This Baby

Dear Little Baby,


Every baby comes into the world by grueling pain. The start of life is without dignity and elegance, but it is not without beauty. For the start of life takes away your breath and you just can't help but revel in its wonder.


Every baby grows up and gets to listen to its mother tell how he was birthed into the world. Every baby is special and not without uniqueness.


And you little baby, my youngest nephew, are not without a story, but your story is one I suspect you will hear over and over. Don't be surprised if many talk about it, for many know your story. People you may never know prayed you into this world and held their breath awaiting your safe arrival.


Little baby you don't know it yet, but your mother is a valiant woman. A woman who stood up for your life when you were no bigger than a lemon.

Did you know little baby that while you lay nestled in your mother's womb your mom injured her back? The pain was terrible and then the doctors told your mommy that it was either surgery or maybe never walking again. Did you know that only after you mommy found out you would be safe did she consent letting them operate? She loved you so and only wanted what was best.

Did you know that while your little legs were growing and taking shape your mommy was learning how to walk again?

You were the only one of your siblings who stayed close to your mommy while she stayed in rehab for 5 long weeks away from your 7 older siblings. Every day you grew a little bigger and every day your mommy learned a little better how to use her legs.

You grew into a little human while your mommy worked hard to use a walker and to drive a car again.

And than the day came when you were to arrive. We waited and waited, and waited some more because you weren't in the biggest hurry to come. Until suddenly you were good and ready and you came swiftly into this world just as babies are supposed to come.

You were safe and your mom was safe, all was just as it should be.

And who knows how people breathed thanks to the God who made you.

 So little baby your going to hear this story a lot and I hope you never tire of it, for its only a testament of praise to the God who made it happen.

But, please don't be in a big hurry to grow up, because for now we can't get enough of holding you close and drinking in all your cuddles.

Love,

Aunt Bethanne

Of Autumn

There is the first time you feel the crispness of the air on your skin. There is the first brightly covered leaf that catches your eye like a new sparkingly diamond.

This is when fall reaches around you with a warm embrace and you helplessly collapse into it.

Fall makes the mornings hard because the covers are too warm and the outside world seems to be a harsh cruel place of torture.

If fall had a middle name it would be cozy. 

In a way it seems that fall speaks the language of unrushing  It bids you to enjoy slow gentle mornings. The evening cup of tea is to be savored and the feeling of coziness is to be reveled in.

Fall begs you to stop and notice that bright leaves are falling from the tree. Nature invites you to bring its offerings into your home and let it adorn your house with all things autumn. Using the little things is welcomed and even congratulated.

Fall is for taking the time to savor apple cider and homemade doughnuts But maybe its not so much savoring the food but savoring the fellowship with those close to you. For some reason fall seems to provide ample excuses to have good eats around friendship that brims of laughter and good conversation.

Within the colors and coziness of fall there is a reminder that a new season has come. The sweltering days of summer have passed and the sweet coolness of fall can be felt. Every season has its up and downs. Summer is too hot, winter is too cold, and spring is too stormy, but than there is fall which seems to be like that guy from the movies. Perfectly perfect at every single glance.

When fall comes after the doldrums of summer, its like a horrible season of life has ended. You realized that you have survived and now you can relax.
Life seasons can be hard and sometimes you don't realize how stressful a life season is until its over. You didn't notice how hard it was relish the little things. And this is what fall is. A time to remember to slow down and enjoy the tiny moments of pleasure in the season.

Every season has its slices of bliss, but fall, oh fall, has stolen my heart for forever.

Tuesday's Happiness

 Getting a group text from your mom, its not quite fair she learned how to do that before me.


Music turned up way to loud to get the house cleaning done, because its just what you do.

Waking up after the sun has risen. Seeing the first rays of the coming day may be all artistic sounding, but the romance of the dawn is lost over the even deepened pain of the morning. Not going to hide it, me and the morning like to start slow and gentle.

Showing love to the last warm day of summer, by anointing it with cold brew, having the car windows down low and the radio turned up high. Summer you will be missed, but don't be jealous of my fall crush.

