Perfection . . . one's life can appear so. 

But everyone's life has a little trouble in it somewhere. Every day. Even Jesus told us there would be, "every day has trouble of its own."

There really isn't a life out there anywhere that does not know trouble.

It is when a difficult moment stretches into a whole day, that stretches into a whole month, season, year . . . life can be excruciating. We've had some of those. Long ones.

I made meatballs for lunch yesterday, I had to go to work before they were out of the oven. The aroma, I'm sure persuaded our neighbors to climb the stairs to our front door. They didn't come, but I'm sure they wanted to. I was so hungry for them, but meatballs will not be hurried.

Scotty took them out of the oven and had them for lunch. "I didn't like the meatballs," he says before I've even slipped out of my coat after working eight hours, 1-9 shift. "I like the old recipe better. I had to cover them in bbq sauce."

The sauce did not have a cup and a half of brown sugar in it. He wants this food without sugar thing  . . . but he doesn't. It is one of our conflicts. Getting the eating right.

It is an area of our lives unaffected by perfection.

We grow here. We love beyond imperfection. 

I know it's small. There are bigger things in my life, but I will spare you the grief. The bigger things are not between Scotty and I right  now, but there are some hard things. Today is very gray and my heart feels gray, too. Some days are like that. 

I just warmed up the meatballs and had my first taste of the new recipe. Yum! I was starving. That always helps. We might have to get used to this recipe.It might take some time and some fasting in between meals.

I hope that you are having a wonderful day . . . full of rays and warmth, if only on the inside. Love!

She has been standing for awhile. She stands, she squats, with grace she bends to pick up trinkets from the floor. Graceful girl. Her bend is like a plie`, ballerina style.

She can do it, this walking thing, but she has yet to realize her ability.

Baby steps begin. We cheer. We clap. We are so excited. She returns a grin that would melt the heart of brute or bear.

Before now, our arms have been full of her. For several joyous months we have swaddled and cuddled and drawn her near to heart.  We have carried her to parks, supermarkets and church. We still do, but time is short. This we know. She is learning to run.

She will choose her own way soon, much sooner than we are ready for. For time has wings, how it does flee!

This beauty is my grandbaby girl. Our sweet Petra. It is her first steps I journal here.

My daughter will move to London soon. She is packing up and crossing the ocean to work in the city where Queens have reigned.

She began with first steps, long before she had passion for shoes. Years ago we heard the lyric of pitter-patter, her feet running to us. We clapped, we cheered, we were so excited to witness her finding her way. All of her steps led toward home, until one day . . . they didn't. Now her feet will lead her to tread paths where royals have trod. She will learn to have tea at four. The Thames will be close to  her front door. She will look on Tower Bridge everyday.

I never dreamed, at the dawn of her first steps, where her way would lead. Crystal ball did not reveal, I had no idea those tiny feet would live in London someday. I am so proud of her, but I know the way I will miss her. So sweet and bitter all at once. Life is like that at times, no? 

It all began a long time ago with, "Come to momma, Ashli! Come on, Babygirl! You can do it!"

The song begins again with a new generation.Where will Petra's feet take her? We do not know, but we have learned to appreciate every minute we can with her. Every single smile, every single bit of time we are given.  And we enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! 

We are dreaming of spending a few days in London someday. Our thoughts are only in dream form. I have my fingers crossed. I hope! I hope! I hope! Perhaps we will get a glimpse of Queen Elizabeth, should we get our way, but it will not have the thrill I will feel when I am finally  in the presence of my girl again, my Ashli Elizabeth. I honestly don't know if it will ever be, the trip that is in my mind, but I will happily think on it, pray for it, and hope. It would be grand if I could go with Petra in my arms and her brother at my knee . . . and of course her mommy and daddy tagging along. 

"Dream big," I always say. "It never hurts to dream. You never know where your dreams might lead." I have heard myself say this to my children at least a million times. 

"Nothing is impossible with God." 

So we believe.

Thank you for listening to another of my tales.

"And they lived happily ever after . . ."

Plie`!  And good day!

It happened a few years ago. 

"I want to show you the most beautiful place. Can you come with me now?"

Whenever I hear his voice etched in this tone, I know that whatever I am doing  is not as important as what we are about to do. 

"Let's go," I say.

He takes me to a remote place that he found while hunting. He holds my hand and we ease our way to the edge of the most beautiful bluff. We stand above a babbling brook which is bursting with song. Our silence speaks of awe, as holy hush falls on us. We remain like statues for the longest time.

"Let's go around and come in from the other side," he says, "the low ground."

I follow. The bramble is tight. His hand is firm upon mine. He turns with his finger to his lips. We pause.

A massive papa deer stands before us. We dare not move til he takes flight.

We finally reach the edge of the singing stream. He sits on the ground and pulls me down on his knee. We do not say a single word forever. I finally dare to break the silence, "It is so holy here. We should pray." 

"You first," he always says.

I begin to pray, not asking for one thing, as I cannot remember one single need at moment. Praise spills from my lips, it pours and pours and pours. We never shut our eyes, we can't afford to miss a minute of glory. Tears stream down both our faces. I gaze into his speechless face.

It is so holy, we cannot speak. Breathtaking blanket of holy.Our Father is here with us, we feel Him, we are not alone.

Our first trip to this place was in spring. "Please take me again, I want to see it dressed in winter attire," I say. We load up and return to the middle of nowhere. 

The  brook sings, but with new and muffled sounds. Ice muffles the tones of spring, creating a beautiful winter song. 

"We could ask the owner if he would sell this place," he says. Dreams begin with such thoughts. We sketch imaginary walls in our minds. "We could build a log cabin. You could come here to write." We know all the while that it will never be, but neither of us add a negative punch to the billows that we create. We love to dream together. 

