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Showing posts from August, 2016

The Summer we came back home

Kids are back in school and summer is fast wrapping up.
It's still hard-to-breathe hot, but August is saying it's goodbye.
I love summer.
It's still my favorite.
This summer we moved back to our old house. The house that didn't sell.  And God knows why because He foresaw the future and knew what we most needed.
It's quite old, but it's now "new" to us.
We needed to move back home.  To rekindle our family in the space we grew in.  The place where almost all of our little families' memories were hatched, nurtured.
The old house with windows in desperate need of replacing, but that have been plastered with so many fingerprints.
It's a tiny house, and we have added another baby to love; however, we reconfigured some spaces and we all now fit.  And comfortably.

I remember one of the first days I came home, back to the "new old" house and I felt comfortable. Like I could breathe again. Finally.  Back in familiar walls, where so much good…

Prayers for Brave
Early on Madelyn was my spunky girl that always spoke her mind.
She believed and then she said it, rather announced it.  I will never forget when she was a two year old leaning across the breakfast table telling her sister and I, "Satan is the Father of Lies!"
Emphatically. I remember nodding at her serious deep blue toddler eyes.
"You're right," I chuckled.
Then there was the winter she decided to dash the dreams of her cousins and her friends by insisting to them that Santa wasn't real.
She had lots of reasons.
"You know that a man that fat can't climb down a chimney." She said looking up out of her eyes and nodding her head seriously. "No one would fly around the whole world in one night."

She's always been very vocal about her opinions and beliefs.

As a four year old Madelyn decided she was brave enough to sing with her dad.  She has always loved to sing songs and she does have a sweet voice.
After just…

Happy Place

It's what we deeply wish for ourselves or even more deeply for people we love. When I think of the word happy I think of my little third girl with the chocolate eyes and honey colored hair. She is like sunshine.  She loves yellow.  I always think of bright yellow or tangerine orange. I think of brilliant sunshine, and always warm weather. I think of familiar eyes of people I've long loved. I think of book stores. I think of my parents front porch.
I think of tiger lilies.
I think of a bouquet of hot pink roses. I think of the ocean.
I think of deeply green grass. I think of road trips.  I also think of You Are My Sunshine.  That simple song we sing to kids.   I used to sing it to my oldest girl every night.  One night lying beside her with her dark blonde hair spread out on her pillow she stopped me, "Please don't sing that song.  Please.  I don't want to go away.  I don't want to go away."  S…

It's a Beautiful Life

Rain drizzled out of May clouds.  Just opening up my car door I glanced to my left and saw a very elderly lady sitting inside her old car.  Her smile caught my attention.
It was so restful and real.  The smile traveled past the curve of her lips and threaded through her wrinkles finding its resting place in her pair of twinkling eyes.
The smile beamed past the oxygen tubes weaving around her face and helping her breath.
I looked and saw her adjusting a cellophane wrapped spring bouquet.  Bright blossoms spilled over her lap.
Now I was curious.  Why was this very old woman sitting in the passenger seat of her car holding a bouquet, beaming?
I assumed it was probably a token of love by her very geriatric husband.
Closing my door I walked over to her and stepped inside the arc of the open door.
"Hello. I noticed your flowers."  I didn't add and "Your electric smile."But I wanted to.
She didn't hesitate nodding enthusiastically, "Isn…

For the Love of Books
Story Time.
Those two short words always meant wonder for me. I loved story time the most. My mom said our story time began after her weekly grocery shopping trip.  There she would let me select one Golden Book and we would read it all week.  She kept a tiny toddler library in a lower kitchen cabinet.  While she cooked I rested on the kitchen floor and thumbed through the Golden Books.   Later there were longer classics like Johanna Spyri's Heidi or Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. Hours slid by as she flipped childhood biographies page after page drawing the timeline of history.  At school I loved the first ten minutes spent listening to the teachers' words nail down the protagonist, antagonist, and the climax of a good story. I loved the details included. If a story was filled with descriptive language all the better.    My mom took us frequently to the library filling up our arms with books of all kinds.  I still remember much of the…