30 Days of Gratitude: Journey Through Exodus

Week 1: Exodus 1-4

MONDAY: 4 Things I'm Thankful for

1. My hardworking, trustworthy husband
2. Rain Storms--beautiful, wet, loud thunder and flashing lightning
3. My Boys! Jonathan, Joshua, Josiah!!
4. My House--safe, warm, filled with love.

TUESDAY: 3 Ways I Can Express Gratitude

1. Back rubs, feet rubs, neck rubs... :)
2. Tell others how much they mean to me.
3. Verbally tell the Lord how much I'm thankful daily.

WEDNESDAY: Record a Favorite Memory

The rain storm this morning at 6 am was incredible. Thunder and lightning dominated the dark sky, and the booming thunder was so loud it scared me and made me almost jump out of my bed. It was so lovely to lay there and snuggle and enjoy the storm.

THURSDAY: Something wonderful that happened today.

The Rain Storm!

The 20-Year Love Story

November 18, 2009

I dreamed a strange dream last night.

I am lost and trying to find my way back home, back to my husband. Traveling on foot, I walk through familiar neighborhoods somewhere along the coast, where we used to live. It is nighttime. Gradually the streets became unfamiliar, and I try reading the street signs on the corners, hoping to recognize them and find my way back home. But none of the names are familiar.

Strangely, at one point I am driving in a tiny car, backwards, through a tiny alley, trying to get through a half-open, iron gate. Carefully I make it through. But then, I am back walking on foot again.

I come upon a street with a restaurant I know! I've been there before! A big, rustic, log building with snow covering its roof, The NorthWoods Inn! Ahh, at last, something familiar. But that means I'm farther away from my home than I originally thought. How far have I traveled from home? How will I get back to him?

Still lost and far from my husband, I decide to phone him, or someone, just anyone! I must have a cell phone on me, but I can't remember his number, or my daughter's, or anyone else's. I walk down a small corridor, almost like an alley. I stop and begin rummaging through my purse for anything that has phone numbers on it, a piece of paper or in a notebook. I flip through this small notebook, page by page, but nothing. I try to remember some, but there are so many numbers to memorize lately. Things are a jumble in my head. I hear someone whisper from around the corner, "Phone?" I don't know why they said that. They aren't talking to me, are they? And, I am so sad. And lost. How will he be able to find me? Where am I? I do not know. 

Feeling so sad and alone now. Lost and confused. There must be help somewhere . . . There must be a phone number I can remember. I am becoming desperate. Who will help me? Who will find me?

I slowly turn to my right and look down the long hallway, whitish walls on each side. And then, he steps out from a doorway, so gracefully, as if to surprise me, no, to comfort me. Like a fair knight, he smiles knowingly. He knows I am afraid. He has been looking for me all this time. No words are spoken, just complete understanding between us. He has found me. And I am helpless, and full of love.

I wake up full of emotions, looking at him beside me. He is like a little boy and my heart breaks with love. What have we become? Will he find me again? Can we find our way back home?

Unexpected

We cuddle up on the couch, watch a little tv, enjoy the summer evening, and reminisce on the events of a long day spent ministering God’s love to the campers. When out he pops, skitters, no–skips, no–it is more like he marches down the hallway, the king of his domain. He stops and looks at us, surprised that someone else would be here, in his kingdom. He stares for what seems like an awfully long time, considering. Then he darts into the kitchen.

A mouse! In my house! Now that is unexpected.

 

Late one evening, about 10:30, we walked home through the forest-y pine trees and down the hill to our log house, having just finished Friday night singing around the campfire. Hand in hand with my little boy we walked, stomping the leaves and rocks, twisting our way under the oak tree, carefully avoiding the little unseen hazards under our feet. Our house was right there, in sight, so close. I flashed the light farther down the path--there was our car and the truck parked in our driveway.

Wait! What was that? Two round, glowing yellow eyes, never moving, never swerving stared back at us. Two round ears popped out on top of its head. This was one huge dog--as tall as the truck bed it was standing next to. Was this the “Beast Dog” described in the Hound of the Baskervilles? Could it be real? Was it alive?

On we walked, straight towards it, staying true to the path we were on. It kept silent, but loomed large. Was this the Cujo dog? We walked closer, the light from my flashlight shining straight in its eyes. We were within 30 feet and still it didn't move, just stared. Then it dawned on me. THIS IS––A BEAR! 