Watching people get out their brand new fresh textbooks and allowing yourself to revel in the fact that your really and truly done.

 Chocolate covered espresso beans, if happiness were to explode with flavor.

The sky brilliant and full of Monday's sunset. if happiness were to be seen in lively color

 If happiness was a feeling it would be that random moment when my brother and I both thought the same thing was funny and just couldn't hold it in.  We couldn't stop the hysterical laughter that bubbled out. I blame it all on the facial expressions of my big brother. We possibly might not have displayed socially acceptable coffee shop behavior. Side effects of growing up together in the same house. Sorry, but not sorry.

Tell me, what made your Tuesday happy? 

Of Babies

Soft skin brushes my arms and little arms and legs flail with startlement and then the cries erupt. Cries of shock from being taken from what was comfortable to what is new and harsh feeling.




Just as quick as they started the cries silence. A soft rhythm of breathing takes over and the little baby falls asleep in my arms. This baby, the one that is only a few weeks old. The one that coes and sighs just like any newborn. This baby willingly trusts itself to my arms and lets me rock him to sleep. He cannot comprehend who I am, he only knows that he has found a warm place to sleep. For now his needs are filled and he blissfully sleeps till a rumble of the tummy will wake him.




I snuggle this tiny weight against me, so much warmth and soft snuggles. It seems as I rock this baby that every problem and care in my life is melting away. Calm fills me from the peace of watching this baby sleep.




 This is new life at its best. The late night feedings, blow out diapers, and never ending fussiness are not here. Only beautiful bliss and marvel of what happens when two people come together and a baby is born.




I wish to never relinquish this baby back to its mother. For there is nothing more that I ardently adore than gazing at an infant. This feeling, of simply holding new life.




There is a certain breath taking awe over the start of life. Its the excitement and giddiness of finding out a new baby is coming and being trusted with a secret.




Its finding out that the impossible has happened and a new life is to be born when it wasn't supposed too.




Its when you see those chubby checks on the ultrasound photo and knowing that the baby is full of health. Realizing that worries can be pushed aside. Getting all happy with knowing that in a few weeks you will be snuggling the baby and touching its chubby checks.




It's hearing of the awfulness of morning sickness, but the realization that the unpleasantness is assuring that a baby is growing and thriving in its mother's womb.




Life begins tiny and fragile. Life makes its announcement when it forces a mother to bend over a toilet and cling to the couch. Life comes into the world through excruciating pain. Life drains a mother of energy as she toils to care for someone so completely dependent on her. But yet this something not traded for anything.




 I cannot get over how a human grows in its mother's womb. And I will never stop swooning whenever an infant rests in my arms.




This is not knowing the potential of this tiny life, but knowing that the baby not yet seen or the completely dependent baby you are holding will turn into a person with potential to change its world.

Dr. Suess, says it perfectly, "No matter how small, a person is a person". the essence of life.

When Sept 10th was normal....

Tomorrow, is the day where we pause. The day we remember and we say to people where we were when it happened. We remember how we watched on live television as the World Trade Center crashed to the ground, taking the lives of countless with it.


We remember when our innocence was taken away.


The horror and the grief that struck our country in the aftermath.


Today is September 10th.  It was a day that happened 14 years ago, and I don't remember much of what I did on Sept 10th. I remember baking a cake and frosting it with cool whip frosting. It was my sister in law's first birthday with our family and my nephew's first birthday in this life.


That is all I remember. I don't remember the school I did. I don't remember the interaction I had with my family. I don't remember the good and I don't remember the bad.


Because it was all so normal. And it is the normal life that gives me amnesia.


 I can remember the way I was hurt by someone or something and choose to feel hurt for years. I will remember that one little thing someone did to make me feel special.


But the normal life that makes up so much of my life. The normal life that is shaping me as a person as I develop routines and hang out with people. Normal is what gets forgotten, even though without the normal, there is not much left to my life. The mile stones shape, but its the normal life that got me there.


