Westwoods

                              I have issues with a few words that are perfectly good ones to use. They were mixed with so much human clutter while growing up, that I learned to resent them. Yet, I am finding as I near the age of forty and am trying to guide my daughters through the mire of growing into wonderful little ladies, ladies that honor God; I can no longer ignore the need to teach them some very important basic concepts like modesty, discretion, and submission. Perhaps that is the way to teach them. Instead of teaching those words, maybe I could teach them the concepts behind the words. I still cringe when I hear them because of the visual images of my upbringing, not in the home where I grew up, but rather the group we were a part of at the time. However, modesty, discretion, and submission are biblical words that are very good words for women to embrace. Modesty was not shown to me in a way that ...

On Friday this past week, Bruce and I drove to Post Falls so he could take his written test for his CNA licence. It was a gorgeous day with all the proper arrangements made for the kids to get picked up from school and someone covering the mail route.  We had a glorious time, not because we did anything spectacular, but rather for the normalcy it felt. We were together on a small mission. We visited friends at a hospital, took the test and then had a late lunch at Red Lobster. We were together and basked in that.  While Bruce was taking his test, I sat at a table in the lobby and wrote about faith,  I prayed that he would pass his test while I wrote about faith. It seemed kind of silly at the time; to be worried and fearful that he wouldn't pass his test while I thought about what faith is and what it means.  He passed with flying colors and I inwardly sighed, "Oh silly me." What I wrote on Friday seemed a bit off after the testing we received this morning. I wen...

                           This is what happens when we take a lovely spring walk.                Shaunti and I collect things like, moss, rocks and twigs. This sort of thing inspires us.      This should be fine as long as Toria doesn't see. She is almost thirteen and is every bit the cat's meow I thought I was at that age... Dear Mom, I am sorry for all the sassing and smart remarks. I repent for being so mouthy and thinking I knew more than you. I am paying for it dearly. It's a wonder you didn't throw your hands up with me or maybe you did.?  I think you deserve an award for bravery, patience, and endurance.     Trees are definitely for climbing when you are nine and wearing white and pink...                       This is what we created with out moss and stones and twigs... ...

I used to think there would be a day I would 'arrive' and know that I had made it,  that I was a big girl now and would never again have to revisit that place of bratty, childish behavior. It catches you by surprise even still, the same way it did when when you were twelve or thirteen and you spent hours mad at the whole world because everyone was just dumb. And then, after the mad, you saw things weren't exactly what it seemed to be at the time. The surprise is the waking up from the tantrum and seeing where you went wrong. You began to realize there was a whole other side to the story you were currently living. You started to recognize the times you were maybe a little bit    whole lot wrong and that correction was your due course. That is the point you begin to grow up.  Before you know it though, life can take you for a loop and you are on another ride on the roller coaster protesting all the way, "No, no, no, someone get me off this thing!" At which poi...

When I was a little girl, it was all about the letter you sent through the mail and then, the wait for the one you would get back in return. I didn't know it then, but that was the beginning of the social media in my life.  I discovered this after analyzing the feeling I get after clicking publish on my blog post or after commenting on someones blog post and yes, even the dreaded times that I wait for a comment and wonder if what I said was dumb or what? I waver between liking and disliking anything that looks like self promotion, trying to decide if I should join the clutter of other social media, being another extra thing to do, and the noise of bloggers outdoing each other by posting something that spoke of more depth than the one before.  I have good intentions in all my thinking. I intend to not be a gossiper, meddler, accuser, criticizer, etc...Yet, I find that I go back and check that one thing an individual said and did they really mean how it sounded? And b...

When you spent hours doing that horrible, daunting task, did you think someone would notice? The days you spent helping the sick one on the couch, did you want an award? When you pulled that guy out of the ditch, did he even say 'thank you'? What did you expect when you sweetly sacrificed hours of your husband's time with the family? Did you                                                                    want someone to call and say, "You are brave!" Did you think you would be praised every time you did something noteworthy? When you wrote your heart, did you think you deserved some credit? When you dressed up all smart and pretty for your husband, did you expect adoration? Those hours of car pooling the kids to school and other events, and taking husband his meals, were you           ...

When someone speaks your language... Your whole being stands still and you Take every word to the Top of your heart. Your ears are completely open, You hear clearly Without any outside Noise or distractions. When someone speaks your language... You hear the truth better, Your heart receives easier, You forgive the flaws of humanness. Because you understood Their point of view; You recognize it as your very own. Your heart says, "Amen". Yet, I need the balance of other voices. Ones that aren't my own. They challenge my depth Of grace and love. Another tongue stretches My knowledge of God; His way of blessing my life Because I heard another language. Disclaimer: I know nothing about proper form in poetry. Really, I've always disliked poetry. So, I really don't even know if this qualifies as poetry... Just thought you should know... in all fairness. This is what came out after thinking about how much I like when someone speaks my langua...