Dakota House Song

I love Dakota House, because it's lots of fun
I love Dakota House, it's better than being in the sun
I love Dakota House, because they take us camping
I love Dakota House, cause we're always happy
I love Dakota House, cause we eat for free
I love Dakota House, cause everybody loves Jamie
I love Dakota House, cause it gets us away from the drama
I love Dakota House, Irisa's like our mamma
I love Dakota House, cause we get scriptures out of the Bible read
I love Dakota House, cause Jamie got scared of a fish head
by E.L.

random pictures of our home

God has given us a nice home. I like it.

deep breath

After two long weeks Grams is home, sitting in her favorite chair, holding her little cat, and smiling non-stop. Grampo is busy cooking up everything in his garden to feed her. He believes his good cooking and fresh vegetables and garlic will have her cured in no time.We still don't know what was wrong. We only know she is better now and they are home together again.

Brad and I leave on Sunday to go backpacking. Just the two of us. It's been a long couple of weeks. I'm ready.

George. As you have never seen him before.

Go here if you dare...

Ouchy. Love hurts.

Grams is still in the hospital. She sat up yesterday and has been eating some. My days are a blur of rub-downs, ice chips, and bed pans. Endless sitting. But there are golden moments. Grams holds my hand and looks deep into my eyes. Grampo lights up the entire third floor with his huge smile and the love we all see between them. My daughter Emily shows strength and tenderness.

My other daughter Sarah has a bag which sports this saying:
"Ouchy. Love hurts."

It's true. But it also fills the heart.

Back to the hospital....

all i know today

The Dakota House camping trip was wonderful and Jesus showed up. George dazzled the kids and everyone else, too. Brad was an incredible partner and Nate and Emily made me so proud.

Grams is still in the hospital. She had surgery this morning to help determine if she has inflammation of the blood vessels--vasculitis. We should know something in a day or two.

My Grampo has hardly slept in a week and I could still barely keep up with him striding down the hall escorting Grams to surgery.

My son Nate is at Calvin Crest this week and I am so happy for him.

I am very tired and my house is a mess.

Jesus never leaves my side.

fatigue

There is a funny thing about fatigue. It brings you down to the barest essentials. There is little energy left for extras...like patience, for example, which shouldn't be an add-on. It should be a basic component.

I wonder if when we are very very tired we are stripped down to who we really are.

Yesterday a nurse was unkind to my Grams...rough and careless with her, causing her unnecessary physical pain. I stopped myself just before I called her something really bad. Like a 'stupid insensitive moron'. I was a breath away from telling her to "Back OFF, bitch."

That was a little disturbing.

message to some people I love (D,T&C)

I feel as though I have been gone to a foreign land for a long time. The truth is, I have been here--but at the hospital for most of my waking hours the past few days.

My Grams is in again... we don't know what is wrong. She has had a very high fever for several days. She is incoherent. For the first time Grampo is beginning to talk about losing her.

My days have been entirely focused on my grandmother's body: how much has she peed?What is her temperature? Are her toes cramping again? Is her skin dry? Is her neck comfortable? Is she thirsty? I hover around her busying myself doing things to make myself feel better. I am helpless, so I do things to make me feel as though I am doing something. I rub her old but still strong body with lotion. I stroke her forehead and talk to her, pray for her, lean in to try to comprehend what she is babbling to us, spoon-feed her soup and jello and strawberry milk. I have no idea if it is helping. She struggles at the final line.

I have come home to see that some people I love are also struggling. Not their bodies, for they are young and healthy. But in their hearts... at their very depth.

And though I know they hurt and question and feel pain, I am full of hope and joy for them.

These people I love are turning their feelings around to look at them from every angle. They have their hearts in the palm of their hand, held up before God, and they are saying: "Here it is. What do you see?"

When we are all old, and there is nothing left of us but our very souls, we will look back on these days of growth and know that was how we became who we finally are. And when we stand around one another's death beds, we will remember how our Father loved us and grew us.