Our secret place is there and we are here. Our dreams of it remain only in memory. 

The time we spent in that place was so brief. Moments. It was one of our most wonderful times ever. I just had to write it down. Thank you for listening to my story. 

May you have a day full of beauty!

The mr. will say goodbye to his mrs. today.  My friend will lay his beloved bride in her final resting place. Her flesh has found sleep, her spirit/soul soars. 

It will be a day of sorrows, sad goodbyes, tears. 

He will walk his daughter down the isle in a few days, releasing her to the care of another man. 

This week of letting go . . . bitter as the wind that chills through bone. 

Yet, sweet because of the scarlet cloak.  Crimson cover that saves. 

"Oh, the blood of Jesus, that washes white as snow."

The redeemed sing the joyful song.

This is a time when what we have believed is tested, the season of letting go. It is also a time of clinging. We cling to the one who can carry us through. We are the most strong when we are found leaning on the everlasting arms.

May the mr. feel the strength and grace of the Master.

I pray it will be so. 

Amen

One of our dearest, one of my new daughters recently came to me with concern.

"Whenever you are around lately I have just not been myself. I mean, that really isn't who I am! That's not me!"

"I can't wait to meet you, Lovey!" I say.

Our laughter brings ease.

That is how it is sometimes, no? Someone touches the surface of who you are and facade does not represent you well. There is a whole level of who you are that they do not know. Sometimes you can get to the next level with others and sometimes there isn't time for it.

I feel it as she put it sometimes. Not with her. Her heart and mine are crossing barriers and becoming more knit with the passing of days. No, it is with the new folk. I am meeting a lot of new people these days. Trust is born over time. 

I feel it with those I grew up with sometimes.

Lord willing, I will be going home to Kansas for a class reunion this summer. It is a big one. I always look forward to them. We meet every five years . . . five, the number of grace. 

We share snippets about ourselves at these meetings. I totally bombed our last gathering. I'm pretty sure that my surface self betrayed me. It was a night I have wished a thousand times that I could relive. Retrospect is 20/20. 

I am already contemplating what I will say this summer. I've had five years to prepare . . . and I fear I will most likely blow it again. 

But, if there is opportunity, I will let each one I speak to know how very important they are to me. I will be grateful on the inside (even if it doesn't shine through my exterior) for each one of them, for the many ways they have impacted and inspired my life. I'm so proud of all of them. We have a siblingship. And I care . . . every day . . . I care about each one of them.

An underclassman committed suicide recently . . . during the 12 days of Christmas his despair overwhelmed and he looked for escape. It has broken all of our hearts. I wish I could have told him that I care. I have deep regret that there was no way to rescue him from his pain. I'm heartbroken and so very sorry.

Praying each one of my friends will feel their worth. My heart feels and knows it, I hope they will too.
 
I know what some of you are thinking.

"They don't need to see you! They need to see Jesus!"

Well, I say, may He be on the surface and completely visible. Not just at my class reunion, but every single day. May that bring ease to all of us.

Are you one of my classmates? Can I just say, perhaps what you have seen is not really who I am.

I hope you say, "I can't wait to meet you, Lovey!" 

Grace.

With blessings and love.

My friend, Joy, is a writer. She and I met at a conference in North Carolina several years ago. Our hearts were knit in an instant. What a treasure to find a kindred spirit. One of my greatest blessings!

I had a little surprise from the postman the other day. I received a gift from Joy. This sweet necklace (pictured above) was inside. I LOVE it! I put it on and went to work. 

Joy did not know that the very first day I would wear my new necklace, it would be one of the most difficult days that I would experience. My co-worker passed out over the counter while she was waiting on a customer and her body was seizing. I immediately had to call 911. When she came to, she was very unhappy and said that she did not want to be treated. She resumed working. So did I. She was calm, but my whole being was rattled. Thirty minutes later it happened again. What to do but call 911. I was told to call by my superiors. 911 was very upset with me. The patient had denied treatment and there was nothing they could do . . . "didn't I know that?" 

My coworker friend, when she came out of her spell, loaded up her stuff, put on her coat and left the store. She made the 30 minute drive home without incident. 

She is doing well now.

After she left the store, I happened to look in a mirror that we have sitting on the counter. There around my neck was a message to stay calm. I could not write at the time, so I just had to carry on. 

Joy has a beautiful blog where she posts beautiful and very encouraging posts. I hope that you will stop by for a visit. I promise a blessing.  You will find her at Pondering His Presence. 

Thank you for my necklace, Joy! You are a dear friend . . . the most special kind of friend. I love you so much! Happy New Year! I look forward to reading your godly wisdom in 2014.

We pray expecting God to say "yes" to everything we ask. There is nothing wrong with praying with expectation. 

In fact, I think we should expect something to happen when we pray.  Not because we are able to order God around, but because He has instructed us to ask. He has made it clear in His Word that He is able and willing to help us. 

And He does. He gives and gives and gives. He is a very compassionate and giving God.

There are times when it appears that He flat out says "no" to what we want, though. Our knees are worn for the bending, our tears could fill buckets, and still He has His own way.

It is not "no" that He is saying, dear one . . . I believe His fatherly voice whispers "this is the way, follow Me". 

It is not the path we choose, but it is the best way for us, or else He would not let it be.

A dear friend passed from here to there last evening. Her daughter's wedding is scheduled in a few days. We have all prayed and prayed and prayed, believing that Kathy would be at that wedding. Somehow I think she will be, but it will not be as we have prayed for. It will be better for her, harder for us.

Would you please pray for the family that I speak of? It is hard when the Lord redirects our life. He holds the universe in the palm of His hand. We trust Him, but please pray. Thank you.