Too Much

My head and heart are full. Full of the things of life. All the stuff to be done. To think about. All that I am not accomplishing. The pressures I place on myself.  Life bangs about in my head like sneakers in a dryer. A heart pounding with too much. 

I KNOW their is abounding Grace...I can't find it. Weariness. Grips. My. Soul. 

It is the KNOWING that keeps me going. Though. Grace lives. Abounds. With or without my knowledge. 

Jesus help me find it. The Living Grace. 

Five Minute Friday: Finish

To finish one must start. The starting can be quite the challenge. But the biggest mountain to ascend is the middle;'so that one can finish. Truly i only have a few short minutes. Sitting in the overcast early morning light of one of my most favorite spots on planet earth, I rush to peck words before the crew rises. My starting dreams soar high, proven by the sewing machine I researched, excitedly bought; my husband snarked that I would never use. I did. For a few weeks. Presently, I have no idea where it has run off and hid. How does one LOSE  a sewing machine? I am sure after weeks, months, maybe more of sitting in the corner of a hallway, my dear friend house-helper got to sick of sweeping around it and found it a home, in the storage room... How many of my hopes and dreams get stashed away in storage? Left alone, waiting for my restless soul yo stir and return?  

How grateful I am for today. It has a beginning and a n end. God created it that way especially for us happy starters but challenged finishers. Worry not about tomorrow for today has enough mini starts and finishes of its own. Breakfast. Loading the dishwasher. Playing. Spanking. Loving. Kids. Dinner. Prayers. Loving on a friend. Kissing boo boos. Feeding the chickens. Enjoying my incredible view from my front porch. Snuggling.  A glass of good wine. All fill the day with joys, a  sorrows. Enough to say I fished today.  And tomorrow I will start anew. One day. One dawn.  One sunset. One day complete. Finished. Praise God. 

Friend for Five Minute Friday

Funny, I was driving home from driving kids to school, after my bi-weekly encounter with exercise, with a trainer, who pushes me, hard; driving home on my way to an over full to do list day, of one entire morning long chore that would leave me pretty well spent. Driving home I was feeling overwhelmed and a bit ragged, ragged on the inside; heart inside, my outsides were still pumped from the physical heart rate rising, weight lifting, cardio challenging, one thing I do purely for me torture. 

On this drive my silly mind wandered to the trials and burdens of my life and I nurtured my downcast spirit. But from the depths God reminded me of my friends. My true life friends, a few women I could call anytime, with ugly confessions, happy mother joys, gut wrenching brokenness, and in these women I would find solace, comfort, encouragement, laughter, a shoulder, open arms, kindred hearts. 

God has brought many amazing ladies into my life. Some I see almost daily. Some not for several years. All of whom I love deeply. Yet God has placed different women friends in different places in my life. Each cemented to a piece of my soul. In my life there are no casual friendships. Kindred souls for different spaces. 

Still the few women of whom just the thought of encouraged my ragged insides are God made sisters, and I am beyond words grateful that they are a gift given. 

Friends, God's hands. His voice. His unconditional love. In human form.  

Mamie-mama. ( found this in the draft box from February.)

And so with only a few minor adjustments, I can post something through a few tears, without reaching to far. 

I am so blessed by Five Minute Friday. By all my young mama friends on Facebook, without whom I would not make it through a day. I read the stories of spilled Cheerios, soggy sheets, elementary school projects, packing lunches, forgotten permission slips, and a thousand and one other minuscule and monumental tasks to be completed by young moms with young children. I'm encouraged that I am not alone in my constant battle to keep my head above water in the never ending flood of lost socks, broken toys, vomit filled lunch boxes (ok that only happened once) glad of that, the daily battle to get to school on time, clean and on a good day with teeth brushed and hair combed.  Difference being, I have young children. And I have grown children. I have  one teenager still at home, and nine grandchildren, if you count the two that live with me as my sixth and seventh sons. And I am fifty five, not young by motherhood standards. Afflicted by a chronic form of MS, symptoms of extreme debilitating fatigue, heat sensitivity, and rendered brain scrambled by stress; I am domestically and clerically challenged, further complicating my success at parenting and marriage. 