We will say, "Remember how she taught us so much about what we were afraid to know?"

And, "I grew so much that summer of camp under his mentoring, loving, open heart."

And, "He said things that were true, and made me think about my own heart and its contents."

This is the stuff of life. The real stuff. And we are in it.

paige is mad
paige is sad
paige is bad
vere bad
paige has no dad
paige is vere bad

a moment in the desert

Saturday I left at 3:00 a.m. to go get Brad at the Whitney Portal, armed with a Mapquest printout, an ice chest full of cold good things, and a happy heart. It was an exicting adventure for me, as I am not the best navigator in the world. When Brad and I take trips, he drives the car and maps out the route. I bring cheese and music and books. We get along fine. My food sense is infinitely more defined than my sense of direction. We all have our spiritual gifts.

It is a six hour drive to Whitney Portal.... according to Mapquest. I made it in under five, which may have something to do with the fact that once, on a long desert stretch, I looked down out of my daze and saw I was going 120. Not good, I know. But it happened.

I had the privilege of watching the sun rise over the desert. I was astounded at the beauty and had some flashbacks to my early childhood living at Edwards Air Force base. I had a big tortoise for a pet once. In my mind's eye I could see it walking ahead of me. No leash.

I would like to be able to buy groceries next week and maybe send my kids to college, so I didn't use extra gas by running the air conditioning. I was hot. I stopped to refuel at the only Mini-Mart gas station from Jawbone Canyon to Red Rock (gotta love those names). I took a Sobe out of the ice chest.. It was ice cold. I was fairly panting with anticipation.

But I couldn't get the dang thing open.

I grunted and heaved and it wouldn't twist off no matter what I did. I became desperate.

In the next gas line over I saw a man sitting in his car. He had big beefy shoulders and a military haircut. He looked like he could twist the top off a Buick if he had a mind to. Any feminist notions I have ever had dried up and blew away in about 4 seconds. I tentatively approached his window and he rolled it down.

"Excuse me, sir... uh..I'm really sorry to bother you, but...um... do you think you could open this for me?"

He regarded me sort of hesitantly for a moment and we just sort of looked at one another as I began to simultaneously regret my boldness and notice a little trickle of sweat rolling down the back of my leg. But then he smiled. "Sure. Okay. Yeah."

He reached his right hand out the window, and that's when I saw it. He had a prosthetic arm. And hand.

Now believe me when I tell you this is a classic Jamie Move. Upon reflection I am not at all surprised this happened, but in the moment, I was stunned.

And so I stood there while this man gripped my Sobe with his good hand and made many earnest but unproductive attempts to get hold of the bottle cap with his stiff prosthetic hand. I stood there for about three weeks watching him do this.

At last he somehow grabbed hold of it, and twisted, and by the grace of God Almighty the cap came off.

We both sighed too loudly and laughed too much, and I looked him in the eye, and said, "Thank you so much."

But the thing is, when I looked at him, he was so happy. He smiled at me, with--I'm not kidding--a GRATEFUL look in his eye, and he said, "No. Thank YOU."

And I realized that he was pleased to be of use, to be needed, and I realized again a deep desire all of us humans have. It was a very nice moment.

I think life would be a dry and desolate desert without the people in our lives, the ones we encounter, and the ones God--with His wisdom and incomparable humor-- feels like hooking us up with.

I drove off feeling very grateful to be a part of this big strange family called The Human Race.

And that Sobe? Let me tell you...it was good.

Sometimes.... life is sweet

Brad and Kyle atop Mt. Whitney


Brad has returned home to me from the mountain top. He and Kyle had an adventure they will remember all of their lives.

My kids are in Canada with their dad having their own adventure.

Next up: this weekend we take a bunch of wild and hungry ghetto kids to the mountains for a few days.

Not always, but sometimes.... life is sweet.

Going to get my man

Leaving at 3:00 a.m. to drive to Whitney Portal. Got a call from Brad that he needed me to come get him and his son Kyle. I don't get to be his hero very often but I guess this time I do. After 9 days of backpacking to the top ot Whitney betcha I (and my ice chest full of fruit and cold drinks) will look pretty good to him.

