Squirrly

Can anyone tell what this crazy squirrel is doing? Sunbathing? Lying in wait for some unsuspecting animal in a nearby tree? Watching the woods bloom and grow? Waiting for her mate? I’m so curious because I’ve never seen another squirrel do this! Anyone?

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A monster of a time

Our great friends, the Durbins, invited us to a fun night out.  We headed out to Monster Golf.  For anyone who hasn’t been – – you have to go!  This night, we had the place almost to our self.  Kayla had a blast and Rebekah loved rolling around the course.

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Everything is painted to glow in the black light.  We had a great time goofing off and posing for the camera.

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We  LOVE – lOvE – LoVe Mrs. Kelly!

Bekah and Chris met a new friend that night.

Mama and her big girl.

Can Kelly make this shot to pull ahead of Rocky?

Chris makes friends easily!

Crazy Sissy!

Go Chris! Go!

Some guy tried to pick up Kelly!

Bekah’s face cracks me up!  She wasn’t scared just excited!

Can you make a hole in one on the last obstacle?

Some creepy new relatives.

OK – Rocky swept the field.

I told you Bekah had a good time!

Kayla won a pirate necklace with her game tickets.

I love this man (isn’t he such a cutie!).

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Chocolate — To Drink!

I am trying one of my Christmas gifts today. Chris bought me some drinking chocolate from Harry’s Farmers Market.

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It has a rich and creamy texture and leaves me wanting more.

Thank you darlin’!

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Do Not Pass Me By

Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior

Frances J. Crosby, 1868

Pass me not, O gentle Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

Savior, Savior,
Hear my humble cry,
While on others Thou are calling,
Do not pass me by.

Let me at a throne of mercy
Find a sweet relief;
Kneeling there in deep contrition,
Help my unbelief.

Trusting only in Thy merit,
Would I seek Thy face;
Heal my wounded, broken spirit,
Save me by Thy grace.
Thou the spring of all my comfort,
More than life to me,
Whom have I on earth beside Thee,
Whom in Heav’n but Thee.
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Faith

adapted from Ambitious Contentment by Shelly Radic

Do I have faith in God’s:

purpose?

pace?

presence?

Hebrews 11:1

Think of Noah on the 132nd day of riding the waves on the arc. Of barren Sarah, 90 years old and still waiting. Of Joshua leading an army of trumpeters around the intact walls of Jerico on day five.

God is never bound by our calendars.

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Winking’ at me!

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Chris and I enjoyed a walk around Town Center Mall today with the girls. We also (very much) enjoyed the buy one/get one peppermint mochas from Statbucks!

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Drink Fully

I have had this song on my lips for quite a few weeks now.  In fact, Kayla has started to hum the tune from hearing it over and over.

I think this song has so deeply touched me during this time in my life because it talks about completely relying on the Fount of blessing, mercy, love, and hope.  Right now, I am feeling defeated in several areas of my life.  It is as though there are spinning plates all around and I can’t quite make it in time to keep them all up and balanced.  I know that: 1) God has a plan, 2) He knows the end before I’ve seen it, and 3) Psalm 84:11 says “For the LORD God is a sun and shield; The LORD gives grace and glory; No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.”.

So here I am, raising “mine Ebenezer” to say that the Lord is so good to me.  I don’t deserve his goodness and love; but God takes me as I am and abundantly provides.  I will continue to sing His praise and drink fully from the Fount for He has called me to these tasks and equipped me to finish.

Come, thou Fount of every blessing,

tune my heart to sing thy grace;

streams of mercy, never ceasing,

call for songs of loudest praise.

Teach me some melodious sonnet,

sung by flaming tongues above.

Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,

mount of thy redeeming love.

Here I raise mine Ebenezer;

hither by thy help I’m come;

and I hope, by thy good pleasure,

safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,

wandering from the fold of God;

he, to rescue me from danger,

interposed his precious blood.

O to grace how great a debtor

daily I’m constrained to be!

Let thy goodness, like a fetter,

bind my wandering heart to thee.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

prone to leave the God I love;

here’s my heart, O take and seal it,

seal it for thy courts above.

by Robert Robinson 1758

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Holiday Pretties

I have had a great time this season making holiday blooms.  Here are a few to peek at.  You can find more on the Bekah’s Blooms Facebook page.

Feathers are so popular this year – I just couldn’t help trying some out for the blooms.

I love this hair clip – What a cutie!

What a happy snowman!

Sparkly and Feathers!

Everyone loves hounds tooth!

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Fall is Here ~ I love it!

It has just been a spectacular Fall here in Atlanta.  Everywhere I go, I have to stop in awe of the colors this year.

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Kayla drew a picture of these red trees.  I love my creative girl!

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Our back yard.

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Thank you Lord for this show of your handiwork!

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Something More

A friend of mine passed this along to me.  I wanted to share it here, because it so beautifully describes some of the emotions and characteristics of so many people I have come to know in the last three years.

SOME MOTHERS GET BABIES WITH SOMETHING MORE

My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what she wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer mothers have given throughout the ages of time. She says it doesn’t matter whether it’s a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten toes. Of course, that’s what she says. That’s what mothers have always said. Mothers lie. Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more.Every mother wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin. Every mother wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. Every mother wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule. Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by the billions. She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class. Call it greed if you want, but we mothers want what we want.Some mothers get babies with something more. Some mothers get babies with conditions they can’t pronounce, a spine that didn’t fuse, a missing chromosome or a palette that didn’t close. Most of those mothers can remember the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of the walls in the small, suffocating room where the doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like recess in the fourth grade when you didn’t see the kick ball coming and it knocked the wind clean out of you. Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her for a well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear the brunt of devastating news. It can’t be possible! That doesn’t run in our family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime? I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of seeing finely sculpted bodies. It’s not a lust thing; it’s a wondrous thing. The athletes appear as specimens without flaw – rippling muscles with nary an ounce of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and limbs working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote bag, rustles through the contents and pulls out an inhaler. As I’ve told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy after a third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echo cardiogram, there’s no such thing as a perfect body. Everybody will bear something at some time or another. Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, medication or surgery.The health problems our children have experienced have been minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great admiration the mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they do it. Frankly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child in and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, track medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear. I wonder how you endure the praise and the platitudes, well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you’ve occasionally questioned if God is on strike.I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy pieces like this one saluting you, painting you as hero and saint, when you know you’re ordinary. You snap, you bark, you bite. You didn’t volunteer for this. You didn’t jump up and down in the motherhood line yelling, “Choose me, God! Choose me! I’ve got what it takes.” You’re a woman who doesn’t have time to step back and put things in perspective, so, please, let me do it for you. From where I sit, you’re way ahead of the pack. You’ve developed the strength of a draft horse while holding onto the delicacy of a daffodil. You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July, carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule. You can be warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require intense and aggressive the next. You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability. You’re a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I pass at the mall. You’re the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and my sister-in-law. You’re a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, and got something more. You’re a wonder.     author unknown

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