One of the ways I spell proud is: T-A-R-A. Today’s post is written by a woman I’ve known since she was safely tucked in her mom’s tummy. I’ve watched her struggle, but mostly I’ve watched her succeed. She is an inspiration. Grab something healthy to drink – Tara would like that – and savor this part of her life story.

I have not always made the best decisions. To some, I may be a teenage pregnancy statistic,  divorce statistic, and a battered women statistic; I’m sure I’m missing some others in there as well. I am also a college graduate, put my kids first, a hard worker, and have depended on myself financially. You see I don’t like to be average or be like everyone else. I don’t want to be labeled any of these “statistics” or put into a category. Instead of letting the tough decisions or events in life bring me down, I did something about it. I wasn’t going to be the larger percentage of these so called “statistics.”

How I did it and why. . .

Well, when you’re in a bad relationship (let me correct myself) really bad, you can either let it get the best of you, or you can get the best of it. I took it on. No challenge is too big enough for me, and I truly believe that if you have faith and believe that anything is possible it can be done. I don’t believe good things come to those that wait; I believe good things come to those that work their butt off. You see after I finally left my roller coaster relationship, I looked at myself and what I wanted. No more walking on glass, no more trying to make someone who wanted to hurt me happy. If you’re not happy, you can’t make anyone else happy.

I went to college and graduated with my BS in 18 months while working full-time and mothering two children.  It can be done and I did it. Along the way, I was introduced to my now husband, but at the time I wanted nothing to do with men. I was on a mission and didn’t want to be held back any more. For some reason, this man stuck around test after test I put him through. Believe me, I wasn’t always nice. I prayed to God “if I am to be with a man show me.” God did just that. I am thankful for my husband now and can understand what LOVE is. It doesn’t make you are scared to come home, or are going to get drilled about your every move. I am thankful God opened my heart again, and he truly blessed me.

When I wake up in the morning, I choose my attitude about life and how I control myself. I don’t want to be a bad influence on my children. I would regret in life molding my children into negative people. I also don’t want to be a person people hate to be around because I have such a bad attitude.

There is more to live for and it all depends on me. I choose my happiness not others. So that’s what I do… I do what makes me happy. This means I spend time with my kids and husband, workout, push myself to try new things, meet new people. I enjoy the little things in life, like waking my kids up in the morning and seeing the big smile on their faces.

By being in control of myself, I have accomplished many goals along the way. Part of taking on challenges and pushing through is seeing how my kids are making their own challenges and pushing to meet their goals. My son is in track and wants to go to state this year. He’s also focusing on his grades, so he can get into a good college. My daughter is a swimmer and has just moved up to the next level. Both of my children have been on the honor roll this year, and I am very proud of them for setting goals and succeeding at them.

Now, I am working towards becoming a fitness model. This takes 2-4 hours a day of workouts. It’s like having a part-time job. Why am I doing this? Working out has always been a passion of mine and the challenge of course! It seems that I like to do things that are hard.

Through all I have gone through I have learned a lot and had a new way to look at things. Do I regret my past? No, because what defines us is how well we rise after falling. I believe that God gives us everything for a reason, and you may have a hard time understanding it at the time, but wait a few years, look back and figure out a way to make use of your life’s lesson.

My goal is to motivate others and be the person I want to meet. So when you feel like giving up push harder, there is no such thing as failure. Limitations only exist if you let them.

 

Tara Molloy

 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

Galatians 5: 22-23 (NIV)

He sure did love my ears!

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, “For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.” For Jon and I, a season of grieving coincided with a two seasons of raccoons.

It’s hard when dreams die. Jon and I wanted children of our own, and God said no. Hurting, I blurted out to Him, “But God, I really want to be a mom – to have babies in my care who need me. Kids who look a lot like Jon, and a little like me!” I punctuated this prayer with a firm stomp of my foot.

Not long after this plea, God sent a little raccoon we named Fearless. For three  years, God taught us about Himself and His creation through the time spent loving and being loved this little guy.

Many dreams die hard, and shortly after letting it go forever and stepping quietly into acceptance, God sent five more little raccoons into our lives in answer to our niece’s prayer. I love to tell the story of how my heavenly Father answered a little girl’s prayer (and He did!), but He was still in the process of answering the defeated cry of my heart.

Fearless came to us as a toddler. The five came to us as newborns. We “parented” all six with grateful hearts, until it was time to release them.