And I'll be really really happy to see his bearded, tan, hungry, tired, handsome face.

Grams is going home

My Grams is going home tonight. Grampo is collecting her up and carrying her back to their little farm house in Madera. We don't know what caused her chest pain, we only know it wasn't her heart, and she is okay now. Thank you Jesus. And to any and all who prayed, I thank you in love.

Handsome Joe Hanset

where Joe is--
O.H. Close CYA Correctional Facility

For about two years now a young boy I love has been in in a CYA correctional facility. Jail, in other words. His name is Joseph Hanset. I used to call him Handsome Joe Hanset. When I first met him he was 10 years old. I came across him in the neighborhood, and his eyes spoke endless pain. He and his younger brother Samo stole my heart away and have held on to it for several years now. Their mother was addicted to drugs, and men, and bad decisions (she is saved now--attending Cornerstone Church--and has been clean for almost 2 years). Joe's father was gunned down by gang members. As a young boy Joe had so much anger and pain in him that he would pull out his eyelashes and bang his head on the floor. As he got older, he took to the streets and all the evils that includes.

Joe and I write back and forth to one another, but yesterday he called me. I was so taken by his grown-up voice. He is 17 years old now. He will not be released until next March--six days before his 18th birthday.

The facility where he is incarcerated is known for being full of violence and drugs. I read an account from a young man who was there for four years that chilled and frightened me for Joe...for all those hurting boys in there.

Yesterday Joe told me he is staying clean--10 months now. People offer him drugs every day. When I asked him how does he say no, what gives him the strength to do it? He told me this:

"First, I think if God would want me to do it. Then, I think of all the people who have always loved me, no matter what I did to them. I think about telling those people that I am using again, and how their faces would look. And then I know I am not going to do it. "

Joe told me he relies on the letters he gets, and people praying for him. There is no other joy for him there. That's it.

Please pray for Joe with me.

And Jesus help me--us--to remember it is the unconditional love we show through You that will change hearts and our world.

The forecast they're afraid to show you:

click on the picture for the true story

Biker Bro

Message from my friend and brother Carlton:

Just to let you know I was voted in last night and am Fresno's newest member of the Servants for Christ motorcycle ministry. I am pretty happy and feel like I am exactly where God wants me to be more than any other time in my walk. Yee-haw.
Love you all
ct

Update on Grams

Grams is still in the hospital. They are doing tests, tests, tests. Grampo has not left her side. When I asked him how she is doing today he said, "Oh...Mama Mia. She's getting harder to catch."

Quote of the Day

Then the time came when
the risk it took
to remain tight in a bud
was more painful
then the risk it took
to blossom.

--Anais Nin

Grams is in the hospital

Grampo and Grams

My Grams is in the hospital. Grampo called the ambulance at 4:00 this morning when Grams was having severe chest pain. He hopped in his car and flew down the road behind the ambulance from Madera to Fresno at 80 miles per hour. He is in his 90's. "They had my wife in that car," he told me.

We have been at the hospital all day, doing what people do in hospital waiting rooms, talking, pacing, looking at each other, watching the door, and comforting one another. My Grampo sat clutching the little bottle of heart medicine he had given her before he knew he had to call the ambulance. He was turning it around and around in his hand, telling me "They said it isn't her heart. It's not her heart."

We still don't know what's wrong. She has been moved from the emergency room to a regular hospital room. She is pale and breathing funny. My Grampo was so happy to see her out of the emergency room that he began to be his old self again. He pointed to Grams' short little legs under the blanket. She is only about 4'6" now. He looked at the nurse and said, "Hey! Que fi? You gave her too big of a bed. Do we get a rebate?"

His broad smile lit up the room. And Grams, so tiny and weak under the covers, looked at her husband, smiled her eyes at him, and said, "Oh Daddy." There was so much love between them there was barely enough room in there for anything else.

