Jekyll Island and Valentines - February 2025

Our first visit to Jekyll Island fooled us. A storm had kicked up the waves and we believed we'd found our happiest beach destination. If you know the Georgia Coast, this is quite a wrong impression. It's usually brown and brackish, unpleasant waters with few waves. The view is beautiful, the culture and conveniences delightful, but not a crashing gulf or southern Atlantic tide. 

Fortunately, we are not married to our vacation destinations, AND we are to our spouses. Eric & I were late to our generation's expectation of age-of-marriage. 30 & 31, some of our family believed we never would, but we did. We tied the knot, 3 months after being engaged. We were both gun-shy but I knew he was a good man. My dad did too. They had a proverbial man-to-man and he told my Dad he would be faithful and always take care of me. Dad had good intuition. 

Realtor Prom, Winter 2025 Sanford Stadium, UGA

Eric kept his word. We, together, have kept our vows, commitment to stay together when the path always didn't seem clear. He has been generous with his gifts and talents and made our world one that is enviable. I am forever grateful our paths crossed and intertwined the way they did. 

Here's to however many more years we are allowed to share. Be mine, forever, sweet man. I'm here for it. 

The Thrill of Hope ~ Bookshelf No. 4 ~ December 2020

Almost every Christmas, I pick up a book I've had my eye on and read it cover to cover, reading until I can't hold my eyes open, avoiding every  unnecesary task, praying no one will notice. This Christmas has brought me to a second title by Kristin Hannah, Winter Garden. It falls right in my favorite novel genre, historical fiction, specifically World War II. To me there is nothing more engaging   and encouraging than reading about the numerous resistance efforts throughout Europe,  the hope on both sides,  and the people who lived and endured the war between the Axis Powers and Allied Forces. 

Winter Garden moves slowly into the historic portion of the story. The main characters are living with someone who survived, but bears the results of living through such a time.  For-shadowing of a very layered story tells the reader, 'She hasn't enough of herself left to share.' And  in another part of the story (no spoiler's here), families of 'criminals,' 'can recognize other families of criminals. They move like victims, with their shoulders hunched and their eyes cast downward, trying to make themselves smaller, unremarkable. Unnoticeable.' 

Tragic is not a word I would ever use to describe my life. But in every persons life there are moments that are classically tragic in nature. The expectation and  hope are pitted against  mortal odds unsurmountable. This post is not a tale of 'done-me-wrongs ,' but relatable moments, without stories that cast a martyrial shadow. This one is more humorous. 

Eric and I became 'us' when we moved to Louisiana. We knew no one, and no one knew us. As much as we loved everything about Louisiana, I learned to be realistic there, make some compromises, and even drop my expectations. We learned to depend upon each other more fully, even if we didn't need to. My mind looks back to Uncle Mike meeting us in the Atlanta airport, because he could get through security in uniform, when we adopted Henry from California. Our family is ALWAYS there for us. Yet everyone has some dark passages that no one knows nor is it easy to share. The Lord only knows how much I would need resilience in future days, but I can most humorously  convey this with a story  about my church attire. 

I LOVE sweaters . Textiles, yes, but knitted cables,  the yarn, the feel of wool. Love is the only word. But wool and Louisiana do not mix.  Once while sweating through church, a kind sister told me afterwards to ,  'Give it up. Just buy you some Christmas Sandals and summer clothes in fall and winter colors and move on.' Best advice I think I've ever received. 

I have not spent all of my life in the South. I did a spell in Ohio, learning to appreciate snow, ice, and that cold which cannot be shaken. I learned how to skate on a pond, by myself in subzero weather. I wore long underwear to school from October to April, and we selected our Easter parkas just like my kindred sister from Louisiana  advised us to -- adapt, compromise,  have realistic expectations. But there was something about those sweaters, something in my psyche that insisted it was what one should wear, how one should prepare, what expectation, nee- advent- should look like. 

Within the book, Winter Garden, there are just such moments displayed in what seems to be senility, but the one challenged by change and true tragedy is remembering how to  cope and how to survive.  Her actions seem as crazy as wearing a wool sweater in 70 degree weather. She packs food in her overnight bag instead of clothes for the trip.  Her daughter finds packs of butter in her coat pockets. She's always concerned about the cold. And always concerned about food.  

This is my favorite period of history because so many faced what appear to be insurmountable odds. They are faced with starvation, exposure to the elements, and corruption in powerful places. They seldom know who they can trust, and they often suffer some loss that leaves them changed forever. I walk away wondering how would I survive,  measuring up my coping skills. Introspectively, considering my odds. 