They kept us busy, which helped us focus on something besides the emptiness, and through them, God communicated something else to us: He was trusting us to care for five orphaned wild ones we believe He created specifically to comfort us. As He did that, He also showed us that He wanted us to use infertility to bring Him glory.

We loved the tender part and accepted the tough part knowing we could not fully understand the God who not only created the stars, but named them. I know this is true because His Word says so.

Psalm 33:6 (NLT)

The Lord merely spoke, and the heavens were created. He breathed the word, and all the stars were born.

Psalm 147:3-5 (NLT)

He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds. He counts the stars and calls them all by name.
How great is our Lord! His power is absolute! His understanding is beyond comprehension!

We chose to believe in God’s rock solid goodness and wisdom.

I am not able to completely describe to you how it felt when a raccoon willing reached for us, and then wrapped his or her front paws around our necks, all the while purring loudly. Or knowing we could trust them to sniff our morning breath the way a mother checks her child’s forehead for a fever. Or watching them fall asleep, upside down in our arms. Or the moment they saw us and ran to us as if they could hardly wait to hug us – which was true.

I remember standing in the kennel one very cold winter morning, holding Chatter, and feeling God’s quiet presence in her hug. Then laughing as Lucy climbed my legs to join in the love. And, to complete my delight the three little boys were churring and climbing the gate calling me to come and see them too.

They’d run to greet me each morning!

It was then that I started to get a glimpse of God’s healing. In nurturing these wild ones I was being cared for by our mutual Creator. By accepting them, I received His gift – them. Yes, I’d have to let them go – the same way I had to release the dream – but their time in our lives was not an accident. It was personal. It was from God.

It took a while longer, but one day I realized God was using our dashed dreams, and that they were bringing Him glory. I have to tell you – that’s not because we are great, but because He is!

You can depend on God to keep His Word – maybe not the way we want or understand it, but according to His great goodness. And, testify to you that Psalm 34:18 is true.

Psalm 34:18 The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.

Until Next Time,

Joy

Words From God by Tami Deedrick

Two Christmases ago, my brother shared that he was in the habit of selecting a word of the year—one concept to focus on and frame his year—and how his word that year had changed him. I was intrigued. I’m a word girl. How had I never thought of this or known he was doing it? I quickly stole the idea. But I had no idea how God was going to use it.

I prayed over that word for 2012 and considered some options but nothing felt right. I wanted a significant word—something meaty with a lot of depth. But God kept whispering to me that HE wanted my word to be joy—through a song, a message at church, a conversation. But I kept dismissing joy. It seemed…lightweight, insignificant, a warm fuzzy. But when God finally shouted at me, I accepted joy was my word.

From the first days, I trained myself to look for joy in my life. I kept a joy journal* that I updated every night about what brought me joy that day. Some days I wrote down several things; some days I had to stretch to record one. But the exercise itself was life changing. I distinctly remember one January morning I found myself extremely annoyed at something followed by the immediate thought, “how can I find the joy in this?” I couldn’t come up with anything joyful about the situation but settled on the fact that I was at least searching for joy in it. Seeking joy became my new way of life and it’s amazing how much joy you find when you seek it. From perfect sunrises to unexpected visits from friends, from a find at an antique shop to a meaningful conversation, every joy made its way into my “joynal.”

Then on Valentine’s Day, my family found out that my dad had pancreatic cancer and we began the unbelievably short yet seemingly interminable last six weeks of his life. I basically moved home to Rochester during that time, as did my sister from Chicago. Together, with Mom and my two brothers who lived in town, we started caring for Dad while we all tried to hold down our full-time jobs and lives. I wouldn’t trade that time for the world.

But it was during those difficult weeks and the year of grieving afterward that I really understood why God had insisted that my word be joy. Joy is not that feel of ecstatic excitement about something magnificent. It’s not deluding yourself that the sad and difficult events happening around you don’t matter or can’t get you down. It’s not ignoring sadness or focusing on silver linings. It’s certainly not a lightweight, warm fuzzy.

Instead, it’s a deep abiding contentment knowing that God is sovereign and good all the time. It’s resting in the incredible knowledge that He loves me and cares about every detail of my life (Psalm 37:23-24). It’s knowing that whatever comes that day He will never leave my side and, in fact, that He’ll sprinkle some bits of joy all over it.

I once heard from a preacher this definition of joy and peace:

“Joy is peace dancing; peace is joy resting.”

