Iraq Journey

Young Ladies Christian Fellowship

Blissdom Conference ~ Nashville ~ February 4-6 2010

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Beach Walks

April 21, 2009

You know those blogs filled with amazing pictures, captioned by only a few words, that seem to say more than some other blogs say with ten paragraphs?

I’m going to pretend I’m one of them. Except that, well, I’m not. I have a regular ol’ little point and shoot camera and I’m the farthest thing from a photographer.

But because my brain has been elsewhere this past week, I’m pretending. I like pretending.

Bear with me, mmkay?

The unseasonably warm weather is perfect for evening walks in the sand and waves

~Flip flops~

A little unsure at first, but by the end of the evening, he was toddling full speed into the waves. We’ll have to keep an eye on that one.


Forever… and ever…

Sandy diapered bottom

Our pier… beauty.

Hoping all of you dear ones are finding moments of peace in the midst of it all…

…but Sunday’s Comin’

April 10, 2009

Follow me…

April 6, 2009

It was still quiet in the house. Merritt was sleeping late, John had left for work, and it was just Troy and I downstairs.

He spotted my Bible, open beside me on the couch and declared, “Mama, I wanna read about love.”

I smiled, wrapped my arm around his little pajama-clad shoulders and, just as we have nearly every morning for the past several weeks, read him “our love verses” from 1 Corinthians 13.

It was a morning much like this, about a month ago, when I read these verses again on my own and watched them come alive on the thin pages on my Bible. This isn’t just a cliche passage to be read at weddings and printed on bookstore gifts. These verses have the power to completely transform my life, something they’re doing in my heart daily. In the midst of a month that has worn me out when it comes to training my children’s hearts, the extent to which I’ve needed these verses can’t be measured. Troy had joined me for devotions a few early mornings later and, just as my mama used to do with me, I simply read him what I was reading, birthing a tiny tradition.

This morning we talked about the attribute we learned last week, “love is kind,” and the one before that, “love is longsuffering.” You want a mental workout? Try explaining “longsuffering” to an inquisitive three-year-old mind. But I will assure you of this, it IS possible.

“Let’s write them, Mommy!” He hopped off the couch and bounded over to the easel. We chose chalk colors, writing each love-trait on the board and saying them in different voices, a serious moment wrapped with a ribbon of silliness.

We were at “love does not rejoice in iniquity” when the antsy antics came over him. He rolled from his knees to his tummy, rocking his blonde head against my knees.

“Why do we do love, Mama? I don’t want to do anymore love.”

“We read these love verses because they tell us what Jesus is, and teach us how to become more like Him.”

He furrowed his brow. “But I don’t want to be like Jesus.”

My own brow raised. “You don’t?”

“No. Because I wanna to be like you and like Daddy. I want to be like you guys.”

My throat tightened. Like us? Like… us?

How do I display this Love to my three year old? My one year old? Do I show them longsuffering when I’m cleaning up an accident in a toddler bed at 3am, for the second time that week? Do they see me bearing all things when someone takes advantage of what I deem to be my rights? What about my rude behavior, mumbling and sighing when the line is too long at the store? Or when they hear me talking to their daddy, maligning a friend with my words–where, then, is that “thinks no evil?” Do they see me being hopeful in all things, even when life threatens to send me into despair?

These aren’t just cliche verses. They are real. They are meant to transform our lives, to be evident in every action, word, thought.

But I’m fallible. I will not always be a shining example of this Love. Looking into the blue eyes of my little man, this realization chokes me. In their little minds that are yet attempting to grasp the concept of a God they can’t see, we are what they’re watching, trying to find Jesus. The responsibility is staggering.

I bent my head low over Troy’s sweet face and kissed his nose.

“I tell you what, Troysie, Mama and Daddy are following Jesus every day and He is the One who can make us more like Him. So how ’bout if you join us, and we’ll all follow Him together?”

His smile was so big his eyes crinkled at me. “Okay, Mama.”

“Imitate me, just as I also imitate Christ.”
1 Corinthians 11:1