Our collective challenges may not seem to look as dire as this on the outside, although 2020 has brought its 'A Game' to the table. But if you were to ask the average person today if they could relate to characters like these in the books, I'd bet they could easily blow your hair back. Those times do come, when something we hoped for doesn't happen, or happen the way we thought it should. That is life. Living fully, engaging with humanity. It would seem 2020  is the year so many find themselves, myself included, moving the bar back, moving the mark lower, when it comes to hopes and dreams. But the surprise has been to feel resilient-- and still feel off balance. 

A couple of years ago, a friend reminded me of good advice. She participates in the trapeze classes here locally- yes, she is boldly 60 years old and exercises with trapeze. But she reminded me as my world was spinning out of control-- 'Find a place on the wall and look for it every time-- find your point of focus.' She was right. Even when the hope is deferred, when they keep moving the goal post, finding that one thing and focusing is the way to survive. 

My reaction to reading this book at the half way point is two-fold. After one of the most tragic moments of revelation, the mother responds to her children when they ask what they should do? How they will go on? Her response is the epic. Live. Adapt, compromise,  have realistic expectations. This is where God feels our pleasure and delight in His creation. Live. Hope boldly with dreams and beliefs in what God has given to us- the blessings. 

Secondly, and most importantly, rely and depend upon the most miraculous Provider. When nothing seems possible, we are brought to our proverbial knees. It is then that the cosmic Christ is revealed from cradle to grave, the Father 'that sees' is beheld, and we are able to not 'lay aside the cares of this world' but handle them with a strength that comes from a supernatural and miraculous point of focus - God the Trinity. All of our messiness is doable, nothing cannot be handled by the One who began his mortal life in a manger found  in a dirty stable. And there is no wound or loss our God cannot heal with the never changing Hope He has set in our hearts- if only we will embrace it. 

Nativity from Jerusalem ~ Gift from Dad, 1996

Glimpses ~ June 2020

The color of the flowers at my wedding were a disappointment. In that many thought the event was miraculous in itself, this seems a trivial detail. It was a lovely occasion over all. One that we determined was appropriately elaborate for two 30 year old types who might have never matched up in another lifetime. After 23 years though, when I see the color I desired for that day, I take notice. I remember how my Mom asked the florist if there was anything he could do. She's faithful that way, as Dad was too. But there was little to change the color of that flower. Although that florist tried, and when my bouquet was returned to me, unanimously everyone agreed how much better they looked, worried the bride was going to snap. 
But I didn't and we proceeded into our life together, with no idea what delights and disappointments lay ahead. 
Yesterday the perfect flower appeared at Publix. People refer to these type of sightings as 'unicorns,' as do I. I also think of them as 'glimpses' into perfection. Too many at one time and a circus will inevitably occur, tickets must be sold, lights too bright must be illuminated. But these by the wayside 'glimpses' are a gift. 
It would have been ridiculously ungracious of me years ago to have truly complained about the roses, especially in light of the effort to which everyone had gone to in order to make the day so special. I look back on how my parents graciously endured many disappointments- their own, or theirs shared- throughout their lives. If you talked to them, and still talk to Mom now, there is always, always something for which to be thankful. Glimpses, I believe, are what kept them going. Glimpses of Eden and glimpses of Heaven. 
I find myself in the in-between, maybe even the shadowlands. Sorrow will cloud our ability to see the glimpses, especially if we only feed the sorrow. Again, I think about my parents. I am thankful for their persistent effort to press forward into everyday with a renewed spirit, to try to fix the little things, while handling the bigger things in life with patience and perseverance, sorrow or celebration. 
There are so many things I cannot fix right now-- in my home, in my community, in the world. But because tragedy seems to be everywhere does not mean all that was once good - wasn't good. Because unrest seems everywhere, doesn't mean we don't still need rest. We need 'glimpses', moments where the proverbial, yes, spiritual light shines bright. And in that light we may see a 'broken reed' upon which we've been leaning too long, and see behind the bush a ram the Lord intended the entire time, the 'glimpse', the provision, the gift. 

Tatoos, Bumperstickers, Summer ~ July 2019

Standing in line to check out in the Athens-Clark Public Library, I noticed one of the few tatoos I'd consider having. There is something about Rosie the Riveter that strikes at the heart of every woman. And there she was boldly staring me down from the arm of the mother cued up with books and babes in tow.