What a beautiful and perfect sentiment! During the year, sometimes my peace was dancing and sometimes my joy was resting, but all the time my God was active and loving and giving and good.

Without a focus on joy, a continual seeking after God’s gifts to me, I don’t think I would have survived 2012, or perhaps I would have just survived as a diminished broken person. Instead, I was stronger, closer to God and more aware of how He’s working every day. Joy was a meaty, deep, significant word—a life-changing word. I would have never thought the year that I lost the most important man in my life could be joyful but it was the most joyful of my life. I’m so grateful that God continues to invite me into a deeper, more fulfilling relationship with Him.

Tami

P.S. God chose my word for 2013 too. It’s less and, man, did He hit me with the lessons from day 1. What I thought less was going to me is not what God wanted to teach me. But that’s an ongoing story for another day.

*My joynal was inspired by Ann Voskamp’s “One Thousand Gifts” but modified to focus on joy.

Thank you for sharing the bits and pieces of your life, Jenny. Those of us who follow you are richer for it. She took the photos on the blog today. You can read Jenny’s blog at: http://www.hadlerseven.blogspot.com/ and, to see more of her work, visit: http://jkhadler.wix.com/memories-made

Magnolias ~ by Jenny Hadler

Have you ever seen a Magnolia Tree?  They, in my opinion, are one of God’s most beautiful creations!  The Magnolia flower is said to be a symbol of splendid beauty and perseverance, as well as dignity and nobility.  These are all characteristics that I believe God had in mind when he created us Mothers.  Though we may not think of ourselves as beautiful, dignified, noble, and may frequently feel like giving up, I like to think that God thinks otherwise of us.   If not for this thought, I would be a basket case!

Rummaging through a pile of papers the other day, I was frantically looking for my 4yr old daughter’s Kindergarten Registration paperwork.  I needed to be at the school in a mere four hours, and I had not yet filled out the paperwork that I’d had in my possession for the last month.  In tears and spitting tacks, I gave up, and drove to the school.   Sheepishly, I asked the school secretary to give me a copy as I had managed to lose the first.  She grinned, lightly harassed me and handed me an extra copy.  I then rushed home, filled out the paperwork and found all of the needed items to take with to register my daughter for Kindergarten.

My hubby, ever so graciously, took a half a day off of work in order to help me out and be home for when the boys got off the bus, and to take care of the 3yr old!  As he perched himself at the dining room table preparing to work from home, I scrambled to get the latest utility bill, birth certificate and paperwork all in my manila envelope.  3pm rolled around, and I grabbed all of my paperwork that I had worked so hard to gather and finish in time and out the door I went.  I got to the school, handed over the paperwork with a proud smile and just at that moment the school guidance counselor comes in and asks for Maia Hadler.  I looked at her, then at the floor around me spinning in a circle, and said with a slight tone of embarrassment, “She’s at home!”   She looked at me confused, and the room was dead silent as if they thought I HAD to be joking.  Then without any thought in utter brilliance trying to cover up the fact that I forgot my daughter, I said, “Was I supposed to bring her?”  After saying this, I knew it wasn’t the brightest thing to ever come out of my mouth. The secretary had a really dumbfounded look on her face and said, “Uh, yes, this IS Kindergarten Registration and we kind of NEED the Kindergartener.” Being the schools PTO President (the icing on the cake), I was horribly embarrassed and couldn’t help but wonder what in the world the school staff was thinking about me now, yet couldn’t help but laugh at my own stupidity.  Thankfully, the school guidance counselor and secretary were able to laugh at me as hard as I was laughing at myself and work her in another day.  Not my most magnificent moment, and likely not the last!

I grew up on a hobby farm near small-town  Byron, Mn.  After college, thinking I’d eventually move to New York, NY and work at an advertising firm for a big time fashion magazine. Instead, I married my college sweetheart and moved to big-city  Minneapolis, MN where I became a stay at home mom.  Seven years later, my husband’s job brought us to out in the middle of nowhereville, PA.  We have two boys ages 9 and 8, and two girls ages 4 and 3.  We also decided to add a puppy to the mix because our lives weren’t already interesting enough!  When I’m not totally losing my mind in the business related to the kids and their two schools, the day to day housework and all that comes with a very busy and involved family, I enjoy doing photography and various forms of artsy stuff.  At one point, drawing, painting and sketching were my way of escaping into another world, but these days I lean more toward facing the world with my paintbrush and color pallet to share with others this wonderful life that God has given each of us; as well as all the craziness that ensues in my day to day life!   Next time you have the chance to see a magnolia tree, do what I do, stop and remember that the loving God that created that beautiful, dignified and noble tree, created you and loves YOU even more!

