The Purpose Driven Life

I highly recommend the book "The Purpose Driven Life" by Rick Warren. It is so insightfully written and offers perspectives on God's purposes for all aspects of our lives. Wonderful read.

World

We see the world as WE really are.

Your focus determines your feelings.

What kind of world do you want?

You decide.

History starts now.

I Wonder

I Wonder

I wonder, as she held him closely,
Wrapped in warm and swaddling bands,
Did she wonder what her Father
Asked from tiny, trembling hands.

I wonder, as they brought him presents,
Gifts so treasured and so rare,
Did she wonder at the offering
Held within her tender care?

I wonder, as she saw him walking,
Learning, stumbling, awkward steps,
Did she wonder where they'd take him,
Feet just finding balance yet?

I wonder, as she saw him carving,
Working there by Joseph's side,
Did she wonder how he'd use his hands
To serve, to bless mankind?

I wonder, when she saw him teaching
Elders, priests in holy place,
Did she wonder what he'd teach her
As he grew from grace to grace?

I wonder if she hugged him tighter,
Stroked his head and held his hand,
Sensed the weight of future offering,
Sacred, sacrificial Lamb.

Anna M. Molgard
©2008 Faithsong Publications, L.L.C
www.faithsongmusic.com

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Unplugged

The kids are home for Christmas break and we decided to do an experiment. We have been feeling like there has been too much outside influence on our family, so other than my occasional post and a quick email check, we are unplugging our family from the computer and television. It has been such a quiet, wonderful day. We spent the morning making towers with playing cards and my second grader became quite adept - making one seven stories tall all on his own. He even looked up the Guinness World Record for house of cards and learned he only has 68 more stories to go! We went to the library and checked out loads of books and bought a new 1000 piece puzzle at the store for the family to work on together. I'm so looking forward to this break! We're unplugging from media and plugging into our family.

Christmas Day?

We got a box today filled with Christmas gifts from my parents today. I opened the box and said, "Look - presents from Grandma & Grandpa!" I walked in the living room with two in hand to put under the tree when I heard a little voice say, "Wow - it's a Webkinz!" Yup - the four year old. I guess I forgot to mention they were CHRISTMAS presents and he was thrilled to get a gift. Sorry Mom. But he loves it.

We Need to Pray

My second grade son is such a sweet boy. He always has been. He is always thanking me for things I do around home and telling me how much he loves me. He brings me flowers that he picks, weeds really, but the sentiment is the same. He genuinely wants to do and be good. He is kind, sensitive and loving with a very tender heart.

This week we had kind of a scare where we live. We were issued a tornado warning in the early afternoon, an unusual occurrence for our part of the country. I received a telephone call from the local weather station where I had subscribed to receive weather alerts. It told us to take immediate shelter and the warning would expire for our county about 25 minutes later. This was ten minutes before my oldest daughter was to be released from school and walk home. I didn't know what to do. My immediate response was one of panic and fear - wanting to protect my sons at home with me and worried about my daughter who wasn't home with me. I told the boys I was worried about my daughter, but that we needed to go in my closet. It's the only room we have without windows and where we keep our emergency supplies. But my second grader said, "Mom, I think we need to pray." So the three of us knelt right where we had been standing and he said a prayer asking Heavenly Father to protect us from the tornado and to watch over his sister. We stood, walked into my room to go in the closet for safety and I turned on the TV to monitor the progress of the storm. I no sooner had turned on the TV than the weatherman announced that the tornado warning for our county had expired - 25 minutes early. My sweet son then said, "Mom, we need to pray again." As I knelt with these two little boys and said a prayer of gratitude for our safety I recognized the great faith in my son. Where my immediate response was one of fear, his was one of faith. Some may say this was mere coincidence, that the warning would have expired early without his prayer, but I know better. I was there. I heard his prayer. Fear and faith cannot coexist in the same heart. Oh, that my heart can be like that of a child - full of faith. That my first response can be - we need to pray.

Easy Trees

Quick and easy recycling. Take two tomato cages, turn them upside down and wire the tops together. Take discarded Christmas tree branches, wire them to the cages and you have great decorations for your front porch. They look like miniature real trees. The price is right and no waste!

What did I just post?

