tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41872520541405482832024-03-02T01:51:35.428-05:00Random ThoughtsWelcome to my blogspot. I hope you enjoy reading my thoughts on life and faith. Feel free to share your comments. I enjoy hearing from others on their thoughts and views. God BlessAine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.comBlogger120125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-18873677580799939792013-06-16T10:51:00.002-04:002013-06-16T10:51:33.905-04:00Moments That Take Our Breath Away ...<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
There are moments. Moments etched into your very soul. No words ... no mortal words could possibly do justice to the moment. Just your heart feeling absolutely blessed. Absolutely changed. You can't put words to that ... so, you just breath and take it in. Keep it in your heart ... forever. The type of moment when you breath in ... and, you are so caught up in that moment ... you don't breath out. You hold it. Because you know, your life has just changed. It will never be ... the same.</div>
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The first time I looked into his eyes ... the eyes of my husband. I held that breath. That moment. <br />
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The instant I laid eyes on each of my newborn sons. Knowing they were the best part of me and my husband ... perfection in my arms. That breath was caught in my throat. Nowhere for it to go but ... in my memory. Forever.<br />
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The night my grandfather passed from this earth and into the hereafter where he waits for us. Our entire family, circled around the hospital bed ... he took my hand in his and pressed it to his lips. A kiss goodbye. I took that breath and kept it. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXrOoU8XiZi5tU05d7_JqbbIk5gqjIMoqX57ZyRsNOrko6i-MH5VCGC4FaR0Uld-8MtFGTLjcD1lcVK5hDYPqR2tYNG5jZXBz4msCbILXskyz95IaTCUGLl9YXPl8e0bMLg_3Ta1PPZkc/s1600/bry+surgery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" cya="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXrOoU8XiZi5tU05d7_JqbbIk5gqjIMoqX57ZyRsNOrko6i-MH5VCGC4FaR0Uld-8MtFGTLjcD1lcVK5hDYPqR2tYNG5jZXBz4msCbILXskyz95IaTCUGLl9YXPl8e0bMLg_3Ta1PPZkc/s320/bry+surgery.jpg" width="320" /></a>Many more. I can't possibly fit them all into this one space. But, one more, I want to share with you today ...</div>
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I took another breath and held it. The phone call we had each been waiting for ... came. I sat at work ... at my desk. Trying to concentrate. I couldn't. Stacks of files scattered on my desk ... each with a name that needed my attention but ... only one name had my attention. A name not on my desk ... My niece, Hope, was at Riley Children's Hospital. Waiting for the final word from her physician. My sister's voice on the other end of the line. Hope was coming home ... without the aide of a trache. At that point, Hope had lived with a trache for 10 years 4 months and three weeks. Hope was born without the ability to breath on her own. At birth, Hope held her breath. Not by choice but by force. She could not breath. Her jaw was so small, it choked her air passage. Until the trache was put into place and ... she breathed. On this day, all those years came to a moment when she would undergo a sleep study. Countless surgeries. All to bring her to this ... this moment. Breath without a trache. And, it worked. The doctors all told my sister and her husband ... this might not work. Hope might never live without a trache. The sleep study was a success. Hope came home. Waiting. The sleep study was one step in a walk toward absolute freedom. Hope slept at home without any tubes or machines. If there were no complications during the following weeks, Hope would go through another surgery to close the stoma. The small hole in her neck where the trache had been placed for 10 years. There were no complications. Another trip to Riley and ... home again with no trache and a fully closed stoma. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xe2Dq15D_engCsdQ6iazapCuNuNrDGlO_W58mBS25yz36S5hVdH_9XBcNChAtjRoCgi7UFyO7aKiBDGZX_L2NlMZ0Ytx4L4EcVoh2KYAMgPoSSDp6d8VyekchTJ0eEJx853Pkpnx61DZ/s1600/Bry+ally+7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" cya="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xe2Dq15D_engCsdQ6iazapCuNuNrDGlO_W58mBS25yz36S5hVdH_9XBcNChAtjRoCgi7UFyO7aKiBDGZX_L2NlMZ0Ytx4L4EcVoh2KYAMgPoSSDp6d8VyekchTJ0eEJx853Pkpnx61DZ/s320/Bry+ally+7.JPG" width="320" /></a>Last week, Hope did something she has never done before ... she showered on her own. Something we all take for granted. Water running down her head and body. My sister watched Hope and ... held her breath. I'm sure that breath will be etched in her memory ... forever. I know there will be countless other moments as Hope experiences breath without a trache. Each one will be held by her mom, dad and older sister. And, by Hope. </div>
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Years ago, my sister placed the following quote in a frame. It's in her home to this day. That frame is surrounded by pictures of her family. </div>
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"Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away."<br />
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Passages in Luke tell us that Christ's mother kept moments in her heart. Luke 2:19 "But Mary kept all these things and pondered <i>them</i> in her heart." I truly believe moments like this are from Him. Gifts to hold on to ... to keep and ponder. Moments to remind us ... He is there. While this world is not perfect ... He <em>is</em> perfect. Every good and perfect thing is from Him. Keep those moments in your heart. Hold them safely in your memory. <br />
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Genesis 2:7 "And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being."</div>
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Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-17860629264376470382013-06-16T09:43:00.000-04:002013-06-16T09:43:00.011-04:00Shelter From the Storm ...2:30 a.m. Dark. Our family of five is safely tucked in bed. Four of the five are sleeping. I'm awake. I've been awake for over an hour. Listening to the rain as it pelts against our home. The wind is not as bad as it was three days ago when a massive storm ripped through our area ... but still, it sounds bad to me. I slide out of bed, trying not to wake Jerry. I walk to the patio doors, flip on the outdoor light and watch. The wind isn't that bad. I turn off the light and walk to our back door. I open the door and flip on the outdoor light. I look out the screen door. Frown. Are they safe? The new family living beside our deck, to the right of our side door ... are they safe? Did they move to a dry place before the rain started? I want to go out and check on them, but, the rain is coming down too hard. I would be soaked just stepping outside and taking a quick look. <br />
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On Friday night, one of our barn cats decided to move her babies under our deck steps. On Saturday morning, she moved them again ... to the right side of the deck. Totally exposed to the elements. We have a few ornamental shrubs planted there but they aren't big enough to give any shade or protection. <br />
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I closed the door and went back to bed. Sad. Let nature take its course. If she didn't move them, they'll be dead by morning. They are small and weak. Not big enough to understand ... find shelter. Not big enough to know where to find shelter. I've lived on a farm long enough to know ... don't intrude on nature's cycle. In the past, I've tried and I always end up making things worse. I crawl in to bed. Sleep sneaks in as I think ... sad. Why would that mommy cat put her babies ... there? She knows the elements. She knows her babies are small and weak. Why not the barn? It's big and has lots of safe places to hide her little family. Why not one of our two sheds? There's plenty of space, plenty of choices. But, she chose that place beside our deck... totally exposed. <br />
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This morning, I woke up and my first thought was ... are they safe? Did she move them? Quietly, I slid out of bed, pulled on my bathrobe and went to the side door. The deck was still wet from the rain. Puddles gathered in our driveway. I step out and look. She's there. The mommy sees me and leaves her babies. Jumps up onto the deck and looks at me with peaceful eyes. She's expecting food. All our farm cats know ... I go out early in the morning and feed them. I bend down, rub her ears and look to find ... her babies. All three, curled up in a tight ball together. Resting. Peacefully. And, I realize the mommy is soaked from rain. The spot where her babies sleep ... is dry. Everything around them is saturated and holding water. But, they ... they are dry. I look to her and then back to her babies. She jumps down and huddles over them. She looks up at me and blinks. The rain starts again. Sprinkles cling to her whiskers. She closes her eyes and ... stays, huddled over her most precious possessions. I realize, she spent all night ... through that entire storm ... curled up over her babies. Protecting them from the storm. <br />
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I kneel down and watch. Why did I doubt she would take care of them? Why did I think ... she wouldn't know what to do or what was best for them? They are hers and she loves them. She didn't take them out of the storm ... but, she did shelter them during the storm. She didn't leave them. <br />
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I go back inside, pour a cup of coffee and ... I feel peace. And, I think ...<br />
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In this world, we are exposed to elements. Trials. Temptations. Hurt. We find ourselves right in the middle of storms so violent, we think ... the storm will leave us totally soaked with pain. Unbearable. We want shelter, relief ... but, we don't know where to find the relief. Which way will take us out of the storm. Then ... He comes to us and covers us. Sometimes, He doesn't take us out of the storm ... He covers us during the storm.<br />
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Psalm 91:1-6 "He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.' Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler. And from the perilous pestilence. He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler. You shall not be afraid of the terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day, nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness, nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday."<br />
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Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-15333008849197348232013-04-24T22:28:00.002-04:002013-04-24T22:28:59.829-04:00My 'Dressy' Clothes ... <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
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I'm there, in the kitchen. Dressed for work. Black dress slacks, purple top with silver sequins at the collar. Half empty mug of coffee in one hand. Standing beside the table, looking out the patio doors ... waiting for the sunrise. I hear a door open and close softly, one of the boys is up. Behind me, Kregg wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles his face against my side. I wrap one arm around him. Right now, he's just the right height for me to pull under one arm and hold him close... how much longer will that last? He looks up at me, big brown eyes. His hair is all out of place. </div>
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I want to hold on to this moment ... forever. Because I know it will come and go as quickly as the sunrise. </div>
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Kregg moves slightly, a puzzled look comes over his face and I know ... he's getting ready to ask a question. This is how it is with him. Kregg says whatever is on his mind. <br />
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"Mama, how come you look so dressy?" He moves farther back and looks me up and down ... taking in what he calls 'dressy'. <br />
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"This is how I always look for work, Kregg." I rough his hair. "Remember, we've talked about this before. I wear 'dress' clothes for work days."<br />
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Kregg wrinkles his nose. "That's what I thought, I wish today wasn't a work day. I like you home." He shrugs and heads to the living room for Saturday morning cartoons. <br />
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The rest of our family stumbles out of bedrooms and finds comfortable spots to rest. I give kisses and hugs goodbye. Down the back porch steps, to my car ... I sit inside and let it warm up. I forgot to start my car early and the frost still lingers from the cold. I wait for the defrost to work. It gives me time to think ...</div>
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My children know where I'm going because they know what I wear when I'm going to work or staying home. They see the difference. It's not that I take more time getting ready for work. I spend time on my hair and make-up just the same when we go out to the movies or to dinner. But, I look different ... those days, I wear different clothes. Jeans. Maybe a T-shirt or a nice sweater. </div>
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Then, I start thinking beyond the physical ... to the spiritual. Do my children know Where I'm going? Do my works and deeds ... the things I do daily ... do those things witness my Destination to the boys God has given me and my husband to raise? I know ... sometimes they don't. Sometimes I don't do or say the things I should. There are days when I fail. Miserably. I pray those days are outnumbered by the days I am 'dressy'. </div>