     Because oh yea, I also have a husband of almost thirty years who by is own admission is not a "kid person" he loves his children, did the little league thing all the way through rec ball with his post high school sons. Wrestling matches, football games, camping, fishing in Canada. Runs his own business, coal brokering and handling. Because of economy and the War on Coal, layoffs have put him back in a loader ten to twelve hours a day. He is worn out and rundown. A man of faith he knows in his head but struggles to live in his heart. He worries. About finances. And our son also with MS not so chronic, potentially more progressive, already affected with moderate loss of sight. Same son who labors by his side every day, struggling to keep the family business running. Stress abounds at the Shelocta tipple. Not healthy. For sons with MS or husbands with high blood pressure, arthritis, and property taxes that just increased 500%. Four more sons, one on parole, and now back in jail, the reason why we have two young ones. One game commissioner, Wildlife Conservation Officer, whose every call most likely involves a weapon in someone else's possession.  A rebellious teen. And a lost soul we adopted to late in his young life to undo the heart damage he had suffered.   

As a wife and mother to so diverse and complicated crew, i cannot endure one moment not graced my by my Jesus. 

I need my young friends, I need my sister peers. With grown children. With "issues". And Jesus. 

So, I guess that is it. Same now as then. Jesus come closer, cause I need you now. 

Five Minute Friday on Friday yet....go figure

Prompt: Hero
A hero, bigger than life, accomplishing the impossible, despite heart pounding fear demonstrates amazing acts of courage, conquering ogres great and small, but most of all rises up each morning grateful for the day prior and today's Sun rising. No matter the confusion, heartache, physical pain, lack of funds, angry words hurled thoughtlessly their way; places one foot, then another...rising walks confidently into the freshly from the mouth of God adventure called today.

Wednesday's version of Five Minute Friday

Prompt word: visit

Its kinda funny; I peeked at the prompt over the weekend. By peeked I mean I sat and prepared to write and some child/husband/household disaster exploded, of which I do not remember the details, either way, no writing happened. My mind went back to summer cousin time, when parents "visited", enjoyed a beer or two, sitting around kitchen tables or scattered across a covered porch. Cousins scattered across the basement and grand backyards for adventures, and escapades still unknown by the parents.
Through the course of my day I realized recalling and writing that story might fill a small paperback not a five minute mini prompt. I never left the house that Saturday, but I believe I visited every incher and corner of every room. My haphazard random mind leads from one project to another, never completing an entire task, and in general creating more disorder than tidy rooms or paid bills. I visited the laundry room and threw in load of clothes. I spent some quality time in my bedroom try to go through the pile of miscellaneous boxes and bags leftover stocking stuffers from Christmas and gifts received. I did succeed in boxing up the stocking stuffers, and collected keepsake type gifts into one container (to be placed around my home in "just the right place") oh yea, cause that will happen. I visited my bed for a short nap. I revisited my refrigerator, the week before I had cleaned and organized it; wiping and scrubbing unknown goo from drawers and shelves, all the while the garbage disposal was in overdrive. But this Saturday after peering in to look for ketchup I realized last weeks efforts were all for naught, and I had no ambition to repeat that process. Quickly, closing the door I ordered pizza for lunch.
I visited the living room with the vacuum several times. A Christmas present bean bag did not hold up to the antics of the five and six year old. Volumes upon volumes of round static laced Styrofoam danced from room to room, continually reappearing.
Boys needed played with. Spanked. Put in time out. Screamed at more than once I am sure.
The day spent visiting, was not all vanity and unproductive. Sometime after bedtime, with dishwasher running and glass of wine in hand I sat in MY CHAIR and pondered the goodness of my life and the kindness of my God.
Toys were strewn about and unfolded laundry sat in a basket on the dining room floor. Kitchen garbage and recycling rose above their chosen cans.
And still, the day was not a waste and I was not undone. I know that each day is a gift given for life and loving... boys fell asleep singing, husband was snoring. And me, I was grateful for Grace and Mercy, and a God who gives talent to the owner of the vineyard.
  

my boys

 

 

Seems to be quite a few "drafts" on my dashboard. Not much writing, just titles, a few random thoughts. A picture or two. The boys above are not quite half of what the title might lend itself to picture. Literally. Four more; grown men sons represent my repertoire. The complete set equals seven. Two past thirty, not much. Two in their twenties, a little deeper into twenty something every day. And the three seen above. Still at home. In my nest. Under my roof. If only each moment possessed the sweet tender love, adoration, and quiet complacency causing my mother's heart to smile.

