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Bread and Wine

We sit in cloth covered pews, hands clasped in prayer, as light, wonderful light, streams through stained glass windows.

Hand to hand, stainless steel trays our passed holding the fruit of the vine and flat bread.

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We take the bread, give thanks, and eat. We eat the bread, his body, love and life everlasting, broken, bruised and bleeding for us. We eat the bread, remember the stripes, the nail scarred hands, his death mounted on a tree. We do it in remembrance of him, of his sacrifice.

We take the juice of grapes and drink. We remember his bloodshed, the blood of Jesus, flowing from our sins and transgressions, not his own, never his own. Our guilt, thick and hot, covered the ground of Golgotha. We raise our cups and drink in remembrance of him, the New Testament in his blood.

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This Thursday, before this Good Friday, and every day after, every day, remember his broken body, remember his blood, the blood of Jesus. Because his blood washed away your sin. Because his blood can make you whole again. Because his blood is hope and peace, and the only way home. The only way…

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The One & Only Thing I Love about Winter

Snow, Baby! Snow!

I Love Snow Flurries.

Snowflakes,

Snowballs,

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Snow Fights,

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Snow Angels,

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and, Snow Kisses.

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Well, you get the picture. Sorry, I can’t stay. I gotta get away. Baby, it’s COLD OUT-SIDE!

Happy Snow Days!

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Trying to make sense out of the senselessness

Like most of you, I am struggling. I am trying to find a way to cope.

I have busied myself. I have wrapped Christmas presents, addressed Christmas cards, and tried to desperately lose myself in all the trimmings and the trappings of this glorious holiday season, but I am too distracted. Distracted by grief.

Like you, I am mourning the loss of 20 children, 12 girls and eight boys, whose faces I have never seen, their lives not even a vapor, just barely a mist.

Like you, I am angry. I am confused. I have questions upon questions. Why? Why did he do this? How could he do this? How? How could anyone regardless of their mental stability purposely choose to walk into an elementary school and use 6 year-olds for target practice. How?

Detectives search for motive. Politicians point fingers at the NRA. We need stricter laws for gun control they say. Religious leaders blame the Supreme Court. If they would not have removed God from our schools than Satan could have not entered so easily. I digress to a certain degree.

I believe God was there at Sandy Hook Elementary on the morning of December the 14th. He was present in the principal who lost her life trying to disarm the gunman. He was present in the front office of the school when someone tripped the PA system to alert the rest of the school. He was present in the custodial workers who managed to heed warnings to teachers locked in their classrooms. God was present in the teacher who sacrificed her own life to save the lives of her precious little students. He was there, but the only place I am certain God was not, was the only place he needed to be so desperately, in the heart of the gunman. It would have made all the difference in the world.

So, where do we go from here? How do the loved ones of these victims pick up the pieces and carry on? How do we prevent this from happening, again? How?

Of course, we are all divided on everything from where to begin, to whether or not we should discuss Friday’s events with our children. I have a five year-old who attends public school, and I have not, for one reason primarily, a question I know she will ask. It’s the same question I have.

“Could this happen at my daughter’s school?” Could it?

I know the answer, and so do you. Yes. Yes, it could happen anywhere and at anytime. We have all become moving targets at the mall, at the movies, in our homes, even at our worship halls on our knees. There are no “safe” places anymore.

So, what do we do? We are all different. We all cope differently, but for me I am going to do the two things I have always done. I am going to pray, and keep praying, for the loved ones of the victims, the survivors, the entire Sandy Hook community. I am going to pray, fervently and whole heartedly, for this type of tragedy to never happen again, ever. Then, I am going to Love, and keep loving, my family and children without abandon, because none of us knows what tomorrow may hold or today may bring.

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Blessed x 3

Sometimes, there are not words big enough to hold all you feel.

You can wrap them in parenthesis, question marks, and exclamation points but it’s still not enough.

You can alter the tone of your voice.

You can raise it, lower it, whisper it, or shout it, and it still would not covey the depth and breadth of your emotion.

This is how I feel.

This is how I have felt for the last four months.

My emotions have been all over the place.

I’ve been high and I’ve been low.

I’m over here, then I’m over there.

I’ve been up. I’ve been down, but above all else, I am blessed.

Soon to be three times over.

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Beauti-fall

Last weekend, we decided to board a train at Hill View Farms

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We hopped on a horse’s back, when the tracks ran out..

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We got lost in a maze of crazy cornstalks

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And, If that wasn’t enough, we were drafted to milk a cow

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and feed a baby goat

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All for one fall must have, the pumpkin!

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Bring on The Jack-O-Lanterns!!