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I'm thankful for Kregg's observation. Thankful for the reminder ... My children are watching. I want to be sure they see Where I am going ... and, I want to be sure they know how to get There. I want them to know ... It's ok to fail. It's what you do after failure that matters. You pick yourself up and put on your 'dressy' clothes. </div>
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John 13:35 "By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.”</div>
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<br />Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-89335276254307635672013-04-23T21:52:00.003-04:002013-04-23T21:52:39.081-04:00Safe in His Love ...I stood still. I think shock held me in place. Or, maybe He knew I needed to stand still. Keep still. <br />
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My son had made a mistake. One I was ready to forgive. No ... one I had already forgiven. Now, we were left to walk down the path from this mistake to a place of peace. <br />
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I won't share the mistake with you ... out of respect for him and respect for other people who were involved. I will only share what I saw that day. What that day taught me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHiP-99l6wGe-KfN7LlIfaJJ1iLC7BE5gGgUFZKLGYSb8J7ZrYRsq05j8OlMAU-CTkvgGo6UPDmD-xC1ljxAITA3oDkFzD2aAcXDRhyzvEHheM1KjoZ0_aPRn_eJt9x3b-iw74hg3AUeU/s1600/pic+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dua="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHiP-99l6wGe-KfN7LlIfaJJ1iLC7BE5gGgUFZKLGYSb8J7ZrYRsq05j8OlMAU-CTkvgGo6UPDmD-xC1ljxAITA3oDkFzD2aAcXDRhyzvEHheM1KjoZ0_aPRn_eJt9x3b-iw74hg3AUeU/s320/pic+10.JPG" width="213" /></a>It's been several months since the day I stood still. But, it was one of those moments ... one where you can close your eyes and feel each breath, each word. Each tear. Clay was beside me. Jerry on the other side of Clay. Cold wind went straight through my jeans and sweat shirt. Clay stood there. Shivering. Cold from the early spring air and cold from the words that another person let fly out of their mouth. The words were directed toward Clay and ... toward the three of us. There was name calling and blame thrown at Clay. It wasn't necessary. He had already admitted fault and accepted blame. I was so proud in that moment. Proud of the man my boy had become. Proud of his strength when faced with incredible hurt. Clay stood still. He did not do what many young men his age would have done. Clay did not even show acknowledgement of the words thrown at him. We were surrounded by both acceptance from some people and absolute judgement and condemnation from others. Those words, once spoken, became fiery arrows ... they met their intended mark. In my heart. It is one thing to have other people call you names and belittle you ... one thing to have other people condemn you. It is a totally different feeling to have them do those same things to your child. </div>
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Don't misunderstand me. I saw their side of the situation. I put myself in their position and asked ... "What would I have done if those tables were turned?". I understood their anger and where that anger came from ... fear. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9R9LAtXoUOKDZtGDfoa2SWZGyqxoDXEXS2QuUk0mZAg9XezrvIS68uTKkeu4F6HQAQSn6sMcNGJS8h2E5UQsJrpkHROD8m87bPReemQQ5XNkSMJWil00RstXLgZ7A7GlkYNFxSZ0rXGW/s1600/IMG_3268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" dua="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9R9LAtXoUOKDZtGDfoa2SWZGyqxoDXEXS2QuUk0mZAg9XezrvIS68uTKkeu4F6HQAQSn6sMcNGJS8h2E5UQsJrpkHROD8m87bPReemQQ5XNkSMJWil00RstXLgZ7A7GlkYNFxSZ0rXGW/s320/IMG_3268.JPG" width="213" /></a>I'm not sure how long we stood their listening to those words. It felt like a long time. The cold wind was seeping into my bones and making it feel like forever. Then, my husband stepped between me, Clay and the words being shot. He said several things to try and snuff the anger. Trying to reason with the words and to help the person throwing them ... see ... peace. It didn't work. The words got louder and more hurtful. Then, Jerry did something I will never forget ... He slowly walked between us. Between the place where Clay and I stood and the person these words were coming from. Jerry didn't say words of hate or bitterness. He calmly walked in a way that made this person ... back down. </div>
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And, I felt safe in his love. Just as I always have ... for over 23 years. Jerry knew I was near my breaking point. The point where I couldn't take anymore. He knew Clay had heard enough hate. Felt enough pain. In my heart, I felt he was saying ... "Enough, they are mine. I won't let you do this to them."</div>
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That day is in the past. But, what I saw carries me still. I saw my husband love his family the way God loves His Family. God will allow a certain amount of pain, hurt and trials to come into our lives. To shape us. Mold us. And, He will only tolerate so much hurt amed at His children. He knows when we can't take anymore. It is then that He steps between us and the hurt. And, He says, "Enough. They are Mine. No more." </div>
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And we are Safe in His Love. </div>
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Psalm 34:7 "The angel of the Lord encamps all around those who fear Him, And delivers them."</div>
Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-33763884839324503272013-04-22T10:37:00.001-04:002013-04-22T10:37:10.193-04:00Welcome at My Table ... It's hard to believe it's been over 12 years. Jerry and I spent long nights and weekends visiting mobile home dealers.Then, we considered building our own home. This added to our nights and weekends. Researching. Talking. Talking more. Disagreeing. Agreeing. Big decisions. We were ready to buy our first home. Making a decision that would last for years to come ... that was difficult. But, exciting. All that time finally ended with us picking a 'lot model' double wide. This saved us money. The lot model was being discontinued. The dealer needed to sell it to make room for new models. And, it was exactly what we wanted. We signed the dotted lines and ... started picking furniture. Making more decisions. These were big decisions too. These pieces of furniture would be a part of our new home. We wanted to make good choices. Purchase furniture that would withstand time and wear.<br />
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Among other things, I remember shopping for the kitchen table and chairs. Jerry and I picked something with 4 chairs. At that time, our family was a family of 3 and 4 chairs would be sufficient. We brought the boxes of unassembled pieces home. My dad and I spent several hours constructing the table and then 4 chairs. <br />
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This weekend, I was cleaning my kitchen and started thinking over my oldest son's approaching graduation. I thought of all the people that will come in and out of our home for his open house. As I put dishes away and wiped down the table, I looked at those chairs the way I feared some of our guests might look at them ... old, mismatched, worn. This is one of my faults, I think too much about outward appearances. This is an area I struggle to handle. I whispered a prayer ... "God, please forgive me for my ungrateful attitude and for my concern over appearances. Thank You for a table and chairs where my family can sit and share meals." </div>
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I finished cleaning my kitchen. Still talking to Him about this flaw in my character and asking Him to help me through it ... keep working on me. Don't give up on me. Restore me. I turned to find a brilliant sunshine spilling across that table and six very different chairs. The sun hit each piece from a different angle, enhancing the differences. Showing the grain and color in each chair. None of them look the same and only 3 of them come close to matching my table. When family, friends and new people sit in those chairs, it's no different. Each person, each face ... each life is very different. Some are older, a little worn. They show their age and ... they show character. Some are smaller than others. Some look newer. Others ... they might be falling apart. Some may feel like they've been pulled from one spot to another ... never feeling like they are part of where they've been placed. But, they are each welcome at my table. </div>
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My prayer has always been that each person who takes a seat at my kitchen table will feel welcome. That they would feel free to share and show their differences. That they would know ... I accept them just as they are ... young or old. Spiritually whole or falling apart. In need of Restoration. I want to sit at that table and pray with them. Share a meal with them. A meal I've prepared with those special people in mind. </div>
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And, after seeing my table in a different Light ... I pray the people who sit in those mismatched chairs will be touched by The Son. I won't be replacing those chairs any time soon. I like the reminder they give me. The reminder that He made each of us exactly as we are ... He puts us through trials and then He repairs our hearts. He doesn't replace us when we start to show our flaws. Our need of Restoration. He puts us in a place where our differences are needed. And, He sees those differences as ... beauty. Welcome at His table. </div>
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1st Peter 3:3 "D<span class="text 1Pet-3-3">o not let your adornment be <i>merely</i> outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on <i>fine</i> apparel— </span><span class="text 1Pet-3-4" id="en-NKJV-30429"><sup class="versenum"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">4 </span></strong></sup>rather <i>let it be</i> the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible <i>beauty</i> of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God."</span></div>
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Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-17364789887236407432013-04-16T07:34:00.002-04:002013-04-16T07:34:21.532-04:00The Value of Position ...<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkjEKLE67QwObckpwlJtwdGHpPD1hp2jts-1FF_ArKzsAIOegbs1JxSLIur06OClZnlJbBzMBkSMpIck7SulbGy_inknOgo_-aylZB0wwMmLrOvQQSznETWu_GP7PRwvRBBgc5qv9yspV/s1600/IMG_1312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" dua="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwkjEKLE67QwObckpwlJtwdGHpPD1hp2jts-1FF_ArKzsAIOegbs1JxSLIur06OClZnlJbBzMBkSMpIck7SulbGy_inknOgo_-aylZB0wwMmLrOvQQSznETWu_GP7PRwvRBBgc5qv9yspV/s320/IMG_1312.JPG" width="213" /></a>Late afternoon. The sun is hiding behind threatening rain clouds. A few sprinkles spot the bleachers. I'm standing by the fence, watching my son and his teammates' baseball practice. James has improved since last year. His arm is stronger. He's moving faster. This is his third year in Little League and I can see the difference between those three years. I see the smile on Jame's face. He loves this game. He feels ... accepted here. An important part of this team.</div>
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My husband is coaching the team. Two other fathers from the team are helping coach. Each of them has taken up a spot on the field, guiding the players ... teaching them the fundamentals of this game. I listen to their instructions and watch as the players respond to their coaches guidance. </div>
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Other parents stand outside the fence ... watching ... encouraging. The kids are practicing plays. Where does the ball need to be thrown if it goes ... right field ... left field ... ground ball infield? How many players are on the bases ... that's what makes the difference as to where they need to throw the ball. I hear the players laugther. They're enjoying the practice. </div>
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My husband switches out the first base player and sends him to left field. He brings the left fielder in to first base. It's important to him that each player knows what to do in each situation and from each spot on the field. He sees their strengths and knows where each player will benefit their team the most. </div>
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I see something else ... I see the face of the left fielder as he runs up to first base. He's smiling. Excited. He gets to be infield. For most of the players, infield is better than outfield. If you have a spot infield, you're a better player. More valuable. This is that players first year in this league. By the end of this season, my husband will have shown this boy how important each player and position is to the team. This player will have confidence and will know his worth. Infield ... outfield ... no matter where he is placed by the coach, he'll be important. Value does not come from position. It comes from your character. I don't find fault in this little boy or his excitement in playing first base instead of outfield. I smile because he is beautiful. He is someones extraordinary child. He has something to learn but that does not change his value or his beauty.</div>