Norman Rockwell’s ‘Rosie the Riveter’ The Saturday Evening Post 

I knew I'd be crossing the Rubicon of Culture as I spoke up to this strong mama. I don't remember what I said, but it wasn't as stupid as it would be if I tried to recreate it now. She was flattered and kindly turned towards me and greeted my boys. They weren't all smocked up, so we didn't appear to be aliens. Little did she know, she was the pace-setter for the next 10 years of my life.

The next friend I met was at Tae Kwon Do for my homeschooled kids. Juli Wisotsky. My heart swells thinking of that day on the bench in the Carter's Dojo off Alps Road. She was in the process of specializing in adoption law. Already an attorney, she was refining her work to serve now hundreds of parents, both adoptive and birth, in life changing decisions. She took note some years later that one thing she knew about me, I'd always have on the same pendant nechlace, a gift from Drake and Kelley for my birthday, when we first moved here. Lisa Leonard's 'tree of life' with our little family's names circled about the tree. It's a raw and a simply stamped metal pendant. Sacred. I've only added and swapped it out a few times for a more polished version Mom gave me, and the addition:  a small ring from Kelly Bell with a friendship message engraved inside. But I always return to the original pendant. I tend to stick to less painful engravings and stampings to share experience or passion. Take for instance bumperstickers- I blamed the kids for them for a while, but now it's me. I'm the one picking them out and putting them on the van. But I think all these things serve as reminders and markers that declare something about us we wish not to forget. But also, we wish for others to know. A declaration of sorts. But some markers we would change, some mantras we'd rather swap for a newly discovered truth, when the image we bear no longer suits our soul. If  I recall correctly, Juli told me that exact thing, that she wished she didn't have the tatoos, not that she's against tatoos, but because they were a part of a life she no longer lived. They were a reminder of a past she'd given up, a life she'd left behind.
I heard a favorite line about parenting in the movie, 'Eat, Pray, Love'. The character played by Julia Roberts is unhappily married with no kids, struggling in her life-plan, who shares her angst with her friend played by Viola Davis, who has just had a baby. Viola turns to Julia, in character of course, with swagger and gust, holding and consoling her babe, and replies adroitly, "Having a child is like getting a tatoo on your face. You have to be committed.' The Jonas Brothers have a current pop-hit that includes the line, 'You're the tatoo on my brain.' And I think of my children, and that tatoo on my brain and how some thoughts are hidden in our hearts, like Jesus' mother, Mary. Some thoughts we wish we didn't have to hold. But we do. When our children look at us, they expect us to hold every memory, like it was yesterday, just as they remember it. We are the marker-keepers, the arm that wears the tatoo, the van with the stickers, the bearers of the good choices and the bad.
Eric and I would agree that both boys will remember this as a good summer. And that is what I can hope. I hope they remember predictability, consistent joy, safety. I pray they remember their mother and father laughing, praying, keeping a rhythm that is steady, prepared, and ready with space on that same van for the next bumper sticker -- and flexibility and patience for even -- the unexpected tatoo.

Lifemeds #44 March 2015

There is a delightful moment in 'The Family Man' where Nicholas Cage has taken Tia Leoni to a penthouse apartment that is only one of the minor perks he's been offered if he takes the job he 'really has' in his real life. He's trying to describe the amazing life they can have and all the amazing things that will happen and come if they just step up to the changes, alterations, enhancements. It will be so much better than their existing life. 
 I recommend watching with the hubs. After the kids go to bed. (maybe you can catch the edited version, disclaimer: some parts are inappropriate.)
 For us, when things get out of control and we need a reset on our perspective as marrieds or parents-- we say what Tia says to Nicholas -- we are that family, we are have what folks are striving for. Oh please, you know I'm not saying perfection, or the modern interpretation of success. We are blessed. We have longevity, a collective history, safety, warmth. HOME. We have stayed the storm of 17 years, with all the details that go with those years. And we still like being together. But it's those stress filled days of 'no answers' and 'no compromise' that seem to make us wonder - what were we thinking??
What fool commits to a life of ... - this?
Parenting, marriage, living, = challenge.
(Perhaps this explains my affinity for end of the world movies- theme-- survival. Like The Day After Tomorrow. Yes, you'll catch me watching this during our personal catastrophic moments)
 But our goal is not just survival- right? It is to thrive, live, honor God by honoring one another.
The week is here. It's Monday already. Lord, accept my thanks for all that you have blessed me with. 
My cup runneth over. 

