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Don't forget to make some memories!

When Pretty Does More Than It Ought

Posted by on Mar 19, 2018 in A CHERISHED FAMILY, Blog, Inspiration for the Journey | 0 comments

“I’m so pretty!” my four-year-old daughter squealed. She patted the new pink ruffled skirt with pure joy and then twirled in front of a mirror. Blonde hair bounced golden curls, blue eyes sparkled, and rosy cheeks blushed. She turned expectantly for my approval. With every fiber of my being I agreed. She filled every syllable of a-dor-a-ble and I laughed with pleasure. Children love compliments. In fact, they are the first to give them…to themselves. My parents were careful about praise, fearful of where it might take me, and compliments were rare. I learned to appreciate their heart, but I longed for their approval. That struggle continued into my spiritual walk. I see myself in the picture of my daughter’s upturned face and hopeful eyes. While trusting in Christ’s grace I often find myself striving in an exhausting cycle...

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Grandma’s Bible

Posted by on Mar 12, 2018 in Blog, Bonus Days | 0 comments

Each Wednesday night I have the honor of helping young girls at my local church memorize Scripture. One young lady who struggles to read has become my best friend. She’ll often curl up beside me to work on a new verse. But, in recent weeks she has been using a King James version for memorization, and it’s not gone so well. The bigger words and older language structures were proving difficult for her limited skills. When I suggested that another version that might be a little more kid friendly, she looked at me with big eyes and said, “Well, this Bible is special because my grandma gave it to me, but I would be willing to try an easier version.” Long story short, we still use Grandma’s Bible every week, but partner it with a simpler version of Scripture...

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Freed from Being a Child Abuser

Posted by on Mar 9, 2018 in Blog, Bonus Days | 0 comments

I was at the end of my rope.  My anger toward my two-year-old daughter, Darcy, was getting worse. “Oh, God,” I prayed again and again, “deliver me from this anger right now! I’m afraid I’m going to kill Darcy in one of my rages.” But each prayer seemed like it bounced off the ceiling because nothing ever changed. Whenever I tried to figure out what caused my anger, I concluded, “It’s Larry’s fault!” My husband, Larry, worked as a policeman and real estate agent, had a flying hobby, and he was never home. I hated him. “If he would just stay home and help me, I wouldn’t be acting like this.” It was easy to blame him. During one particularly angry day when I’d hurt Darcy again by kicking her, I remembered Larry had left his off-duty service revolver...

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Thank God I Didn’t Miss This

Posted by on Mar 8, 2018 in Blog, Bonus Days | 1 comment

I wrote this for myself last night. Maybe someone else needs to hear it, too. We will have a house full of company tomorrow, and so my to-do list is about a mile long. It’s ten o’clock at night already and I’m kicking myself for not finishing my tasks earlier, but they didn’t get done earlier because … well, because I have children. There were tears and conflicts and messes and spills … and it just didn’t get done. So here I am, broom in hand, whipping this place into shape. And then I hear it. “Mama?” So much meaning in that little voice. In that little word. I need you. Only you. Do you have time for me? It came from one who is, arguably, my easiest, most low-maintenance child, and he was up, out of bed, staring at me with those...

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Seashell Assumptions

Posted by on Mar 7, 2018 in Blog, Bonus Days | 0 comments

We wandered down the beach in the early light, the first to imprint the sand with our feet. We stopped with almost every step, scanning for seashells. I was selective, only making the effort to bend over if I saw exceptional colors on perfectly formed shells. My four-year-old wasn’t so selective. “Look at this one, Mama!” she said for the forty-seventh time in ten minutes. More often than not, “this one” was dirt-brown and broken, well on its way to becoming sand. “Oh, throw that one back. It’s not beautiful,” I told her more than once. “Look at this one, how perfect it is, how nice the colors are.” “But I like it.” She looked a little sad. “It’s interesting. Look how you can see the inside—all the spaces. I think this is beautiful, too.” An objection formed in...

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