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As I stand there, listening while my husband encourages the players and guides them in each play ... I think of 1st Corinthians 12. The body needs many parts in order to be a whole body. The eyes, the hands, the feet ... they are nothing without the other parts. This is compared to the body of Christ and the church. Each member is given qualities that make them who they are and what their purpose is in the Kingdom here on earth. Verse 18 reminds us that " ... God has set the members, each one of them, in the body just as He pleased." The entire 12th chapter is an encouragement that each of us is valuable ... no matter what position we play in God's plan. </div>
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Sometimes, our humanness gets in the way of that plan. We see what someone else can do or is doing. We see how much they accomplish and think ... I want that. I want to be that part of the Plan. Somehow, we've decided that our spot is outfield and their spot is infield. Just like so many players on a sports team, we've decided which position is the best ... the most important. When really ... each position is important ... valuable. We don't see that we are extraordinary children of an amazing God ... a God who made us exactly as we are ... to fit in to His plan. We may have things to learn, but ... He sees our beauty regardless of where we are in the path to finding His position for us. He sends other people into our lives to help us ... guide us. </div>
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No matter where you are today. No matter what you are doing ... do it for Him. You are an important player in this incredible game of life. You are of great value to a Great King. </div>
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Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-25714589575364792912013-04-01T10:03:00.000-04:002013-04-01T10:03:05.598-04:00Banana Bread and Spiritual Gifts ... <div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"Mom, the bananas are getting brown!" James points as he walks past the table and toward the fridge. <br />
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"Oh Yeah!" Kregg smiles at me. Yes, he's smiling( ... and you'll understand why soon).<br />
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We're all in our morning routine. Jerry's already gone for work. Now the rest of us are getting ready for school and work. take the dog out, eat breakfast. Grab back packs, lap tops ... the lunch box James almost forgot. Kregg runs to his room and gets a small stuffed animal to 'sneak' into his bag. He thinks I don't see him, but I do. <br />
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Kregg grabs the bananas, "Can we take 'em now, Mama?"<br />
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"No, Kregg." I'm grabbing my purse and car keys. "We don't have time this morning." <br />
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He slumps his shoulders and pouts. He's good at this. Big brown eyes and down turned mouth. "It'll only take a minute. You can take 'em to Hanker's while Grandma takes us to school." Hanker is the nickname my boys have for my sister, Mary. But, that's a story for another day. <br />
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"No, I'm sorry. I don't have time." I kiss his forehead. "I'll take them later." <br />
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This conversation would make no sense to anyone outside our family. But, for anyone close to us ... you know Hanker makes the best banana bread. If you've got bananas that are beyond the stage of enjoying as a simple snack ... take them to Hanker. She turns them into something yummy. Sometimes, she adds chocolate chips. For our family, she leaves out the nuts (because I really don't like them much, I'll eat them ... but if I get the choice, I'll have it without). The loaves are just the right size, slice it ... put a little butter on it and give me a cup of coffee or a glass of milk ... good snack. In fact, my kids fight over it. Yes, it's that good.<br />
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I've offered to make it for my boys. That always turns into looks of ... "How do we tell Mom we would rather have Hanker make it without hurting her feelings?" You see, all the men in my house have tasted my attempts at baking (and there have been many) and they know, it's just not my area of expertise. I have tried, because I want to be the one who does that well ... who puts the smiles on my boys faces when they eat that snack. I have always been the type of person/mom who wants to do it all and be it all for everyone under my roof. <br />
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That's the human in me ... in a lot of us. We want to be gifted in all areas of life. But, that's not how it works. God gives each of us talents or gifts. I'm talking about spiritual gifts. We don't get to pick our gifts. He picks them. They are part of us from the moment of conception. From the time of our birth, God puts us through events (whether those events be trials or triumphs) to strengthen those gifts ... to bring those gifts out of our soul where He planted them and into the world. For us to share. That's why He gave us those gifts ... to share them and minister to others. The problem is, sometimes we aren't content with the gifts He gave us. We decide there are much better gifts out there and we want them. So, we set out on a mission to get those gifts. All the while, we're depriving others the joy of being blessed by our real gifts. Our God given gifts. And, we're depriving God of the pleasure He has in seeing us use our gifts to further His kingdom.<br />
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Just like my attempts at baking banana bread. In all the effort I put into trying to do what my sister can do ... I took time away from what I already do well. And, at the same time, I totally depressed myself. Because I failed. I just need to be ... me ... the me God created. Not the me I somehow feel would be better. <br />
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Take time today to be you. Because you were made exactly how God wanted you. <br />
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<em>If you've never taken a journey through scripture to find out what your spiritual gifts are ... Take time to read through 1 Corinthians and Ephesians. These books of the bible are filled with insights on Spiritual Gifts. </em><br />
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<em>1 Corinthians 12:11 "But one and the same Spirit works all these things, distributing to each one individually as He wills."</em><br />
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<em>1 Corinthians 12:18 "But now God has set the members, each one of them, in the body just as He pleased."</em><br />
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Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-85218537108284956452013-03-27T06:21:00.001-04:002013-03-27T06:21:28.208-04:00Worth the Labor ...<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I was a little girl, there was a step stool that sat right beside the counter in my mom's kitchen. I would sit there, swinging my little legs, asking lots of questions, telling lots of stories ... While Mom moved back and forth between the sink, counter and stove. I loved watching my mom cook. Most of the time, she didn't have a recipe book ... it just came .. natural. At the time, I thought it was all in her head ... memorized. Now that I'm a mom, I know the recipe was in her heart ... she knew exactly what each of her family members loved and needed ... that's what she put in each thing she cooked. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXJJgGHAAw8lDE9UDuIcEeSJTipJFXO2A60tDT2T5qyGkGGAHeUs9Ct86-9XyQCpAixTEYHQwh2KA8QQfei7StoMbivaiYugZGV0ExIr_EW6p4NnS0h_hxc2bDMIYSc74et2TgAEIMKI3/s1600/IMG_3745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXJJgGHAAw8lDE9UDuIcEeSJTipJFXO2A60tDT2T5qyGkGGAHeUs9Ct86-9XyQCpAixTEYHQwh2KA8QQfei7StoMbivaiYugZGV0ExIr_EW6p4NnS0h_hxc2bDMIYSc74et2TgAEIMKI3/s320/IMG_3745.JPG" usa="true" width="320" /></a>Of all the things I watched my mom do in that kitchen, I loved watching her can the most. My parents spent months tending their garden. Taking care of each plant ... knowing the end result would be worth their labor. Each year, just before canning, Mom would sterilize the jars and set them out to dry. Each day, for weeks, she would can something new ... green beans, tomato sauce, pickles, jams, jellies and (my favorite) peaches. It was a long process. Mom's kitchen smelled so good. I wanted to be in there ... be a part of it. There was something special about the way the fruit or vegetables looked in the Ball glass jars.</div>
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There was something about the process of canning that brought out the most brilliant colors in each fruit or vegetable. The jars were clear and shiny. Set out side by side all across the counter. Mom filled each one, sealed them and then she carefully set each jar into the canner and waited ... just the right amount of heat, pressure and time. Then, she would take them out and, again, set the jars across the counter ... side by side. Waiting ... waiting for the 'ping'. That sound meant the lid had sealed and the produce inside would remain ... unspoiled. If it didn't 'ping' ... you had to put it back in the canner, more heat and then wait again. Sometimes, one of the jars just wouldn't 'ping' and she would empty the jar and start over. There was nothing wrong with the jar, it was still good. It just needed ... another try.</div>
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Last week, Mom gave me a jar of her sweet peaches. I had two empty jars sitting on my window sill ... empty from the week before when I used jars of her green beans to add a finishing touch on the meal I made for my family. The sun shining through those clear, empty jars ... contrasting against the jar filled with peaches ... </div>
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We're like those empty glass jars. We may be beautiful but we are nothing without Him. Jesus tends the garden of our lives. He takes special care in filling us with beauty ... a beauty only He can provide. Like my mom preparing meals, He doesn't need a recipe ... We are etched on His heart, he knows exactly what we need. It's not a short process. Inner beauty ... beauty that shines through ... it takes time. But, it's worth it. And, He doesn't give up. He will stick with us as long as it takes. The pressure in my mom's canner is kind of like the trials in our lives. They are painful and weigh us down. Heavy burdens. But, those trials bring us closer to Him ... in a way ... they make the bond between us and Him stronger. So that nothing can spoil what He has given us inside ... Him. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOw4pQm9ZCkXXKPdaB1c81HnaQoKvAhfa5z-rk-Ag97VvVjDtRlNZkYtRz48-NansGwR8HfxabfYIan-rRJF4jH4vFpPc7Pf2DyzgIg4jS1HuqwcvsXIqixNmuqxj2Qbew9GZ9CPmUjke0/s1600/IMG_3753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOw4pQm9ZCkXXKPdaB1c81HnaQoKvAhfa5z-rk-Ag97VvVjDtRlNZkYtRz48-NansGwR8HfxabfYIan-rRJF4jH4vFpPc7Pf2DyzgIg4jS1HuqwcvsXIqixNmuqxj2Qbew9GZ9CPmUjke0/s320/IMG_3753.JPG" usa="true" width="320" /></a> 1st Peter 3:3-4<span class="text 1Pet-3-3" id="en-NKJV-30428"><sup class="versenum"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;"> "</span></strong></sup>Do not let your adornment be <i>merely</i> outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on <i>fine</i> apparel— </span><span class="text 1Pet-3-4" id="en-NKJV-30429">rather <i>let it be</i> the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible <i>beauty</i> of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God."</span></div>
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Matthew 5:14-15 “You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lamp stand, and it gives light to all who are in the house."<br />
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Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-16829128396897632742013-03-25T07:34:00.002-04:002013-03-25T07:34:53.959-04:00I'll Carry You ...<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefNKGIDbTEVah688r2KWcKKgBEVA4ZkShOpu94kFXeDRHxPWa_ABnaFwWKh-RMtb7_UF38m7GnOdBOINpJOVWnia279at6DQQH4hBv4q_KRfri343U8vC0Lbz0Fn9n4lPoF7uA57R7CE7/s1600/IMG_0708.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefNKGIDbTEVah688r2KWcKKgBEVA4ZkShOpu94kFXeDRHxPWa_ABnaFwWKh-RMtb7_UF38m7GnOdBOINpJOVWnia279at6DQQH4hBv4q_KRfri343U8vC0Lbz0Fn9n4lPoF7uA57R7CE7/s320/IMG_0708.JPG" ssa="true" width="320" /></a>My sister and I had just finished taking pictures of all five of our kids. My three boys and her two girls. A Mother's day gift for our mom. We wanted the pictures to be out in nature ... our mom loves anything nature and loves our kids. Five grand kids plus nature equals perfect for our Mom. So we headed to a spot along the Mississinewa reservoir. The kids pulled off their shoes and socks ... I was snapping pictures of them being ... them ... They skipped rocks in the murky water and chased each other back and forth along the waters edge. The rocks were slippery and cool under their bare feet. As is the norm with our kids, the boys tormented the girls. After they were worn out, we had the kids pose for several pictures and then it was time to head home.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3BDu5Kk5wvcdn-feND_15cLdKExUat8vuvUoqbmKHWSgBXRa7B1tc-YlXppdf4OkccnOfp2e0tXgPrx2MuDOQYKe9x1KBbZhKOBjEO4WvWDNAmHHfw0NwUJAF45xR0ZpYhpkGA-1HJfl/s1600/IMG_0718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3BDu5Kk5wvcdn-feND_15cLdKExUat8vuvUoqbmKHWSgBXRa7B1tc-YlXppdf4OkccnOfp2e0tXgPrx2MuDOQYKe9x1KBbZhKOBjEO4WvWDNAmHHfw0NwUJAF45xR0ZpYhpkGA-1HJfl/s320/IMG_0718.JPG" ssa="true" width="213" /></a>"NO! I'm not leaving this spot!" Nine year old Hope was profound with her words. She stood perched on a flat rock near the reservoir shore. Her bare feet barely fit the surface of the rock she had chosen to stand on. She stood, hands on her hips.