 The Serenity Prayer seems appropriate-- 

Lord, help me to accept the things I can't change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. 

Give me, oh Lord in your infinite wisdom, perspective and gratitude for the smallest wonder in my life. Love for those in my immediate circle of life. May you be honored in all things, in every way, by my actions and that which is in my power to influence. May the whispers of my heart's voice be only love and self-sacrifice. 

If you wish to read and fellowship with others in life-changing thanksgiving and gratitude, consider visiting Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience. 

An example of her beautiful expression can be found in this post. 

If you are looking for a Lenten Series,

 visit Edie at  Life In Grace and sign up for her e-mails. I highly recommend.  I'll be heading there shortly, even though I do not strictly keep Lent.

 Go there, sign up, you won't be disappointed.

 And you'll be welcomed, even if you don't know what the ashes are for. 

31 Days #1 Channeling the Classical Passion Before and After School

This post was the 1st  written in conjunction with The Nester's 31 days Link.
Classical education has become trendy. There. I said it. Everytime you turn around, someone is talking about Latin, putting their kids in CC groups, memory work, grammar. But as it is so well described in Douglas Wilson's book, wearing a uniform & having the right texts on your desk do not a classical education make.
I am a huge proponent of classical education. CC groups, Latin, memory work & even uniforms (they're just .. cute.) But I'm a bit hamstrung right now. We, that is, my husband and I have found ourselves needing the kind of structure that we can't provide solely at home. Likewise, we cannot afford the kind of school that might provide that. And furthermore, we're really not entirely sure that the kind of school (a private classical christian school) might be the best thing for one or both of our children.
But to get straight to the point, I am needing to channel my classical beliefs into the time I have with my kids, outside of the hours they participate in government schools. You may be thinking, if she has all the time to write a blog about it, why aren't the kids at home? Suffice it to say, my husband and I are not in mutual agreement that this is the best for our family. When the home's sanity is in jeopardy, one chooses the entire family's best interest and one's spouse's desire. So off they go.   
But to the point of my 31 days. How does one continue and provide classical content when children are away 8 hours of the day, with homework that may or maynot compliment my desires. 
 Start with the end in mind. Look at the end-game.
Today, my son asked ' will I go to the same school next year?' Like I told him when he was at home, one day, one year at a time. We will assess this, but starting with the end in mind, one must have a plan. Our mutual objectives can be met, if our compromises are not to alienate the other's desires for our children. If we are all honest, we know there are things we disagree on about our children. Some matter, some don't.
I had to decide, does/did it matter to me, whether they were exactly in programs associated with homeschool or classical groups, or if they were just classically educated?
It has been said by many great thinkers, something like ' I never let school get in the way of my education.' I have always felt this way.
What I grew up with was a Dad who conditioned me to know that for every 1 hour in the classroom, there were 3 to be dealt with outside the classroom. Perhaps not in 3rd grade. But the idea was that a lecture does not an education make. What goes on after class is equally as important as what goes on during.
Am I making my kids do 2 sets of curriculum, well, yes & no.
I'll deal with the 'no' first.
I dug deep into the curriculum, and still do everytime the subject/topic/literature selection/math skill/ changes.
Everything is on line. Everything. The curriculum is all there. Georgia is a state notorious for 'low national standards', testing against one'self to keep the bar low.' The good news is GA has adopted Common Core which is nation wide.  (If you are a sold-out home educator this is no consolation, just a fact to be argued, read on if you want, stop reading and find another 31 dayer whose husband is in full agreement with home-education. In all kindness, this 31 day is not meant to be argumentative or undermining. Just one woman's path. documented for 31 days.)
I grab the subjects right there, as the teacher has sent home the assignments(via e-mail) & weekly schedule and I'm armed with what I need to structure home study. He has homework anyway, so I structure it meeting the required work with a sharpened aim.
I break it down into grammar, and work with it. I add what I think needs adding, and go from there. It has been blessing (to me personally) that our curriculum worked well with what I'd planned to cover this year.. the ancient period. They covered a unit in Greece and discussed the influences on our American Government.
While he continued to bring home random library books, (not always my preferred choices) I read 'The Odyssey' with him at night. We continue to compliment the subjects at school with our Classical Conversations CD's for Cycle 1. Our Bible study has been covering the Judges, and likewise the 10 Commandments are a part of our memory work. A song about the Judges has likewise made it into our routine, and we (as a family)have daily read from the same 3 Psalms as well as listened to the entire CC CD daily.
So I threw in some of the 'yes' (2 curriculums) as I went. But you get the idea. Kids are going to be learning something while they are not reviewing their times tables. I need to know, no matter where they are, with whom how long, what is the grammar of my home. What will they find most important, the important grammar.
Fearless Inventory
I have found  it has been easier for me to 'light the fire' as opposed to 'filling the cup', with our current situation. Opposition in our home wasn't over the issue of home/away. It was more about actually getting it done. Peace was not a part of our home. My partner in this effort is now my husband. He's the one reading slowly and methodically with a patience that they will remember on a weekday morning, while I pack lunches, & bookbags. Because they are seeing his participation.
And our mutual agreement. Our united front. The kids know, this is what we'll be doing every weekday morning. If it's not CC, it's a classical music CD. But it's not just the quality of the grammar, or the repetition of the grammar-- it's the environment/ambience of the moment. The spirit in which it's delivered.  
The morning is packed with the 'grammar' of our lives, for some classical music may not be in your grammar. It's in mine. and that's something else I'm at peace with. It may seem 'the thing to do' trendy even, -- to make one's kids listen to classical music so they'll be classically educated. (the use of classical is coincidental) But that really is a part of our world. Allowing them to see that it wasn't just because it was 'required' by CC, and that we really enjoy it, and that the CD's we play were Daddy's before we married, when he didn't even own a TV..... ( I could do with a lesson in Essentials grammar. lol...)  The grammar of our lives and the musical knowledge of our home can be just as easily heard in the cajun, country, or jazz dare I say, even rock in our home? The sacred hymns are integral. Nightly sung.  On the doorposts.
Perhaps what I'll discover in the this 31 days, are the habits we actually do keep (Oh, Charlotte..) Perhaps I'll find out what really happens when this particular change comes about in a family. What we're really made of.

