by the way...whether I'm psychotic or not...I'm still praying for Rebekah ---and I remind you all to pray as well. God is no respector of persons. He's going to listen to the prayers of a frantic, looney Mom in a panic over a lost sewing needle just as much as He'll listen to you. Trust me. He listens. I found my needle, didn't I?
PRAY FOR REBEKAH!!!
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Tuesday, August 30, 2005
sewing needle...yet another psychotic episode
You know....I really think that I am losing my mind...at the early age of 45....Just now, I was doing some mending...hand sewing a pair of my husband's boxer briefs. They're black - fruit of the loom - but that's not important. I dug through my sewing box and found just the right shade of green thread. (Why should I sew black fabric with black thread?...that would make sense....). Anyway...I got the thread and the needle and sat down on the couch to sew. After about 20 stitches, I held the boxer briefs up to allow the needle and thread to dangle so that the 'twist' would come out of the thread. oops. The needle fell off the thread and landed in my shirt. But I couldn't find it - anywhere....oh wait, there it is...as I reached for it, it slid futher down the fold in my T-shirt and then it disappeared. I could not find it ANYWHERE! I was in an absolute panic - fearing that Olivia was going to step on it in her bare feet --telling her to "stay put" and "do not get off of your Elmo couch until I find this needle!" I looked for ten minutes --couldn't find it ---by this time I had broken out into a cold sweat (see....I told you I'm losing my mind...all over a stupid needle...). I went to retrieve a powerful magnet---thinking I'd run the magnet across the floor and the couch and my clothes....where is the needle?...still nothing. I went and got the sweeper and swept every inch of a four foot radius from the scene of the crime...and I prayed...and cried. (I TOLD you I'm losing my mind). WHERE IS THE NEEDLE?!?!? After I swept, I opened up the sweeper compartment---there, under the peanuts and popcorn and WalMart smiley sticker which I swept out from under the couch cushions...was the stupid needle. Finally. I could relax. Meanwhile...Olivia is walking around the house asking if I am all done crying. I'm telling you ---I'm losing my mind. Nobody believes me. Someday, you'll be visiting me in the psych. ward and I'll say, "I told you so."
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Rebekah
I am fairly new to this whole "blogging" thing....but not at all new to the situation involving a very precious little girl living in Banks, Oregon - named Rebekah. If I knew how, I'd create a link to her page...but since I'm not quite sure how to do that, I can direct you to this website: http://attorneyadams.com Once there, click on the link "Personal page" ...then click on "Rebekah's Blog". There you will be able to read Rebekah's story. I ask that you pray for this little one - who is so brave and so strong. She suffers from cancer - specifically, Ewing's Sarcoma. What she has endured thus far has been horrendous ---but she and her family continue to trust in God. They know that He will be faithful to carry her through this ordeal. They know that He could, in an instant, make her completely whole again...they know that He is in control of this situation...they know that He will work everything out for their good and His glory. They trust Him. They know that He is able to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that they can ask or think....they continue to trust...they continue to believe...they continue to derive strength from Him. May we all be reminded as we follow Rebekah's story ---to trust the Lord. For HE ALONE is worthy of our COMPLETE devotion. ....dear reader...take a moment to read Rebekah's story and say a prayer for her....and think about your relationship with the Lord...do YOU trust Him in ALL areas of your life?...if not, why not? It's not an accident that you're reading this.....It's a divine appointment....Give God a chance. You will no regret it!
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Still Summer
I read this today --thought it was good --thought I'd share:
From Guideposts Magazine August 2005 by Edward Grinnan - Editor-in-Chief:
Still Summer
Here we are in the hot heart of summer. I love thinking about our country in August--thinking about all those family reunions from Juncan to Jupiter Island, folks seeing one another for the first time in ages, maybe for the first time ever and maybe even for the last. I love thinking about those checkered picnic cloths spread across freshly mown grass,, baskets of secret-recipe fried chicken and tubs of Wilma's potato salad or Uncle Louie's ziti anchoring them against the stubborn breeze. And how many sand castles and mud forts will rise up only to be swept away by the heartless tide? Or a big wet dog shaking off a gallon of muddy lake water all over some heliotropic sunbather (who probably needed to cool off). Miniature golf, roadside tacos, soft serve ice cream and freezing cold movie theaters that reek of popcorn when the weather keeps you indoors and you've played all the board games in the closet. Or a baseball arcing through the sky like a satellite while an 11-year-old who's too small for his uniform circles uncertainly beneath it. Dear Lord, please let him catch it! And he does. Barely. While you clap so hard your hands sting.
The sun goes down late...though a little earlier each night, you notice. And there's just the barest chill in the air later when you blow out the citronella candles and bring the lawn chairs in. Always each season contains the suggestion of the next. And maybe you lie in bed and listen to the crickets or the rumbling of distant thunder (or was that just my stomach?) and think about how good it is--how holy, almost--just to be still.
From Guideposts Magazine August 2005 by Edward Grinnan - Editor-in-Chief:
Still Summer
Here we are in the hot heart of summer. I love thinking about our country in August--thinking about all those family reunions from Juncan to Jupiter Island, folks seeing one another for the first time in ages, maybe for the first time ever and maybe even for the last. I love thinking about those checkered picnic cloths spread across freshly mown grass,, baskets of secret-recipe fried chicken and tubs of Wilma's potato salad or Uncle Louie's ziti anchoring them against the stubborn breeze. And how many sand castles and mud forts will rise up only to be swept away by the heartless tide? Or a big wet dog shaking off a gallon of muddy lake water all over some heliotropic sunbather (who probably needed to cool off). Miniature golf, roadside tacos, soft serve ice cream and freezing cold movie theaters that reek of popcorn when the weather keeps you indoors and you've played all the board games in the closet. Or a baseball arcing through the sky like a satellite while an 11-year-old who's too small for his uniform circles uncertainly beneath it. Dear Lord, please let him catch it! And he does. Barely. While you clap so hard your hands sting.
The sun goes down late...though a little earlier each night, you notice. And there's just the barest chill in the air later when you blow out the citronella candles and bring the lawn chairs in. Always each season contains the suggestion of the next. And maybe you lie in bed and listen to the crickets or the rumbling of distant thunder (or was that just my stomach?) and think about how good it is--how holy, almost--just to be still.
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