Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.
Proverbs 3:5-6
Goggles and glasses, hats and helmets
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The boys love goggles, glasses, hats and helmets... I guess it's their version of dress up. So I thought I'd share a few photos of them, "dressing up."
Adorable!! I always loved glasses, goggles, helmets and hats too! ;D Can't blame 'em. Love the Mexican hat, too. Those boys have the right idea.
(P.S. Thanks for the reward, and your comment! I was absolutely thrilled. I'll edit my post on the poem soon, that way I'll explain it. Thank you so much!)
I wrote a post last week about suffering being a gift and about choosing to fall on God's grace so that God may bring that gift to fulness as He desires it to be for us. I want to better spell a few things out in regards to this than I did last week. Suffering is a gift in a few ways. For us personally, it is a gift in that it gives us reason to come to God, asking for His help and His Grace. It is too easy, when everything is going well, to set prayer aside and to let our relationship with God remain or become stagnant. Suffering can either be a reminder that we do indeed need God, or, for some, it can be a first step in a journey toward faith. Suffering is a vehicle by which God draws us, His beloved, to Himself. Suffering is also a mode by which, after we ask for His help, God sends graces down upon us. Through suffering, He prepares our hearts, if we allow Him, to receive His graces: His love, peace, and joy and all that He desires to give us. It is through suffering that w
Andy (my hubbie), the two boys, and I were praying tonight before the boys' bedtime. Blaise (3 1/2 years) made it through all 5 prayers beautifully, to his credit, but showed his stubborn side... uh, his assertive side... during the "God bless"-es. We said "God bless Blaise, God bless Isaac, God bless Daddy, God bless Mommy," and as we were getting to "God bless Grandma and Grandpa W and ... A," Blaise interrupted and said, "No I want say Mommy Daddy again." So we started over with "God bless"-es. Then he did it again. The first 3 or 4 times were fine. After all, I can use all the prayers I can get. But by the 5th or 6th time, I knew I would need more prayers than he was going to give me if I let that continue on. So we gave him a warning that if he continued to whine.. uh, act so dramatically... he wouldn't get "Grandma's song." He continued to be assertive. So I finished the prayers and said goodnight.
It has been nearly two years now since the onset of my anxiety. As I think over these last two years and see how much I have learned and how much I have grown as well as how much I have suffered and continue, to a much smaller degree, to suffer, I’m at the same time grateful for this experience and filled with regret. I still am filled with questions of why? Why did I have to go through this, and why do I still need to experience anxiety to the level I still do? To some extent, I can answer these questions. My faith has grown exponentially, as has my strength, my character, and my tolerance of suffering. And I know there’s still growth that needs to happen. I am not there yet. And, really, I don’t know if I’ll ever be “there.” The primary thing I continue to suffer from, besides the increasingly rare incidence of actual anxiety and the on edge feeling I more often feel, are constant palpitations. I feel these palpitations most notably as a strong pulse in my hands and in my he
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(P.S. Thanks for the reward, and your comment! I was absolutely thrilled. I'll edit my post on the poem soon, that way I'll explain it. Thank you so much!)