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Down a rabbit hole

Today, I am certain I tumbled down a rabbit hole

Fell harder and further than Humpty Dumpty

But I only cracked my looking glass and not my soul

I ran straight into a sly Cheshire Cat

and left with marks up and down my arms

I then bowed to a royal queen dressed in white

And, discovered I am only a pawn in her twisted game of chess

May the best player always win and nothing less

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Gone Girl, Gone

Sometimes, I see her…

I catch a glimpse of her in a devilish grin

Or an eyes wide open surprise

I feel her beneath the surface

Treading water, one frantic stroke after another

I sense her struggle, the loss of breath, the need for air

She’s still holding on..

She’s still here…

The girl who would always choose dare over truth

The girl who would skip across tight ropes without fear of falling

The girl who drove too fast, laughed too loud, and smiled too wide

I miss her….

The girl I used to be.

The one hidden away and tucked beneath the woman I became.

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Falling for Fall

Hmmm, I am in the mood for…

Great Big Pumpkins with no seeds

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the only vegetable that belongs in the candy food group

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a whole lot of treats and a few tricks

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Scary stories, spooky spiders, ghoulish ghosts, and a touch of Hocus Pocus!

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It’s so good to see you, Fall! We have been expecting you.

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Do you really want to have a baby????

I’ll never forget the day my sister called and told me she was pregnant.

I was standing in the kitchen, going from the refrigerator to the island, when the phone rang.  I answered it, whole heartily expecting my sister to ask if I had any milk or cream cheese, but she said these words instead.

“Guess what?”  She didn’t wait for me to answer.  “I am pregnant!!!  You are going to be an Aunt!”

I almost dropped the phone.  I felt my heart leap in my chest.  A great big sob lodged in my throat.  I couldn’t speak.  I fought back the tears stinging my eyes, and I whispered to God a silent thank you for not allowing her to tell me in person.

“Oh, Patsy!  I am so happy for you.  I really am.  I am so excited”.  I lied, partially.

I was happy for her, far beyond happy actually, but I also felt a sadness, I find difficult to put into words.  With a baby, my sister would feel joy unimaginable and a love she has never known before, and she would also, for the first time in her life, really feel the weight of worry. A worry that is difficult to contain and impossible to soothe at times.  A worry that only a mother knows.

Being a mommy is downright, hard and exhausting.  You give so much of yourself away, one piece at a time.  You trade Jersey Shore for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse; your size 4 skinny jeans, for size 14 mommy pants; and days off without an agenda, for days off with trips to the pediatrician.  The swaps and trades can go on forever, and the fears are infinite. Are they eating enough? Are they eating too much? Why are they spitting up so often? Do they have GERD? Why are they not crawling yet? Why are they not walking yet? When will they ever get a tooth? Should I take them to the dentist?

I imagine, I am painting a lovely picture for those of you who do not have children. You are probably speculating on whether I enjoy being a mother, and the answer is Yes! Yes! Yes!

After five years into this Motherhood thing, and knowing what I know now, I would never, ever, want to go back. My life is definitely different but so much richer. Now, I have tiny hands to hold, teeny toes to tickle, and little voices that yell, “I love you, Mommy!” I’ve never been more tired, but I’ve never felt more complete. My children are the half that makes me whole.

If you asked my sister, I am sure she would echo my sentiments. She delivered her baby girl in April, and I have never seen someone take to parenting with such ease. She slipped one shoe off and put the other shoe on. No tears. No baby blues. No mommy meltdowns. My fears for my sister, as a new mother, vanished.   Just look at this picture.

My sister, Patsy and her baby girl, Kynlee
Have you ever seen a happier baby or momma?

I know, me neither!

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Grandparent’s Day!

Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children. ~Alex Haley

I am certain there is nothing on Earth that makes my parent’s as happy as their grandchildren do. I knew the moment my mother held my daughter for the first time I had been replaced. The look on my Mother’s face, a reflection of my own, pure, unconditional love, minus all the weight and responsibility that comes with parenting. My parents were smitten without limits and still are.

They spoil, baby, dote and pamper their grandchildren to the point it is almost shameless but enduring. The word NO holds no meaning. Yes, is repeated often. Discipline does not exist. They fulfill their grandchildren’s every wish. No mountain is too high enough, no river is too wide enough to keep them apart. The grandchildren call and they go running.

I am sure my parents would deny these accusations, but they are guilty as charged. Okay, maybe I am a tad bit jealous or even envious. Growing up, my parent’s had lots of boundaries for us. We heard no often, and they did not hesitate to correct, when we veered onto the wrong path. Those burdens do not seem to exist, when you go from parent to grandparent. The fears, the worries, and endless duties are all washed away. A blessing I am so grateful my parent’s have received.

I am, also, certain that nothing makes my children happier than their Nana, Mamaw, and Papaw’s. They know they are loved and loved some more. If there is a need that I can not meet, they know who can and then some. My parent’s are blessed but my children are blessed by them even more, and I am so very thankful!

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Happy Grandparent’s Day!!

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