Within minutes of my last post, my four year old walked in the room showing me what he had done with the stamp he received at school yesterday for his good behavior. He had managed to stay on 'green'. I just picked up my older son - the second grader - from school. He was crying and upset that he had to pull a card and ended up on yellow. So much for the streak.

Motherhood - life's most humbling career.

Do You Still Love Me?

I have a four year old son. Not just any four year old, a very mischevious, light hearted boy. One who has won his way out of many moments when he should have been reprimanded by flashing his winning smile, shrugging his shoulders and skipping away. He is incredibly social with a multitude of friends, imaginary and otherwise. He is my youngest and loves to be the center of attention. Always.

He goes to preschool four mornings a week. His teachers have adopted the current method of classroom discipline using the stoplight as a monitor for behavior. If the children are good, they remain on 'green'. If they begin to misbehave and need a warning, they are moved to 'yellow'. On the rare occasion the child will not listen and requires the highest degree of preschool discipline, they are moved to the 'red' portion of the stoplight. If they have stayed on 'green' with an occasional 'yellow' warning, they get to choose a small toy or treat from a treasure box at the end of the week. However, if they are ever relegated to the red zone that week, they are restricted from taking part in the ritual of the treasure box, watching as their friends who have behaved choose their treasures. The ultimate tragedy for a four year old.

Santa came to visit my son's preschool this week. What should have been an exciting and happy day turned into chaos for the preschool teachers and by the time the parents arrived to pick up the children, half of the class had been moved to the red light. My son, even though being told he would not receive his treasure the following day, was not concerned. He had received two new books and an entire bag of candy from Santa that morning. He was more than content to misbehave, get his Santa goodies and not receive his treasure the next day. When his teachers expressed their dismay at his lack of concern over his misbehavior or the consequences, it was my turn to intervene. I knelt in the hallway outside his classroom and talked to him about the importance of having respect for his teachers. I told him about the privileges he had lost at home and we established consequences for any future misbehavior. As we drove home, I reminded him of his older brother's 'no red' good behavior streak which is now in its second grade year. Still relatively unfazed, when we arrived home I told my young son that he could only have his Santa treats once he had written a note apologizing to his teachers. It took him quite some time to form the letters in his crude handwriting and write out the words in the short letter. At this point he finally started to express some remorse for his behavior. He told me sincerely that he was sorry and that he would listen better at school. Relieved that I had finally made some headway in my 'sorrow for the stoplight' campaign, I set him at the kitchen table with his now earned Santa treats and went to work on the computer.

A few minutes later, as I was busily typing away, he crawled up into my lap. He gave me a huge hug and then pulled my face in front of his. His eyes were large and questioning as he asked, "But Mom, do you still love me?" Tears quickly filled my eyes as I hugged him tighter and said, "Of course. I will always love you, no matter what you do." Instantly reassured, he ran back to the table to finish off his chocolate kisses. I sat quietly staring at the computer screen. I couldn't get my tears to stop for some time. I felt so guilty that in my desire to discipline this ever mischevious boy, I had forgotten to teach him the most important part. That even though I didn't like his behavior, I would always love him. I am his mother. Nothing he could do would ever change that. Ever.

I then realized how grateful I was that he had asked the question. Rather than feeling that he had infinitely disappointed me, he asked for love, for forgiveness, for compassion. I sat in the quiet of the afternoon, picturing a loving Father in Heaven, waiting for me to come to him. Seeing my heart filled with guilt and remorse for my behavior, waiting for me to ask the question, "But Father, do you still love me?" I saw Him patiently waiting and wanting to shower me with love, forgiveness and compassion. Because even when He doesn't like my behavior, He will always love me. He is my Father. Nothing I could do would ever change that. Ever.

Thanks to the Troops

Xerox has a website where they have postcards drawn by children to honor our troops. You go to their website, choose a postcard, write a short message and they print and send them to soldiers serving overseas. It just takes a minute. Thank a soldier today.

http://www.letssaythanks.com/Home1024.html

A Soldier's Christmas Wish

As the wife of a soldier, living where we are surrounded by men and women who sacrifice their lives for the freedom of our country, we have many friends and neighbors who are celebrating the holidays without their loved ones. I received this poem via email from a cousin who served in Iraq at the beginning of the war. Please pray for our soldiers. Remember them and their families who sacrifice so much, so often without complaint, to preserve our freedoms.

