tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79978450451207388372024-03-13T07:02:51.747-05:00L.K. CreaticaMy name is Lauren Kay. I am a writer, songwriter, worship leader, homemaker and mother, artist, poet, psalmist, music artist, and anxious procrastinator.
This is where I sort out my messy life.Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-38952384588053342382018-02-16T09:37:00.000-06:002018-02-16T09:37:14.286-06:00Whether Parkland, Florida or Pensacola<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There was a pall over the car rider drop off line this morning at the school, settled like a fog, forcing us parents to see what was right in front of our faces. To our right in the passenger seats, and straining over our right shoulders to steal a quick glance at our lifebloods in car seats and boosters, we realized this morning that we didn't want to let them go, for what will happen when the fog lifts?<br /><br />I drove home slowly, and the idiot passing me didn't even have his headlights on. Is his faith that strong? <br /><br />I turn down my own street and see the high school boy that walks every morning, and I always have to do a double-take because he looks just like Daniel. Is it Daniel? No, but it will be him in just a few short years, if I'm lucky -- if I'm blessed with the few months it takes for him to shoot up two more feet, or few years to go to college, a few more to marry the love of his life, and feel the incredible gift of fatherhood that teaches beyond anything else the love our Father has for us. <br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4JAB2WLNUGU/Wobxwyb_qVI/AAAAAAAAEgM/sC7FNVxQWKIjcc_K-o8Es6rx7eeCqC_vACEwYBhgL/s1600/danielbrendanwalking.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4JAB2WLNUGU/Wobxwyb_qVI/AAAAAAAAEgM/sC7FNVxQWKIjcc_K-o8Es6rx7eeCqC_vACEwYBhgL/s320/danielbrendanwalking.jpg" width="320" /></a><br /><br />
These young kids dying makes me think about the kind of parent I am. What am I teaching my boys as they grow? I'm teaching them to be another Peter Wang, who held a door open in the school for other children to escape. "Hold the door, boys. Let others go in first. Move over so a lady can pass, and then don't expect a thank you. It's what you should do." <b><i>Give your lives for others, and say goodbye to your mother. </i></b>I'm raising them to be everyday heroes. To do the things some don't. To do the things most <i>won't</i>. Mrs. Wang, are you proud in your grief??<br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vkB0QXO3mHU/Wobw9cvv0YI/AAAAAAAAEf8/pBDlYy0kpI8KKyIVdH9durHD0p0yRT7IQCEwYBhgL/s1600/allforone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="528" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vkB0QXO3mHU/Wobw9cvv0YI/AAAAAAAAEf8/pBDlYy0kpI8KKyIVdH9durHD0p0yRT7IQCEwYBhgL/s320/allforone.jpg" width="176" /></a><br /><br />A close friend of mine asked me if I talked to my sons yet about the tragedy. And I haven't. Because I don't know yet what I want to say. My first inclination is to say, <i>Run and hide and don't make a sound. Find your own hiding place so that no one else can draw attention to you. </i>But is that what I would do? No. I would run<i> to the ones needing help</i>. I would give my life to end the life of the possessed man taking all of the innocent lives. I would gather and protect like a shephard does his flock of sheep, protecting them from the wolf who seeks to devour them. <br /><br /><br />My mother warrior spirit, the bear in me, weeps in a chair at a computer desk in a safe neighborhood where a multitude of birds sing, and fat little squirrels chatter and play.<br /><br /><br />But we can add to it all that the teaching profession can be added to the list of dangerous occupations. The lives of a few good men have also been taken, when already we are in short supply, and I grieve for their families, their only consolation for living the rest of their lives without their strong lovers, steady husbands, larger than life fathers...is that they died heroes -- heroes in the example of our God, who is our hero, and did a whole lot more than hold open a door.<br /><br /><br />Our Father God that was with me in the most intimate embrace, that saw the evil surround the cross that was this school and these children and brave men and women, has also created a place for evil to dwell when all is said and done, where fear now belongs locked in a cage with no possible escape. <br />
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Since fear belongs there, good parents, mentors, and examples, we can make the heroes and the caretakers. We can raise and influence the walkers on the coals, and the spiritual trapeze artists that have overcome the fear of any kind of fall, the mothers that are the distractors so the others can escape, the leaders who act as human shields, the brave hearts that run headlong into the evil fire to save lives. <br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aeAWGnVIrkI/Wobw9gxB4dI/AAAAAAAAEgE/hUzCOO4gbmAs5kMJES2D9U-8cxzbbkubwCEwYBhgL/s1600/heroes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aeAWGnVIrkI/Wobw9gxB4dI/AAAAAAAAEgE/hUzCOO4gbmAs5kMJES2D9U-8cxzbbkubwCEwYBhgL/s320/heroes.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Valentine's Day lived during the tragedy because though evil tried to kill all the love, it could not. It never will.<br /><br /><br />Our fights are now, tiring fights that leave us breathless and worn, but they cannot leave us hopeless. We still have air in our lungs. We still live, and love, with an endless supply of rest and strength when we turn to the right One. And no matter how much fear tries to cover us in fog, we can still open our car doors and usher the little children outside to live, and breathe, and fight the good fight by simply doing the right things.<br /><br /><br />
<span class="text John-4-34" id="en-NIV-26191"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">John 4:34-38<br />34 </sup>“My food,”</span> said Jesus, <span class="woj">“is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work.</span></span> <span class="text John-4-35" id="en-NIV-26192"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">35 </sup>Don’t
you have a saying, ‘It’s still four months until harvest’? I tell you,
open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest.</span></span> <span class="text John-4-36" id="en-NIV-26193"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">36 </sup>Even now the one who reaps draws a wage and harvests a crop for eternal life, so that the sower and the reaper may be glad together.</span></span> <span class="text John-4-37" id="en-NIV-26194"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">37 </sup>Thus the saying ‘One sows and another reaps’ is true.</span></span> <span class="text John-4-38" id="en-NIV-26195"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">38 </sup>I
sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the
hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor.”</span></span><br />
<br /><br /><i>Our hope is that our flesh and our spirits will not always be one, that
the flesh will decay, the nerves give one last spark, the eyes close,
the heart stop beating, and the spirit lift upward ushered into heaven
by Almighty God. Though He allows a physical death, He gifts lift to
the spirit higher than the clouds, held down by no fog</i><b><i>. So we can float.<br /></i></b><br />John 4:46-50<br /><span class="text John-4-46" id="en-NIV-26203">And there was a certain royal official whose son lay sick at Capernaum.</span> <span class="text John-4-47" id="en-NIV-26204"><sup class="versenum">47 </sup>When this man heard that Jesus had arrived in Galilee from Judea, he went to him and begged him to come and heal his son, who was close to death.</span> <br />
<span class="text John-4-48" id="en-NIV-26205"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">48 </sup>“Unless you people see signs and wonders,”</span> Jesus told him, <span class="woj">“you will never believe.”</span></span><br />
<span class="text John-4-49" id="en-NIV-26206"><sup class="versenum">49 </sup>The royal official said, “Sir, come down before my child dies.”</span><br />