It was the normal life knowing the sovereignty of God that carried me through day after Sept 10. It was the normalcy of habits and routines that allowed me to find some sense of being when everything around me was so fearful. It was the normal thing of looking for joy that allowed to have hope again in the months to come.


Normal is not much but on day like Sept 11 it is everything.


 I'm not going to know when I'm having that last normal moment, before things get shaken up. The end to normal comes without warning.


And so its a learning to enjoy the normal. To seize moments of joy. And to love this place called normal.

The Homeless Shelter

To be honest the first time I volunteered at the local homeless shelter I was little scared. Later I find my worries were needless and now I think every bit of misconception about homelessness needs to be wadded up and flushed down the drain.

This is what homeless is not. Homeless is not grungy dirty people bumming around a shelter for the free food and AC. Homeless people work. Lots of homeless people work and if they are not working our shelter requires that they ferociously look for a job unless disabilities or other life situations prevent them from doing so.

The shelter is not dangerous, I feel safer there than I do walking around in the Wal-Mart parking lot. The shelter is not full of manics. It is not full of undisciplined people. Some of them are getting up for jobs early in the morning. That is discipline.

Kids strap on their backpacks, their mother's hand them sack lunch's from the fridge and off they go to meet the bus.

Its Saturday and people drink their morning coffee while catching up on the news. Kids run around and they get a little noisy because they are kids and kids do that.

This is life at the shelter. Life in a dorm setting. Its not homey. Its not a motel. Its a place to sleep and to stay because there are no other options. There was no family. there were no friends. There was no one, but the shelter.

The goal of the shelter is not to provide long term housing but to help residents move toward long term goals of getting back on their feet.

And honestly my thoughts are so mixed whenever I walk out the shelter door. I leave to go home, my safe home. While behind me people for various reasons remain in that uncomfortable setting. I'm at a loss when I'm inside the shelter. How am I to relate? I who has never wanted for anything material? What can I say? What can I do?

The directions are easy. Countless times in Scripture God called for us to care for the poor. Care, go, and meet their needs. Not pray, but show them compassion. What did Christ do so many times on earth? He served with Christian compassion.  Compassion that loved. Compassion that served. Compassion that did. Because Christ did not just be. He did.

I'm just a person. A person with some spare time. A person who needs to get out of her comfort zone. A person who needs to grow. A person who doesn't have it all together. A person who is still learning what following and loving God means. But I'm thankful the shelter is a tool God uses in my life to help grow me in so many ways.

of sickness

This week wasn't quite what I expected, wanted, and never would have begged for.


Aches, and fever and laying on the couch for days. It's not my idea of a good time.


 As a child I could watch movies and shows for hours when I was sick. Now as an adult it seems my brain begs for silence more than the entertainment. I watch the cooking shows and other random stuff but I'm thankful for a good book, rest, and just the quiet.


The days seem to stretch and the nights seem even longer. The unending hours of nothing to do to rest can't be glamorized. Because I want to be back at my job. Because I want to be up and working around the house. Because I don't want to be canceling a get together with friends.


I usually covet a afternoon to just read and be quiet, but this week there was too many hours in a row to just be quiet.


I fought it and begged the thermometer to read a lower number, but still I was sick.


It sounds awful except it really isn't. I was sick for three days and one night. Today I know my health is seeping back in my veins. Its awful to be sick, but not so awful as battling sickness every day of your life. Not so awful as chronic illness, cancer, and other life altering problems. It was just a virus that has altered my life for 5 days not for years.


So being sick, its a good thing. I did enjoy reading more, because I love reading and it was fun to catch some shows.


Perhaps the best thing was to know, that my plans are not my own. When plans are taken away I can still know its the right thing. Because I have to remember to never get so caught up in the moments of life that I forget the privilege of the ability to do and to be. To realize that an extra rest is a gift and not to let the idea of rest be stolen by attitude of grumbling, but enjoy what God has given.


Today it is so good to be well, but yesterday it was good to be sick for that was what yesterday was supposed to be. And being is not that terrible because in the security of God its the most amazing place to be.

Dear Sister, who is teaching me to rise.