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"Hope, come get your shoes and get in the car." My sister was encouraging. She and I were an easy twenty feet away, standing by the pile of shoes and socks the kids had tossed aside.</div>
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An hour earlier, bare feet in the cool sand, playing in the water. Skipping rocks. All that sounded fun. But, now ... now her feet hurt. Hope had found a larger rock, just big enough for her to stand on. It was flat, smooth and cool and felt good on her feet.</div>
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It was time to head home. But, the path between that flat rock and my car was filled with sharp, rough rocks. The other four kids were picking their way through the rocks ... for them, this was an adventure. For Hope, this was ... scary.</div>
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"NO! My feet hurt! Again, profound. Hope was not budging. My sister grabbed Hope's shoes and started toward her. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbrD3uCVuIW3ENyVRxL19h624r7KxEZhMPXOF1_jMw1CGa1IZcUGrKanljTG6jN_USomYtBMKpmuRb3O4UfV28tHdseCXvltBp-a-Oqp2ZRfXDKb-4-2ZuQ2duEX7mV-ebUmGmFRjvD6p/s1600/IMG_0733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbrD3uCVuIW3ENyVRxL19h624r7KxEZhMPXOF1_jMw1CGa1IZcUGrKanljTG6jN_USomYtBMKpmuRb3O4UfV28tHdseCXvltBp-a-Oqp2ZRfXDKb-4-2ZuQ2duEX7mV-ebUmGmFRjvD6p/s320/IMG_0733.JPG" ssa="true" width="213" /></a>"No, Mom. It's ok, I'll carry her." We watched Alex as she scooped Hope up in her arms and slowly picked her way through the sharp rocks. She kept her eyes down, looking for safe places to put her own bare feet. The weight of her sister made it more difficult but ... she made it. I'm sure it hurt Alex' feet to carry not only herself but her sister across those rocks. But she did it, with no complaints. Once she reached a clear area, Alex sat Hope on the ground and helped her put on her shoes. </div>
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The seven of us trekked back to my car. The kids wrestled into their seats. Sweaty bodies. Wet clothes. The smell of the Mississinewa water mingled with the summer breeze coming through the open windows. </div>
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I drove away thinking ... It would have been easy to just grab Hope's shoes and take them to her. But, Alex carried her. In a sense, she carried her sister's burden. </div>
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As Christians we are called to bear one anothers burdens. It shouldn't matter how big or small those burdens are ... we should come along side and ... carry them. Carry them across until we both reach safe ground. The peaceful place where Jesus waits for us. </div>
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Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-72836002694865765902013-03-23T07:43:00.002-04:002013-03-23T07:43:37.555-04:00Making Room ... <div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is my dining room table. It's where I sort, fold and stack my laundry. I scrapbook here ... recount my children's lives through pages filled with photos, I'm a 'scrapbook junkie'. I share meals with family and friends at this table. My sister and I have spent countless hours sitting at this table ... drinking coffee and soaking up our friendship. This table was a gift from my parents. It sat in my great aunts house for years. After my aunts passing, Dad stripped it down, refinished it and gave it to me and my husband. This table has been, and is, used for so many purposes, but the most important for me ... this is where I read my bible. I spend my quiet time with God. In the early morning hours, just before sunrise ... this is my place. Our place ... God and me. </div>
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Last night, I was working on laundry. Using this table for one of the many purposes. I generally start laundry on Saturdays and finish before nightfall. But, I thought I would get a jump start on it because I knew our Saturday was going to be busy and I didn't want the laundry spilling into my Sunday. But, I didn't finish before going to bed last night. I was tired, so I let it go.<br />
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This morning, I headed to the kitchen. The house was dark and quiet. I got my cup of coffee, bible and devotional. Heading for the dining room table ... and ... there it sat ... unfinished laundry. Stacks of it. Covering the table. My quiet place. There wasn't a free inch of space. Sure, I could move it all. Pile it up and then later 'unstack' it. But, that would mean more work for me. Because once you stack up laundry from three boys ... all different sizes ... fishing through it to make sure each boy has their own clothes. Well, that's a chore. Not one I really wanted to tackle. Plus, all of the boys were still in bed. Putting their laundry away to make room for me at the table would mean waking them up. And, in my house, you do not wake sleeping giants.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8glm6iHU0iOJRtcDOMjup4CsRKT_UUQr3Nsdb5FOTYOZbTfs8ymXmbgeCmeUu6T2nmYp_SPAZgo-PGP7hAi6PAdj8MihLB2Cw1APKJa9lrVBr80iy7SCdOucApr59H6Tf7Zr87fvPFjEm/s1600/dining+room+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8glm6iHU0iOJRtcDOMjup4CsRKT_UUQr3Nsdb5FOTYOZbTfs8ymXmbgeCmeUu6T2nmYp_SPAZgo-PGP7hAi6PAdj8MihLB2Cw1APKJa9lrVBr80iy7SCdOucApr59H6Tf7Zr87fvPFjEm/s320/dining+room+2.JPG" ssa="true" width="320" /></a>I stood there. Cup of coffee in one hand, bible in the other and thought ... my life is like that table. My life's purpose is to serve God in whatever way He has planned. In this world filled with so many distractions, sometimes my life gets out of order. Too busy. It's piled up with all kinds of things and then ... there's no room for God or anything else that I'm called to do or be. </div>
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I need to make room for my time with God. I need to carve out time, space and quiet ... to just be with Him. I need to protect that time. Because, in doing so, I let Him know ... He's important to me and my time with Him is important to me. It's worth letting the laundry go undone for a few more days. It's worth letting other distractions stack up in other places but not in a way that it takes over my quiet time ... like the laundry I left undone took over today. </div>
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Matthew 6:6 "But when you pray, <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-23289A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup>go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. <sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-ESV-23289B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup>And your Father who sees in secret will reward you."</div>
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Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-27352738513078235262013-03-22T07:45:00.004-04:002013-03-22T07:45:33.107-04:00Walking It Out ... <div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's hot. The early summer evening sun is making itself known on the field and the bleachers. Fans sit under umbrellas. It's the bottom of the second inning. Players are already worn out from the heat. Our team is up to bat.</div>
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Runners on first and second base. They're counting on their teammate to bring them around the bases. The batter steps to the plate, smacks the plate with his bat and focuses on the pitcher. One pitch, strike one. </div>
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"That's ok, now you know what the pitch looks like ... now hit it." The coach calls from beside third base. </div>
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Second pitch, the batter sent the ball sailing over infield and out ... out ... way out to center field. He took off from home plate.</div>
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Coach signaled to the second base runner. The runner stepped off second, ran and rounded third base. Fans jumped from their seats ... they could see the outfield play ... the ball that had just sailed over infield was being thrown right back to the infield. The runner couldn't see it, she was just running for home. Fast. If any player could make it home ... it was her. She was ... quick. Eyes on home plate, she slid. The ball was thrown from second base to home. Dust billowed around the runner, catcher and .... the fans couldn't see ... was the runner ... Safe? Out? The umpire gave a thumbs up. Safe! <br />
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Then, everyone saw it. The quick footed girl was still down. Holding one leg. Trying not to cry. She's tough. Not much keeps her down. Coach called time and walked to his player. He knelt beside her along with the assistant coach. This little gal doesn't cry, so we all knew it wasn't good. <br />
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Quiet in the stands. Teammates stood in a circle at the pitcher's mound. No words, just stillness. Fear that something might seriously be wrong with their teammate ... their friend.<br />
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Both coaches lifted the runner to her feet. Through the stillness we all heard .... "Walk it out." The coach walked beside his player ... slowly, they walked together. One step at a time, walking out the pain in her leg. <br />
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Fans took their seats, sigh of relief. She was hurt but looked like she would be ok. <br />
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I took my seat near the fence. And, I thought ... about the coach's comment ... "Walk it out." He meant walk out the pain. <br />
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In our walk with Jesus, we aren't guaranteed a pain free life. In fact, God's word tells us that we will face trials and tribulations. Even when we are doing what God has called us to do ... there are times when ... it hurts. Sometimes we might feel just like that player running bases. We can't always see everything going on around us, we're just focused on getting ... Home. Safe. On the way Home, things can trip us up ... stumbling blocks. And, it hurts. When the hurt comes, Jesus calls a time out ... He knows when we've reached our limits. And, He comes to us, picks us up and ... helps us walk out the pain. </div>
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James 1:2-4 "My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing."<br />
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Psalm 91:4 "He shall cover you with His feathers, And under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler."</div>
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<br />Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-48409075174316596032013-03-21T07:45:00.000-04:002013-03-21T07:45:40.760-04:00When You Need Acceptance ... It's evening, the sun is slowly sinking behind storm clouds.I'm at the kitchen sink, washing potatoes and preparing supper for my family. Water is boiling on the stove. The rest of the house is unusually quiet.<br />
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Kregg hits at the kitchen table, head bent over a white sheet of paper. One side is colored with sunshine and flowers. Crayons scattered across the table. Now, he's working on the other side ... the side with a special note to a special person in his life. <br />
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"Mama, how do you spell valtine?" Kregg runs his tongue over small lips. This is his determined face. Brows knit in concentration. <br />
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"V.A.L.E.N.T.I.N.E", I keep smooth motion, peeling potatoes and spell it slowly so that his small fingers can keep up with my reciting. <br />
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"What? Are you sure?" A look of shock and something close to frustration.<br />
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"Yes, Kregg, I'm sure." I turn from the sink, cold water running over my hands as I look back toward the kitchen table where he's been working on this project. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5MfB7tsiIJ9dMVBQUepgqqXz1FIsZZ4C5jGIGjw_MXONtEwEMueAFcVEFtET0PUA-R9mJYRVJksGvPgn76I4HzwoTjoUfGWVMn3-v_y-6t2g-eDuzh9Iz32CC8_KYq3FNv_ww-SvY0P-m/s1600/braxtons+art+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5MfB7tsiIJ9dMVBQUepgqqXz1FIsZZ4C5jGIGjw_MXONtEwEMueAFcVEFtET0PUA-R9mJYRVJksGvPgn76I4HzwoTjoUfGWVMn3-v_y-6t2g-eDuzh9Iz32CC8_KYq3FNv_ww-SvY0P-m/s320/braxtons+art+pic.jpg" ssa="true" width="180" /></a>Kregg puts down the blue pen and walks away. I leave the sink, drying my hands on a dishtowel. I pick up the picture and read it. Kregg wrote the words before asking me how to spell them. And ... he made a mistake. The problem, it's in ink. He can't erase it or correct it. I turn the page over and look at the picture he spent so much time planning, coloring. It's beautiful, straight from his imagination. For him, all things are big and bright. </div>
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"Kregg, come sit with me." I call to him. He's somewhere hiding disappointment. </div>
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He comes slowly and sits. Tears sitting just at the edge of his eyes. Bites his lip. "It's ruined. I can't give her that!"</div>
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We talk about the person he planned to give this special picture. The front is beautiful, the back is a special message ... spelling mistakes or not. I know she would love it and probably wouldn't even mention the misspelled word. She would hang it proudly for everyone to see and brag about the special 8 year old boy who gave it to her. But, for Kregg, he's afraid of ... acceptance. This is his weakness. He wants to know he's loved, accepted ... just the way he is. <br />
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We clear the table together and eat supper as a family. Pajamas are pulled on over freshly showered little boys. And, I'm in my room putting away laundry.<br />
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"Mama?" Kregg calls from the threshold of my room. <br />
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"Yes, baby." I look up from my dresser drawers. Kregg is at my door with the picture, tears streaming down his little cheeks. I go to him and hold him. </div>