<span class="text John-4-50" id="en-NIV-26207"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">50 </sup>“Go,”</span> Jesus replied, <span class="woj">“your son will live.”<br /><br /> </span></span><br /><br /><span class="text John-4-50" id="en-NIV-26207"><span class="woj"><span class="text John-4-50" id="en-NIV-26207"><span class="woj">Matthew 25:40</span></span>"The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the
least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.' <br /><br /><br />And so our hearts are for the children left standing.<span class="p"><br /></span></span></span><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uDW1TXoX5vE/Wobw9ln7YNI/AAAAAAAAEgE/N3-N50-ehikQROXvB6FkXmpQlA_mz_4tgCEwYBhgL/s1600/overcomers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="360" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uDW1TXoX5vE/Wobw9ln7YNI/AAAAAAAAEgE/N3-N50-ehikQROXvB6FkXmpQlA_mz_4tgCEwYBhgL/s640/overcomers.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><span class="text John-4-50" id="en-NIV-26207"><span class="woj"></span></span>Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-85239844449351715382016-10-09T15:09:00.003-05:002016-10-09T15:23:40.153-05:00Followers of the North Star<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We began because a man was called, and that man answered. The eldest to the youngest all followed. <br />
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And we learned how to work side by side for a common purpose.<br />
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We covered over each other with faith, fellowship, and grace...<br />
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And it brought the ultimate joy to our lives, joy that we could not contain.<br />
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Though it sometimes it felt like it was hit or miss, we did it <b><i>all together</i></b>.<br />
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Two and half years can form unbreakable bonds between brothers and sisters of the same Father.<br />
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And just two and half years can change some lives forever.<br />
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Wherever we go from here, be it together, or apart (hopefully together!!!)...I know we will continue to follow <i>the</i> North Star.<br />
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This is dedicated to all of the men and women, past and present, who served at
Northstar Pensacola Campus. I am blessed to call you my brothers and sisters in Christ. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We are victorious. </b></span>Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-57702742493664659122016-03-25T07:40:00.003-05:002016-04-07T14:07:01.479-05:00Criss-Cross<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our lincoln log cross hangs on the wall in the living room on this Good Friday. My three boys and I didn't have one, and it's the one thing I wanted for my own place for as long as I can remember... ever since I was a little girl. The kicker? My son, Daniel, who was just four-years-old at the time, made the decision that would resonate with me every time I saw it on the wall. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> "Hey, Mama?? Let's use lincoln logs to make our cross, and you can make a guitar string rope to hold it together."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_Gxa6h13vEY/VvUvA4nP1BI/AAAAAAAAENc/0Nj73sRKDBc38dXTmFKCAQMFc_UYlZAeg/s1600/Cross1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_Gxa6h13vEY/VvUvA4nP1BI/AAAAAAAAENc/0Nj73sRKDBc38dXTmFKCAQMFc_UYlZAeg/s640/Cross1.jpg" width="356" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The only thing holding it to the wall is the balance between the nail and the groove. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the only time it has ever fallen down was when it was knocked down by the Christmas tree we were trying to erect, and when I put it back on the wall I realized I didn't want another cross. We didn't need another cross. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br /><br />So it is bound through it's center in a criss-cross with a silk-inlay Austrian guitar string. The silk inside is the difference in these particular strings.... the softest fiber gives the highly flexible steel core the ability to ring and resonate unlike any other... just like our hearts. Our strength can never be accomplished by hardening, but by being worked over by our Savior, by only becoming like the silkiest, softest, most open, bendable accommodators through the center of ourselves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The only way to keep from getting lost is to wrap ourselves around the cross.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NZlEbXDNiTk/VvUvA7h7ePI/AAAAAAAAENg/Z6cKweYMBA8AF957oCX3tbEmkRfDwW1kw/s1600/cross2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NZlEbXDNiTk/VvUvA7h7ePI/AAAAAAAAENg/Z6cKweYMBA8AF957oCX3tbEmkRfDwW1kw/s640/cross2.jpg" width="360" /></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When we are young and haughty, independent and headstrong, we are unfired steel, unable to see beyond even our own edges. But this life we live, this God-given life, has a way of firing us down, does it not? The hell-fire we go through, the pain, melts us into willingness to admit we don't have all the answers...forces us to puddle on the floor and rebuild from the inside out. His death, His traumatizing death, forever in our minds is really the only act of love strong enough to ever get our attention... to <i>really</i> get our attention.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our food today is that the death of Jesus Christ was already overcome by His
birth in the first place....the birth a promise, the death the actual delivery
of the promise, and... in the resurrection: the basis for everything we
believe, that good will never be overcome by evil. What greater
thought exists? Love will always win. And as we reach for the Cross we reach for the greatest power... Compassion, Love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lord, we give you our attention today, like we should every moment. You've got it. Let the temple curtains tear. Let the stormy skies rain down. Your glory and Your fall and Your Love for us is in the rain today. And let us have forever in our hearts the passion: the groove that hangs in balance by the nail.</span><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sTES-mMd2SM/VvUvAzA5TWI/AAAAAAAAENk/Vm4lp3iMG2UF-FJxU2oxtYzirN0QH_8mQ/s1600/cross3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sTES-mMd2SM/VvUvAzA5TWI/AAAAAAAAENk/Vm4lp3iMG2UF-FJxU2oxtYzirN0QH_8mQ/s640/cross3.jpg" width="360" /></a><br />
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<br />Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-51725027483852958882016-02-24T16:59:00.001-06:002016-02-24T17:11:05.693-06:00Love Is A Shape<span style="font-size: large;">He was the boy whose eyes were downcast more often than not. He was the boy who thought he had to be the man because there wasn't another one around. He was the child who didn't have any friends, the boy with ADD, the boy who always felt like he wasn't good enough, that he was somehow different than everyone else, that he didn't have a hope or a prayer. <br /><br /><br />But after a time he came to believe that he was good enough to get in the water and try it out just like everybody else.<br /><br /> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5FI6WEbsL8M/Vs4la1UP9bI/AAAAAAAAELs/UPXt0OAb9f4/s1600/EatmonPhotography2016-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5FI6WEbsL8M/Vs4la1UP9bI/AAAAAAAAELs/UPXt0OAb9f4/s400/EatmonPhotography2016-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br />He's not at that age yet where he doesn't care who's looking....<br /><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ic_zZ6ckGfg/Vs4lei3GuQI/AAAAAAAAEL0/iy3oZ9DaBLc/s1600/EatmonPhotography2016-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ic_zZ6ckGfg/Vs4lei3GuQI/AAAAAAAAEL0/iy3oZ9DaBLc/s400/EatmonPhotography2016-9.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9Wsd7-dKyz0/Vs4lNguAyfI/AAAAAAAAELE/rkWCsDULOLs/s1600/EatmonPhotography2016-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9Wsd7-dKyz0/Vs4lNguAyfI/AAAAAAAAELE/rkWCsDULOLs/s400/EatmonPhotography2016-20.