As October rolls around, for 31 days, I hope not only to bring out the fall garland, but maximize on the beauty of Channeling the Classical  Passion Before and After School.  To not just 'fill the cup' but genuinely 'light the fire,' in my heart and my family's with whatever resources are at my disposal.

I Have a Song ~

the view from Newcomb Kitchen sink... where I 'sang' many a song....

I was reminded today talking to my best friend, I didn't talk till I was about 3. It was thought I was, well, slow. Perhaps I am, on many fronts for reasons other than ability, but none-the-less, I didn't say much. My brother was a talker. Still is, and these days he has alot to say, and most of the time, it's worth a listen. But back in the day, I had to fight to get a word in edgewise.

One day when my parents were tape recording us, I spoke up, with intrepid determination,

~ 'I have a song' ~

For years, my Dad has hounded me to write that book,

for I surely won't sing it.

But if there ever was a song, it is because my parents put it there.

Their integrity of heart is demonstrated today,

by the anniversary of 50 years of marriage.

They'll shoot me if you call them or throw a last minute surprise party, I'm so immature, I'm still a little fearful to post this. But some things must be noted. If you've seen anything in this blog worthwhile, it was probably encouraged by my parents, and the steadfast encouragement of their children. Whatever you've seen in their children that stands lacking, it's been because they know the best lessons are learned through experience, not because they didn't try.....

I love my parents, but I'm not alone. I'm thankful for the many & numerous moments they have encouraged many a soul along the path of life. Their dedication to their collective & individual interests or callings have stirred in me often, a melody that can keep me humming about the most mundane of times. I can hear their prayers, I can see their affection for one another. I know their moments of challenge, but most of all I know they have a dedicated love, unsurpassed. They are not perfect - who of us is? I know their weaknesses, their quirks, but they know the dearest of each other & keep that precious to themselves. And that has been a chorus liken to the most beautiful sung by the Mormons in their tabernacle, I can play over & over in my mind.

I thank you Mom & Dad for the 50 years. I celebrate you today, while Jack plays 'Good King Wencellas' tonight, know I appreciate it, because indeed, you did put a song in my heart.

Perhaps if we weren't so 'English' but more 'Celtic' I'd sing 'my song' like this.... love you both...

Why I love my husband... Lifetime Meds #28

Even after fussing at each other all the way to church on Father's Day... I still think he's the best Dad in the world.

He takes the kids on adventures I might not otherwise.

My husband poses like this in his office, when he takes us for a tour.