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"Mama, will you take this?" He holds it up to me.</div>
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"Yes, but you can still give it to the person you made it for." <br />
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"No, I want you to have it. I know you don't care if I spelled stuff wrong." </div>
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"Yes, Kregg, I will take it and hang it in my office. It's beautiful and when I see it, I will think of my beautiful boy."<br />
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He runs off to bed. I lean against my bed and the tears he cried before are now in my eyes. Kregg trusts me. He feels ... safe with me. Regardless of any mistakes he might make, he knows in his heart that I will see the beauty and good in him. In each of my boys. </div>
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That is exactly how Jesus loves me. Sometimes, I feel like I have to hide my flaws from people. Like somehow those flaws will keep people from wanting to know me ... the real me. Flaws and all. I want acceptance as much as my little boy. </div>
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I'm thankful ... regardless of the world's acceptance ... Jesus accepts me. <br />
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“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, And whose hope is the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, Which spreads out its roots by the river, And will not fear when heat comes; But its leaf will be green, And will not be anxious in the year of drought, Nor will cease from yielding fruit. Jeremiah 17:7-8</div>
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Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-48506491288732313222013-03-06T15:03:00.002-05:002013-03-06T15:03:44.111-05:00Laptops, Book Bags and Burdens<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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His face is tired. Flush from playing and learning all day. I lean over to kiss his forehead ... the smell of crayons and construction paper on his skin. His black Carhartt unbuttoned and drooping off one shoulder.<br />
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"Here Mama, carry this. And, this too." Kregg hands me his laptop bag and book bag. He keeps a library book in one hand.<br />
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I'm tired. I've been at work for over half the day. My feet hurt from high heels - the ones I just had to wear even though I know my feet will be sore by the end of the day. My head hurts. Kregg doesn't know I've been yelled at more times than I can count today. He doesn't know I've been pulled in what feels like 20 different directions. All he knows is ... he's tired and those bags are heavy. I nearly tell him, "no". But, then ... I take them and we wait for his older brother. <br />
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"I didn't have fun at recess today." Kregg hides one hand in mine. <br />
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"Why? You always like recess." I'm half listening and half watching for James. <br />
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"I got left out. I just sat on the sidewalk." Kregg buries his face in my coat and starts to cry. Not loud cries. The soft cries that most people wouldn't notice, but a mom can feel in her heart. <br />
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I wrap my arm around his shoulders. I let him cry because sometimes you just need to cry. James finds us in the school hallway. I can tell by the look on his face ... he knows Kregg is upset too. James hands me another book bag but carries his own laptop bag. We walk the short distance out the side door and to our car. My arms are worn out by the time I pile the load on my front seat and remind the boys to buckle their seat belts. I listen to Kregg as he tells me how his day was and why recess was 'not fun' today. I drive home as James recounts interesting details about history and how he finally got an 'A' on his spelling test. <br />
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Halfway home, the boys are in their own little world listening to the Disney radio station and arguing over who has the most homework. <br />
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I'm left in my own thoughts ... How many times do I come to Jesus with heavy bags? He waits for me and I come to Him. I hand Him the burdens I've carried all day. They're heavy and I'm tired. I know He's probably heard a thousand prayers and people have cried out to Him all day. But, He never tells me 'no' ... 'they're too heavy and I'm too tired'. Sometimes I cry. Not the loud kind of crying that others can hear but the quiet, soft crying that only He hears. He lets me. Because, He knows sometimes you just need to cry. <br />
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Matthew 11:28 "Come to Me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest."Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-4655236008376356972011-06-08T22:52:00.009-04:002011-06-08T23:53:49.621-04:00Total Loss ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeUIrPLIm6PZnYSlq_tYPWfurpGwBPFjY40MDZKMu1yfjkeHb-IiADDgRkIROSmG5PSQUFVMpKemJwwSdVy20PaBFOm36UngCcTCeZgpxVli0PkRs7povjMc2kbl03ZPgbprYFKzBt7zt/s1600/Picture+141.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeUIrPLIm6PZnYSlq_tYPWfurpGwBPFjY40MDZKMu1yfjkeHb-IiADDgRkIROSmG5PSQUFVMpKemJwwSdVy20PaBFOm36UngCcTCeZgpxVli0PkRs7povjMc2kbl03ZPgbprYFKzBt7zt/s320/Picture+141.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616061043372072802" /></a><br />Jerry and I bought a new (to us) car last summer. We went to numerous car dealerships. Talked over cars, trucks, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">suv's</span> ... couldn't make up our minds. Mostly because we've made some poor vehicle purchases in the past ... we didn't want to revisit those poor choices. Finally, a good price ... low miles ... good shape ... fit our whole family ... nice size trunk for all the baseball equipment (and suitcases for vacations). We signed the dotted line and drove it home.<div><br /></div><div>Since last summer, we've put a large amount of money into unexpected repairs. I won't list them all ... too many ... too much money. But, there are two specific repairs that have me thinking ...</div><div><br /></div><div>This winter, a deer decided to play tag with Jerry. The deer didn't make it out of that mess ... Jerry's car came out with nearly $5,000 in damages. Of course our insurance covered it. But ... the waiting ... waiting ... waiting. Jerry drove a rental car for two weeks while the insurance company tried to decide if it was worth repairing or if it should be totaled. They ended up fixing it. We brought it home and agreed ... the body shop had done a great job. The car looked beautiful. It was evident the shop owner took pride in his work. </div><div><br /></div><div>This past Monday, Jerry called me at work. Someone pulled out of an alley and smashed into the passenger side of his car. Jerry and the other driver were fine, no injuries. But our car ... injured. We both wondered ... will they total it? After he got home from work that evening, we looked over the car. Both doors were beyond repair and would require replacements. Neither of us know a lot about cars, so we couldn't tell if the frame was damaged. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yesterday, Jerry talked with our insurance company and then took his car to the same body shop for inspection. The mechanic told him it didn't look like the car would be totaled. But ... finding two doors in as good of shape as our originals would be a tough job.But, he wouldn't put doors on our car that didn't 'measure up' to the existing body. He had Jerry bring the car home and said he would call when he found the doors. Could be days, could be weeks. He reassured Jerry that the end result would be worth the wait.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, we're waiting. And I'm thinking ...</div><div><br /></div><div>That car keeps taking hits. Keeps crying out for general repairs you would expect from a used vehicle. Keeps going. But, I wonder ... how much more can it take? Maybe we should just park it in the driveway and not risk taking it out on the highway. We need that car to take Jerry from home to work and then back home again. We need it to get the boys to and from sporting events, school, practices.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes, my heart feels like that car. Have you ever felt that way? Like your heart hurts too much to keep going? Like it would be better to hide it someplace ... find a place where nothing/no one can touch it ... hurt it? This world and all it's imperfections ... it keeps denting my heart.</div><div><br /></div><div>I keep giving pieces of my heart away. I keep going to the places where I know my heart will be smashed ... dented ... damaged. I don't keep it hidden away. I allow the hurt because I know God can heal it. He takes pride in His craftsmanship. Regardless of the damage, He will never count my heart as a total loss. Repairing the damage may take more time than I like ... but, it's worth the wait. And while I wait, His light will shine through the damaged places and give others a glimpse of what our God can do. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight, my heart is damaged ... for one of my boys. As parents ... we love our children beyond measure. Seeing a hurt coming their way ... well ... it hurts us as much (if not more) than it hurts them. I know all of my boys will have to go through struggles to become the men God has planned for them to be. I just wish ... it didn't have to hurt. Not for them, not for me. I know He can heal any hurt, if I just let Him. So, I will. I will give Him my hurt and give Him my son ... it's hard to imagine, but I know that He loves my children more than I can even conceive. I will do the one thing I know to do ... I will pray. </div><div><br /></div><div>If your heart is broken, damaged ... take it to the only One who can offer complete healing. </div><div><br /></div>Psalm 91:4 "He shall cover you with His feathers, And under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler."Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-61117666744707412892011-06-07T18:28:00.013-04:002011-06-07T22:34:48.408-04:00The Grass is Always Greener ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXYNrlv2xgS1CyHK5cc4Ri5cpzw9diWlgXaVKqAaVCNWuca1dMmAij0ldGo6i_q3sg-IzegRZ0WwYPZZpd_Xt7HrWYQGn7QdQxT42TNX1WRdJWLvZGWyTinpXhJm2fRflcEwPZ00ZG7s2/s1600/IMAG0146.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXYNrlv2xgS1CyHK5cc4Ri5cpzw9diWlgXaVKqAaVCNWuca1dMmAij0ldGo6i_q3sg-IzegRZ0WwYPZZpd_Xt7HrWYQGn7QdQxT42TNX1WRdJWLvZGWyTinpXhJm2fRflcEwPZ00ZG7s2/s320/IMAG0146.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615664691495889138" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ld6R0o94GF3vFLyAGe4XTa_wvD4iYJPINAt0pbhbWQzIBf0pAO4reZ1r-2I9_lqS04l0oX1xw7oalbW0cfEPtB7asCqo6pgD3qly68gIBE_Anqq91W-WFpWPPGGVtCTM-dgd0BOlpE9f/s1600/IMAG0153.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ld6R0o94GF3vFLyAGe4XTa_wvD4iYJPINAt0pbhbWQzIBf0pAO4reZ1r-2I9_lqS04l0oX1xw7oalbW0cfEPtB7asCqo6pgD3qly68gIBE_Anqq91W-WFpWPPGGVtCTM-dgd0BOlpE9f/s320/IMAG0153.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615663868742252706" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEaODd0YJQPltv-5DephW7U508oEuQ0VsmF8wWUhCKwk9d4UMkIjiHWPFkTv9I6dJt0ce377qCKTHL59y94Qr7Uh0XxlQXk3J2YrEYaz8cIBD-AfcJulnTmUBjvgKJgfViFd2Lngpt7Us8/s1600/IMAG0149.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEaODd0YJQPltv-5DephW7U508oEuQ0VsmF8wWUhCKwk9d4UMkIjiHWPFkTv9I6dJt0ce377qCKTHL59y94Qr7Uh0XxlQXk3J2YrEYaz8cIBD-AfcJulnTmUBjvgKJgfViFd2Lngpt7Us8/s320/IMAG0149.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615663184403930034" /></a><br />The drive between our house and Jerry's family is beautiful ... summer, winter ... spring, fall. The road bends around dense groves of trees, vast farm ground and open pastures. Rolling hills take you up and down, carving out a passage through God's country. During the summer, wild flowers poke through tall grass. Large tree branches perch high above the road ... their leaves offering shade. <div><br /></div><div>Over Memorial Day weekend, we took that drive to meet Jerry's family at his sister's house. Like many other trips, we made a game out of who could spot the first deer. This is easier during winter when their stark brown bodies stand out from the white snow covered pastures. In the summer, they fade into the tall grasses, soybeans or corn stalks.There could be large numbers grazing in the open fields or a single one peaking out from the roadside trees. Our boys love watching for them and it keeps the boys busy for the 20 minute drive.</div><div><br /></div><div>Each of us spotted a few deer. Even one deer standing just off the road, nearly hidden by the shadows cast from trees. As we rounded one of the curves, I noticed a herd of cows grazing ... meandering down the fence line ... enjoying the warm sun and green grass. The field around them and behind them was covered in tall grass, wild flowers and trees. For some reason, they all gathered by the fence. The fence row was lined with a muddy path. The cows sunk deep into the muck and stretched as far as they could ... munching on grass. We stopped (because I wanted to) and watched. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>That is so dumb</i>, I thought. I looked at their legs, completely covered in a thick layer of mud ... up to their knees. <i>Dumb</i>. All around them stood long stems of bright green grass ... they could eat those and not end up in such a mess. I'm sure cows don't really care about the appearance but surely it's uncomfortable. </div><div><br /></div><div>We drove on and I thought ... <i>dumb</i>? I do that exact same thing. I am surrounded by blessings. Yet ... I reach as far as I can ... stretching to try and achieve something ... obtain something. it's not that I don't love the life He has given me ... for some reason it just seems that what someone else has might make me ... more content. I have everything I need all around me. I don't need to have what's on the other side of the fence. I always end up making a mess of things when I try to gain something that really isn't intended for me. I walk back and forth at the fence line, making a huge muddy trench ... starring at what someone else has on the other side, trying to figure out how I can get what they have ... if I stretch far enough maybe I can reach it, pull it back to my side of the fence. I'm sure the farmer who owns those cows has given them plenty of pasture. I'm sure he planned it out, knew exactly what his livestock would need ... gave it to them and cares for their well being. God put me on this side of the fence for a reason. He knows what's best for me, he cares for me and satisfies my every need. </div><div><br /></div><div>From now on, when we pass that open field and see those cows ... I'll be reminded of how much I have and how much I love what He has given me. </div><div><br />Deuteronomy 5:21 "You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife; and you shall not desire your neighbor’s house, his field, his male servant, his female servant, his ox, his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor’s."