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />But he is at the age that he knows he wants to do it anyway. So he got into the water and professed to everyone standing around just what he believes in, that anything is possible if you'd just take the time to wade in a little water, and that it doesn't matter about the shape of your muscles, or size of your chest, or anything else on the outside. All that matters is that the size of your spirit is not measured by anyone else but Almighty God.<br /><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cDTepf2poMg/Vs4lT4wGIwI/AAAAAAAAELU/E0BP5x2ZUh8/s1600/EatmonPhotography2016-31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cDTepf2poMg/Vs4lT4wGIwI/AAAAAAAAELU/E0BP5x2ZUh8/s640/EatmonPhotography2016-31.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">You see, I've messed up more times than I can count. But on this day, all of my mistakes were washed away, just like his were. My broken gifts to him were glued back together. <br /><br />We all put things together and just try to make them work. We put in our resources, and our time, and our efforts, and they just aren't enough to do it justice. But the glue of God's water is eternal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PgpUgCmmkM8/Vs4lV9FyDJI/AAAAAAAAELc/p1WFGEfsxck/s1600/EatmonPhotography2016-38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PgpUgCmmkM8/Vs4lV9FyDJI/AAAAAAAAELc/p1WFGEfsxck/s400/EatmonPhotography2016-38.jpg" width="266" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MQ2IuPX2j0E/Vs4lYkenI9I/AAAAAAAAELk/jfqGr493K5w/s1600/EatmonPhotography2016-39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="552" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MQ2IuPX2j0E/Vs4lYkenI9I/AAAAAAAAELk/jfqGr493K5w/s640/EatmonPhotography2016-39.jpg" width="640" /></a>So we accept the brokenness, because it hopes for greatness. We accept the attempts, because ours are no better. Even when we can plainly see where it has been broken, we can also see what a person tried to give...<br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dkQ8PSqvpEI/Vs4yHpRvCqI/AAAAAAAAEMA/bqyn-VEaKB4/s1600/daniels%2527%2Bart%2Bheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dkQ8PSqvpEI/Vs4yHpRvCqI/AAAAAAAAEMA/bqyn-VEaKB4/s640/daniels%2527%2Bart%2Bheart.jpg" width="420" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> We take a long, hard look and find out that the shape of giving hands is love...even when all we have left to give is brokenness.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;">All Photos by: Mae Grace Eatmon, Eatmon Photography, </span><br /> </span><br />
except "Heart" photo by: LKLauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-9465811530022110172016-01-25T23:56:00.001-06:002016-01-26T00:04:52.836-06:00Find Your Teeth<span style="font-size: large;">He screeched to the front door with his two brothers, my youngest, and shoved the plastic container holding his first lost tooth right in my face. "Mommy, I lost my tooth, I lost my tooth!" "You did?" I asked excitedly. <br /><br />He had waited so long...watched his brothers each lose tooth after tooth after tooth, and he just wanted to be big like them. I remember one day recently when his older brother had lost yet another tooth. Jonah's bottom lip puckered out like he was about to cry. "Don't worry," I said to him, "you're getting bigger every day, and the day is coming when you will start losing your teeth, too."<br /><br />And oh, I wished this day would never come. It seems the early years are so hard, but since the youngest turned five all I've wanted to do is stop the clock. <i> Not yet, Lord, not yet. I'm not ready for them to leave me.</i><br /><br />I watch them grow bigger and stronger knowing that one day they will leave my nest, and I will miss them so much. But also I can't wait to see how they end up helping others with these many precious gifts of character God has given them. My boys are turning into young men every day right before my eyes. The Father overwhelms me.<br /><br />But see, Jonah had lost that same tooth twice....at school when it came out of the socket, and later that evening when he dropped it while watching TV. You've never seen a bottom lip pucker like this, or eyes well up so full... "Don't worry, baby, we'll find it. We'll find it."<br /><br /><br /><br />I went to a homeless shelter this week. You know, there are only supposed to be adult drug addicts at homeless shelters. But that's not what I saw.<br /><br />I saw the physically disabled who's luck ran out, stuck between a rock and a hard place, but at least with a temporary roof. I saw a young boy whose mama just trusted the wrong man again. And he sat in this strange place, watching TV, just trying to look like he wasn't afraid as 40 people he didn't know shuffled back and forth along the hall. I saw a room full whose only hope was the next right step, who slept hard from exhaustion reaped from a day full of the stress of survival...<br /><br />...Those that have lost way more than just their teeth, those that have lost way more than they could ever be proud of. I looked into eyes that just wanted to turn back time. They just wanted their clothes clean and their hair washed for their second chance.<br /><br /><br />I pulled my own boys' clean underwear out of the dryer and I thought of that boy. See, that's all his mama had asked for, was a pair of clean underwear for her boy, and I didn't have it to give. The Father says to give to he who asks, and I didn't have it to give. So instead I blessed my hallway carpet with a million tears and held that underwear to my chest.<br /><br /><br /><br />I don't know how we can get so sidetracked worrying about who said what to whom, so cutthroat about our jobs, so snooty about our skills... intent on keeping people out, looking down our noses at lost causes. For you see, these same people are closer to bare bones and the spiritual side of things than even you and I right now...you can't deny it save mere ignorance. Us in all our luxury, them living hand to mouth from the mighty hand of God. While one man's luxury is a five bedroom, 3 bath home in the woods, and mine is a two bedroom apartment in a duplex....tonight theirs is a dry roof over a cot not too far from the cold breeze that cuts under that bridge. <br /><br />I encourage you to take 10 minutes out of your day tomorrow to call a local shelter to find out what its residents' needs are. Maybe you can donate $10 to go towards supplies, like coffee cups, toothbrushes, and soap. Maybe you can work a shift once a week, once a month. Maybe you can be an ongoing supplier of gently used clothing. <br /><br />Maybe all you can provide is that one pack of underwear for that little boy who had to leave his home in the middle of the night.<br /><br /><br />Finding a life once again after falling so far and so hard takes time and a whole lot of determination and heart. And I can tell you from experience that coming from a low place is made all the more bearable when someone doesn't reign judgement, but instead fills a need. Those that catered to my needs in my low places helped my spirit shift from just surviving to just thriving. <br /><br />I want to find my teeth, and grit down against the unpleasantries and inconveniences, and give the little that becomes so much to someone else in order to say, "Don't worry. We'll find it. We'll find it."<br /><br /><br /><br />"We'll find it."</span>Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-74377684859486212122015-12-23T22:18:00.001-06:002015-12-23T22:18:39.140-06:00Driftwood Prayers & Christmas Khakis<span style="font-size: x-large;">They were there for me in a way no one else could be in that moment. Angels from heaven may wear robes of white, but the Holy Spirit sometimes hides himself in khakis and polos, sometimes in humble threads on the corner asking for money, sometimes on the trailing notes of a song on the radio, and in gifts of money and McDonald's and fixed cars two weeks before Christmas.<br /><br />And each Christmas in succession teaches me this:<br /><br /> From the success of the hidden birth of the mightiest King on Earth ever in existence we can deduce that the most helpless have an honored place in the kingdom of God. And that though others would see dirty animals and straw, we know that there is peace and safety in the glory that shines upon the hay.