Hi all! This is titled unbelievable because our Quizzers secured a spot for Nationals which will be held in Branson Missouri this July. We place 2nd out of 11 teams today. So incredibly proud of these kids.
What was really awesome was my husband’s inexplicable ability to create things. Over the course of 2 weeks he would come home from work and build a smoker from blueprints only in his mind. He finished it just in time yesterday to throw on 4 pork shoulders for us to serve at the meet. I named it the Lean Mean Smokin Machine….check it out!
School is over and our lives are slowing down….some. My brain hasn’t quite slowed down after many months of go go go…I keep catching myself thinking I should be doing something but there’s nothing there to be done. Except laundry 🧺 that never ends.
They blame you for the fires, the winds and the rains
That wipe out all til nothing remains
Your credit isn’t being given its due
For none of it would exist without You!
The creator who speaks life into all things
Your name is power and peace it brings
Silly how they blame you when it’s bad, but say you don’t exist
Now isn’t that a glass of crazy with a twist?
There’s only one to point our bony fingers at
The one who wanted to sit where You sat
The old Lucifer; liar and thief
The one who really brings all the grief
Lord, until my last dying day and I will stand and shout
It is You who brings life, love, and peace about
This poem was inspired from a post by my fellow blogger Mark Rackley https://wp.me/p8TG4S-1P1 Just how ludicrous and silly is it to think there are those out there who do not believe in God, then blame God when they experience tragedy!…But look at the comments and see Mark’s response of how this was good for C.S. Lewis.
When I was a little girl, I spent a good deal of time at my grandparents’ home. One of the main reasons being, my mother was an alcoholic and drug addict and my father was always working and clueless on how to care for two growing girls. I have a heart for the elderly because I spent so much time with my grandparents and three of my great grandparents. Their home was a safe place to be where there were bedtimes, scheduled and cooked meals, clean sheets, and instructions to wash your hands before you eat.
My grandma had a wonderful, exotic vase she kept solo on a table in the tv room. Back in my childhood days, there was usually one main tv in most homes and that’s the room where kids hung out.
I remember walking to the vase so many times with my imagination running wild as I would peer down into it. Most of the time I dreamt of becoming small and jumping in the vase to get away. I was a sad child and spent a lot of time inside my head daydreaming of what my life should, could be.
Maybe it was because I watched I Dream of Genie that I had that thought of diving in there to sit on my couch. Either way it was a source of escape for me.
When Grandma died, I said that there was only one thing of hers I wanted. That vase, the one that sat on that table all of those years. I remember bringing the vase into my home. How special I felt to have that vase.
My husband and I searched a few different times to see if we could find anything on it. Where did it come from? When was it made? Were there any more like it out there? I couldn’t find anything on it….until two days ago.
My mother-in-law showed me something interesting with our little gadgets we all have in our hands these days. Our phones. If you touch the G in Google search bar,it will pull up a camera symbol and it will allow to you to take a pic of any item and Google goes to work to find similar images. So two days ago upon learning this, I took a pic of that blessed vase. The first search came up with an identical pic of my vase! My treasured family item!}
To my surprise and utter disbelief, they sell grandma’s vase on EBay! Finally, I found it’s origin. All questions will be answered. Here is the listing for the vase
Say what?? Awe man, that figures. First couple of thoughts. Then the absurdity of it just struck me as being so humorous. So much for a priceless antique roadshow where they reveal I have the one and only genie bottle. I’ve told the story a couple of times. It’s fun to watch their faces as I unfold the story.
Got me to thinking today. Our pastor preached recently about inheritances within families. He said how family will fight over grandma’s sugar bowl just to have a treasured trinket of which to remember her by. He went on to say something so profound…what if we leave a legacy of holy spirit led prayer for our loved ones? What if our prayer lives are such a powerful example that when it comes time for our loved ones to take something off the shelf of our lives that they scramble to take down the gift of the Holy Spirit?
My grandmother was a Catholic. She wasn’t a drinker or a drug user and I’m sure she had no idea her pretty vase was a hooka pipe base. (Still so funny to me) She didn’t leave me a legacy of prayer, sadly. She didn’t have the slightest clue of the Holy Ghost, as the Bible refers to it.
My wish is to have a kind of experience with God and a prayer life that my girls scramble to take down off the shelf of my life.
This is a wonderful post from Renee. If you do not follow her yet, this post is a good reason to start following her today. Thanks Renee for answering our question ⁉️ We appreciate you!