Late at night. After a shower laced with much joint medicine smelling body wash. A roll on of essential oils, more for the aching joints. I smell like the modern day version of a bottle of Absorbine Jr.

My neck and thumb joints tingle from the, whatever it is. I am not well versed. Just use what helps. Trust my experts. Still the throbbing continues, slightly muted. What will I do if my hands quit working? How will I peck out my thoughts, dreams, and disappointments. My faith that a Loving God keeps my hands in His. It is a real faith. But not all the answers to our prayers our yes. Sometimes, "No." Is the better answer, even if we do not know or understand the why.

Standing up to pour a little more wine, because it seems like a good idea; my legs and back remind me of the manure I shoveled, and the vacuum I pushed around. Twice. The stiffening lessens as I go in search of the wining cat.

My bed and heating pad are calling my name.

Life is hard. God is Good.

Life is hard. God is Good.

Every day. All the time.

Life is hard. God is good.

Amen.

 

The Tree Five Minute Friday prompt

The tree has roots that go down deep. At least the trees that I am familiar with here in western Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania is an amazing place to live. Four seasons, unique in beauty; unique in unpleasantness. Here where I have spent more than half my life, two separate time periods, but thirty plus of my fifty-five years. Several trees have impacted my life. In five minutes how can I tell the stories. The perfect maple, shaded dog runs, enticed young boys to test their nerve; glowed golden yellow every autumn.  Japanese Cherry or some such sort, planted on Fathers Day. Grew to beauty and bloomed in legendary correlation to good years and better years.  My half mile driveway is lined part way with walnut and hickory nut trunks and leaves. Winter snow paints the thin brown arms stretched high. Summer sun casts shadows and illuminates wild dancing daisies. 

A tree reminds us that a firm grounding, solid soil, and abundant rain bring forth life, beauty, comforting shade, the perfect playground for the timid and the brave. 

A savior hung upon a tree, bled and died, that all who believed could have a life of beauty, spiritual comfort. Laughter and joy. An eternal relationship with the living God. 

Be deeply grounded in the Words of Life. Drink in the Rain of the Holy Spirit. Put down deep roots in solid ground. 

I will treasure and enjoy my backyard monuments to the tree of Life where my Jesus died that I might live. 

Truth

Five Minute Friday Prompt: Truth http://lisajobaker.com/2013/11/five-minute-friday-truth/

The whole truth is that I love my life. I do not always like it. And the truth about that is I don't often LIKE it. Sitting here listening to to the dishwasher hum (I'm blessed with a pretty quiet one), musing over my amazing grandchildren, three beautiful baby, girls, four rowdy, boys, one in the belly, and at least one more in then planning stages. Across my kitchen and through the double doorway and into our version of a sunroom, a corner of a fingerprint decorated window I catch a glimpse of the woods behind the rail fence, the fence that in the past kept the live in grandboys corralled. Morning sun plays with the dying green of summer. Fallen leaves decorate the wood pile. Such a small frame, such a huge picture of the beauty of creation and the landscape of my life. So often I see the limit of the frame and miss the depth and breadth of the truth. I KNOW what magnificent lies above and behind in front and around the corner of the tiny frame of the sunroom window. I cant see it at the moment.

But absolutely most definitely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the truth is; I know it is there.

And absolutely, most definitely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the truth is; Jesus has provided me with life abundant. Life blessed. Life eternal. Life beautiful. The life I love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grace: Five Minute Friday Prompt

Grace
http://lisajobaker.cm/2013/11/five-minute-friday-grace/#comment-125552

Unmerited, undeserving, unending, unwavering...Grace of God.
For the moment. For this very second, which feels oppressive.
Feelings, which inhabit the moment we exist in; right now.
Who we think we are
Believe we are
Apart from Grace.
I am copying the format.
oops
Grace says, we are not who we think we are. 
We are who He died to recreate us to become.
because of Grace.
And feelings, are just 
Passing through to mess with
Who we really are.
New creature.
Perfect in the eyes of the Father
Brother/sister to the Prince of Peace.
Possessing the Power of a Spirit Holy...
More than conquerors
Overcomers
Moms; force behind the next generation.
Redeemed from the foolish words and deeds
That spring off our tongue, 

up from feeling driven heart of flesh
When we forget about Grace.
Hallelujah
Grace never forgets me.