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I work and create and drive and care and love just as hard as I possibly can, but find in the end I can be one of the most helpless. And He says, "You don't have to be anything more than what I've made you to be. Already you are my creation."<br /><br />I have prayed and prayed and prayed for one thing for Christmas for my boys. Many Christmases I have prayed. These prayers seemed to move so slow, like... driftwood in a lazy river -- water getting into the holes and weighing down the dreams, to what seemed like, beyond hope, beyond finances, beyond my means -- slowing down to an eternity the wait for what I've wanted for so long.<br /><br />But this year God answered my prayers in a way that could only be Him. And though I'd only asked for one, He gave me two.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">I kneel down and praise the God that gives me the desires of my heart because I delight in Him. His mightiness right now is in the tears that fall down my face. He is reminding me, once again, that His purpose will come to fruition, and that He has entrusted to me three of His children for a reason.<br /><br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Special thanks to Chris Alvarado of Driftwood Guitars for making our Christmas a most memorable one, and for being the worker in answer to my driftwood prayers.<br /><br /><br />Also, thank you to the many good people at the Worship on the Water Church at the Flora-Bama for helping me stay on the road, and for the many gifts that will help my boys' eyes light up this Christmas morning.<br /><br /><br />My love to all of you. May God richly bless to your lives a hundred fold, and may your spirits Float this Christmas season. <br /><br />Merry Christmas.</span><br /><br />
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.Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-854161224285257382015-12-01T01:29:00.001-06:002015-12-01T14:04:10.451-06:00All the Single Ladies (Put Your Hands Up)<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uPSFtQhDKoI/Vl1I1GzCurI/AAAAAAAAEG0/CwrhQHDrt1o/s1600/just%2Bbe%2Bheld.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>The truth is I listen to the married woman write and I believe everything I see because I know it's anointed. But I still have to turn off the television sometime and fall asleep in silence in an empty bed. I just can't get comfortable and I can't keep my legs and my mind still, so I turn the light back on and look for something to fill the void. Where are all of my single mamas? It's time to call roll.<br /><br />"Here!" <br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Iu3ihTrImRw/Vl1I1EpAp8I/AAAAAAAAEG4/LuVOfVJCzwc/s1600/singlemama2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Iu3ihTrImRw/Vl1I1EpAp8I/AAAAAAAAEG4/LuVOfVJCzwc/s640/singlemama2.jpg" width="492" /></a><br /><br /><br />My kids are asleep and it's quiet here. I've had my glass of water and my midnight snack -- Corn Pops, but the bowl is empty. The dishwasher cycle is done and the clothes dryer has stopped. Surely there is one more thing I need to do before I drop off to sleep, like watch one more rerun of Friends and get one more laugh in. Did I get my 10 minutes of sunshine? Did I exercise today? Did I talk to a friend and remind myself that I have a support system? I'll check facebook one more time. <br /><br /><br />Did I take it to God when I thought about him again? <br /><br />I ran for a while in the park, but the thoughts were hiding under my pillowcase tonight. And I hear Him:<br />"Why do you reach for the memories of your pain?"<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2sheOacuhjc/Vl1I1k5GQzI/AAAAAAAAEHA/mx7fntZAD34/s1600/woman%2Bcrying.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2sheOacuhjc/Vl1I1k5GQzI/AAAAAAAAEHA/mx7fntZAD34/s640/woman%2Bcrying.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I come again and again to this altar, head hanging, tears falling into the dust on a pretty blue Bible that calls out to me in this Holy telepathy. I wish it away, saying, "I'm not going to understand anyway" and I see the amused smile in the eyes of Good God. And I scream at Him, "Why are you keeping me from what I need? Where is the man for me?" And He says, ...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />"...You are the only one keeping yourself from arms that long to hold you."</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uPSFtQhDKoI/Vl1I1GzCurI/AAAAAAAAEG0/CwrhQHDrt1o/s1600/just%2Bbe%2Bheld.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uPSFtQhDKoI/Vl1I1GzCurI/AAAAAAAAEG0/CwrhQHDrt1o/s640/just%2Bbe%2Bheld.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br /><span class="clearBoth" id="ctl00_ctl00_cphMain_cphMiddleColumn_DropZone1_columnDisplay_ctl00_controlcolumn_ctl00_WidgetHost_WidgetHost_widget_lblLyrics" style="display: inline-block; width: 100%;"><br /><br />"Hold it all together<br />Everybody needs you strong<br />But life hits you out of nowhere<br />And barely leaves you holding on<br /><br />And when you're tired of fighting<br />Chained by your control<br />There's freedom in surrender<br />Lay it down and let it go<br /><br /><br />When you're on your knees and answers seem so far away<br />You're not alone, stop holding on and just be held<br />Your world's not falling apart, it's falling into place<br />I'm on the throne, stop holding on and just be held<br />Just be held, just be held<br /><br /><br />If your eyes are on the storm<br />You'll wonder if I love you still<br />But if your eyes are on the cross<br />You'll know I always have and I always will<br /><br />And not a tear is wasted<br />In time, you'll understand<br />I'm painting beauty with the ashes<br />Your life is in My hands</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="clearBoth" id="ctl00_ctl00_cphMain_cphMiddleColumn_DropZone1_columnDisplay_ctl00_controlcolumn_ctl00_WidgetHost_WidgetHost_widget_lblLyrics" style="display: inline-block; width: 100%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="clearBoth" id="ctl00_ctl00_cphMain_cphMiddleColumn_DropZone1_columnDisplay_ctl00_controlcolumn_ctl00_WidgetHost_WidgetHost_widget_lblLyrics" style="display: inline-block; width: 100%;"><br />When you're on your knees and answers seem so far away<br />You're not alone, stop holding on and just be held<br />Your world's not falling apart, it's falling into place<br />I'm on the throne, stop holding on and just be held<br />Just be held, just be held</span></span>Lift your hands, lift your eyes<br />In the storm is where you'll find Me<br />And where you are, I'll hold your heart<br />I'll hold your heart<br />Come to Me, find your rest<br />In the arms of the God who won't let go"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bgYKcqRS6ic/Vl1MAnXjeaI/AAAAAAAAEHU/csAXndicNpA/s1600/lighthouse-in-storm.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bgYKcqRS6ic/Vl1MAnXjeaI/AAAAAAAAEHU/csAXndicNpA/s640/lighthouse-in-storm.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br />I nestle my legs under the covers and turn off the light waiting for my eyes to close, and I resist the urge to conjure the eyes I love that hurt me, and I look instead for the Light in the eyes that died for me. The Lover of my soul is here, the arms that go through skin.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIZitK6_IMQ">Casting Crowns: Just Be Held<br />https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIZitK6_IMQ</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember when I was a little girl and I would watch the ants for
hours. Sometimes I would poke a stick into the ant bed to see the inner
chambers and eggs....watch them rebuild the exposed parts in the most
horrific scurry. There was not one still ant. <br /><br />At first glance
it appeared to be chaos...until I followed the movements of just one.
Just one ant going against the grain and flow of every ant he came
across to get one grain of dirt, one mighty rock to place in the hole.
And then I watched another, and another, each filling the place. I'd
lose interest and go inside for a while...and come back out to check.