Jenny

Jon and I at his graduation open house in 1975. Sorry it’s so blurry – this is the only picture I have of us from that night.

In the spring of 1975, my future husband graduated from high school. In honor of his achievements, his mom planned an open house. Part of the preparations included some redecorating. She put up new wallpaper in the living/dining room of their house and a room divider – both in avocado green grass cloth. It was the height of home fashion at the time.

The girls officially in the family cleaned and cooked for the crowd they expected. My parents took me out to the farm early so I could meet his immediate family. All of them. I have one sibling – Jon has six. That right there was enough to make me nervous. But there were more. Lots more. Aunts and uncles who drove up from Iowa and down from northern Minnesota, and some from Michigan. The big house seemed suddenly small.

Jon introduced me to his brothers and sisters, and my panic grew – the two oldest boys had mischief in their eyes. I wanted to make a good impression on everyone, but I was pretty sure those two wanted to see me blush.

Jon’s 2 oldest brothers and their wives. Mischief!

Jon’s dad did the sweetest thing ever, and it’s one of my favorite memories of him. Perhaps noticing the scared look on my face, and because Jon was busy greeting his many guests, he took my hand and walked me up to every relative and said, “This is Jonathan’s Joy.” The double meaning delighted us all, and I started to relax.

I got to stay late, because Jon wanted to take me home – we enjoyed our good night kisses at the back door, and we were planning on ending the busy evening that way.

The evening was winding down when the oldest brother asked me, “Have you ever seen a Dutch trailer?”

I hadn’t and being about half Dutch myself, I was intrigued. The other brother asked, “Would you like to see one?”

“Oh yes, please.”

I was told to follow them into the now dark yard. The only Dutch trailer out there was me – the Dutch girl trailing those two Dutch guys.

Finally, after hours of waiting, I had to use the restroom and was directed to the one on the main floor. It was smaller than my closet at home. Really. After carefully sitting down, I nearly screamed. On the inside of the door – inches away from knees was a full-length mirror! For the first time in my life, I saw myself on the toilet. Oh my. I took a deep breath and prayed I’d be able to pee silently because the whole family was on the other side of the hollow-core door. It had grown quiet on the out there when a sudden banging at the door shocked me badly. Jon’s 2^nd to the oldest brother was pounding on the door and asked, “Is everything coming out okay in there?”

I responded honestly. “It is now.”

As I was washing my hands, I realized that I had to open that door and face them all. I did, my cheeks a deep shade of red. It was all in fun, but I figured I had earned every kiss I was going to get later!

Before we could say good bye, Jon’s oldest brother took him upstairs for a couple of minutes. I stood there wondering if I’d passed the big brother initiation test, because I was really hoping (and praying!) I’d be their sister-in-law someday. Jon told me on the way home his whole family liked me. I nearly cried in relief.

That was 38 years ago, and for 36 of them, I have been officially a part of the family. Those two brothers are still full of mischief – I like that about them. Thanks for the memories, guys!

Bits & Pieces of Me,

Joy

By Mary DeKok Blowers

I remember when my mother called to tell me Dad had died.  For the past two years or more they had both had episodes in and out of the emergency room, hospital, and nursing homes.  At one point they had both been in the hospital, in different areas with different problems.  Finally they had moved to assisted living and my brothers, sister, and I could all breathe a little easier.  Their house had become unmanageable for them in their mid-80s.  There were too many stairs to get to necessary parts of the house and they could not keep up with the maintenance.  So, we bought their home and they moved to assisted living.

Things were pretty good until last April.  It was Dad’s 85^th birthday and several family members were in town to take him out to dinner.  He had not been feeling well that day and didn’t really want to go.  He was having trouble getting around, and he was ornery.  He had a good time once we got there, and he always enjoyed eating!  He ordered a wet burrito and soup. He didn’t seem to care that he was spilling things.   When we were leaving and Mom asked me if I wanted the birthday candles to reuse, I made a joke about reversing the 8 and 5 and my husband could use them in a couple years.  But I took them.  I suddenly had a feeling this was Dad’s last birthday.