Dear Becki,

When I was just shy of 10 years old I first met you and I though you were the most wonderful thing ever. So I was thrilled when less than a year later when mom let me on the secret that my big brother was going to propose to you that day.

You came into our family just as I as on the threshold of traumatic teen years. You were the sweet big sister letting me on the fun and quietly mentoring me with your life.

A few months ago you and my brother dropped everything to have, dinner so we could have a visit, because sometimes a little sister just needs someone to tell them its all going to be okay.

You taught me how to rise, and that it was all going to turn out and to hold on for the ride.

Several times this year you and my brother as a team would rise to the occasion to help me out as I figured out stuff in life.

And that day when suddenly you were flat on your back from a spinal cord injury. You were still rising up. Rising up to cling to God's grace and faithfulness.

Its not been an easy journey, but the journey has been an honest one.

Thank you for rising up not hiding behind a veil but showing us all that this is what grace is when your climbing the rocks.

Today your going to rise up and come home to your family after a several week hospital stay. I'm so thrilled for you, but also praying as you make this transition.

Your keeping on rising, and I'm so grateful for this.

Love you,
Bethanne

The rest of the story is on Becki's Caring Bridge page. 

#batchelorsbefore30

High school, in the words of my friend is "a cakewalk". To all you who graduated today and got your diplomas I apologize for the offensive statement, but in a few years you will quote me word word for word.

High school was hard for me, really, really excruciating. Which is why I wasn't thrilled about more education. I really wasn't overjoyed at the thought of having to put myself in the realm of near failure all over again.

But I did of my own choice and I succeeded. One week after getting that diploma I'm still living on the high of actually earning a college diploma.

Its an amazing thrill that brings this silly grin to my face every time I think about it.  Because when your well into your 20's, way past the age of the average college graduate, there is nothing more satisfying than having a college degree.

Because all those years before school, during school, between school, and during school again you are your own driving force.

You are the one choosing to spend the money you worked so hard for on a degree that you don't even know is going to do anything for you.

You are the one choosing to write MLA style research papers when you would rather be blogging about some random hysterical moment at work.

You are the one choosing the stress to earn a degree that holds so much hope, but no promise.

You are the one choosing to do homework in your kitchen after you have worked all day and will get up early tomorrow to go to work.

You are the one choosing to spend your time on homework instead jumping into a ministry you love.

You are the one choosing to be in this season.

No one made me. People encouraged me but in the end it was my choice. A choice I questioned myself about  many times.  Was it so worth it to get that degree. After all its just a piece of paper and I wasn't really sure it was my ticket to anything.

When that flash of a moment happened and I was handed my degree a tsunami of emotion hit me that I wasn't prepared for. I finished something, something that was hard and something that I did not have to do, but I did it.

It was a journey, a journey where I gained so many precious friends, and collected a plethora of memories. A journey were a I learned many valuable things. A journey were I grew in myself both outside and inside the classroom.

Friends and memories from this journey are the precious souvenirs I will keep forever. I'm thankful that in my life toolbox are the core classes from my major which have changed the way I think and are still changing me.

But the classes I loathed so. The classes I got the lowest grades in. The classes that sometimes drove me to tears. The classes that made my neck ache with stress.

 Those are the classes that might have changed me the most. The classes that made the journey grueling and made me question why I was on the journey. These classes that taught me to be determined and persevere.

Because I didn't have to go on this journey, but if I didn't I would have missed out on the spectacular moments and people. The people who are still in my life. The frustration and joys of the college years knit us close and the relationships can't be ripped apart now.

The sweet things of this journey I want to never forget, but the hard things I want to keep branded onto the walls of my memory. Remembering the scorching pain of the brand is what made reaching the destination so fantastically amazing. Its true what they say, the hardest things do bring this is the most joy.

I really don't know what my life would be like if I would have skipped out on college, but this I do know.

If I hadn't gone to college I would have missed out on knowing that I could do something I never thought possible.

It was worth it.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow, I would wear scrubs. And this to me was the most amazing and exciting thought. Tomorrow I was going to go from playing nurse to training as a nurse's aid.