And by dusk the last straggling workers were placing the last grains on
an enclosed, and once again protected home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's a life of vital balance, is it not? The same holes that offer us entrance into safety and prosperity also lend the danger of exposure to the elements. Why on earth do we hole ourselves off alone thinking we are not understood? Thinking we are supposed to overcome something without any help?<br /><br />Us and our misguided antics. We were made to need each other. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We not only help the young,...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br /><br />...we help the capable, too. Being the bridge is a gloriously beautiful part of our God-given instinct. I will become stronger so that I can become part of the bridge. And, when our needs are reversed, we can trade. We will bind our purposes so tightly together in selfless compromise that it will be as if there never were a gap to begin with.</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GHzGnSTVRG4/VjjG9xaPU4I/AAAAAAAAEFw/lN__UYI_NzQ/s1600/ants5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GHzGnSTVRG4/VjjG9xaPU4I/AAAAAAAAEFw/lN__UYI_NzQ/s640/ants5.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
<span style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JTBqLjZCcfE/VjjG9NqYhTI/AAAAAAAAEFs/6ne-9GrUTzI/s640/ants2.jpg" width="428" /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br />I am so glad I don't have to go through this life alone. Oh, the feeling when you lift me! <br /><br /> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, climb up, Brother, so you can feel heaven, too, for we build a place where we live -- really live -- together.</span>Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-19293416969220750312015-10-05T14:42:00.000-05:002015-10-05T14:42:24.582-05:00Plentiful Pillowcases<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d7YP7d1jn38/VhK91G1DwOI/AAAAAAAADX8/WiECS7Oc4UM/s1600/granny%2527s%2Bpillow%2Bcases.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d7YP7d1jn38/VhK91G1DwOI/AAAAAAAADX8/WiECS7Oc4UM/s640/granny%2527s%2Bpillow%2Bcases.jpg" width="401" /></a><span style="color: #fce5cd;"><span style="font-size: large;">She made us these pillowcases with her sewing machine, all of her grandchildren. Eighteen grandchildren, and we each got pillowcases -- two each. She made sure we each got two, and sometimes a blanket or a smell-good bathset in a little basket.<br />She made sure each one of us got a present from her at Christmas time. <br /><br /><br /><br />And if you wanted a Christmas present you went to her house. That's the way it was, as it should be. And we, all of us, went.<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />So, we went there to open Christmas presents. We went there <i>and nowhere else</i> to eat Thanksgiving dinner. We shelled peas there at harvest time with buckets, bowls, paper sacks, sore thumbs, and great conversation. We climbed up on the forbidden roof and picked our own switches, and got the spankings of our lives...we darted in and out to say hello, and to get hugs when we were running low. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">That was where we went when we fell down running, fell from trees, or skinned our hides to hell and back, or when, as upstanding citizens, we needed to let her know that our cousins weren't obeying the bible.</span><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K3bgbtQaoyc/VhK900FisGI/AAAAAAAADX4/f50BCaIpsZo/s1600/granny%2527s%2Bpicture.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K3bgbtQaoyc/VhK900FisGI/AAAAAAAADX4/f50BCaIpsZo/s640/granny%2527s%2Bpicture.jpg" width="352" /></a><br /><br />Her house smelled of old wood and books and good cookin'. It was nestled beneath the oaks and pines where mosquitoes and fleas thrived off of the many little legs and the huge amount of shade. And there was plenty of land to run around on, plenty of trees to</span><span style="font-size: large;"> hide behind, plenty of room to form whatever exclusive cliques between ourselves and the other many cousins that ran around behind the same three-foot-high chain-link fence. My three sisters, and I, and our mother, and my aunt and cousins all lived in houses within that freest of confines, with regular visits of cousins and other aunts. And any adult physically present within the commune of that fence was allowed to whip us if we were misbehaving. As it should have been. And the matriarch of the Freest of Confines played the songs and sang the words of the first songs we ever heard on her organ.<br /></span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fWf0Sxzba7k/VhK91bY3YxI/AAAAAAAADYA/a5F0XDgkOMg/s1600/granny%2527s%2Bsongbook.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fWf0Sxzba7k/VhK91bY3YxI/AAAAAAAADYA/a5F0XDgkOMg/s400/granny%2527s%2Bsongbook.jpg" width="225" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uVxMFxQ9PnA/VhK91kfpHRI/AAAAAAAADYE/3E-J47ttRkk/s1600/song%2Bin%2Bbook.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uVxMFxQ9PnA/VhK91kfpHRI/AAAAAAAADYE/3E-J47ttRkk/s400/song%2Bin%2Bbook.jpg" width="225" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I remember the sound of her playing it. We all do. We heard her sing about her love of the Lord as we learned to walk, and play. <br /><br />When she wasn't at home she was at church singing about her love for the Lord there, or driving the kids on her school bus. We would listen for her bus and meet her at the end of her long dirt driveway at the road, and she would let us get on and ride down behind her house where she would park it. What a magical place to be, on that bus when there were no other children on it. Then she'd sweep the aisles of the bus, and sing about the Lord, and tell us to lift up our feet.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vdqOBJR9keI/VhK90Kr7udI/AAAAAAAADXk/4PYDW9yV2FQ/s1600/book%2Bimprint.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vdqOBJR9keI/VhK90Kr7udI/AAAAAAAADXk/4PYDW9yV2FQ/s640/book%2Bimprint.jpg" width="360" /></a></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">I see it now, the way she lived her entire life to teach us that through everything, through all of the work, and the heat, and the hard, through the times of confrontation, through hospitals and sickness, through all of the things that didn't work out, through happy Christmases and pillow cases, her life was this story of love, this list of the many songs to sing.<br /></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0zNSf7Ug220/VhK90PZdEgI/AAAAAAAADXo/zJol98eKL5g/s1600/granny%2527s%2Bgospel%2Bbook%2Bindex.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0zNSf7Ug220/VhK90PZdEgI/AAAAAAAADXo/zJol98eKL5g/s640/granny%2527s%2Bgospel%2Bbook%2Bindex.jpg" width="360" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vdqOBJR9keI/VhK90Kr7udI/AAAAAAAADXk/4PYDW9yV2FQ/s1600/book%2Bimprint.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span><br />And now, years later, as we rest our heads on plentiful pillowcases, on everything she made, as we obtain our rest by way of the hands that loved us, we find that her love lives for eternity.<br /><br /><br />We rest our heads on her love, and continue her story.</span><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PiRQy9Wzrbc/VhK90UfjcpI/AAAAAAAADXs/7jqDi8KOFU4/s1600/granny%2527s%2Bname%2Bon%2Bbook.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PiRQy9Wzrbc/VhK90UfjcpI/AAAAAAAADXs/7jqDi8KOFU4/s640/granny%2527s%2Bname%2Bon%2Bbook.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br /><span class="plus2"><b>Myra Lee <i>Dorman</i> Kelly</b></span></span></div>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
<tr><td valign="top"><span style="color: #fce5cd;">Birth: </span></td><td align="left" valign="top"><span style="color: #fce5cd;">Jul. 17, 1932<br />Dowagiac<br />Cass County<br />Michigan, USA</span></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top"><span style="color: #fce5cd;">Death: </span></td><td align="left" valign="top"><span style="color: #fce5cd;">Aug. 23, 2012<br />Escambia County<br />Florida, USA</span></td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2" valign="top"><span style="color: #fce5cd;"><img height="13" src="http://www.findagrave.com/icons2/trans.gif" width="3" /><br />Myralee
Dorman Kelly joined her husband in heaven Thursday, August 23, after a
courageous battle with lung cancer. Born in Dowagiac, Michigan, Myralee
moved with her family to Florida at the age of nine. She graduated from
Tate High School in 1950. Myralee was an active member of Oakhaven
Baptist Church, was a pastor's wife, and for over 40 years, served as
organist for several area churches. <br /><br />Myralee is preceded in death
by her husband of 43 years, Joseph D. Kelly; her mother, Gwendolyn
Dorman Hopkins; her father, Floyd Dorman; her brother, Billy Dorman; and
her Sister, Freida Renfroe. <br /><br />She is survived by her daughters,
Paulette Smith (Rex), Cynthia Watson (Donald), Kathryn Taylor (Ronald),
and Vivian Cockrell (Billy); 18 grandchildren; 40 great-grandchildren;
two sisters; Barbara Hawthorne (Donald) and Martha Emery (Kenneth); one
brother, Bernie Dorman (Bonnie); sister-in-law, Evelyn Hines (Bill);
