Skip to main content

247 - 261 (June 10, 2011)

261. Queen Avonlea (how she looks in her Ergo converter)
260. Dave Ramsey (Ugly beautiful)
259. The possibility of mom moving to Maine for 6 months
258. New friends with giving hearts
257. Branching out and cooking new things
256. Frozen strawberry lemonade
255. Books that encourage and help me be a good mom
254. Parks right next to Dr.'s offices
253. Having real conversations with my first born
252. Friends who will take a 2 hour drive with me to help with my boys for a half an hour
251. Lots of time to myself in the wee hours of the morning
250. Blake (referring to me wearing a tank top) "Momma, why are your arms naked?"
249. Eternity and how knowledge of spending it with Him helps us get through rough days
248. Instant access to biblical scholars (Matthew Henry Commentary)
247. Silly boys & beat boxing Daddys


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I'm just not feeling it

I have noticed something interesting about myself when it comes to opening the doors of our home. I am the first to admit that fifteen minutes before our guests arrived the place was a mess. I was barking orders to my kids, scrubbing our toilet, stuffing things in drawers and searching for underwear (yup, probably dirty) that pop up in the most random places. I don't mind admitting that I don't have it all together, but I have a hard time letting anyone see it. I am the same way when it comes to my emotions. If I'm really struggling I tend to pull away. Just last night I found myself tempted to postpone a scheduled visit with a few close friends because I had no desire to admit to them that I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. Praise God, I dragged myself there and they gently began the process of gluing me back together by simply listening & loving me - despite me. And then there's "grace in the midst". I love passing along thoughts, ideas an

Star Wars, Frozen & Scissors

      I make a grunting noise as I toss another lego into "toy jail". I step away and trip over one of the kids light sabers.  Glancing over at the breakfast crumbs (we could seriously feed a family of refugees , not that I struggle with the idea of how much we waste or anything), I feel my eyes well up and think "I could use some of 'the force' about now. Trying to determine if I should pull the kids from their happy game of Zingo or tackle the breakfast fiasco on my own, I decide on the latter. What was my dear friend's quote, I ponder. Oh yeah, "a little and often". She was referring to home maintenance (along with other things). Gently, she was reminding me to stay on top of things rather than let them build into tougher jobs. "This isn't a little and often", I sarcastically mumble "this is 'a lot and always'." Seriously, if I'd simply pray every time I pick something off the floor, I might actually get a gras

Why you shouldn't give to the poor

     The day had just begun and I was barely holding it together. I had a couple of young kids and getting them dressed and out the door did not go smoothly. There were diaper explosions, bad attitudes, spilled drinks and a couple of arguments with my husband. We were both exhausted. The speaker had no idea how tired and discouraged we were. The Lord had given him a heart for the poor and he was passionately pleading with his listeners for help. He was begging us to open our eyes, to reach out, to make a difference. My eyes welled up with tears and I wish I could say it was out of compassion. It wasn't. I had no idea how I was going to make it through lunch let alone reach out to anybody. I wanted to stand up and scream "can somebody help me while you are at it?!" I left feeling like a total and complete failure. A few years later and yet another difficult day I sat holding my squirming toddler and tried to hear as much as I could of a Sunday morning sermon. The pastor wa