on when, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. MOOOOOOMMMMMY!" screams the 4 year old.

"AHHHHH (breathe) AHHHHHH." echos the 2 year old.

And then, the four year old let out the highest pitch blood curtling scream I have ever heard in my life. It was the kind of scream that wins actresses leading roles in horror flicks.

My fingers hit ten different keys on the computer creating a word even babelfish.com wouldn't be able to make sense. I flew from my chair and ran down the stairs. I am not sure I touched each step during my descent but I am glad my hand was on the rail or I would have rolled down on my head instead of landing on two feet. It's a shame I worked out that day because I probably burned just as many calories on my mad dash towards the screams as I did on the treadmill.

During my flight down the second half of the stairs, I scanned the first floor for my children. I didn't see them and the screams continued to intesify. It's amazing what kind of horrible thoughts can fill your mind in a matter of seconds as I had visions of missing limbs, free flowing blood and a man with a chain saw chasing my children.

The back porch. That's where the screams were coming from. As their little voices crescendoed in terror, I added my screams to complete the chorus (mainly so my children would know that I was vicariously freaking out with them). I ran to the screened porch and came face to face with my kids, both of whom were locked outside on the patio. There they were. My two prescious children with their noses planted in the screen mesh of the door, trembling in fear.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Mooooommm, we, we, we (breathe) wanted to see the lizard." Offered my brave 4 year old.

"Okay, and?"

"The door shut and I can't open it."

It took five minutes of sitting on the couch, holding them both in my lap, to stop the onslaught of tears, shakes and sobs. The entire time of which I am trying not to laugh at the over-dramatization of Terror Behind the Screened Door.

After calming my children, I headed back upstairs to again sit at my computer. The moment of inspiration gone, I can't help but laugh at the irony of my situation. I love to write. I also love my children. Sometimes, the two do not mesh very well, and other times they do. But, the memories will last a lifetime.

Trusting the King

2008-06-25T21:19:00.008-04:00

Last weekend, I attended the Proverbs 31 SheSpeaks conference. If my attendance had been brought about by sheer fancy, than I would continue this entry by divulging all the oohs and aahs that took place. However, I wasn't there by accident, and therefore was on the lookout for my King.

To explain, I must digress. I am a fiction writer. I love to take words and link them together in such a way that the reader is transported into a another world where their imagination is set free. However, fiction was not only my love, it was also my sanctuary.

In February 2008, I received an email from Proverbs 31 announcing the upcoming SheSpeaks conference. As soon as I read it, I knew God wanted me to attend.

When I registered for the conference, I learned that publishers would be onsite for pitch meetings. And, God directed me to sign up for this as well.

In a flurry of excitement, I dusted off my completed, unpublished novel, and started fleshing out ideas for its proposal. God again knocked on my door. This time he asked me to lay my fiction down.

What? Lay my fiction down? It's what I do. It's all I know. My King was silent. He waited for my submission. It wasn't immediate, but I relented. I laid my fiction at the foot of the cross, and waited for his direction. It wasn't long before God breathed life into me, birthing a different dream.

"My Princess. I have called you to write but I can not use a gift that you have perverted through the wounds of your past. You are hiding and I want to set you free."

God showed me that just as he asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac upon the altar, sometimes he asks us to sacrifice our desires. When we do, he is able to remold and resurrect those dreams in such a way that fulfills our destiny in him and furthers the Kingdom of God.

My dream was resurrected. This time in the form of non-fiction. For three months, I worked tirelessy on my book proposal. Only this time it wasn't my story, it was his. I went to the conference not knowing what to expect. For two days, I absorbed information from classes, made it through my pitch meetings without throwing up, and cried during praise and worship. All the while, wondering if I had heard God correctly, and needing reassurance from my King.

At the end of Saturday when my emotions were spent, and my mind nearing overload, I discovered a prayer room. Up until this point I had been unaware that the P31 staff had set up a prayer room, complete with an altar, pillows, chairs, and lots of tissues. The room had tables lining the walls, and on the tables were printed pages, each listing a different name of God. The staff had also printed out each attendees name, prayed, and strategically placed them on the tables.

A woman I'd befriended earlier that evening found my name. It was laying on the paper which boldly pronounced "Jehovah-Jireh the Lord will Provide". Underneath this heading was a scripture verse that said, "just as God provided a ram to replace Isaac on the altar for Abraham, so will God provide all your needs." (paraphrased, Gen 22)

This past weekend was an experience I will treasure forever, and one I intend to repeat. I can't explain the specific reasons why God called me to attend the conference. I can't explain the road he has put me on or how, when and where it will end up. But I can trust my King. God called me to Concord, and in his faithfulness he met me there. I can't wait to see where he calls me next.

Thank you Proverbs31. The conference was incredible.

Test Post

2008-06-22T11:09:00.001-04:00

Another test

Princess and the King

New Post At Toasted Matzoh

It's Here

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Off the Reservation

Pictures from Israel

A Hanukah Mishap

Poor Neglected Blog, I'm Back....Again!

While Away the Toys will Play

The Mezuzah and the Lightning

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Lighting the Candles Part 3

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Lighting the Candles

Jewish Calendar

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Skillet

Wonderful Tacos

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To My Husband

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Baseball

Potty Training

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Mighty Hunter

Best Friends

Love Letters to the King

The Kingdom - Prologue part 3

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New Beginnings

Friday Shout Out

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Banana Bread, Chocolate and Trains

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Christmas Cookies

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Mary's Journal

Love Letters to the King

How to Dress a 2-Year Old

As I Think About Christmas

***Christmas Give-A-Way Winner***

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