Its such a little thing, but I'm the little girl who dreamed of having a job that would make people feel better. I lovingly tended my siblings and my eyes have stayed glued to the goriest of medical reality shows. Something in me always wanted to be a nurse.


I'm not a believer in chasing dreams, which I know is completely cynical. I believe that sometimes you need to take a step back and look at what is best for the season and time and sometimes that is not getting what you dreamed.


And sometimes its even better than the dream and sometimes its much harder, but it doesn't mean you don't learn and grow stronger through it.


For me though, I have gotten a surprise.


When tomorrow came, I put on scrubs and I was no longer a child dreaming, but I was grown up learning.


This was the thrill of the unexpected joy of tomorrow.

Weekend Hashtags

And just  for the fun of it here are the hashtags of my day.#thisisdifferent 

Today I felt butter and flour between my fingers as it transformed into crumbly shortbread which will hopefully make some coworkers have a happy Monday morning. #thedayafterpiday

One week ago I was laughing very hard at one in the morning and trying hard to not wake up our gracious hosts. #cousinsmakemyday

Completely pondering this quote tonight "there are many versions of love, but I don't want a version I just want love".  #callthemidwife

Fall is my favorite season, but I love it when color comes back to the world. #ohhappyspring

I could spend my days walking up and down the streets and never get enough of spring. #blisters

If you need me find me at the local coffee shop, its my new office. #willthehomeworkeverend

Feeling lots nostalgia and missing my cheerful fun loving grandma but wouldn't wish her back. #gladyourhome

Somewhere over the Rainbow is on repeat in my head. #makesmesmile

Bedtime is close and the dishes aren't done, but the blueberry pie bars just came out of the oven. #bedtimesnack

Dear Uncle Gil

Dear Uncle Gil,


I just came back from a memorial service. Your memorial service, but the connection of you being gone from this earth has yet to confirm itself in my brain.


I'm still thinking I will pick up the phone and hear your warm voice on the other end. You usually called for my dad, but you always paused to chat with me and see how life was going for me.


I'm expecting this summer to run out the front door and see you pulling up to our house for a visit. Straw hat on your head and a friendly smile on your face was how you greeted us. And of course and an embrace that could thaw the North pole.


Your simple life and wise use of money fascinated me, but yet your generosity knew no end. You paid me when I slept on the floor as a young girl so you and aunt Fran could have my room. I could have cared less about sleeping on the floor, but your generosity spoke more than the money itself.


Your gone, but you have left us with memories and lessons that will last a lifetime.

"and he walked with God"

This statement is the five words needed to describe your life. However if I were to choose just one word to describe your life I would pick faithful.


 Faithful to your wife and to your family. Faithful to your mission work and most of all you were faithful to God. Faithful to Him in all the little things.


You have left us all with a memory of a man who served His God and did it well. Not for a moment do I believe that you did it to be a good person. No your life was lived by the grace of God and you knew who the glory went too. You knew who gave the strength and you lived by that strength.


You lived simply, humbly, and you lived out God's grace. And this is the song that makes me think of you.

If I believe in my heart and confess with my mouth
that Jesus Christ is Lord
He is just to forgive, He is mighty to save
He is shelter from the storm

I love Him more than all these idols
I bowed to before I called Him Lord
And He came running, opening up His arms
"Welcome home, my child" I heard Him say
"Welcome Home"

I have called on His name, now I'm telling the world
The story of my Lord
How He raised me to walk in newness of life
When I had fallen short

And I'll see Him in His glory
As the angels say "Welcome Home"
No more crying, no more sorrow
No more death or pain "Welcome Home"

I heard him say "Welcome Home"
I heard Him say "Welcome Home, my child"
I heard Him say " Welcome Home"           

Welcome Home--Dutton Band    

One short week ago Uncle Gil you were welcomed home, not because you were a good man, but because you trusted in God's grace. While I'm going to miss everything about you, I know you have only gone on sooner to a place where someday we shall all worship our Lord together.

Uncle Gil, enjoy being home.

Comfort

That word, comfort.


 What we are to give and what we ask the Lord to give us, but in real life I don't know how to give comfort.


