Blogworthy titles for posts I never wrote:(and some I wrote but didn’t publish)

Don’t dance with scissors.
Walking with Grave Clothes on.
Don’t bite my monkey.
Where’s my snail?
It’s Ok to be clingy.
We be Pink Hat People.

Oh no! My Charleigh has a rant on her blog!
Charleigh’s Chat

Curt over at The Happy Husband asked a fabulous question: How can we encourage our pastors? He has posed this question to various blogging pastors and is linking to their responses. I encourage you to think on this question yourself. Pastors are a precious gift from God, it is vital that we learn how to cherish and encourage them.

Charleigh is going in at 10:45 for a hearing test. We’ve been talking about it since last week when I made the appointment. This morning she said she wasn’t sure about the whole thing. Trying to comfort her I said “It’ll be fine, Kaleb had it done at school and he said it was fun”. Her response was “Kaleb doesn’t even have “ear-rings” why does he need an “ear-ring” test?”. I moved her hair away from her ears, looked directly at her and loudly and clearly said “No honey I mean a HEARING test” Her response “Oh! Where they check your ears, ok.”

Yes dear, when they check your ears.

This is an update from the original posted on June 2, 2005

Who we are is a culmination of the places we’ve been, the people we’ve known and various events of our lives. Each of us has an assortment of unique memories and influences, which play a part in who we are today. Be it as illusive as a scent or as solid as a house this hodgepodge of remembrances, stories and items are all part of where we are from. This is where I’m from. . .

I am from coffee in the morning, from sitting in the backyard reading my Bible.

I am from the small town, a little brick house, with a flag proudly waving out front.

I am from picking daisies, and rolling down hills of freshly cut grass.

I am from the heart of unconditional love, A Father’s grace and a Son’s sacrifice.

I am from the short people and the soft ones.

I am from you don’t have to eat beets or beans.

I am from twins working together to reach a light switch, cooperating, celebrating.

I am from little sisters growing up and singing big.

I am from the mountains and the flatlands, the country and the city.

I am from cousins and circuses on swing sets.

I am from cattle guards, gravel roads and chicken yards.

I am from hearing the bell ring and running home for dinner.

I am from Chinese jump rope, Pogo balls and four square.

I am from school busses, cruising main and Loaf n Jug.

I am from big letter jackets smelling of sweet cologne.

I am from high school sweethearts, class rings and wedding rings.

I am from big bellies, little babies, and soft blankets.

From dirty hands, sticky kisses and sidewalk chalk, three little blessings.

I am from Sunday school, pizza after church, and an afternoon nap.

I am from old friends, missed friends and new friends.

I am from shiny gold rocks, purple friendship bracelets and pink hats.

I am from phone calls, emails, and dropping by to say hello.

I am from never being alone, always having family, always being loved.

I am from comfort and protection, cared for and needed.

I am from a hard workingman who comes home dirty and cleans up nice.

I am from freshly brewed ice tea and burgers on the grill.

I am from living a dream, and dreaming for more.

I am from little girls with brown hair, and little boys with blond.

I am from ribbons, cub scouts, cars, bugs and tutus.

I am from hallways lined with fingerpaintings and refrigerators covered with Crayola drawings

I am from Sesame Street, Veggie Tales and missing Mr. Rogers.

I am from every day miracles, hugs from little arms and hugs from big strong ones.

I am from homemade cards and fresh picked dandelions.

I am from Faith, believing in my God, and knowing him more each day.

I am from remembering 4-19-95 and 9-11-01. Ribbons worn, flags raised and lives lost.

I am from protecting the innocent, living strong, fighting for freedom and a soldier’s sacrifice.

I am from the smell of rainy mornings, and the sound of stormy nights

I am from standing firm, defined values and no compromise of morals.

I am from cuddling up with a good book in front of a warm fire.

I am from a new box of crayons, and the first day of school.

I am from hope and not pain, faith and not fatigue, trust and not dismay.

I am from all of you. Where are you from?

Janae’s little girl Kenzie spent a few days with us this past week. I adopted her as my own for 3 days. As she sat on the front porch watching Kaleb ride his bike she confided in me how very much she wished she too could ride a bike. She explained her lack of balance and her fear of falling. We discussed how her bike was still in storage and wouldn’t it be great if she could surprise her Mom and Dad with learning to ride a bike. We practiced on Kaleb’s which is considerably to small for her. Up and down the side walk we went until yes I admit I gave up. Worn out with trying to hold up and aid in the balance of the 90 some pound child I retreated into the house to rest. Then yesterday while sitting and chatting with Nae I glance out the window and there she is SHE’S Doing it! She had been out there practicing and practicing and finally out of pure determination and with no help from any of us she had learned on her own to ride her bike. We watched through the window as she continued to perfect her skills. Finally with pride and excitement, joyed with her accomplishment she runs in to tell her parents.

Oh, how I remember the bumps and bruises that led to the mastering of my own first bicycle. I called her “Desert rose” my first bike, my friend. What pride and freedom I attained when finally I rode her into the sunset down a long country sidewalk. Later I would tie ropes to the handle bars and pretend she was a horse, riding my trusty steed on long adventures, I would fight off bad guys and protect the west. What memories.

At some point I traded her in for a 10speed. A 10 speed with out a name. Hmmm.. .

Congratulations Kenzie on your new found freedom. Enjoy.

Sometimes God blesses us with little gifts of joy. I received one such gift when I first triedMrs Renfo’s “Smoky” Roasted Salsa. It was love at first bite!

My Hero! My Man!
Kurt fixed the AC yesterday afternoon. The $60 guy who came last week to look at it said it would cost $580.32 to fix it. Knowing that the guy already cost $60 bucks I then had a remaining .32 cents allotted in the fix the AC fund. Kurt used the info received by the $60 guy added it to his own ingenuity and now I have a nice cool house. All it cost me was a cold glass of ice tea. Those of you who know me well know that I detest the heat. Can’t stand it! Anything over 72degrees and my ankles start to sweat. So therefore as I sit in my comfortably 71 degree house I hearby dub today as “Kurt Day” Kurt, King of the fix it.