He had good days & worse days.  Then around Thanksgiving last year he seemed much more frail.  He was in & out of the hospital over the holidays and came home for the last time January 1.  On the morning of the 12^th, Mom called me.  “He’s gone,” she said.  It shocked me and then I realized what she meant.  “What?” I said anyway.   “Dad’s gone.”   I gave my husband a “thumbs down.”  It seemed so strange.  Hospice had been visiting him for less than a week at the recommendation of his doctor.  We really had thought he had more time.  When I look back, he had been talking about dying for a couple of weeks.  He didn’t want any more procedures or tests.  He wanted to go.  Thank God he was out of his pain.  That had been my prayer recently, that he would just be comfortable–knowing that could mean he would leave us.

I hung up the phone and told my husband.  I cried a little, and didn’t know what to do.  Mom had said I didn’t need to rush over unless I wanted to see him before he was taken away.  I wasn’t sure why, but I was later glad I went.  I took a shower and suddenly the tears came.  All the things I would never experience again hit me, hard.  I could never ask him about the house or talk to him about his day, or listen to him sing in church.  Never see his smile.  It was so, so, final.  I still had his Christmas gifts, since he was so not himself that he wouldn’t have used them.  He had gone through a really angry period where he lashed out at everyone and said terrible things, but we knew it wasn’t him.  Still, it hurt.  I wondered if this was why people would sometimes say someone’s death was a blessing.  And, that they were out of their suffering.  I was again grateful for that.

I went to the assisted living center, and Mom told me that he had simply gone in his sleep.  I happened to see their Bible lying open on the window sill and noticed the passage—Psalm 70.  Verse 1 said “Hasten, O God, to save me; come quickly, Lord, to help me.” And verse 5 “But as for me, I am poor and needy; come quickly to me, O God. You are my help and my deliverer; Lord, do not delay.”  Was he crying out even as he read these words?

There was no question of his faith.  The last times he went to church, even though Mom told me often he couldn’t see well, he sang all the hymns and repeated the liturgies.  During my rebellious years he had often told me I should be going to church.  He kept after me until I went back, and my faith and my church are my strength to this day.  Thank God for his patience with me.

Later that day, as we were making the arrangements for him, it occurred to me . . . he’s walking around heaven with Jesus!  Of course I miss him, but I think about him being happy and comfortable, with his health and everything he could want, and it makes me happy.   Someday I’ll see him again and somehow this earth doesn’t seem so important anymore.

This is our 4 generations picture – I love the way Dad is focused on his great-grandson.

Thank you for this memory post, Mary! For my regular readers, Mary is my husband’s cousin – their dad’s were brothers. Mary is an author and has the following certifications:

• Holistic Health Practitioner
• Nutrition Consultant
• Master Herbalist

I hope you’ll visit her website and learn more! http://www.healthspringwellness.org

Until Next Time,

Joy

This photograph is not of me – I purchased it.

As a little girl, I lived in my imagination a lot of the time. When I could, I play acted – not usually in public. . .or so I thought.

Visiting my grandma didn’t mean she put her piano students or ministries on hold. While she taught, I sat in a nearby chair and colored, played in another room (and often talked or sang out loud – I just lost myself in my play sometimes!), or went outside. I’m sure grandma’s favorite was when I quietly colored, but that was the option I liked the least.

Given the option, I’d grab one of her silky scarves, and my sunglasses and I’d head for the side landing. Grandma lived in a big house separated into three apartments, and this small porch-like part of the building was just the right size for my stage.

Depending on the day, and how I decided to wear the scarf and sunglasses, I could be Jackie Kennedy, Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, Nancy Sinatra, or Doris Day (Que Sera) Ann Margaret. And, sometimes I was myself as a movie/rockstar who sang all of Elvis and Johnny Cash’s songs. . .loud and with great enthusiasm.  If I borrowed a hat, a pair of gloves, and a handbag from Grandma, I could be the Queen of England. If I had a spare tinker toy, the blue ones worked especially well, that was my cigarette. Grandma would have knocked that stick from here to kingdom come had she known! I did my best to keep that tucked into the pocket of my shorts. If I was given an old sheer curtain, I could be a bride or a princess. It didn’t take much, and I was someone else, somewhere else.

I was all of ten years old.

The landing could be a stage, balcony, the stairs at my palace, or a carriage. I loved that narrow spot between the houses.