I know how to hand out a verse. I know how to whip up a batch of muffins and deliver them hot from the oven.  I know how to do, but I don't know how to speak. I'm proficient at busying myself with making coffee and arranging cookies but I don't know to approach a grieving family member.






He is holding my hand tight and telling me how he found out his wife died. The blow by blow account is like a sledge hammer chopping my heart into pieces. I don't speak. Instead I squeeze the hand tighter.




Tears are running down the face of the man who tells me he wants to run away from this place. The place where death came and swiftly took his wife before he was ready to say goodbye. He tells me how it all happened. The broken pieces of my heart are chopped into slivers.




People around me are grieving. I go from person to person. Unsure of what to do or say I simply sit . Sometimes I ramble, reflecting on the memories.


 I can't stand silence.


I'm grateful when they speak to me and fill the stillness. Instinctively I want to cover my ears and shut out the harsh painful words, but still I'm grateful that they speak and I can remain in the safety of silence.




What to do. What to say. What not to say. I want answers and wisdom what to do.


 I hold tight a hand and stare into eyes that are glazed over with tears.

"Jesus wept"

Christ did not bravely gulp back tears. He do not rush in and do something. Instead he wept his own loss and the loss of those close to him. He was there in the midst of the grief acknowledging the pain by shedding His own tears.


And this is comfort. Not saying a word, but not letting go of a hand that is used to holding someone else's.


Comfort is not the band aid of quickly said cliché words.


No, comfort is going into the chaos of grief and feeling the searing pain of loss along with the bereaved person.


Comfort is weeping with those who are weeping.

Five Men

Five excited young men.

 Full of passion to make Christ known to the lost.

 Filled with a conviction to carry out God's command.

All of them were happily married men.

Four were fathers of young children.
 

They had a goal.

 

To evangelize a South American tribe who thought that the only way to resolve conflict
 was with blood at the end of a spear.

Armed with handfuls of words in a language that few in the modern world knew.

They went in a yellow plane.

 

With thrill in their voices, they excitedly told their wives that they hoped their next radio report would bring news of friendship made.

 

59 years ago today there was a deathly silence.

 A radio call that never came.

 

5 widows.

Fatherless children.

 

Two of those widows went to that tribe. The tribe who fought with blood. Those two mothers took their fatherless children to live with their husbands killers.

 One day we will worship side by side with those who heard the gospel because two grieving wives picked up where their martyred husbands left off.

 

This is the grace and power of God.

"at the same time we felt God was in the whole thing...the providence of God was at work"

--Elizabeth Elliot

Five Minute Friday: Adore.

The number of anniversaries was great and number. They had lived life together as a team. Raising the children. Growing the ministry. Making a living together.

Now here they were. Old, wrinkled, hard of hearing, silent, and forgetful.

This is how it is when you have grown old. The dashing groom and radiant bride is long gone, replaced by the effects of aging.

Still they adore. They sit there staring into each others eyes, but will never hear a word from lips silenced by sickness.

They adore even though nothing is returned. They adore each other because they have loved each other for many a year and can't imagine loving anyone else.

And then without warning a spouse dies. The grief shows that it doesn't matter that they newly wed bliss faded long ago. The one they adored is gone. The one that they will say was their better half is gone.

The one they loved through thick and thin. The one they shed tears with, faced hardship with. They are gone, replaced with a hole that cannot be filled with anyone else.

This is what it is to adore your spouse. When the years have stolen beauty and cognitive skills, but still there is love.

Adore is to love someone for what they cannot do. 

16. Whats on the Table

And its my favorite writing prompt of this month. Don't mind if I do share with you what I put on the table tonight. Its only just a small hobby that I do nearly every day.

By the way, I know I did miss some writing prompts. Confession. I was glad that our Internet was working at only half speed. The brain power for writing was just not there.

Back to our supper table tonight.

I make menu plans, but than I am the mood for something entirely different, so the menus are flung aside and I create something from random ingredients found in the cupboard.

Tonight I was hungry for sweet potatoes, as I am nearly every evening.