Jesus and children

I just read an interesting article on the web about Jesus and children.
It has got me thinking.
Here is the start of it. The entire article may be read at Crosswalk.com.

Jesus & the Children: Pondering Children as Pride Detectors
John Piper
Desiring God

"One thing to watch for when assessing a person's spiritual fitness for ministry is how he or she relates to children. Put a child in the room and watch. This is what Jesus did to make his point. Children are the litmus paper to expose the presence of pride."

The Magic Screen and Do-Overs

When I was a kid I had an Etch-A-Sketch. I loved it. Today is the anniversary of its emergence onto the American scene. It was originally called The Magic Screen.

Lots of times in my life I have wished I could just give myself a little shake, and all the scribbly messy stuff I had scrawled upon my life story would disappear. Poof. Like magic. Maybe that's why I liked my Etch-A-Sketch so much. Any time I wanted I could have a Do-Over. I love Do-Overs. You get them in four square, and sometimes in Egyptian War (the card game I play with my kids), depending on who called the rules, on your Etch-A-Sketch, and with Jesus. That's about it.

Maybe that's why I love Jesus so much, too.

I read a quote recently that said, "Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past." I've been mulling that one over for a while. I think maybe Jesus is trying to tell me something here, because He keeps hitting me over the head with stuff that says the same thing in a slightly different way. He has to do that with me sometimes. I call it The Two By Four Method. I have forced Him to resort to it, but He takes it all in stride. He isn't discouraged easily, I've noticed.

One thing I do know, that I can't quite get around, is the fact that if you OVERDID it on your Etch-A-Sketch--you know...you did the same move over and over and OVER again in the same spot, the mark would sort of stay there. It would leave just the slightest impression that wouldn't go away, no matter that you shake the dang thing so hard you give yourself a pain in the neck like whiplash.

I think that's where I am right now, or am maybe just barely beginning to get away from: that obsessive examination of the marks that are still there, the shaking of myself, and the pain. And Jesus... He just patiently waits and loves me, calling me to stop focusing on those marks and begin a lovely new work of art--a fanciful new creation all my own. I can hear Him. I just can't QUITE tear my gaze away from those troublesome marks. But I will. I can feel it happening.

today i feel empty

today i feel empty and lonely and just blah! no reason for it, really. my house is clean, the laundry is done, the kids are good, marriage is doing well, yet, i feel so hollow. it is one of those days that i question god a lot, i want answers to tons of questions and never seem to get them. i want to know how much longer will my "healing" take, and how much worse are the memories going to get, i want to know why christians deny that there is a devil, and why they treat each other so badly, i want to know how it is possible to be in the "christianity club" yet feel so alone so often, i want to know how to make myself a different type of person so that i can be around the people i love and care for more often, i want to know how i am blessed to have such great kids when i don't deserve it, i want to know lots, and yet i hear only a resounding silence right now. i feel so empty today, i am having one of those "really hate that i am a multiple" days. i want so badly to close my eyes and wake up a different person, without all the baggage. to just be someone else, to not have to remember to not have to hurt. so that's it, nothing left to say, i am just a big ball of blah................

from the whine cellar...

My husband is here.

I am here.

I miss him.

Sarah, Nate, Aimee, and Emily camping at San Simeon

Just returned late last night from three days of camping at the beach. My four kids and me. It was wonderful. And my heart is tired and also refreshed from nearly bursting with simultaneous pain, joy, love, fear, and gratitude.

If you don't understand this you have never had children.

My son stepped into a protective, manly mode, carrying heavy things, building fires, setting up the tent, and checking in with me on occasion by saying, "You okay, Mom? You need anything?" My daughters loved on one another, and him, and me, in the way that only fiercely loving females can do.

There was sun, and cool, salty fresh wind, and sand scrubbing our bodies clean, and long hours of lolling, walking, laughing, wrestling, arguing, talking, and simply being ourselves together in the way that families do.