An extra benefit was the picture window in the side of the house next door. Mr. and Mrs. Miller had applied a protective coating to the window to keep the sun out. Their investment provided me with a mirror which I liked very much. For a long time I believed I was “playing” to an audience of one – me. It turns out the Millers were enjoying each performance from the other of that dark, sort of iridescent plastic.

Mrs. Miller let the cat out of the bag to Grandma one day when we were there for coffee. I was doing my best to balance my lemonade and cheesecake with strawberries on my lap – something I’d never done before when she said, “Joy, we enjoy your songs and acting very much.” My grandma sang, but I didn’t she acted, so took the risk of spilling and looked up. In front of me was that window and my empty little stage. Merciful days! I could see it very clearly. My first ever bite of the delicious cheesecake soured in my stomach.

I hadn’t been alone after all.

Mrs. Miller waxed on about my costumes, songs, and dramatic flair. Grandma’s eyebrows went higher and higher. Way back then (the 60s), a child was to eat all of what she was given. That extravagant dessert had a hard time getting past the growing lump in my throat.

Somehow I finished it and was given a magazine, a pair of scissors, and permission to cut out that month’s Betsy McCall paper doll. I did so with shaky hands. I could feel Grandma’s disapproval across the room.

As we walked home, Grandma told me that my play acting might be considered vain, and that it might be a good idea to find something else to do.

However, I’d found not only a stage, but an audience. Giving them up seemed too much to ask.

The next day, during a piano lesson, I told grandma I was going out to play. She encouraged me to play in the back porch with my dolls. Instead, I snuck out with the scarf carefully folded and tucked into my shorts pocket – I’d chosen a sheer one because it folded up into almost nothing and wasn’t noticeable. My sunglasses were in my little handbag, which was appropriate for playing house. . .so I was set.

I got so involved in my next “show” that while singing “Ring of Fire,” I almost missed Grandma’s approach. She came around the corner of the house in good shoes, and the skirt to her dress moving around her rapidly moving legs. Before I could get my costume off, she had me by the arm and was hustling me back into her apartment. I’d lost track of time, and she’d left the windows on that side open. I guess my personal rendition of Jailhouse Rock, distracted her piano student.

On my way down those stairs with far less grace than my other exits, I did what a good actress, First Lady, or Queen would do. . .I waved a final good-bye to my unseen, but present audience. It was the least I could offer their faithful attendance.

Grandma loved me deeply, and I loved her right back. She wasn’t being mean, she was trying to help me understand that vanity was dangerous and humility of great value. It was important to her for me to resist improper impulses. I cannot tell you how much I miss her – my heart has this old sad ache in it that settled in the day she died. She was and is one of my most favorite people ever. She felt the same way about me, but. . .

I’d like to tell you that her lessons sunk in. However, a few days later, I disturbed another piano student as I stood in front of the mirror on Grandma’s dresser, and sang what I thought was possibly the most perfect opera ever heard. No words – just loud, enthusiastic, heavy on the vibrato, high-pitched soprano, sounds. I am sure I nailed every sharp and flat ever heard in my limited range.

Again, I missed her approach. She found me with my hair brush in hand, her Sunday shoes on my feet, her best hat on my head, gloves on my hands (the really good ones that went above the elbow on her and nearly to my shoulders!), and a scarf and brooch at my neck. And, there was that stray tinker toy.

This time she had no words. I carefully removed the items I’d borrowed and sat on the end of her bed to wait out the rest of the lesson. It was my best and last performance at her house. Although I was misunderstood, I’d out done myself.

After that, I sat on the little landing stairs and read – sometimes out loud. I thought I had a very nice reading voice and my teachers all agreed. I guess stories like Anne of Green Gables, and Little Women were acceptable even when read with dramatic flair.

This is a happy memory for me – I had fun while it lasted and honest to Pete, I wish you could have seen her coming around the corner of that house. Naughty girl that I am it still scares me to giggles, and makes me smile.

Bits & Pieces,

Joy

Graphic purchased from fotolia.com © blessings – Fotolia.com

    Bittersweet Birthday

Nicci Medina

Alex’s 1st Birthday Cake

So many emotions are running through my head right now.  Can’t hardly sort them out.  Bittersweet, that might be the one word that best suits tonight.