</div> <br />Matthew 6:19 “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; 20 but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-70382199359259902332011-05-28T19:06:00.007-04:002011-05-28T21:20:47.289-04:00When It Rains ...<div>I remember a pastor, years ago, giving a sermon about two farmers praying for rain. I'm sure most of you have heard this story ... both farmers desperately needed rain for their fields. Each begged God for rain. But, only one prepared for the rain. Who trusted God more? The farmer who prayed and prepared? Or, the farmer who prayed ... and did nothing? The farmer who prepared for the rain ... trusted God heard his prayer and had faith God would provide.</div><div><br /></div><div>I grew up in the heart of Indiana ... where corn is "knee high by the Fourth of July." My father owned a family business from 9 to 5 and spent every other hour tending the farm. That meant keeping a watchful eye on the weather beginning in April of every year. Watch, wait. Watch, wait. Plant, wait. Harvest.</div><div><br /></div><div>The late April evenings were wrapped in the scent of freshly plowed earth. My father would come in well after dark, wash up and pull a warm plate from the oven. He couldn't eat with us during the planting season. So, mom would keep his supper plate warm in the oven. I remember he always smelled of oil and dirt on those nights and aftershave on Sunday mornings. Those smells were a reminder of our livelihood ... smelling the dirt and oil let me and my sister know farming was steady, constant, good. The smell of aftershave on Sunday mornings meant ... you were grounded in Good.</div><div><br /></div><div>The spring of 2011 has been difficult in the Heartland. Farmers have been watching, watching and watching. Waiting, waiting and waiting. No planting. Near constant rain has flooded fields and pushed out any chance for plowing and planting. Just when the soil starts to dry and farmers bring out their plows ... rain ... and more rain. By this time, you can usually drive down county roads and see rows of green ... if you drive fast enough, the rows blur in what I always thought compared to Mother Nature's skirt. Long steady stripes of green fanned out for acres ... like a skirt. This year, slop. Muddy, messy, depressing ... constant brown, slime. And, fear begins to seep in. Just like the mud in our fields, it seems to take over everything. Our faith in the seasons ... in God's care ... begins to sink into the mud. </div><div><br /></div><div>On my way home from work each day, I see trucks parked in the ditches beside fields. The farmers are out walking the fields ... waiting ... for no rain. Praying for no rain. Praying for fields dry enough to run a plow and plant crops.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's in times like these ... we need faith, joy ... laughter. Today, on Facebook, one of my friends posted a video of her husband. Their family lives on a farm and depends on that farm for their livelihood. Rather than sinking into the mud of anxiety ... he went skiing. And ... we all laughed. We needed that laughter. It's good medicine. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...It's about learning to dance (or ski) in the rain." </div>— Vivian Greene<br /><br /><div><br /></div><iframe height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NVkCIoo49Y0?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="480" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><div><br /></div><div>I know Ped and Lindsey are praying for the rain to stop. While they pray ... they trust. Thank you ... Ped and Lindsey!</div>Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-56865825918157150232011-05-21T11:23:00.009-04:002011-05-27T07:23:04.170-04:00Elephants, Horses and Peanuts ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq26_PxIqEq5qBH6hK1r0TaBnAuxN9tBU_EFNTCOw6HOE4UZSbwJNeVagD3QB-LTDaknBE47fRHw8jzhm1vSMlrLCn0n_sXmV9TE69S0ucvODyp22-xKG_niJBDeNarAepu8kE7rr3JZJ/s1600/100_9663.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq26_PxIqEq5qBH6hK1r0TaBnAuxN9tBU_EFNTCOw6HOE4UZSbwJNeVagD3QB-LTDaknBE47fRHw8jzhm1vSMlrLCn0n_sXmV9TE69S0ucvODyp22-xKG_niJBDeNarAepu8kE7rr3JZJ/s320/100_9663.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609202126784782370" /></a><br />"I messed up, Mama!" Kregg is dramatic. So, there's no telling how serious the 'mess up' is.<div><br /></div><div>"With what?" I stop writing my blog and look over where he sits at the desktop computer. His arms are crossed and his eyebrows are knit into a frustrated line.</div><div><br /></div><div>"My WebKinz! I messed it all up! I named my new elephant Peanut!" Kregg motions toward the computer screen and pouts.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Why is that a bad thing?" I don't understand. Elephants eat peanuts, Peanut is a good name ... right?</div><div><br /></div><div>"Cause Mommy, I named my horse that too!!! I can't have two with the same name!" He's getting really mad.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Why not?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"How am I gonna know how to tell 'em apart?" He turns to me ... a sad, hopeless look in his big brown eyes. For Kregg, this is the biggest worry of his day. And, he wants me to 'fix it'. Somehow. The thing is ... you can't change your WebKinz name. Not that I know of anyway. Once you give them a name ... that's it. It's done. Kregg can see a picture of each WebKinz animal. So, really ... he will know by seeing them. Their names are the same but they look entirely different. One is a horse ... the other an Elephant. Big difference, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>"Kregg, you'll know when you see them. You know the difference between an elephant and a horse ... so, you'll know. And, really ... it's just a name. All that matters is you love your WebKinz You know your horse likes carrots and your elephant likes peanuts. You know what they like to play with and what makes them happy." </div><div><br /></div><div>To my surprise, it worked. He smiled ... "Yeah, I guess you're right. I kinda like Peanut for a horse and an elephant. Thanks, Mommy."</div><div><br /></div><div>He went back to his game and me to writing. And ... me to thinking. How many Aine's are there? In America ... not that many. But, in Ireland ... the heritage of my given name ... there are many. At the time of our boys birth, Jerry and I picked names from our family heritage. Deep in roots and meaning. And ...we thought the names were at least somewhat unique. Clay, James and Kregg. By the time Clay went to a sitter so I could return to work ... Clay had become a popular name for little boys. In fact, there were 2 at our sitter. She would call out ... "Clay" and both would answer. Our Clay found this funny. He loved teasing his sitter and laughing at her silly faces when both he and his friend came running to her calls. Clay wasn't at all sad that he shared his name with another boy. Clay knew he was ... ours. Our Clay. Jerry and I would never be confused or struggle to know which one was ours. Because we knew ... <i>him</i>. Everything about him was etched in our hearts from the moment of his creation. There was no confusion, no guessing. Clay loved cheerios, french fries, pancakes and milk. Curling up on the couch with popcorn and hot chocolate while Star Wars Return of the Jedi played on the tv ... could fix any bad day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Christ knows me in that same way. Regardless of the Aine's in America or Ireland ... HE knows the one that needs Pepsi and caramel bars with salty potato chips on a bad day .... the one who loves a man with brown eyes and a soft smile. The Aine who is much happier sitting on her front porch in worn out jeans and a grubby t-shirt than in a stuffy office with high heels and dress clothes. Christ knows just how much I can take on any given day. He gives me trials and victories ... in just the right balance to help me grow in faith. He is never confused about His children. Each one is special and unique in His eyes. </div><div><br /></div><div>No matter how the world knows me ... He knows me best. Before I even call His name in praise or need ... He is already on His way to give it ... to the one and only Aine who is uniquely me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />Psalm 139:13-16 "For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made, Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from you. When I was made in secret,And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me,When as yet there were none of them."<br /> <br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-24317676743197491122011-05-21T08:33:00.015-04:002011-05-21T11:06:09.281-04:00In time ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iY54YRCzdgaBycPY1EMtRbbIz42E34GJVKNCILrfSqXLP8zl7Vp_QFpN9AvGBhhU6X6V868PvbArKqdVzQa8FnQv2UWTA_hPLGI9Rk3gkrb398B0bbLeQml5x1mGOLJ5uNA2jg-kofyV/s1600/102_0829.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iY54YRCzdgaBycPY1EMtRbbIz42E34GJVKNCILrfSqXLP8zl7Vp_QFpN9AvGBhhU6X6V868PvbArKqdVzQa8FnQv2UWTA_hPLGI9Rk3gkrb398B0bbLeQml5x1mGOLJ5uNA2jg-kofyV/s320/102_0829.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609181478284222658" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDALs12PwZY1uQbkGnmROlybry5eMvw0bGbWffNqinYg9Ez_yP-NXdgGTQ3Z4UT89Roa0KQZOHTQT6Atk1TpDVhRrwq8_yrNfbzOtO4-a4j8PCSwpn1DF9Fned3nG3aDiZIHqmGkVH6Pw/s1600/102_0839.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDALs12PwZY1uQbkGnmROlybry5eMvw0bGbWffNqinYg9Ez_yP-NXdgGTQ3Z4UT89Roa0KQZOHTQT6Atk1TpDVhRrwq8_yrNfbzOtO4-a4j8PCSwpn1DF9Fned3nG3aDiZIHqmGkVH6Pw/s320/102_0839.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609180923974871778" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpg55qaMBZ7oANWnnV0n-SmtxybmZSY9gc_p98kBe4SW3gvyPZ962hkopOn1oPexBmR-c7mAROQ51gs-hEWP03tV184lixIhhoL4uGWOjIC21H1DRwfumI6RbpHnIckx0m6LOCEW9O027u/s1600/102_0827.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609153183015106978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpg55qaMBZ7oANWnnV0n-SmtxybmZSY9gc_p98kBe4SW3gvyPZ962hkopOn1oPexBmR-c7mAROQ51gs-hEWP03tV184lixIhhoL4uGWOjIC21H1DRwfumI6RbpHnIckx0m6LOCEW9O027u/s320/102_0827.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Meet Hunter (aka - Best Mouser on the Farm). She came to our family 3 years ago and has outlasted every other cat on our farm. I could name lots of reasons for this but mainly it's because ... she's careful and smart. Hunter is quiet (literally ... she barely makes a soft meow) and fairly timid. Not much bothers her. Most of the time, she keeps to herself. Hunter finds her own food (thus her Best Mouser title) and watches everything. </div><br /><div>Last week, Hunter was missing more often than present. Even for her occasional bowl of milk just inside the patio doors ... she wasn't there. We all know her well enough to guess the reason ... kittens. Each evening, Jerry and I sat on our deck and quietly watched. Nothing. We started to worry. Hunter is a part of our small family. She was missing and being missed.<br /></div><br /><div>Wednesday afternoon, I had reached the limits of my worry (and curiosity). I pulled on my grubby sneakers, grabbed our large flashlight ... and went hunting for Hunter. The last time she crawled into my lap, I had smelled the strong aroma of warm hay. Only one place on the farm smells that sweet ... the hayloft. I climbed the ladder and sat in the entryway to the loft. I listened and waited. The breeze rustling leaves and stirring twine from the hay bales, passing cars and birds chirping ... then the quiet murmur of kittens. I followed the sound and was lead to the very back of the loft. Rectangular bales of hay blocked any close proximity to the sound. As with any litter of kittens before these, Hunter has picked a nest not easily reached. Out of a seeming nowhere, Hunter curled around my legs and walked lazily away from the bales. I know her, she was leading me away from her most prized possession. Hunter loves me. But, she loves her babies more. I patted her head. "Smart girl", I whispered. From that loft, she can survey the entire farm. No other animal can gain entry to Hunter's nest without first going past her.<br /><br /></div><div>I went back down the ladder. Jerry met me just beyond the barn. He and our oldest son had tried without success to find Hunter and her secret. I smiled, because ... I am the same as I was in my youth. If there were new kittens on our farm, I would find them. I was the only one patient enough (which is VERY surprising because I am not a patient person). Together, Jerry and I took food up to the loft. I sat on a bale and listened to the murmur as Hunter lapped up every bit of milk. She was starving. We had not seen her for 3 days and it seemed she hadn't left the loft at all during those days. As hungry as Hunter was, she stopped every few seconds and went to a bale at the very top ... peaked down at her secret, looked at me and back at her secret ... then, back again to eat. There was something very peaceful in that loft ... something sacred. I thought of my Savior and how He will go to any length for me. He would go without food or nourishment ... for me. Nothing can come near me without first being allowed by Him.</div><br />Sometimes, I feel as though He doesn't see the things that hurt me. If He did notice, wouldn't He stop them ... wouldn't He keep me from that hurt? I think it's 'human nature' to feel and think those things. Not nature in the way God created us but ... in the nature this world has corrupted His creation. I know the answers ... those things that seem too heavy to hold and too hurtful ... those things are molding and shaping me into the person He wants me to be. Knowing this Truth doesn't minimize the pain or trivialize the suffering. Knowing this Truth ... gives me an attainable 'calm in the storm' ... it's hard to find ... but it's there.