God took hold of my life--and me--long ago, and seemingly said:

"Um... I know you have screwed up a lot, and made many mistakes that have deep and long-lived consequences. But boy I really love you, and your kids. And because I love you so much, I'm going to let you slide on all that stuff you did wrong, and at long last give you a life with amazing children, parents that love you unconditionally, a loving husband, and faithful friends... a life so full you will never for a moment be bored in it. Because I know how you hate to be bored. And I am not going to save you from all the pain, because that grows your heart, but I will walk through it with you.

And when you are afraid for your kids, I will be there to listen, and to remind you that you did even scarier things. And I will hold you, and reassure you that I love them way more than you do, and I've got their backs.

I love you, my funny child, and nothing you have ever done or will do can change that.

And by the way, that beautiful sunset over there...? Do yourself a favor. Chill for a minute and just sit in the beauty of it. I made it for you."

Sometimes I am so overwhelmed at being loved so much it makes me a little weak in the knees.

i've come a long way

Dave and I watched a movie the other night, it isn't really important which one, and about 20 minutes into it I had figured out the "twist" that would be coming. I said to Dave " that guy is a multiple" Dave kind of blew me off, thinking that there was no way that would make sense in this movie. At the end, when I was proven to be right, he asked me how I knew so early on. I told him, that was me, I lived that. There was a scene where the man put on a pot of tea to boil, and then they show him walk into another room, immediatley you hear the kettle whistle, and when he walks in to remove it from the fire, it is sputtering which means it was a full kettle and should have taken a long time to boil. Many other times in this movie I noticed small details like this one, and even though it could have just been edited for time I knew that the character had "lost time". I remembered what my life was like before I knew I had mpd. I would "wake" to wearing clothes I didn't remember owning, in places I didn't remember being at, with people I didn't know. I would try to be the last to leave because I wasn't sure which vehicle was mine. I would go into the bathrooms and search for clues to tell me if I lived there or I was a visitor. I would never know if I had a stomachache from just eating or from not eating. I would be at a job and have no clue what my responsibilites were. I remember one long period of time looking in the mirror and I had a different color of hair than I remembered and I weighed about 15 lbs less than I remembered. By the time I figured out I had "alters" I was engaged to 3 men at the same time, or I should say someone in me was engaged to them, I was raising an infant that I didn't know how I came to be her guardian, I had a knee surgery and could never find my crutches because others in me didn't need them. It was so confusing for me. My mom when she heard the "diagnosis" immediately said " that's it" because she had watched me growing up, I would play the piano and then all of a sudden I had no clue how to play it, my mom started me over in piano lessons with different teachers 5 times. So, now I can play just to Book 2 and no more, but so can 4 other parts in me. I would clean the house for my mom when I was young and she noticed I would clean and reclean certain things over and over, so she started making lists that I could cross off when something was completed. I used those lists until only a few months ago when I started to trust myself that I was completing what I needed to do without them. I look back and I tell myself, that I have come a long long way, I am so glad that I know who my husband is, and who my kids are, where I live and what I drive, you have no idea how frightening life can be when you aren't in control of your mind.

She did it

Cindy has been named "LEADER OF THE YEAR" for California by CHEA, California Home Educators Association of California. At the luncheon today, a luncheon we have been going to for 15 years, she was honored with the award. I am very proud of her.

a gold watch for Ringo?

Today is Ringo Starr's birthday. He is 65 years old.

Last week I spent a bit of time trying to describe to some people much younger than me what it was like when the Beatles emerged onto the music scene and changed it forever. They looked at me as if I had alphabet soup shooting out the top of my head.

I remember the first night the Beatles were on the Ed Sullivan show . We begged our mom to schedule dinner and all evening events around that most important one. My sisters and I sat trembling in front of our black and white TV screen, all our insides turned to mush by the time the show started. I was in love. I was beginning to understand the power of music. I was 8 years old.