A Different Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,

I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.

My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,

My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,

Transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,

Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,

Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.

In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,

So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,

But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.

Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the

sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,

And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,

A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,

Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.

Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,

Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,

"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!

Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,

You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,

Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..

To the window that danced with a warm fire's light

Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,

I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."

"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,

That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,

I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"

Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."

My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam',

And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,

But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,

The red, white, and blue.. an American flag.

I can live through the cold and the being alone,

Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,

I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.

I can carry the weight of killing another,

Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..

Who stand at the front against any and all,

To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

" So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,

Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."

"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,

"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?

It seems all too little for all that you've done,

For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,

"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.

To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,

To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead,

To know you remember we fought and we bled.

Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,

That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

PLEASE, would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many

people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our

U.S service men and women for our being able to celebrate these

festivities Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people

stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.

LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN

30th Naval Construction Regiment

OIC, Logistics Cell One

Al Taqqadum, Iraq

Christmas Wish

I volunteer at an elementary school once a week. Nothing much; helping second graders do some reading, labeling books, marking papers. The classroom is at the far end of the school, so each week as I make the journey to my assigned classroom I walk by a number of displays of children's work. There were school buses at the beginning of the year, various sorts of flags around Veteran's Day, and turkeys galore at Thanksgiving time. The displays have always been amusing, creative and innocent, but none had ever caused me to stop for even a moment in the hallway on my way to the second grade classroom at the end of school. Until Wednesday.

The bulletin board was filled with stockings. Each had the top portion filled with glued on cotton balls to simulate the real thing. Each had been colored with various shades of Christmas hues. Each had a center portion of lined paper. Each had written upon it the child's Christmas wish. I glanced, expecting requests for skateboards, game systems or any number of popular toys. I then stopped suddenly and turned around for a second look, certain I had been mistaken. I stood in the quiet hallway filled with stocking wishes and read. The first stocking said, "I wish my Dad didn't have to work so much." The stocking just above it read, "I wish the Jones family had enough food to eat." I was stunned, and humbled. I wondered how many of their parents had seen their stockings. I wondered if that father had picked up extra shifts or a second job to pay for Christmas gifts. I wondered if that child would rather give some food to another family than to have another present under the tree. I wondered if anyone at home had asked those children what they really wanted for Christmas and if they knew how little it would cost them to grant their children's wishes.

In a society that constantly reports on the insatiable greed of the upcoming generation, I invite you to walk down the hall at your elementary school. Learn what children really want for Christmas. You. Your time. Your love. To help. To serve. To give. Maybe, if we listen closely enough, our children can give us the greatest gift this Christmas. The ability to grant their truest wish.

Backstory to a Blog

I finally did it. I joined the world of blogging. I fought creating a blog for a long time, reliving memories of late night scrapbook parties where my pages were never fancy, my pictures sub par, and I felt the unstated pressure to have each layout be worthy of publication in a magazine. I couldn't fathom willingly submitting myself to the stress of falling behind on blog posts. I pictured myself literally running away from those infamous tags. I imagined berating myself at various events that I hadn't remembered my camera yet again and wouldn't have any photographs to post. So I ardently refused jumping into the world of blogging and felt relieved at having one less thing to feel guilty about.

But then something changed for me. I realized that this medium has the potential to uplift and edify and teach beyond simply sharing updates on daily life. It can reach out to friends and strangers alike, uniting them through triumph and tragedy in this experience we call life. I have long been a writer of lyrics and poetry, seeking to record and capture life in moments. In doing so I try to create windows of insight into my own understanding of the world. I often see light through those windows that gives me peace, clarity and even hope. I have come to the realization that every person has a unique view of the world - a lens, a color, a view that may provide depth, shadow and color to another person's perception of life. My hope is that in sharing the view from my window, perhaps the light I see in my life might somehow be reflected in your life. And in your reception of that simple offering, your light may somehow reflect upon and enlighten mine.

So I write for light. I seek for things that are virtuous, lovely, of good report or praiseworthy and share them in the hope that light will increase in my heart - and in yours.