</div><div><br /><div>Each day, Jerry and I have taken Hunter something to eat. I climb the ladder and leave her treat just far enough inside the loft so as not to worry her. And, each day, she meets me on the ladder ... unwilling to let me go any closer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually, Hunter will let me come near and see what she has hidden. But, for now ... Hunter knows her babies need rest, nourishment and ... protection. For now, they need to be left in the care of the one who loves them most. When our family meets the new additions, it will be in Hunter's timing ... not ours. They'll be afraid at first ... unsure of something so much bigger than they are ... but, in time they will learn to trust us. And, I will wait because her timing (just like Christ's) is perfect.</div><br /><div>James 1:2 - 3 "Consider all joy my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance."</div></div><br />Psalm 91:4 He shall cover you with His feathers,And under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler."Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-87015331274044794242011-04-12T17:28:00.004-04:002011-04-12T19:29:49.769-04:00An Extra Out ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLdm907_6Ti3WaHBPmtefPMXG80hgffk59paZXIA7x1nUfrMFftk3CipRsooEq8S4Yn8e9H7Qbmoz5EG6vLMVMnzghtu3By43CxFuYvli8ZOM-OmKPk4LYvkpTfRM68xKqUnbxQY1E4Iq/s1600/102_0090.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLdm907_6Ti3WaHBPmtefPMXG80hgffk59paZXIA7x1nUfrMFftk3CipRsooEq8S4Yn8e9H7Qbmoz5EG6vLMVMnzghtu3By43CxFuYvli8ZOM-OmKPk4LYvkpTfRM68xKqUnbxQY1E4Iq/s320/102_0090.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594831253633412834" /></a><br />A group of neighborhood kids gathered in an open lot. Everyone came to play 'kick ball'. Everyone ... including the girl with perfect imperfections. Not all children would welcome a child touched with special needs ... but this group ... did. Teams were picked ... the little girl was always chosen ... never left out. The team she landed on was allowed an extra out. No one complained. No one made a fuss. They wanted her to be a part of the game. <div><br /></div><div>As I listened to my friend's recount of this childhood memory, tears clogged my throat and perched on my eyelids. This friend and I, we share a special similarity in life. I have a niece with special needs and she ... a sister with special needs. We both know the cruelty this world can deliver. We also know the measure of someones acceptance.</div><div><br /></div><div>She went on to say that she sometimes runs into one of those neighborhood kids. They're all adults now. She sees them, smiles, calls them by name ... and remembers. </div><div><br /></div><div>Those kids accepted her sister with all the differences. They allowed an extra out for her. Anything she couldn't do ... didn't matter to them ... didn't change the girl who was their friend.</div><div><br /></div><div>After we talked, I went back to my office and ... sat there. I couldn't stop thinking about those kids and the acceptance they gave ... freely. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know any of those kids (now adults). I've never met them. But ... I'm thankful for their quiet witness. On an open lot, in the middle of a neighborhood, playing a game of 'kick ball' ... they made a choice that has ministered to my heart ... years later.</div><div><br /></div><div>We all have differences. Things that somehow hold us back from the ability to do what comes so easily for others. Imagine the acceptance we could give if ... we allow each other an 'extra out'. Make it so the things we (or others) can't do ... don't matter. At the end of the game, all that would matter is ... we were there.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>"Sometimes things are allowed to happen so that the quiet power of our Lord to arrange and rearrange events according to His purpose may be shown." Amy Carmichael - Spirit Filled Woman's Devotional Bible</i></div><div><br /></div>Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-58343969734019023822011-04-07T07:23:00.005-04:002011-04-07T07:51:18.733-04:00Cheerios and Shrek<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gs2Gt2bX8m9t7ZHjrgAA1K4K5OFwXpJkpWfuVPWVpWa4NgrY9sUee884evkNYNRoYf_Vr-9Ja8yx0JiO4YGauXXJL1puVT9TpGuIo5VFeyWm1Q8m2fGV9uTzIOYbkhK9I5OGwxhnXHne/s1600/100_9746.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gs2Gt2bX8m9t7ZHjrgAA1K4K5OFwXpJkpWfuVPWVpWa4NgrY9sUee884evkNYNRoYf_Vr-9Ja8yx0JiO4YGauXXJL1puVT9TpGuIo5VFeyWm1Q8m2fGV9uTzIOYbkhK9I5OGwxhnXHne/s320/100_9746.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592807061338649218" /></a><br />When do you feel accepted ... just the way you are? <div><br /></div><div>With family and friends .... ?</div><div><br /></div><div>In a room of strangers .... ?</div><div><br /></div><div>Most people would say ... family and friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our middle boy, James, found out a total stranger can make you feel accepted .... just the way you are ... no conditions. </div><div><br /></div><div>A few weeks ago, our family attended a carry-in at our new pastor's home. A group of church members flocked into his home with cold meat sandwiches, chocolate pie, cherry delight, soup ... ready for food and fellowship.</div><div><br /></div><div>The kitchen was filled with the aroma of home cooked food. And, smiles.</div><div><br /></div><div>The thing is ... James is a picky eater. Jerry and I have (and are continuing) to work on this issue. Nothing set out was on his ... "I eat that" list. I talked to him before we walked into the house. I explained the situation to him and that he would be polite. He would find something to eat from whatever was provided. No arguing or complaining. </div><div><br /></div><div>Everything was going great. Until ... it was time to fill our plates. James followed Jerry and me into the kitchen, holding a plate ... nervous look on his face. He went back to the table ... nothing on his plate. </div><div><br /></div><div>In that moment, any number of things could have happened. But, the one thing I never saw coming ... happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our pastor's wife brought James a bowl of Cheerios. After the meal, she put in a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">dvd</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Shrek</span>) and talked to my little boys. She laughed with them, sang silly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Shrek</span> songs with them ... made them feel welcome.</div><div><br /></div><div>No one said anything about James 'diet' or ... anything. James was ... James ... and that was perfectly fine with everyone. Especially, Susie. </div><div><br /></div><div>What no one in that room knew was ... James has not felt accepted in a lot of places. He's unsure of himself. </div><div><br /></div><div>That day, he felt total acceptance. Unconditional. Unreserved.</div><div><br /></div><div>That day, I learned a small act can mean so much. </div><div><br /></div><div>A bowl of Cheerios and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Shrek</span> ... things some kids would take for granted ... made my James feel good about himself.</div><div><br /></div><div>Each day, I want to live my life in a way that shows others ... they are loved. Just the way they are. There is a God who loves them unconditionally ... without reservations. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Thank you ... Susie. You have no idea how much your act of kindness meant to me. </i></div><div><br /></div><div>John 13:35 "By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another."<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-6079612203023258352011-04-06T08:00:00.008-04:002011-04-06T20:15:10.359-04:00While the Cameras Are Rolling ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFVx0DyCxN2SeX8qXv5x0jmF2nMawFH31ybRuZ_AD6Py_rN-i3EXUD93V-e10A7dlTDbkBnd22D061PdIPnBdiyzEi3KX7xfjFlgIen00nYfF7UPZEvQVyvnKG95Z2C24FSIC2MUdHIrDT/s1600/Aine+002.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFVx0DyCxN2SeX8qXv5x0jmF2nMawFH31ybRuZ_AD6Py_rN-i3EXUD93V-e10A7dlTDbkBnd22D061PdIPnBdiyzEi3KX7xfjFlgIen00nYfF7UPZEvQVyvnKG95Z2C24FSIC2MUdHIrDT/s320/Aine+002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592627028381990306" /></a><br /><div>I've been watching Celebrity Apprentice.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't usually enjoy reality shows. But ... this one is different. Watching people I've seen in movies, concerts, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">CMA's</span>, sitcoms ... behind the script. I get to watch them interact on a personal level. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's interesting.</div><div><br /></div><div>This season, the men's team includes (among others) ... John Rich, Meatloaf and Gary <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Busey</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>On each episode, the friction between Meatloaf and Gary has mushroomed. Last night, that friction exploded. </div><div><br /></div><div>The team was given the task of creating art pieces for a fundraiser. Each celebrity needed to create a piece to be sold at the designated gallery. John Rich was assigned as the 'project manager' ... he was to lead his team. At the onset of the project, the men headed straight for the craft store. Each one picked up their own supplies. Camera crews followed them through the store and 'listened in' on conversations. Meatloaf found fault in everything Gary said or did. He repeated his frustrations to other team members. All the while, cameras caught each interaction.</div><div><br /></div><div>Somewhere in the middle of the craft store and the art studio, Gary managed to ignite <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Meatloaf's</span> temper. By the time everyone arrived at the studio and began setting up to create their pieces, Meatloaf was convinced Gary had taken his art supplies. He looked over at Gary's table and was certain the spray paint, sponges and brushes were all things he (not Gary) had purchased. Immediately, Meatloaf exploded into obscenities and name calling. Hateful words came spilling out of his mouth. He 'stalked' around the studio pointing fingers ... his face red with anger. </div><div><br /></div><div>Gary stood still. Other team members tried to stop Meatloaf ... but, he kept on ranting. John Rich calmly told the guys to remember why they were doing this fundraiser ... for charity. Each celeb picks a charity and all money raised during the task goes to the project managers charity. John was raising funds for St. Jude. John took Gary out into the hall ... in an attempt to separate the two guys. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the middle of this, John spied a bag sitting just out of immediate view. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Meatloaf's</span> supplies were all there ... no thieving by Gary. </div><div><br /></div><div>Embarrassing. </div><div><br /></div><div>I could not believe he acted that way ... he KNEW cameras were watching all of them. </div><div><br /></div><div>Would I behave any differently if cameras watched my every move ... listened to every conversation? </div><div><br /></div><div>In reality, I should always behave my best. Because ... God is watching. I'm human. I screw up. Sometimes I need Him to stop me ... remind me ... I'm here for a purpose. There's a bigger picture.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meatloaf apologized. But ... his words and actions are forever recorded ... they can be played again (and again) for everyone to see. I'm thankful for a God who forgives and ... erases. He paid the ultimate price to take all my sins and wipe them from existence. </div><br /><br />Psalm 139:23 "Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts."Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-27842137528471758252011-03-30T07:00:00.011-04:002011-04-04T19:49:58.125-04:00Uncertainty<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWzhUiMCxLYCy4hyIsQhpPZQvKOn71Z55t4X1bncen2kWtaXZXaiMNJ_62YPJjUa761g2TdZhnsnYbX5maOcUVqApUj1moNsxMoQvpqUEFft2WnA0xpFNJ_CVoD5TEsP1OsxL-P8If8DW/s1600/100_9757.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWzhUiMCxLYCy4hyIsQhpPZQvKOn71Z55t4X1bncen2kWtaXZXaiMNJ_62YPJjUa761g2TdZhnsnYbX5maOcUVqApUj1moNsxMoQvpqUEFft2WnA0xpFNJ_CVoD5TEsP1OsxL-P8If8DW/s320/100_9757.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591878729588772914" /></a><br />I remember taking this picture of our youngest boys. It was two summers ago. Jerry and I sat on the shore with our oldest son. I watched as the boys waded out into the water, holding onto each other ... alone.<br /><br />"I don't think we should let them go out there alone." I know my eyebrows were knit in anxiety."One of us should go with them."<br /><br />"They're fine." I remember Jerry sighed.<br /><br />"Sure, right now they are. But what if there's a drop off and they fall?" I'm sure I gave him that look. The one that says ... I know I'm right. "There might be a current out there and they could get swept off their feet! That water is muddy! They can't even see where they're going."<br /><br />"I've already been out in the water. There isn't a drop off. There isn't a current. THEY are fine." Jerry gave me the look of ... conversation over. Let them go.<br /><br />Today, I feel like I am walking out into muddy water. Not knowing if there are 'drop offs' just beyond my next step. Last week, Jerry got word of another round of layoffs. The first layoff started in February of 2009 and lasted until July 2010. That's a long time without the 'bread winners' income. During that year and a half, I felt like we were drowning. But, we made it.<div><br /></div><div>I know what some of you are thinking ... 'he had unemployment to fall back on.' And, that's true. We were VERY thankful for that help. But, it was much less than his usual pay. On top of that, subtract the insurance benefits from my paychecks and we were facing nearly $2,000 in reduction of monthly income. The next layoff went from July 2010 to November 2010. We feared a long layoff ... just like the one before. But, surprisingly, the company called a group back right before Christmas. Jerry has worked since that time ... with steady income.