Together Five Minute Friday Prompt

I'm laughing, we'll not really. I'm sitting in my mom-mobile with the Labradoodle panting on the back seat. Waiting. Grown son is seeing a doctor. He does not drive, and can be somewhat needy. Nothing to do with "together"...except that I am almost always WITH someone. Rarely together with anyone, especially women friends. The fatigue in my life exacerbated by much stress and busy household keep me homebound more than is good for me. I am convicted and encouraged by the prompt post on Today's Five Minute Friday, spurred on to work towards changing my loner tendencies.  Truthfully, I have become content and complacent in my seclusion. I am able to convince my self that it is not self imposed but a result of life circumstances beyond my control. My control but not God's, who encourages and even commands fellowship with the saints, even beyond my Sunday church attendance. What will I do about it?  I have made a commitment to attend tomorrow morning a women's breakfast at our local church (which I have been a part of for over 25 years, these ladies are not strangers). My few closest comrades will not be attending so it will be a double stretch. God has been pushing to drive me out of my hermit life for some time; grudgingly, with limited faith, tomorrow I will take a baby step.

Five Minute Friday: Ordinary

Ordinary

the ordinary is the every day nitty gritty of life, the down on your knees wiping juice up off the worn hardwood floor, the sniffing around in the boy's room looking for the hidden pull up or soggy underpants your nose knows are hidden somewhere. Loving the embarrassed five year old trying to bury the evidence. The ordinary happens when your teen rolls his eyes spitting out some cryptic disrespectful cutting remark and you breath deep into the peace of God praying you don't repay nasty with evil. Ordinary happens in the valley, in slugging away at the daily. Worship, communion with the Savior comes easy on Sunday during corporate worship, on Tuesday morning ladies bible study, when your taking a meal to a new mom or struggling friend. We serve Jesus with joy abundant in the extra ordinary. Sadly, our every day ordinary often suffers neglect and ambivalence. Jesus fill me with the Grace to live in your extraordinary Grace, Love, and joy especially in the dullest of times. Grant me Mercy extraordinary in my daily ordinary so that I might love bigger, live better,  by and for Jesus alone.

huh

........ my dad always said...."MY CHILDREN, DON'T FALL IN LOVE WITH THIS WORLD...WE ARE JUST PASSING THROUGH....BUT HEAVEN AND ETERNITY IS FOREVER." Which one will we choose?
Not my dad, but a quote I excerpted from a prolife column comment section; cuts right to the heart. Where does your love fall? Who and or what is your first love. Nothing but Jesus will satisfy. Will bring contentment. Peace. Relief from fear. From Anxiety. No one but Jesus fills the empty spaces in your heart. Your life. The deep chiasms of your soul. The world we live in is, "empty pale and poor compared to loving your my lord, so lead me to follow hard after you." Tonight is one of those empty nights, where the people and calling the Lord has placed in my life should fill to the overflow with satisfaction and purpose. Only, I am tired. Bath time looms ahead like some prehistoric ogre waiting to devour my eyeballs and suck my guts out through the empty holes...yes, it is that bad. Not always, sometimes, I only lose the eyeballs, not the corresponding guts. Either way, bath time is followed promptly by bedtime; another Olympic event requiring, strength, stamina, and the fierceness  of scarred alley cat. Even now, my orders of shower time, are going unheeded. Time to step it up a bit. Be back later...perhaps. 

Five Minute Friday: Write

I have been writing as long as I can remember; I have paper proof as far back as junior high. During my third failed attempt at a college degree, somewhere around fifteen years ago, an English professor affirmed my secret heart longing; he said I was good. My heart was full to the overflow with the confirmation of a life long dream, maybe I could write something someone somewhere might want to read.
Almost two decades and more than half an adult life later, still I plug along. Five Minute Friday has given my the kick in the rear I needed to at least put some words out there. My commitment to write something every week continues to draw me back. Like tonight the words are sometimes forced and awkward. But to write is one of my great loves. Yes, I love Jesus first, my family, friends, neighbors, and enemies, but writing gives me outlet to express that love, and often the frustrations brought on by all that required loving. Tonight I wish the words flowed easy, instead of crunchy and as I said forced. I can remember when writing was required by some teacher of professor I, often felt then that I got my best stuff in the middle of the night as deadlines approached. Later, I would go back and reread and realize that if I had taken my time and I could have done ever better. So much of life by the grace of God is similar. If I hurriedly rush through my required chores and life duties, God will bless me with a level of success. Children get raised. Dinner gets made. We get up and do it again. But purposed life, purposed writing, will result in great blessing to those around us, and hopefully to even one person who reads a scratched out word or two by a wanna be writer. So let us live, let us write, let us love, in the name of Jesus and trust Him to use our words, and our lives for His Glory.