A couple of years later, when my parents told us they were expecting their fourth child, the first thing my sisters and I said was "Good! Now we have someone to play Ringo!" Every day that summer we put our Beatles albums on the hi-fi and grabbed our cardboard guitars and rake handles for microphones, and sang along to all the songs. Being the oldest, I got to be Paul . My youngest sister came into this world with her first assignment: portraying the flamboyant drummer Ringo Starr, who is now of retirement age.

Today we have only 50% of the Beatles living. We lost John and George years ago.

If you did not live through the Beatles age you will have a hard time understanding Beatlemania. But go here and spend a few minutes. Check out the first U.S. tour. Look at the expressions on the faces of the fans.

And hey Ringo.... Happy Birthday.

Crescent Meadow to Mt Whitney 2005

My son and I are trekking to and from Whitney. We are leaving tomorrow and will return around the 16th of July. Please pray that we will have a safe journey, talk through some difficult things and experience grace and healing.

OFFICIAL PHOTO RETRACTION

Please accept my apologies.

Clearly my former picture of the prayer family was not comprehensive.

You may view the new and revised picture here.

A wonderful time that I could not be a part of...

It is interesting to watch ministry take place from another place. I couldn't see what was going on. I could only trust those involved. I loved hearing hard stories from "Outpost" as Lily and her team would shared with us the lives of the girls and young women up the hill. We could only pray. Lily was going through difficult personal struggle and was ministered by the "campers". Other staff members shared their testamonies for the first time publically and found freedom and joy. I didn't get to participate in anything except the joy I saw on the faces and could see in the hearts of those "staff" women as they gathered down the hill at the end of the week.

Thanks for letting us be a part of your life, Jamie.

TonyB

prayers of protection for our girls

Right now I am reading a book by a female professor who held a women's reading group in Tehran. The women read and discussed books forbidden by their government, which led to them discussing their own lives and the pain inflicted upon them by their oppressors. Inside the walls of the professor's home the women removed their veils and their fears, and were free. Safe. And always when they left, the professor was saddened and frustrated because she had to send them back to their lives, which were, in fact, prisons.

This is how I am feeling today.

For one week 14 girls were safe. No one came into their beds at night to hold them down and molest them. No one beat them. They did not have to watch the adults fight with one another nor did they have to peer out their windows fearfully watching for the police who take their brothers and fathers away. There were no gunshots and nobody was drunk or out of control. The peace and safety were unreal to them for the first few days.

But then they began to relax in it. For just a brief time they were little girls, finger painting and playing in the creek and sleeping under the stars. Everything was new: snow, a deer walking through camp, a lovely banquet dinner on the meadow prepared just for them. Sometimes they would frown skeptically at us. "You did this for US?" they would ask. They couldn't believe it was real. They were amazed and their eyes searched us, wide at the wonder of it all. There are many stories and pictures to share. You can see a few here, here, and here.

Then the last day came, and we watched them harden again. Some of them begged us not to make them go home. Some expressed fear at the notion of returning to it all. Dee, who came to camp not believing God exists, told us "I know in my heart it is Jesus who makes so much love in this place."

Above is a picture of Cecilia. She confided to us something that happened to her the night before she left for Outpost. It was plaguing her the first couple of days and she had a hard time letting go. I love this picture of her catching the light. She did grasp it, finally, and was able to see how the love of Jesus brings light into the dark places. She held it briefly, and I saw the innocent young girl she truly is.

Please pray for all these girls that what was put into them--by Jesus through our amazing staff (Lily, Annie, Jessica, Kari, and Christina) and the love and generosity of Tony and all the staff at Calvin Crest--is sealed by the Holy Spirit. Please pray against the enemy's evil schemes to rob them of the truth of God's love and plans for them. I know he is at work right now trying to undo what was done in their hearts. We need prayers of protection for our girls. I have listed all of them below. Please pray for these girls by name.

His, Jamie

Morgan
Tessa
Desi
Cheyenne
Brandy
Cecilia
Dakota
Bianca
Blanca
Dee
Jade
Alexandria
Danielle
Elizabeth

No one's veered from the beard...

I just noticed something about our prayer family.