numerous nieces and nephews, and good friends. </span></td></tr>
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<br />Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-77335682541847826122015-10-02T10:42:00.000-05:002015-10-02T10:42:55.669-05:00Leaves Like These<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Who says God can't appear like He did in a burning bush all that time ago? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For
as I smoked my cigarette and said, "Take this death from me," I
looked into the small tree before me. And the branches moved like
free-flowing vines, and the leaves moved with green vibrant hope, and
the branches reached like arms waving to get my attention, while<span class="text_exposed_show"> the branches of all others were still.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it held me enthralled as His Spirit filled my eyes and heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He said, "My peace is before you, and it is always here. The calm you seek is I am always here. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Knowledge is in your awe of Me, wisdom, because you ask Me. Love, because you need Me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Peace, for you trust and believe and obey Me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I reach for you like these branches.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And you are the wind between leaves like these."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Leaves like these, leaves like these</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In none but one tree.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In a face so clear one feels it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In a life so pure, like air</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is seen and then not seen.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And awake are the eyes that search for Him</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And content is the heart that finds Him.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And it matters neither the day nor hour</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For His presence never leaves the heart</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That holds Him dear.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He tells us, "Be still," when we know not His will</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But with leaves like these, leaves like these</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">All is well, all is well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are visions for the eyes that know He is here</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In leaves like these, leaves like these.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Joy to the hearts that feel the breath of wind</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The touch that doesn't come from skin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let none distract us from His love</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Let eyes like ours be fixed upon</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Leaves like these, leaves like these</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In none but One Tree.</span></div>
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Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-7353311814644980982015-10-01T09:28:00.000-05:002015-10-01T09:28:20.714-05:00Fro Glory<span style="font-size: large;">There is nothing softer than my children's freshly shorn hair there spread out on the floor. Everytime I sweep it up I touch it just to marvel at it's softness. Three different types of hair -- thick and straight, curly and thin, and blonde feathers... when the Lord's blessings are full to overflowing, overflowing like this hair on the floor. There is so much of it it's almost this mess of blessings. What am I to do with it all??? <br /><br />I spend much of my time caring for my blessings, and gathering up the abundance of them to give away so that we have room to walk in our home. I have never known a love such as this.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oqFAbBRRwU0/Vg0_9AAGpjI/AAAAAAAADP8/v4ZrkplGVLs/s1600/haironthefloor.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="357" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oqFAbBRRwU0/Vg0_9AAGpjI/AAAAAAAADP8/v4ZrkplGVLs/s400/haironthefloor.JPG" width="400" /></a><br /><br />Now if I walk outside beneath the beauty of the trees, the feel of the soft grass on my feet, the caress and smell of the unbiased breeze, and get into my man-made car and curse God for a flat tire I get that He did not divinely and graciously manifest me a miracle in reconnected treads, and think, "forget Him. He doesn't exist anyway"... it is then I fail to see that He held it together with His finger until I got off the interstate with my children in the car.<br /><br />What is my knowledge, and how omnipotent am I that I could possibly judge what is, and what is not, fair? How could I possibly think I know all of the things that should go on in a mind? Who am I that, no matter my age, I am your superior? He is the "I Am". And I am the "it is what it is" -- the "it is what it is" that should not judge.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EY-2865ctr4/Vg0_99rNAQI/AAAAAAAADQI/JZgWCoWrLg4/s1600/green-garden-1024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EY-2865ctr4/Vg0_99rNAQI/AAAAAAAADQI/JZgWCoWrLg4/s400/green-garden-1024.jpg" width="383" /></a><br /><br />That woman who cares for her sick parents and family, and works two jobs, and never has time for herself got a bad deal in life? Is it really a burden that she loves that much? That woman that cares for her mother who has followed the circle of life and becomes like a helpless baby once again....Is it really a pity that she does for her mother what her mother did for her? To become selfless angel incarnate, finally?<br /><br />I woke up today to write with a mind covered with a head of hair I had always hated: Big, and curly, and bushy, that would tickle the nose of any man who could get close enough... but my God loves my hair, and He looks down on it and marvels at all of the strands of His own creation. So much so that He allows it grow all of my life...even after death it continues to grow, the crown of this physical body. Just as my spirit continues to grow beyond death into what is good and right. As the bad now dies a slow death the good takes its place.<br /><br />Sometimes what we find hideous is, in fact, glorious. And so, we look twice at the texture.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y36yMiFozGA/Vg0_8y-nC-I/AAAAAAAADP4/_iBkQWQheBw/s1600/older_asian_woman_in_hospital.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y36yMiFozGA/Vg0_8y-nC-I/AAAAAAAADP4/_iBkQWQheBw/s400/older_asian_woman_in_hospital.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br /><br />Proverbs 3:5 <br />Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.<span class="p"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">.</span>Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-57367989891103582932015-09-16T10:43:00.000-05:002015-09-16T11:08:01.074-05:00Swamps and Faces<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(photo: Schomsi, Pixabay)<br />
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The weather changes and the birds get quiet. Holding onto the past is like holding onto the always-changing weather, or like a songwriting acquaintance of mine, Joe Doyle, said (in one of the many great songs he has written,) "...it's like trying to put smoke back in this cigarette." Like a history book of which I can make note, but in which I must not live, my past is a teacher. There was much good, and there was bad. There was desperation, validation, perversion, sweet purity... but of all of the evil in the world, even stronger is the greatest of everything else: love. And I know of love, because here I stand.<br />
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Regarding the battle in the mind when fear and jealousy try to control and overtake good with manipulative plans and the desire to subdue another....oh, that the battle is lost, because my eyes are open to a light shining around him, and around her. Would that we all rather help, than hurt.<br />
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I am reminded of the movie, "The Neverending Story" when the horse Artax
is stuck in the quicksand in the Swamp of Sadness. The horse's strong,
powerful, and agile legs were useless without the desire. And that desire sometimes comes from knowing there is something that makes everything worth the effort.<br />
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Is getting out of the muck something I can accomplish alone? No. I notice that I've an inborn desire to need arms... but it is
God's arms that I feel when there is no one else to be found. It is His arms that I feel each time my heart remembers that I'm not doing so good
inside without Him. <i>Bitterness is not going to win</i> if I am mindful of Him. He
will not forget me. When everything and everyone else around me fails, and I become disappointed in a life that may not be working out like I'd hoped and planned, He reminds me it's because He already has a plan. <br />