True

True: Writing prompt Five Minute

I do not know how to do this in five minutes. True. What is most true is that living life is hard. For me. For many. Maybe for all? Getting up in the morning is the most difficult, thinking about the day that looms ahead, a day so much larger and scarier than my mind or already weary body can fathom. The future I had anticipated with great faith  for the last twenty-five plus years has arrived, and it is not the picture I had envisioned.  The day when the joy of the Lord would fill my house, my kids, my husband. The struggles we had endured during our growing up and old  years would have passed. Communication that had been nonexistent would be found. Healing words would echo off of walls glazed with the Living Holy Spirit. A peace that passes understanding would permeate the sweet aroma of unconditional abounding love. The hard working husband who had built a comfortable life for his wife and family would have found a safe harbor to anchor his broken and bruised heart, allowing the softness he kept locked tight deep in the dank musty bowls of his life vessel, to break forth. His family, wife, friends would see and experience in this life the true hero that lies within.

Yet, still we struggle. My hero still hide the best of him, keeping it safe from the pain of real life. Our home still filled with life, little humans, bigger humans wanting, needing seemingly more of me than I have left to give. A teen struggles, really struggles to remain loyal to the Jesus he loves, but sees the world out there and all is tasty evil. His mother's heart breaks to fix it for him, counsels, but knows he must find the faith that is his alone, or it is no faith at all. So she watches. And prays. Little ones need lunches packed, papers signed, hair combed on picture day, oops. Spankings, and hugs. Cookies, and vegetables. Need to learn so much, do I remember how? Do I have the energy to care?
All these are true. I am weary. The life I had faith was not the one He had ordained for my good and His Glory.
What is even more true than the most true. Is that I still have faith. A better faith now. A faith that He will complete the good work He began in me. In my husband. In my sons. And in the little grandson who are becoming more like sons every day. It is not my vision that I am in faith for any longer. But a greater Vision that will become mine in time. It is true, I am weary, life is hard. Real Hard. But the Truth is the greatest of all and in Him I will rest.

Addendum 

Point being, there is what is true,  and then there is THE TRUTH. The TRUTH trumps true every time. Praise God.

She

And I laugh out loud. I have so many "hes", plural of he, she is almost an anomaly for me. Two beautiful daughter-in-laws and three granddaughters have been gifted to my by the  Father; other wise my life is full to the brim of "hes". Not news to anyone who knows me or has every visited my blog, I have five sons, two live in permanent grandsons, plus two live with their parents grandsons. All these boys and all their friends and cohorts filled my home with more than the allowed by FDA levels of testosterone. Sometimes I tell people, folks who I sense will see the humor, I suffer from OET, Over Exposure to Testosterone. Amazing how some are offended by the words testosterone or estrogen as if I was explicitly discussing one particular personal activity that could be associated with the two hormones. Sheesh.

She, well...growing up my playmates were more likely than not boys. I loved playing army, or building forts in the woods. I wasn't afraid of worms and could bait my own hook from early childhood. I can swing a hammer, run and hand drill, and I even know how to work a level. I could change the oil in my first and second car, even know where the grease fittings could be found and how many pumps each on needed. I used t' could throw a pretty decent spiral.
Female talents for the most part escaped my understanding or comprehension. Don't get me wrong; it was the 70's I liked mini skirts and shorty shorts. Tube tops and halters. I could dress like a girl, just not sure how to act like a girl. Not that I was boyish or not feminine, but to have a conversation about fashion or make up or heaven forbid a dance or date, I was clueless. My tongue wrapped around the wisdom teeth I was born without and my throat dried up shut tighter than the  toilet when a teenage son tried to flush a whole roll of paper towels filled with dog barf.

Today I am a wife, mother, grandmother, and when I have the energy and brain cells a pretty good friend. But growing up a SHE was not easy. I know now what I did not understand then. It is ok to be different from everyone else. In fact, God MEANT  me to be the way I am. He created me with the gifts and talents that I have to do the work He has set out for me, just for me, special like.
I would rather shovel manure than scrub floors, work with the cows than the laundry, rather wear muck boots than, heels (or any shoe not a boot) I like to cook, but take out is better. Heaven forbid I still not pick my own worm and bait my own hook. I am grateful God that He took the time to design me to be me.