We went to a steakhouse to take my daughter out for her 18^th birthday.  We made arrangements for her friends and relatives to be at there before she came, to surprise her.  Although this is the first “surprise” party we’ve had for her, many of those same friends have come to her birthday parties every year.  As I sat there, taking pictures of her opening presents, blowing out the candles and laughing and giggling with her friends, it hit me, that this was probably the last birthday party like this, that she would probably have with all these girls.  This coming year, several of them will be off, living their lives; who knows what next year will bring for them and for her.  But no matter where they are, it will be different.  She will be living on her own, she will probably be having different kinds of birthday parties.  She, or some of her friends may even be married or with children.  Tonight was the last of something that I have done every year around this date for the last 18 years; watched her having fun with her friends to celebrate her birthday.  Next year, maybe I’ll be invited to a party with her and her friends, but most likely, I will not.  Her and I will do the grown up thing; I will take her out to lunch, and maybe shopping, and it will be wonderful.  Yet, never the same.

Different is good, yet I’m not quite ready to say goodbye to the childhood birthday parties.  Not ready to see her leave, not ready for all the lasts that are coming in the next several months.  Had I known how suddenly this moment would steal it’s place into our lives, would I have done anything differently?  Would I not have hugged her a little more along the way?   Would I not more often have traded cleaning the house, for  playing house with her?  Would I not have rocked her, just a little bit longer?

The days have a way of seeming unending with toil when the children are young, yet when you look back, it seems you blink and they are gone.  Just a vapor.   James 4:14 says, “….What is your life? It is a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.”  So, even from this I pray, teach us, Oh Lord to number our days, that we may gain hearts of wisdom.

What are the things, as I look back that I’m glad I did? Cuddling with her, taking naps with her, reading the bible to her, memorizing scripture with her, trying to teach her the fear of the Lord, training her to do housework and to take care of her little brothers and making sure she had birthday parties and some good memories.  Of all these, the most important was teaching her the scriptures.  All the other things will fade.  Even the memories will eventually fade with age and go into the grave, first with me, then with her.  Only what’s done in Christ,  for Christ, because of Christ will last.  Only the enduring Word. 1 Peter 1:24-25  says, “All flesh is as grass, And all the glory of man as the flower of the grass.  The grass withers, And it’s flower falls away, But the word of the LORD endures forever.”

“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it  without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth: it will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

 Isaiah 55:10-11 (NIV)

Nicci Medina  choosingthebetterblogspot.com

Happy birthday, Laura – we love you!

We couldn’t all be with you to celebrate your day and who you are, so we decided to give you a cyber-party!

I have so many special thoughts when it comes to Laura…I will always consider her an answer to my prayers. Many people do not realize that we prayed for a LONG 8 years to have another baby… We had Sally and were blessed to adopt our Dan a few years later…I will always believe that he is the reason we could not get pregnant during that time…God wanted HIM in our home! And we are so glad…but we still wanted more children if the Lord allowed…and then a miracle that the Doctors did not believe would happen…I became pregnant for a beautiful little girl. Laura was born a month early…and was perfect! The Lord later gave us another miracle…Megan! So there doctors!! Our Lord blessed us and we are so thankful!

Laura has always had a sensitive heart…a willingness to listen and to openly care and love people of all ages. She is very gifted and talented in many, many ways… There are many stories I could share, but as the Mom of this amazing young woman I am so thankful for her..after our crash 4 + years ago she came to live with us for a year..she cared for me..pushed me to do things (when I was afraid to try!), went on field trips ..in general she was JUST what I needed..God is good..all the time…and once again He sent her to me. I am a rich, blessed mom.

Laura has always gone out of her way to make sure Amelia has time to “do” Laura’s hair and makeup, especially the eyeshadow. That has been a fun tradition, from the time Amelia was about 3. She has brought out the fun girly girl things for her favorite niece!

Here is Ryan with Laura when he was little. Funny thing, both boys are way taller than her now. When I was 8 months pregnant with Ryan, I had vertigo and couldn’t drive for a couple weeks. Laura came out and stayed with us, driving us to dr appointments and being available to help her hugely pregnant sister. As a thank you, we gave her the flu, poor girl. It was so good, though, to have her around, doing life with me for a while and such a great help as we transitioned from one kiddo to two!

I love this pic of Laura, realizing the joy of bring an aunt for the first time, loving on Andrew. Her love for her nephews and niece is so sweet. She carves out time for each of them when we are together and makes them each feel so very special. She understands their unique personalities and goes out of her way to connect with them.

Happy birthday, Laura.