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He already made me for a specific purpose. There are specific needs people have that I can meet right now, that I will be enough for. And when I seek to know what it is I am reminded. I don't go through the motions of an empty "religion", but I live an alternative choice, choosing love, choosing joy, choosing truth, choosing pureness in my work over instant self-gratification.<br />
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Oh, I pray to inhale peace and exhale joy, and it comes. My breath is like snowflakes, and I inhale His Spirit as deeply as I can, and know that He is God. And I tell Him, <br />
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"You are my God, my Healer, and Provider. You touch the hurt places of my heart and bring me wisdom and understanding, forgiveness and grace for my mistakes and purposeful acts I've done that defy good--forgiveness and grace for others that weren't good to me, or couldn't do what they said they would. You give me calm faith, and immortal hope. You enter the places in me that human eyes cannot see. With You in my heart the deep cut feels like only a sting, and simple delights make me soar!" <br />
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In a world that knows how to battle with fingernails and swords, I can do battle with kisses and hugs, kindness, and a willingness to listen when the rest of the world can't be bothered. When I feel anger to retaliate, I can surrender to the love of Christ, and follow His directions to give grace or turn the other cheek. Love is that incarnate of the Holy Spirit, of the heart and soul of Jesus. And He can flow through my hands any time I desire Him, when I reach, in that moment. I quash any ill desire because I do not want to add to the quagmire that this world is becoming. Do I cling to religion? No. I cling to a Holy Ghost that goes through my skin and inside of me, giving to me like I've never been given to before. This is my testimony.<br />
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Here's that he turns toward that person, looks her in the eyes, holds her face in his hands, and gives what she needs: this husband for his wife who does things hoping it will bring her a smile, working until his back aches to provide for her; this wife that gives to her husband daily, sacrificing her own desires to make his days more pleasant by filling whatever need he has; this parent for the child, sacrificing his or her own desires to care for the wellbeing of their offspring, providing ways to delight them and engage their minds, teaching them even in tiredness; this brother for his sister, leaving his endeavors of the moment to protect her from harm; these friends reminding each other that they are available to help in any circumstances that arise; this God for you and me, daily doing all of these things whether we are open enough to notice or not. He reminds us that our purpose is not only our delight in His creation, or our own discoveries and observations, but also in our work for others. That we obtain peace in our appreciation, but obtain love only with Him, with others. Daily. That He gave us eyes not just to witness the glory of the morning, or to see the colors of the sunset, but to see that others are smiling or crying. He gave us ears to hear oceans and rain, and laughter and wails.<br />
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These birds get quiet because they are getting warm in the cooler weather. I prepare my space for change in this new season that God brings to my life. I know not whether it will storm or snow, or be the mildest winter of my life so far... but everything I need is at my disposal to minister to another in the Swamp of Sadness... because I reach for God and God is the only one strong enough to pull anyone out. He has pulled me out this morning, already. Time to start walking. Where are the faces for my hands?<br />
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Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-50104370498736106662015-09-10T15:39:00.000-05:002015-09-10T15:52:10.245-05:00Square Feet and Rounded Backs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">We are to be a ship for passengers that carries others to their destination. We are to let the sails billow taut in the wind, not proudly...just as they were made to do. We are to be a home for a given amount of time between a point of origin and a destination. Sometimes we will praised for our seaworthiness, but most times we are to be, simply, a transport to weary bodies and souls who cannot see past their knees. Always a companion, always with a purpose.<br /><br />Sometimes we are meant to move like a thief in the night, quickly, quietly, bringing to safety the precious cargo entrusted lest it fall into the wrong hands. Sometimes we are a place for rest and celebration. And sometimes we are sailed without a soul aboard just to see what might break before we carry another load.<br /><br />Without passengers we are being mended, prepared, varnished, to be sailed in the bay, the pass, and one day in the open sea. <br /><br />So, what will make us seaworthy? Are we to become strong enough for a day's excursion? A week's? Or a long journey?<br /><br />We begin with oars, and so our ship, in the beginning does not have many passengers, because the Captain knows it would be too much to bear. Our rudder is placed. Backs are strengthened with the heave-ho. The rowers become perfected in unison, each relying on each other's strengths and compensating for each other's weaknesses. In this I'll tell you of my aching back, so that you can minister to me, and everyone can work harder until I am well. I will lay it all bare before my brethren.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.reverbnation.com/laurenkaysingersongwriter/song/17541393-lay-it-all-bare">https://www.reverbnation.com/laurenkaysingersongwriter/song/17541393-lay-it-all-bare</a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ljOKb1_AKI/VfHm8Oi5aUI/AAAAAAAACXM/TuZwdUuBkDc/s1600/workhardplayhard.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ljOKb1_AKI/VfHm8Oi5aUI/AAAAAAAACXM/TuZwdUuBkDc/s640/workhardplayhard.jpg" width="360" /></a><br /><br /><i><br />Then <b>our idea</b></i> of a common purpose <i><b>becomes</b></i> the common purpose. We are of one Movement. The passionate strength of each pull of the oar is measured, the faces that beg for relief in their efforts, for the higher destination to be reached. The captain watches and commands, the helmsman steers, the rowers row, and when we are measured ready to harness the mighty wind in our sails we will receive the command to lift them, and our speed will increase. We will work together, our only concerns being not of ourselves, but rather being the safety of our brother, the safety of the ship, the ship entrusted to the equipped called. <br /><i><br />Mark 1: 16-18<br /><span class="text Mark-1-16"><sup class="versenum">16 </sup>As Jesus
walked beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew
casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen.</span> <span class="text Mark-1-17" id="en-NIV-24233"><span class="woj"><sup class="versenum">17 </sup>“Come, follow me,”</span> Jesus said, <span class="woj">“and I will send you out to fish for people.”</span></span> </i><span class="text Mark-1-18" id="en-NIV-24234"><i><sup class="versenum">18 </sup>At once they left their nets and followed him.</i></span><br /><br /><br /><br />He says, "Leave your nets. Leave your ways of doing things. Leave your
own understanding, and submit to the Spirit leading your hearts to
greater ways. Now my strength will enter your backs, the backs that bow
into humble curves like the curves of the ship that will <span id="goog_996602552"></span><span id="goog_996602553"></span>cause it to slice
