When we choose to be right before righteous, we are doing it wrong.

When I want to make myself cry I look at pictures like this one.
She is weeks from finishing her last quarter of middle school,
and heading to high school in the fall.
Leaving her Christian school to head off to public school in her sister's footsteps,
with Daddy as her principal.

How I adore this sweet little face and miss these days.
I never wished them away, and tried to embrace each moment.
But honestly, Mommying is hard, and there were so many moments that were
busy and tiring and just lived instead of cherished.
As much as I talked of soaking them up,
it truly felt like a bottomless barrel of kisses and giggles
and sweet nose kisses.
I somehow believed she would always want to sit on my lap
and be by my side as I worked, and she crafted.
I was wrong.
How I wish for just one day of do overs with my baby girl.

St Patrick's Day dinner with Nana and Papa.

Shamrock centerpiece and the ever present votive candles.

Irish soda bread Cassidy helped make, and both girls devoured.

Corned beef and cabbage, with steak on the side for the less Irish among us.

A wonderful evening of laughter as we shared youtube vidoes with Nana and Papa.

(Harlem Shake, anyone?)

 Awakening to this was a perfect surprise for the girls.

Especially the one with unfinished homework. Ahem.

Peace and restful woods, a gift straight from God just in the nick of time. 

How He loves us!!



Laughing as a family is my all time favorite thing. Ever. Especially at dinner or bedtime, which are  times that can be a little dicey around here, so humor is always a sign of peace.

This week, as Rusty and I were joking (again) about what might be found written in our journals about the other (my journal real, and his very much referenced but completely fictitious), I warned them that when I was out of town they shouldn't read what I had written about Daddy, as he had been making me flat out crazy all weekend.

Cailin, the child who has lived for our shock value since her feet hit the ground, quipped, "Well, you definitely don't want to read mine, then! It is bad!".  (Since she is freely walking the streets without any tattoos or body piercings, and no boyfriends named Spike have shown up, I"m thinking it isn't all that bad and refused to take the bait and panic).

Cassidy, without missing a beat and with a straight face responded, "Oh it is! I read it.".

Oh my gosh! Once again she absolutely leveled her Daddy and I. We could not stop laughing. And then promptly read her sister's journal after she went to sleep.  (Which is totally not true. We don't read journals, but if I were ever going to it would be in front of her so I could taunt her as I read it!)

Feeling the flames of life today. My heart feels scorched, but I'm reminded that though the flames  may threaten me, they will not overwhelm me. I am surrounded by the One Who is willing to take on the fires of my life, and, just like the fire ring on our terrace, contain them so they cannot destroy me. I may feel the heat, but He will not let me be destroyed.

Instead He allows me to draw warmth from the embers of trial, as I observe Him intercede on my behalf. Instead of being devastated by trouble, I am enchanted by the beauty of my Father fighting for me (Exodus 14:14) and comforted by the heat fending off the cold of doubt and fear.

Though we may face difficulties in this life, they pale in comparison to the awesome wonder of our God fighting for us and loving us. He gave His Son, withholding nothing in His desire to rescue us. There can be no greater peace than relinquishing my cares to the One Who cares for me enough to sacrifice Himself for His greatest treasure- His children.

So today, as the flicker of aggravation and difficulty threaten to fan into flames of discouragement and frustration, I will stand firm in the knowledge that He has gone before me to prepare my path. I need not worry or doubt, but instead trust Him in gratitude and allow His Spirit to carry me.

I have spent enough on scrapbook supplies to fund a small army. Paper, every variety of binder system on the market, and sticker upon sticker. Yet the majority of photos remain in boxes, sorted by age at best, or, worse yet, on the computer. So last night the girls and I sat down with a couple of boxes of pictures from their first few years to take a stroll down memory lane. 

As is typical in our family, Cailin and I snuggled in the same chair, oohing and aahing over the memories together, while Cassidy sat in her personal space bubble beside us, poring independently over her own box of images. (Frequently calling out the size of Cailin's sweet toddler cheeks. We didn't call her buddha for nothing.) All at once I noticed Cassidy flipping faster through a stack of pictures, and as she did, she was silently laughing harder and harder, finally crying from laughing so hard.

As she handed the group to me, she said one thing that I could understand... "My first locket".

As I sorted through them, I immediately understood why. Every picture is missing a face or two, in a perfectly formed heart shape.  I guess I should count my blessings that she was cutting our faces into hearts and not gouging out the eyes with her scissors after being grounded one time too many. There's that at least. Love that girl! She keeps it fun around here, that's for sure.