More later

Outpost Girls on Fresno Dome

Glad to be home. Thankful to Jesus and Tony and all of Calvin Crest... more later... time to be with husband and kids.

Miracles happened in hearts once hard and I am still spinning from it all.....

our worth

This past week, I did a lot of soul searching, and a lot of listening to other people, I like to take in everything around me and sizing it all up. I came to the conclusion that there are so many people that I love that don't know their own worth. I am guilty as well, I really struggle with unworthiness. But, this week I took an inventory, and I was thinking about how weird I felt that my kids no longer "needed" me to be with them all the time, how they are becoming so independent. It really bothered me, I felt like I was in some sort of a dream, just watching my children and I couldn't get close. I started to get really down on myself as a parent. And I caught myself saying " you are a good mom! you raised three terrific kids who aren't afraid of the world, who can take care of themselves, who can have relationships outside of my parental control, who can do amazing things because I helped them get there" it felt good to see them growing up, well, except the whole "crush" thing with my son, but it was actually sinking in when people would tell me how great my kids were, I felt like I didn't fail at something. And so, as I listened to people this week, it became very apparent to me that most of us, struggle mightily with unworthiness, and it made me sad, I realized that for years people, most of you guys, have told me how good of a mom I was, but it didn't sink in, and so when I heard things, I thought, these people have no idea how much "worth" they have. I think about people who have mighty testimonies to tell who feel like no one wants to hear what they have to say, i think about worship leaders who make my soul sing, who think they aren't doing it right, i think about prayer warriors who remain silent because they fear that they don't have authority, i think about speakers whom God has annointed who look to the world to give them their worth and never make the things that they want to say come to light, because fear of rejection stands in the way, i think about people who write whose written words can bring strong emotions rise up within me, whether laughter and joy, or empathy and anger, but who think no one wants to read what they could write, i think about someone with the sweetest voice who doesn't want to sing, or the people who have so much intelligence bursting from the seams yet they remain silent because they think that their is someone smarter who could say it better. It made me sad, and it made me mad, and as I looked at all of these people I prayed and asked God to remove the filters we have placed on ourselves, that say we aren't good enough, or smart enough, or spiritual enough or whatever and that we would say God please please let me for one minute see my worth as you see me, and then later five minutes, and then a day, then a week, and so on, until we are living a life without fear, and we can be who we are and still know that we are loved and secure and happy. So many people with such deep seated pain, letting fear choke the life out of our own worth! I need help in this area and I ask that you pray that I can see clearly the path God has for me, no matter how unpopular, how mundane, how shocking, how against the grain it is, and that I would boldly go forth and believe in my own worth. There are always going to be those who try to tear me down, but if I could just learn my worth, perhaps their voices wouldn't be so loud and I could conquer my fears of unworthiness. It's worth a shot......

my dearest friends

I came home today from a week in the mountains, at family camp with my husband and kids. It was quite a week! I will admit it was probably the least favorite week we have had at family camp, the food was awful, too many people i didn't care for, changes, etc... But, at the end of the week, I look back on what was so special about this year and realized, it was my dearest friends that made my week a happy joyous one! First of all, just seeing everyone after a months absence was awesome! Day one, Cosby comes up to me with an orange juice bar and I felt almost giddy. Seeing Mel and Shannon so happy and full of life again, touched me. Then George and Brad showing up, and everyone hanging out just laughing and catching up. Being around Tony for a week, I realize how much I miss him and how much i forget how much he makes me laugh. Paige jumping up to wave to Cory, almost "outed" me in front of the Presbyterians! Running into Lyndsay and her smile could melt ice! Praying with Laura and Mel, and then the encouragement they gave to me afterwards was rewarding. Going up to Outpost and hanging with Jaime in her element and seeing her almost everyday was like medicine to my soul. This week was not what I thought it would be when I left last Sunday, but it was a happy time for me, after a long period of sadness and fear . It was my dearest friends who made me feel special, and loved, protected, happy and whole. Thank you for being my family! I love and miss you all so much!