through the waters."<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yK3oVd6LE5w/VfHm8e12-UI/AAAAAAAACW8/eH8Vpyn59uA/s1600/noah%2527s%2Bark.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yK3oVd6LE5w/VfHm8e12-UI/AAAAAAAACW8/eH8Vpyn59uA/s640/noah%2527s%2Bark.jpg" width="430" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We want to pull away from shore in a hurry, but the Captain will not let us go and sink. In the meantime our purpose is our preparation. It is a small rudder that steers a ship.<br /><br /><br /><i><br />Zechariah 2:1-3</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="text Zech-2-1"><span class="chapternum">2 </span>Then I looked up, and there before me was a man with a measuring line in his hand.</span> <span class="text Zech-2-2" id="en-NIV-22902"><sup class="versenum">2 </sup>I asked, “Where are you going?”</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="text Zech-2-2">He answered me, “To measure Jerusalem, to find out how wide and how long it is.”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> <span class="text Zech-2-3" id="en-NIV-22903"><sup class="versenum">3 </sup>While the angel who was speaking to me was leaving, another angel came to meet him</span> <span class="text Zech-2-4" id="en-NIV-22904"><sup class="versenum">4 </sup>and said to him: “Run, tell that young man, ‘Jerusalem will be a city without walls because of the great number of people and animals in it.</span> </i><span class="text Zech-2-5" id="en-NIV-22905"><i><sup class="versenum">5 </sup>And I myself will be a wall of fire around it,’ declares the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>, ‘and I will be its glory within.’</i></span><i><br /></i><span class="p"><br /></span></span>Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-26980348719099272562015-09-02T23:25:00.000-05:002015-09-02T23:25:50.975-05:00Yet Another Retraction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">When these fingernails grow and grow they are not good for playing guitar. Neither are they good for shaking hands, nor cradling faces. I want to hold you close to me, and tell you a thing or two about the difference between instruments of love and claws.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dMn2DA5BLiI/VefFx0PyzeI/AAAAAAAACGM/uMOI00_R6Rw/s1600/traps.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dMn2DA5BLiI/VefFx0PyzeI/AAAAAAAACGM/uMOI00_R6Rw/s640/traps.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Because, you see, I thought once clawing was the way to survive. Imagine me on the precipice of a mountain. I have just fallen and I cling with everything I have in me, my nailbeds seperating from my fingers because I'm trying so hard. Really the only way to survive is to reach for a hand and cry out that we aren't invincible, that we aren't immune to or above the need of being approved, tried, and tested...that we aren't islands of self-sufficient men and women created to look out for number one. <br /><br />We were born to need.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8dCrhstH1Xs/VefDt5dtITI/AAAAAAAACFs/TcMh0xPcrC8/s1600/arthritis%2Bgel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8dCrhstH1Xs/VefDt5dtITI/AAAAAAAACFs/TcMh0xPcrC8/s640/arthritis%2Bgel.jpg" width="360" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I could wait to post these pictures. I could get a manicure because nobody wants to see the ugly. I could hide the swelling and pretend I am not in pain. I could angle the calluses out of view and pretend I am not over-working them out of pure drive of a calling greater than skin and bones. <br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s32PC-wvOt0/VefDt7RBViI/AAAAAAAACFk/XkC3_HPlXc0/s1600/fingers%2Bkeyboard.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s32PC-wvOt0/VefDt7RBViI/AAAAAAAACFk/XkC3_HPlXc0/s640/fingers%2Bkeyboard.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br />The work of our hands shows in the wear of our hands. The knobs that form tell a story of what we care about the most. The tilt of our chins speak volumes of how many we will include. The deepness of our eyes is where the love of Something Greater is found, the thermometer of our warmth, the barometer of moisture in our souls, the tell-tale of what we will give out of our purest state.<br /><br /><br /><br />So when our age finds us and our faces own plenty of crevices able to hold all the jealousy and bitterness in the world, and our hands are beyond repair, and we've nothing left to do but sit and think about yesteryear, we will remember by looking at them that we kept our nails short so as not to hurt the ones whose we held, that we let every ounce of bitterness mix and fall with every milliliter of salty tears...the tears that need to fall because, we know better. We know better than to think we are better, don't we? Filing nails are choices, such that iron sharpens iron into curves conducive to love.<br /><br />After all the callused hands are those that build bridges.</span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E6k4z0i9hmw/VefDuT8N3OI/AAAAAAAACFw/U7ZDpIZVjf0/s1600/granddaddy%2Borgan.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E6k4z0i9hmw/VefDuT8N3OI/AAAAAAAACFw/U7ZDpIZVjf0/s640/granddaddy%2Borgan.jpg" width="360" /></a>Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-69780211061965639322015-08-24T23:42:00.000-05:002015-08-25T13:07:54.461-05:00Macaroni Mess<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />I step on legos and little tips of crayons, milk jug rings, and a halfway hardened piece of macaroni that I thank God is just macaroni after I lift my foot behind me to grab it. I get up from the couch and find that, somehow, a used dryer sheet is stuck to my behind, and, oh, the chapstick that has been missing all week is right there on the floor... without the cap. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And while all this is going on there's this guilt... <br /><br /><br />...That my boys aren't in baseball, and how on earth will I ever afford three class rings two years apart, and college, blah, blah.... all these little worries that rob me of the joy of what Daniel is dying to tell me right in that moment, or what Brendan is itching to show me, or what Jonah is timidly trying to ask me for. <br /><br /><br />My little loves, and how can your little mama possibly be enough?</span><br />
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(I'm cheating a little right here, if you can't tell.)<br />
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(One of those moments when I'm Miss Popularity.)<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PtEYfvcPZdQ/Vdvqr8ZoD7I/AAAAAAAAB7I/Zh7ZTFlG-Ts/s1600/brendan%2Blaughing.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PtEYfvcPZdQ/Vdvqr8ZoD7I/AAAAAAAAB7I/Zh7ZTFlG-Ts/s320/brendan%2Blaughing.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">What I find, in like a mental "aha" moment, but not so dramatic, is that I don't have to keep up with the Joneses. All I have to do is ask. <br /><br />When two cars blew up on me, months apart, I asked for a new car in tears, and I got one. I told the boys, "Well, if you want to go to Disney World, then you'd better start praying now, because I don't see us ever affording it, baby." So they prayed, and a few months later, we went. Then I wanted a CD and BAM, thousands from Birmingham. And I wanted an electric guitar and received a facebook message from a friend out of the blue saying, "Hey, I got this guitar...." And I wanted a tablet to make my shows a little easier, and more well-rounded... I wanted an amp... I wanted a fan... I still want a house, and I have no doubt that it will all work out. Because that's what He's trying to show me through all of this. "Ask me. Just ask me. I am your Provider, and you belong to me. You are Mine. And I'm going to take care of you, and everything is going to be ok. It's going to be GREAT."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, my question is, what is it really going to take for me to let go of this belief I have that it's my job to worry about everything I can't control? <br /><br /><br />Just like Forrest Gump says about his mama, mine "has a way of explaning things to me in ways I can understand them." My mama said, "Just take the next right step, baby. And the next one. And God will take care of the rest." <br /><br /><br /><br />If we sit around imagining the worst we're going to find out all we worried about was just a little macaroni, but there God is, sometimes with what I think might be empty nest syndrome, just waiting on our love, waiting on us to tell Him our next request, maybe play in the same room for a while. And even though eventually our toys end up like legos and little tips of crayons on the floor of His heaven, they are symbols of our messy lives together. <br /><br /><br />True happiness is in the mess, gathered around Him, in what really isn't a mess at all.<br /></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NjDxocCbM3U/VdvscK7OEDI/AAAAAAAAB7k/qUQ6JcbCf9U/s1600/boys%2Bchristmas.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NjDxocCbM3U/VdvscK7OEDI/AAAAAAAAB7k/qUQ6JcbCf9U/s1600/boys%2Bchristmas.jpg" /></a><br />
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<br />Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7997845045120738837.post-72937437819221975532015-08-17T08:37:00.002-05:002015-08-17T10:13:45.157-05:00Creative Prescription<span style="font-size: large;">You've heard that when you are hurting helping someone else eases the ache. And when something dies, something else is born. In this we heal. We've been made in His image, meaning we want to be like Him, like child wants to be like parent. Just like God, as we understand Him, we make and create. And what do I make today? Something with words. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From all of life's wounds I choose to heal by stringing letters together. And my faith that God will heal me makes it so. This is just another calling, that my life does not just belong to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our society chants "This is MY life." But it is also belongs to our sons and daughters, to our husbands and wives, </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">to our mothers and fathers, to our </span>brothers and sisters, our friends, and to people we have yet to know. <br /><br />And I belong to God.<br /><br />I've been handed a creative prescription to be a window, and you are welcome to look inside.</span><br />
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<br />Lauren Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12018278027012808187noreply@blogger.com0