Love,

Sally

My favorite memory is when my friend Lindsay and I convinced Laura to climb on top of the kitchen counter to get us the candy jar. And then Lindsay’s mom walked in and caught her red-handed! ha! When we were kids, Laura was such a shy little lady. I’d always embarrass her and drag her around to meet strangers. It’s funny how things turn out because, these days Laura is one of the most outgoing people I know! She can go on a trip and make a friend with a stranger in the airport, borrow a book from them, and then be e-mail friends. She has a glowing personality and people love her! Why wouldn’t they? She’s just such a thoughtful girl. Always trying to figure out what little things she can do for people to brighten their days. I don’t know how many times I’ve gotten home from work to find a bright envelope in my mailbox with a funny card in it and possibly cut out pictures of Ryan Gosling. She just knows! I love her so much and am lucky to have her as my sista!

<3 Megan

This flower reminds us all of you. . .

Laura you are so incredibly kind, very creative, soft spoken, and so very special. I just love you!!!!

Lori

I could have shared a photo of you, Laura, but I decided to post this picture of the flowers you brought me when I needed them – that’s the way you are!

One day a long time ago (at least it seems that way sometimes) Laura and I were sitting on my wooden swing out in our woods. She was barely a teenager – a girl with big dreams and a much bigger heart. We’d been giggling when she got quiet. For awhile we listened to the birds sing and then she looked at me with her beautiful brown eyes full of something besides our earlier silliness. For awhile she shared some thoughts she’d been having about people, God, grace, real love, and forgiveness.

Later, we returned to our silly ways; she teased her uncle, helped me in the kitchen, played with our dogs, and fed the birds. When I prayed by her bed that night while she slept (something I’ve done with all the kids who stayed at our house) I thanked God for a little girl so full of wisdom, kindness, compassion, and beauty. If I had to use one word to describe you, I couldn’t – I’d pick two: gentle and generous.

Laura, as a woman, you’re all of these things and more. When we have lunch or share in emails, FB notes, or texts (we’re such cyber-chicks!) I can hardly wait to see the next chapter of your life. It’s going to be bright and beautiful, and I’m glad you let me be part of the adventure!

I’m thankful for you and proud of you. I’m also grateful to God that I get to be your aunt!

Please come and swing in the woods with me this summer!

I love you,

Aunt Joy

I hope you enjoyed your cyber-shindig!

Then one day, due to circumstances beyond their control and mine, five tiny bandits moved into my kitchen and my heart. They were only a few days old, frail from not eating, and desperate. Their fur was like baby fluff, their eyes still shut, and their brand-new  legs so weak they couldn’t walk.

I fell head over heels in love.

Those little bandits took more than my heart in the time they spent with us. They changed my internal clock. As a full-time writer, it was my habit to sleep in until 9 in the morning. However, getting up to feed, clean, and cuddle with these furry bundles was no problem – even on the coldest Minnesota days. Sitting with them in their kennels while the bitter wind blew, was no big deal when I was with them. Many mornings I didn’t realize I was cold until I got back into my warm kitchen.

When one baby got sick, I nursed him. When another ran away and was too little to be on his own, I prayed for my prodigal. When they were naughty, I scolded. And, when they needed to snuggle, I opened my arms and my heart even though I knew it was going to hurt.

So did my husband.

Watching Jon play with them, our ordinary marriage took an extraordinary turn. One day while the raccoons crawled all over him, I noticed how handsome he was. When they teased him, his laughter sounded like music. Seeing his tenderness with them, something in my heart shifted.

A marriage on the verge of stale was re-ignited by one man’s response to five ring-tailed babies.

Looking back I know part of what attracted me to Jon in the first place (besides his good looks, strong body, great humor, and smile) was his gentle soul. After taking it for granted for a while, seeing it again was like the first time I’d discovered it only better.

Knowing how He wired me, God sent five wild babies into our lives, to teach us more about him, and then He used them to remind me that Jon is the earthly love of my life. I can honestly say with Judy Garland, “For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.”

This is the grown-up version of our experience with these little ones. With Jon’s love and support, I have written and published a children’s book that spans the eleven months they stayed with us. You can purchase the print copy ($10 include shipping and handling) from me at www.booksbyjoy.com or the e-book is available for your Kindle, Nook, or iPad. SEE THE LINKS HERE.

They loved him all the way to the end of our time together, I love him more each day we are given together.

Sharing my legacy with you, bits & pieces at a time,

Joy