Why do I do hearts? My Baby Love! Rip 2015 My blog name and posts are centered around hearts. For the most part. I was asked why recently in one of the comments on my posts. This is a very good question which deserves a lot of response! Only a whole post would do! Amy […]
Hi-ya! All is well here. The kittens are thriving. They’re supposed to live in a roomy cage in the barn, but most of the time they’re hanging by the door. Along with mama cat and our old lady cat named Tiger, the front door has become a pretty happening place. The girls are in kitty love. While my mama mouth is going throughout the day like this…”These cats are driving me crazy! They’re going to cost too much to feed.! Put that cat back outside right this minute…awe wait let me see it. Look at that face, awe. Ok ok get it outside.”
Our Bible Quiz team got first place the last 2 tournaments. Kind of a big deal for us since we weren’t always that good. We have the state finals in June to determine if we get a spot at Nationals. They’ve been learning the book of Mark. Tonight the preacher took his text from Mark and I could see the little kids along with the older kids quoting word for word as the preacher read the text. As this is going on, I can see the parents smiling looking around to the other quiz families to see if this same thing was happening with their children. So cute…but more than that. God’s word is being hidden in their hearts. Another quiz mom shared with me the other day, we quiz because what if our children find themselves without a Bible? That day could be coming sooner than we ever thought.
The last thing I want to share with you is about witnessing and working with those who are without God. I’ve been recently and purposely working with a family to help them find their way to God. My intention was that they would see our lives and how blessed we are that it would cause them to run to Jesus. I’ve tried and tried but to no avail.
My question to you is this; how do we know when to hang up the towel and move on to someone else? I mean, if you’re not given a flat out, “No I’m not interested in Jesus now leave me alone” response but rather a vague response that keeps you wondering if they’re really hearing you out. How do you know when to cut your losses and move on?
Surely I don’t mean to cut off communication, but to quit pouring into them what they seem to be rejecting.
I got my hopes up in the situation and have felt crushed that it doesn’t seem to matter to them about eternity matters. It’s so easy to get angry and walk away from them. To say, Geez, don’t you get it by now? But that is not the way of witnessing.
“Surely the day is coming; it will burn like a furnace. All the arrogant and every evildoer will be stubble, and the day that is coming will set them on fire,” says the Lord Almighty. “Not a root or a branch will be left to them. But for you who revere my name, the sun […]
I know it’s Mother’s Day and this post just may be too much for some of you, but all in the same, I must write. I must be honest with my feelings. Writing heals my wounds.
If you met me in person, you’d be surprised with what you’d get. After reading my “stuff” you may have the impression that I am good with words. Truly though, I’m not. Not in the moment. Age and just plain day to day weariness has calmed my mouth down some, but for the most part I’m always saying the wrong thing. Today was no exception. I decided to share with the women around me that I received my mother’s ashes yesterday. I spoke about how I don’t want them in my house. How I wish I could put them somewhere else like the basement or out in the garage. These women had wonderful mothers and were slightly taken aback by my words. We joked some to make it light, but they could never relate. Never. I should’ve kept my feelings to myself.
I will not put her ashes anywhere but where they are for now, although the strong pull to not have them here digs away at me. I know it is not her in that box. I know it. I feel her presence all the same. I have always feared her presence. Feared what she would do next to embarrass me or hurt me.
It also feels very fraudulent to have had to go to her in the hospital, to make the decision to take her off life support, to make a few financial decisions for a woman who I hadn’t seen or spoken to in years. My sister on the other hand, spoke to her daily, has been too torn to handle any of it. She cannot bring herself to hear anything about it or want any things that were mom’s at this time. She’s handling it her way, she says. Um no, I’m handling it and she’s avoiding it. What gall, what nerve to ask all of this of me and then leave me with the ashes.
Some of my anger is masked pain. When I saw the box that had the words “cremated remains” on my dinning room table, something flipped inside of me. That, I’m ok feeling went out the window and I was left with the finality of it. As long as I was waiting on paperwork and signatures and phone calls, I was still in the process. There were moments while in this waiting game where I questioned what was truly going on. I kept thinking, What if this is an elaborate hoax? I know of course it can’t be and would then tell myself, nah. She had played so many mind games especially with her health, that I almost could reach to the hoax conclusion. Sad really.
I cried and cried a couple hours later. I don’t know why. I felt very silly for crying for someone who never took an effort to unconditionally love me. I think I cried because the little girl in me now knew it wasn’t a hoax and that my chances at having her for a mom are gone. Not one more chance available. We are no longer one phone call away from a heartfelt apology. I had always thought there would be a deathbed reconciliation where we could patch it up seconds before her death. I cried because once again, she ruined Mother’s Day. Man did she have a way of doing that.
Everything that I used to be was because of her absence. My insecurities. My obsessive need to be noticed and loved by men over and over. I’m a night owl who has had insomnia for as long as I can remember because of her. My IBS condition that I’ve dealt with since I was small is because of her. The worry and instability she caused me tore up my insides….and yet after all that and much more, I cried and cried for her.