Now that was unexpected!

 

Not sure what to do now, and panic set in. We quickly darted to the right towards our front door, keeping our eyes on the bear, ( he had remained still for some time.) Then, unexpectedly, he took a few steps toward us, may be as a warning. But in my panicked state of thinking, I feared the worse--that he wanted to ATTACK us! 

 

Running straightway, my boy and I clamored down the rocky wall,  jumped up the steps to our porch, tumbled into the living room, and slammed the door shut! 

The end.

Five Minute Fridays - EVERY DAY

 

Every day there are dishes in the sink, dirty clothes overflowing from the hamper, clean clothes piled high on my bedroom floor, Legos strewn on the carpet, dust and lint puffs floating around in my laundry room, candy wrappers and pieces of trash (from I don’t know where) littering my boys’ room, beds with blankets falling down, an office with a lot, (maybe a zillion) papers, receipts, pens and other stuff all thrown across the desk.

BUT… I’m thankful for all of this! There was one time, a time not so long ago, when I had no bedroom of my own, no kitchen, no living or dining room of my own. No laundry room, and no boys’ room. No office to call my own. And very little hope...

Now I do.

{FIVE MINUTE FRIDAYS BY GYPSYMAMA}

GypsyMama says: 

Wanna just write? Without wondering if it’s just right?

Indulge in five rich, delicious minutes of pure writing.
Tell your readers you’re linking up and invite them to dig in too.   
And most importantly, go visit, read, and compliment the five minute chef who served something up right before you.

Bringing Up April

Raising a Daughter in the World, but Not of the World


Yesterday, she made me cry. My baby girl, the lovely girl who wants to follow God's leading... she made me cry. I didn't know these emotions were in me, but they came out - helplessness, followed by exasperation, and ending with crossness. What cruel joke did she play on my poor mother's heart? This heart that's been dreading the loss of its only daughter to the world of grown ups and college classes.

The Mom I Grew Up With

My Mom died. It's been five years now. She lived 81 years, and her last 4 were spent mostly as a shut in. I still want her back, but...

I miss the Mom I grew up with, the Mom who was always there for me when I came home from school, or back from a date, or home from church. She prayed for me daily, preached God's love and Jesus' forgiveness, sang Amazing Grace through the house, and read her Bible every day. . . but she didn't go to church services. I can count on my hands the times I remember her going to church with me. Mostly these were special occasions, a Christmas Eve service here or there, or a special musical I was performing in. Mostly these were special because she was there, and I knew she needed to be there, in church.

She did go to her prayer meetings and take me along, but I was very young, not even school age. My vague memories include seeing friendly folks laying hands on one another, praying for each other and saying things which I didn't understand. My Mom said they were speaking in tongues, that it was a special language from heaven that God had given them. Honestly, as a small child it scared me to hear them talking this way, but Mom was always there to comfort me and I knew she wouldn't let anything bad happen to me.

May be it was after one of these prayer meetings that she told me about Jesus, and how he died on the cross for me, because he loved me so much and didn't want me to die and go to hell. I was so young, but I remember the feelings, the sadness in my heart because Jesus was beaten and then died on the cross. It was with complete simplicity, and innocence, that I cried in my bed and asked Jesus to forgive my sins. I was so sorry for my sins... I did not come to Jesus like a child, I came to him as a child.

My Mom died. This past July. She lived 81 years and her last 4 were spent mostly as a shut in. I still want her back, but...

Flattery With Her Eyelids

Reading Proverbs six today, I am struck with the importance of keeping my son pure and safe from the lusts of this world.

Beware the flattery of the tongue from a strange woman. She hunts for the precious life, your precious young life. She allures with her beauty and her eyes.

My son, I know you see her everyday... on the streets, on the side of buses, on the billboards, at the mall, in magazines and books, on the television and in the commercials, at the library, even at home on the computer. Don't be fooled! Be strong!

My son, listen and obey your father and mother. Keep your father's commandments and don't forsake the law of your mother. Keep these things close in your heart, ever thoughtful on them, and they'll lead and guide you when you sleep, and when you wake. His laws are a light, a lamp, showing the way.