I quickly sliced three enormous sweet potatoes and laid the slices in a single layer on a baking sheet. Than I sprinkled them with sea salt, garlic powder, onion powder, and some chili powder to give a punch.

 Baked them till down and served with leftover chicken. Easy supper in less than 30 minutes. As much as I love cooking I like to do it in the quickest way possible.

And that is what mom and dad had for supper.

  I know that sounds completely terrible that I did not eat my own cooking. Let me explain. Tonight I decided to exercise and I refueled myself afterwards with protein. However, my month is watering at the anticipation of enjoying the leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

Speaking of which tomorrow will come quicker if I go to sleep now rather than putting it off.

Good Night.

11. Best photo of 2014.

That one time when we attempted to fly...

I'll leave the results to your imagination.

10. Reflections

The aged.

The sick.

The afflicted.

The weak.

The widows.

The ones who raised children that are now influencing our world. The ones who held jobs that changed our town for the better. The ones who worked hard in whatever they did whether it was the farm or whether it was overseas missions.

They were great musicians. Medical professionals. Inventers. Teachers. Parents.

They were smart. They were wealthy. They were strong.

They have buried their spouses. Some have buried their children. They lived through the Great Depression. They lived history we can only read about.

They were once sharp, but now you might have the same conversation three times in ten minutes.

They might not remember where they live.

They might not see that family very often that they worked so hard to raise.

The vibrant social circle that they once had, has left them in the dust.

They have moved to a place where few leave.

They are the poor in spirit. The ones who are weak. The ones Christ has called us to care for.

These are the ones where all you have to do is listen and you have brightened someone's day. Pour that hot cup of coffee. Find out what they like best and give them a small piece of their life back.

This video made me weep. It can be very lonely to grow old. To grow weak. To be sick. To be widowed.

Perhaps if you have not seen the loneliness, the tiredness, the grief of a lifestyle lost, you will not know of what I talk.

Every day of life is important I believe, so why not visit the aging? You lose time, but gain the opportunity to bless someone's day.

This woman is the poor spirit yet she words with such joy. With a joy that only God gives as she nears the end of the road of life. And its beautiful.

https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=963860903631132&fref=nf

7. Favorite book of 2014...

This may sound odd, but sounding odd, I think goes with my personality.

Favorite book,

Hosea

Why the book about a unfaithful woman and a man who had to love unconditionally despite her behavior?

One word,

Redemption

I am the one who strays, strays again, and again, but God's love never stops. I scratch my head at why God used a harlot to demonstrate his point to his chosen people, but the illustration is a wise one.

When someone has betrayed you again and again its awfully hard to love them. Someone you who poured everything into, but instead he slaps you in the face.

I just cannot imagine loving someone. Cherishing someone and listening to their heart. Giving your heart to them and than being rejected.

God loved his people, he cherished them, he knew their every need, so the illustration of a man loving his unfaithful wife is more powerful than words can say.

That is Grace. That is Mercy. That is Redemption.

This is who our God is, one who loves the unfaithful and gives more grace. And its a reminder that I need to often remind myself of.

This is why I picked the an odd book written over 2,000 years ago as my favorite book for this year.

6. T is for...

Technology

One thing I am very thankful for this year is technology. Sometimes it makes me want to scream and pull my hair out, but otherwise technology is a beautiful thing.

I literally shutter whenever I think about typing out my papers on a typewriter. This girl is not known for good grammar skills. Just the thought of painstakingly retyping papers gives me the chills.

I'm probably the most grateful for technology when I don't have to do homework, but rather when I'm using it to connect with a friend. Sometimes in life you need a bit of encouragement fast and technology enables that encouragement.

Technology lets me see the updates of family and friends are around the world.

Never has it been easier to know how to pray for someone. But sometimes I have to ask myself if the technology has enhanced my prayer life or hindered it?

Its the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Technology doesn't have to be ugly, it doesn't have to distract me from the important matters of life.

Its my choice of how I use technology. To encourage, to terror down, its all my choice.

Technology can be the best blessing or the worst curse. Its my choice.