Do you find it odd that I feel somewhat better just putting these words out there? Or maybe you’re offended that I’m being a bit of a downer on Mother’s Day? I alwayshad to stifle the mom situation in my blogging because I was afraid she’d read it and become offended or seek out some kind of revenge on me. So I write on and a bit more freely now that she can’t read it.
I know what my therapist would’ve told me about the ashes. She would suggest I give them to someone else to keep on hand until the memorial service. She would remind me that when I walk by that box I don’t just see a loving mom who nurtured me. She would remind me that this woman (my mom) was someone who caused me alot of pain. That my feelings of her here with me are validated because my flesh, my heart have always been trying to get away from her. Away from the pain she caused
She would also remind me to look to what is front of me. My children, my husband. My church family. So with that being said, I look to the future not to the past. Things that cannot be undone will just have to stay in the past. The chance to reconcile are gone and I’m going to be ok.
Hi all. Time is ticking so quickly around here lately. Seems like my children are growing before my very eyes. Like my mother in law always says, we need to put a brick on their heads. If only that would work.
It’s been an eventful week around here. Last Friday night my family and I were about to pull in our drive when we saw one of our cats ran over in the road. So we drove past and sure enough, it was Donald our orange kitty that showed up about 6 or 8 months ago on our doorstep. None of our cats are indoor cats. My youngest is allergic. But that doesn’t keep our girls from loving them and caring for them outside. We even have a kitty door for them on our pole barn door.
My Abigail, 11yrs old, cried her heart out. I mean the kind of cry we’ve all may have experienced when first hearing of a lost loved one. The repeated, “No, not Donald. Why Donald?” Can you relate? I surely can. All the while we were riding and I could not climb in back and hug the child.
My husband went and got the cat and we buried her. We had a small funeral. Spoke some things and told some good memories. I was at a loss during this part. This was something that was never done for my sister and I growing up. It was all my husband who dug the hole, encouraged the girls to step over and told them to speak of some good memories. He said he believes his mom taught him and his brothers this. I don’t doubt it.
I stood there thinking although my daughter’s heart was breaking, she was still very blessed to be in the family she is in.
The funny stories, you ask? Well my husband thought he was clever in naming the only boy on our property, Donald. After Trump, his hero. And The cat was orange just like trump. It was a win, win. Just one problem. See Donald showed up pregnant one day a few weeks ago. Undeniably pregnant. So all of this time we thought what we saw several months ago was evidence of a young boy kitten, was really not evidence at all.
But the cat came to Donald, so we kept it Donald. Lol…we started saying she instead of he. We’d giggle and tell our story to anyone who would to listen. She did have her kittens the weekend of April 9th. We could not find the kittens. Our guess was they were across the street. An hour after burying Donald, the neighbors came to our door to tell us they found kittens under some steps they just pulled out in order to put in a deck. 5 kittens. We also have one other cat who had kittens cpl weeks older. We introduced her to Donald’s kittens that very night and she nursed them. Just simply laid down and let them nurse. All the while she licked their heads and smelled them all.
My husband was amazed that the cat wasn’t scared off by the different scent than her own babies. He said look at this cat giving of herself more than some moms out in the world. Does make you wonder…She is now nursing 9 babies. Anyone need a kitten?
This did make Abigail happy, but the absence of Donald was still very hard on her. Sometimes I want to say, “It’s only a cat!” But I refrain because it was more than a cat to her.
I know what it is that makes Abigail so sad. She and I are alot alike. She never did trust being around animals much. Sure, she held cats and the such as an early child. As she grew she became frightened toward many animals. See with animals I tend to think to myself, you really just don’t know what an animal will do next. Yes I know many of you think, that’s silly, animals can be trained. Sometimes though fear can overtake the mind.
So when abigail got up the nerve to pick up a chicken, she automatically named it Bessie. When we brought home one of the cats we have now, Abigail’s fear of animals changed overnight. She was bold to pick up the cats now. And sometimes she would get scratched and her feelings would get hurt, but she would try again. See once she faced her fears, she became so proud of herself. So when she developed a friendship with Donald it was much more than that to her. It was and still is this treasure she found in herself to actually enjoy an animal.
It’s been a week now and she is doing better. We went to a small outing at the library where they had a couple horses the children could ride. A local Amish man brought his horse and buggy as well. I was so proud to see Abigail get in that horse. The first time she only got up and sat in the horse. When she got down she realized that she really needed to ride the horse as well. They allowed her a second time to be led around a few turns. I am so proud of her.
If you have a fear, think of Abigail and try to overcome it bit by bit.