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last month, I sat down and wrote out our budget. That was the first time in nearly two years that I have been able to budget, pay bills on time ... put a little back in savings. Plan ahead. It felt good. It felt certain. </div><div><br /></div><div>Last week, on the way home from work, Jerry called to tell me about his day. The 'ups and downs'. </div><div><br /></div><div>Half way through the work day, he had been approached by a union steward. He knew what was coming. Layoff. Again. But ... the union steward said ... "You're safe. You're not cut. You get to keep working." Jerry felt relief. Yet some guilt over the men and women who were being cut.</div><div><br /></div><div>Close to the end of the day ... another approach from the union steward. "Sorry man, there was a miscommunication. You're cut." </div><div><br /></div><div>As Jerry gave words to his emotions ... I felt like screaming. There goes our budget, there goes that small savings we were gaining ... there goes our certainty, our security. </div><div><br /></div><div>It felt like I was being pushed out into an ocean of muddy water. I couldn't see what was ahead of us. I couldn't be sure where our feet would land ... would there be massive 'drop offs' ... </div><div><br /></div><div>Just as quickly as those fears came ... the memory of that summer washed over me ... Jerry's words came quickly ... "I've already been out there." And, as I pushed the fears aside ... along with a few tears ... I realized, God has already been there. </div><div><br /></div><div>Nothing can touch us that has not already passed through His hands. </div><div><br /></div><div>HE knows how deep the water is and where the 'drop offs' are ... if there is a massive current ... He knows and will protect us. I'm not sure how long this layoff will last. I don't know what will happen to that budget from last month. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, I do know this ... He knows. He already has a plan.</div><div><br /></div><div>Matthew 7:11 "If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"</div><div><br /></div><div> Matthew 6:25-30 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? </div>Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-39298282765259705542011-03-22T18:52:00.005-04:002011-03-22T20:14:10.511-04:00Change ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfyCkpLug7OigBnJfhW0b4zTw221Nr0K4IHJ7cj5V1fDz8xFgiZjtvgwuX_mq7-fwntLfs6scuP2rr5c2n_6-EgUNE1hjGHWfvOAJOKTjVDm5SlSBTtg7c910xZGdihmDdkfuCCSPocjS/s1600/wedding+pic+1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 238px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587049811906488130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfyCkpLug7OigBnJfhW0b4zTw221Nr0K4IHJ7cj5V1fDz8xFgiZjtvgwuX_mq7-fwntLfs6scuP2rr5c2n_6-EgUNE1hjGHWfvOAJOKTjVDm5SlSBTtg7c910xZGdihmDdkfuCCSPocjS/s320/wedding+pic+1.jpg" /></a><br /><div>His hand. The one I have held for nearly 20 years. I reached for each it ... for security ... to calm my pounding heart. Jerry and I ... our 3 boys ... we stood during worship at an unfamiliar place ... a different church. Doing something I somehow knew was going to happen but had managed to avoid for ... well ... too long. We were visiting a different church.<br /><br />Change ...<br /><br />It's not something I run after, desire ... enjoy. I'm a 'constant' kind of gal. I like things just the way they are and no 'rocking the boat' please. Anyone who knows me will tell you right away, I don't handle change gracefully. I fight it ... kicking ... screaming ... crying ... all the way.<br /><br />Why? I could run off a list of reasons but for now I'll leave it at this ... Change means leaving the known and venturing out into the <em>un</em>known. For me, that means ... leaving security. I have always been insecure. Thus, the screaming and crying when I am forced to leave <em>security</em>.<br /><br />Now that you know that and I've let you in on a rather large flaw in my character, you'll be better able to understand why the last six weeks have been difficult for me ... my family. We've been 'visiting' a different church.<br /><br />Seven weeks ago, Jerry and I had the longest, most spiritual discussion of our marriage (17 years). We shared a common desire to see changes in our boys (and in us). Was it church? A 'stand still' in spiritual growth? Not that we blamed or found fault in our long attended church or the people we love within the walls of that space ... there was just <em>something</em> moving us in a different direction. I believe ... sometimes God puts a disquiet in our hearts ... our spirits, so that we will be motivated to do something. Something He knows will bring us farther in our walk with Him ... closer to Him. </div><div></div><div>This choice wasn't made quickly ... it was not easy. I fought this change for months. I asked God for something else, something besides ... <em>change</em>. Each time I prayed, the answer was the same ... move ... <em>change</em>.<br /><br />Seven weeks ... nearly two months ... I could say I feel lonely or separated but that would be a lie. I feel anything but those things. Somehow during this time of growth, I've learned to trust. I have realized my fear of change is really a lack of trust. And, I have been leaning on God's strength to get me through <em>change</em>. He's given me an incredible peace. I'm not sure where my family will land but I know He will be there waiting for us. As long as we trust Him and His guidance, He'll get us through. And ... right now, I am loving the people in this new space. They have welcomed our family of five without any reservations. I am left with a feeling that drowns all my insecurities.<br /><br />Six weeks after that first Sunday ... I don't reach for Jerry's hand out of insecurity. There's no pounding in my heart associated with fear of the unknown. I reach for it because ... it feels right. This place ... feels right. </div><div></div><div></div><br />Daniel 2:21 "He changes times and seasons; he deposes kings and raises up others. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning."Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-20769550044881714682011-03-09T07:07:00.004-05:002011-03-09T07:53:53.542-05:00Who I Please ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgh8odK7Wf-45wrfxl6P9_czCKMciasMuxUrpy4lP6L0P05rNuukiySZPLL1D7d8hFfM8l8Oz7fP7ld47N8KzNzft1pqRxxIEnLhqTIxImd5abc8ADnehl47pqjLRXHaKtdE-5142q5mI/s1600/102_0719.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582061447004838946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgh8odK7Wf-45wrfxl6P9_czCKMciasMuxUrpy4lP6L0P05rNuukiySZPLL1D7d8hFfM8l8Oz7fP7ld47N8KzNzft1pqRxxIEnLhqTIxImd5abc8ADnehl47pqjLRXHaKtdE-5142q5mI/s320/102_0719.JPG" /></a><br /><div>"Just do your best, James."</div><div> </div><div>"I am, Mom. Cursive is really hard." A sigh of frustration.</div><div> </div><div>"I know, but you can do it. I know you can." I look at him over the list of spelling words.</div><br /><div>"Mom, I try really hard and she says she still can't read it!" Absolute frustration.</div><br /><div></div><div>"James, today ... don't worry about pleasing the teacher. Think about doing your best and making me and Daddy proud. We are always proud of you as long as you're doing your best." I rough his dark brown hair and we move on with the next word. </div><br /><div></div><div>James leans over the half full piece of writing paper, eyes focused on each letter working together for the end result of ... Missouri - in cursive. </div><br /><div></div><div>Today is a spelling test for James. Each week, every Wednesday ... spelling test. He's improved so much in the past month. We start on Monday ... first recognizing the words, next printing the words, then ... cursive. James puts effort into each word, each test. My husband and I put effort into working with James, helping him as much as we can ... and ... it's never quite good enough. Not for his teacher. No matter the improvement, there are always negative remarks on James papers. And, he gets discouraged. </div><br /><div>I give him the next word - mislead ... and I think ... This year is a learning experience for James. More than just academics, James is learning ... he can't please everyone ... every teacher ... every classmate. As hard as it is to watch him hurt ... watch him frustrated ... I know God will use this time in his 8 year old life to teach him valuable lessons. </div><br /><div>And, God is using this time in James life to teach me ... to remind me ...</div><br /><div></div><div>I do this ... every day. I get so wrapped up in pleasing other people ... I forget ... I'm supposed to be pleasing God. If I try to please people ... I fail. I know FROM EXPERIENCE. Every day ... I try to please my supervisor, my co-workers ... everyone from close friends to mere acquaintances. </div><br /><div></div><div>Today, I am reminded ... I serve God with my works. As long as I am abiding in His word, abiding in Him ... living out the word living in me ... He is pleased with my best. </div><br /><div></div><div>And ... THAT is what matters most.</div><br /><div></div><div>Who are you pleasing today? Are you discouraged?<br /></div><div></div>1st Corinthians 9:24 Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4187252054140548283.post-18978954295673362812011-03-02T07:00:00.009-05:002011-03-03T07:10:22.115-05:00Fearless<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMGHUWRV5u5Ao7TA7l5MG1d8mxDzxticj-25ZUdDw88KNa3gghauHQXbhhcgiI3BeCuTObz16zJ4R7tQn0Gi5VMdDd0JNSqyQb5rxxqio9PeV4mHtdlRUjZLBYkzM2tD6PoZiCVMavYzcV/s1600/102_0713.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 317px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 346px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579824135424288770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMGHUWRV5u5Ao7TA7l5MG1d8mxDzxticj-25ZUdDw88KNa3gghauHQXbhhcgiI3BeCuTObz16zJ4R7tQn0Gi5VMdDd0JNSqyQb5rxxqio9PeV4mHtdlRUjZLBYkzM2tD6PoZiCVMavYzcV/s320/102_0713.JPG" /></a><br /><div><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 323px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 352px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579822071235711458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbaXX0syP-9qCoNzh5YpV0EIX5rR0HJL3vBAwng62jKuhK6Zy02VeRbK3TZf_5kV4-qY6rDPcv7NJVeEEZ1y7sX_ejuItKr0xpERk5irddYX5PXc-92FWs1Kbcgez6Sm92mqnln2HZ9dyv/s320/102_0711.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha6lKFforTAjnY-1YrhjbsrU1YXNf6k-gxX2sEjHHGjPdgvC2Ho3uPmAd65fwTaSchbqsNDy6RpksdjLe9JFhk1uyFdhHeLiXLdfv4KquRp6mlGR_BEL2bBm7hO_td9WU5KzpkHP_JI_km/s1600/102_0715.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 321px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 319px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579458757560789154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha6lKFforTAjnY-1YrhjbsrU1YXNf6k-gxX2sEjHHGjPdgvC2Ho3uPmAd65fwTaSchbqsNDy6RpksdjLe9JFhk1uyFdhHeLiXLdfv4KquRp6mlGR_BEL2bBm7hO_td9WU5KzpkHP_JI_km/s320/102_0715.JPG" /></a> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>I stood at my patio window ... watching. A team of men, all working around the tree in my front yard. Our driveway was full of trucks, equipment and a tree service crew. What I wanted so much to avoid, was unavoidable. The tree damaged during a storm last summer ... had to come down.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Three weeks ago, a representative from the tree service stopped at our home and talked with us about the potential hazard of keeping the tree up. The one good branch left was hanging over power lines. If it were to split during another storm, it would fall directly onto the lines ... cutting off power to an entire town south of our home. Reluctantly, I signed the consent ... sometime during the next few weeks, they would cut and remove the tree.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Yesterday, I stayed home with one of our boys ... sick. Shortly after 9:00, I heard trucks growling and men yelling. One of the workers came to my front door, let me know of their plans and said ... "we'll have to climb this tree, there's no other way to bring it down." He didn't seem frustrated, just ... challenged.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Interested, I watched. Orange cones, large warning signs, loud grumblings from the wood chipper ... and then ... the smallest man among them came forward geared with ropes, links, clips and chain saw.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My tree towered over this man ... small in stature. He seemed lost in all the garb. I immediately thought of David ... among all the army, he was the smallest. Yet, he fearlessly ... faithfully ... approached Goliath. David had saved his father's flock from lions and bears. Each day, he cared for his father's livestock and faced different challenges.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />For this worker, each tree is different. Each day, a new obstacle to overcome. He uses the equipment provided by his employer to take down the impending danger. Not once did I see him stall ... not once did he seem unsure. Completely on faith, he maneuvered up the tree, clipping ropes and links ... wrapping ropes and clipping again ... safety harnesses in place. Each time a branch was free and prepared to fall ... he would yell to his co-workers to be sure they were out of harms way ... then down it came with a thunder.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Again, he seemed as David. With all surety, David approached Goliath using only the sling and stones provided from his experience.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The rest of team scurried around gathering <span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00;color:#ffffff;" >twigs</span> and hauling to the wood chipper. A loud grumbling and evidence of the mess ... was gone. Everyone on the team had a job and they did it well ... Again, I thought of David and how each member of Saul's army played a key role in bringing down Goliath and bringing glory to God.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Today as you face trials of your own, remember how God equipped David with the tools he needed to pave the way for his destiny. Today, walk on faith ... fearless as you face each challenge. Trust the One who empowers the smallest in stature. Don't doubt your value in God's perfect plan.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />1 Samuel 17 - "David and Goliath" </div>Aine Willishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760184731189786215noreply@blogger.com2