 

Selfie with new shades

Five Minute Friday, a day late again..."Red"

As in seeing red? on the red eye? In the red? Not able to wear red? (That would be me) The Red Dawn, does that date me? Red at night...? I am running out of creative quips. Not usually a problem for me, but the noise in the house is deafening. The couch and my own self seem to have been mistaken for trampolines. I am pretty darn sure that i am to going to find a quiet five minutes and since it not still Friday I figured I had better just peck something out and be done with it for this week. Now the spitting and sucking it back up into a little boy mouth is a bit distracting. Oh well, red huh? Hmm, red is the Blood that was spilt so on days like today and every day for that matter, means the sinning i will most likely be doing today, the ones committed by my little ones have been covered, debt paid in full, cast down and away from the Sight of then holy God...

Once agin I have been duped my the cyber gouls. I was published and because of my technically challenged fingers my cmpleted though feebly so is poof gone. So I will attempt to finish this week off. Praise God as long as the sun rises and I still have breath I there will be another opportunity to try again.

Five Minte Friday: Mercy

Mercy
Mercy can sometimes be; easy to take, not so easy to give. The work of redemption demonstrated at the cross through the resurrection can be assumed by the Grace conscious Christian. We receive grace and mercy through our salvation and though we all sometimes, me more than I care to admit, can experience condemnation,  better know as self pity, when we commit some ugly or public sin. When we grieve the ones we love because of our selfish actions or words it is easy to fall into a, "Woe is me.. I am horrible"  mode where what we really want is someone to affirm what we already know, that we are OK because of His Saving Mercy and Grace. To me they kind of go together, Grace and Mercy. Often though, I think it can be easy to meander through our lives living our day to day assuming the Mercy of the Cross, and more often the mercy others offer us when we sin against them, disappoint them, or are just plain ignorant of their obvious need. After all as Christians we walk in kindness and reflect the Goodness and Kindness of our Jesus, so we wound NEVER intentionally offend. Or so we think. But Mercy, begins and ends with how we treat, respond to those closest to us. Only when I am continually conscious of my daily need of the Cross Mercy and am regularly my Merciful God  admitting my need for Him, His Work, His Mercy can I pour out my feeble human mercy on those I love.  Gratitude for our most precious gift, a passionate acknowledgement of the Mercy we receive daily should in turn be reflected in the mercy we give to other. Forgiveness. Kind words spoken aptly. Generous sacrifice of our precious time. the acceptance and gratitude for mercy given to us.  Let us give as those who have receive abundantly and may Mercy abound.

Running on Empty

When there is no more, how do we, I, go on? Waking up, thinking of the day ahead, my mind aches with chores, duties, and love that must be given out, drawn up from a well whose dank walls release droplets landing deep into the shallow pool.
A well run long, once fresh and clear,  bubbled exuberant
life filled
refreshing
loving
touching
flowing.
The spring, the source, cut short, stopped up.
Debris and waste once filtered out now dam the cleansing flow that filled the well and drenched the parched.
O return dear Lord and guard the heart the source of life and love.
Refresh the weary. Soften the hardened. Release the flow.
Let love abound.

Prompt "Worship" Five Minute Friday

I have been disappointed in myself that I cannot write except on Fridays for five minutes. If I can make myself do it on Friday why not everyday?  Or any day? Or once in a while? Or ever again on my own; unprompted. It's easy to think worships happens on Sunday, before the preaching, or at a women's meeting, or even in the car with the radio basting. But worship isn't about singing or raising hands or shouting hallelujah. Though I love all those things. I love to shout 'cause I don't sing to good. I know though worship is in the day by day. The little stuff. The living of life akin to the Spirit. Choosing kind words over harsh. Ignoring an offense. Overlooking a child's disobedience (just once in a while). Giving thanks when I want to whine and complain. Not unloading my WHOLE day on my weary husband. Living life with reckless abandon to God's Goodness and Faithfulness. Knowing my every breath, every inhale and exhale of every one of my children, their children, and my beautiful daughter in laws is under the care and watch of the Creator of all the universe. Like my grandson below. Jumping off. Jumping in. Over his head. Complete joy. Unhindered. Unrestricted. Fearless. Hallelujah. Praise Jehovah.