He puts the tub toys back in order, with style. He also poses action figures all over the house for the kids to find.

He orders the kids movies like 'Little Rascals' 'Sinbad' & '3 Stooges' that I would never buy.

He's not 'a big kid' or a 'kid at heart'. He just wants the kids to be happy, have a laugh, & enjoy life's experiences. He's one great Dad, rolling with life's punches, enjoying each day.

So thankful am I. Even if we drive eachother crazy along the way. Happy Father's Day, Babe. I am proud of and grateful for you.

#187-#190 One Thousand Gifts, Counting with others at A Holy Experience.

Food, Marriage, & Athiesm

Did I get your attention?

I have 2 books on my shelf by Douglas Wilson, author of Recovering the Lost Tools of Learning, and most recently I obtained a copy of Repairing the Ruins. I've 'bout memorized the first, still have yet to move on to the latter. However, the interest is revived. Like the time I met John Rosemond, I'd probably fall mute if I met Wilson. You see, 'Lost Tools' is one of those books that changed my life. My perspective on education, the purpose of it & my responsibility in regards to it were profoundly impacted.

The reason I bring him up: I saw on Veritas at Home a reference to this movie. Most Recently he's appearing in a motion picture ' Collision', which chronicles, I believe, discussion and debate between Wilson & Kitchens, an atheist. I want to devote time to this, because it looks good. Really good.

But then there's also this book In Defense of Food, & this movie Food Inc. That also look good, informative, relevant. And are mentioned by Douglas Wilson on his blog in a bigger picture perspective. He's not a foodie, nor does he discount efforts of folks to care about what they eat and where it comes from. But his perspective & opinion are an interesting angle, since my friend at River Rock Cottage, continues to make me think about food with all of her recent posts(thanks Amy!) The results from her poll have been tallied on where we get our produce.

But then I realize, my attitude has, well been lacking grace. Not lacking so much in thanks, but mercy & grace to those around me. Anger seems to set in. And get ugly. First things first, came to mind....

So I jumped over to Femina, written by Nancy Wilson, Douglas Wilson's wife.

She seems to tap in with a live camera to my home sometimes, and then provides the bit of encouragment & conviction I need. From the perspective of a seasoned woman, older teaching the younger. The title of this blog post is 'Why men don't lead'. Perhaps your grace & mercy are up to speed, and it will only be an affirmation to you in how you effectively appreciate and love your husband. But either way, visit. Her insights are wide in many subjects. You won't be disappointed.

I hear smart people talk about the 'Great Conversation.' I think I've begun to meet folks like that, for instance, Edie at Life in Grace,who is an exceptionally interesting blogger who'll be speaking?/attending formally soon in a WWC(WorldWideConversation). But like living languages, the 'Great Conversation' takes on its own life. Another rabbit trail for another day.

That is just a smattering of what I read early this morning... we had alot of sleepless critters in our house last night. Real life. Not the brainier stuff. The simple stuff.

That's where my efforts need to focus, but sometimes the bigger perspective helps. Keeps my soul up and going. Focused on the Maker of all. The Source of love that will keep me from belittling others with whom I do not agree, in brainier matters, and keep me from forsaking the simple and often more challenging things in life. For even if I could prophecy, it wouldn't matter if I didn't have love.

That's why I'm reading the Daily Devotion. To seek Him who can complete what I can't, meet all the needs that human relationships can't, find wisdom that is true, complete & infinite, and be convicted when I neglect the Word.

So I wander back to the whole point of the Gratitude Community, realizing I haven't started my day right. Haven't been thankful, haven't been a part of HHC (His Holy Conversation). There's always a WWC, and there's alot worth listening to, good stuff, but not more important than prayer, especially thanks. It sets the tone, provides the antidote to my head's spinning over all the other things I can't sort out, make right, participate in, or even understand. His truth is truth. Better to start there.

Simple things I'm thankful for, after an exceptionally early rising...

Thank you Lord,

for the rain, that washes my mind.

for little kids who enjoy snuggling.

Toast and jelly. Kashi, grapes.

Coffee.

Carpools.

'Busytown' videos, for mornings that come waaay too early.

Husband who leads.

It's a start- Bible reading will have to wait, the urgent & important are awake. It would have been first, but this morning officially started in the middle of the night.

Monday mornings, I usually meet friends at the Gratitude Community. Join others who are counting One Thousand Gifts.

** Warning:** Sleep Depravity will cause blog linkage overload!! Read with caution..zzzzz