How Do We Deal With Our Deepest Fears?

Last year, Mother’s Day was about my Mother. We didn’t know if Mama would be here for Mother’s Day this year, so we made the day especially for her.  She was OK with it for a few minutes, but spent a lot of the day not knowing who people were. While she was able to know us, we took pictures, of which I am so proud and thank God for the opportunity to have taken them. She wore a sweater with one of her beloved crocheted collars, and it will be an image of her, looking a little like an angel that I will cherish.  Mother did not make it until this year, but I was prepared for that.

      I don’t have explainable emotions about her being gone. I stayed in such turmoil those last two years of her life; I sometimes just don’t want to feel anything now.  Yet, I wouldn’t call what I don’t feel denial, or avoidance. It is almost a kind of peace. Yet is not, because I still awaken from sleep realizing that my mind is still trying to figure out if there was something else I could have done to keep her from dying.  My awake mind realizes it was her time. But I have to tell myself, that if I had hung in there and kept her at home that last little bit, she still would have died. Some days she had seemed so vital, that I believed she was doing better. But there were medical people who just kept warning me. I don’t know why I wanted her to not die. She wanted more than anything to be with her Mother and Daddy. And her “loved ones”, she would say. “I am your loved one,” I would tell her. By the look on her face I would then realize, she was in her childhood memories of her Mother and Daddy, and I didn’t exist then. She couldn’t place me, and she was afraid and confused by that.  So I just changed the subject. It is difficult not having your Mother be able to love you anymore. It is something I pray my children will not have to live through with me someday.  In fact, I am hoping that keeping my mind active by blogging, will help.  If not, I am hoping that I can make a record for my children of who I am, and how I think, and how very much I loved them for as long as I was able.

       So this year, I was glad that Mother’s Day was not about my mother, and not even about me being a mother.  It was about my daughter being a mother of a new baby, for the third time.  We both had two boys and a girl.  In a different order, and her little girl was called to live in heaven just before her birth. My daughter had gone through all the elements of shock and grief this would naturally cause, and had begun to heal. Yet she and her husband of the time divorced, she had since gotten an apartment, and found her strength, met a very loving man and remarried. And she was excited to try again to have a child. This year her oldest son is in high school, and her newborn was 7 months old on Mother’s Day.  7 months…that is how long it had been since we buried my Mother. I am able to remember that because the baby was born the very next morning after Mother’s funeral. On the surface it may seem to someone like a sad thing to remember. It was scary when it was happening. Mother died a few days prior to my daughter being induced. Since, my daughter’s previous child had been healthy right up to her sudden passing, I promised to be there at the birth no matter what. In every scenario I could think of, someone could watch Mama. I had even envisioned Mama going to the hospital while we waited for the baby to be born.  I had prayed, please let Mama live to see the baby, and please don’t ask me to choose whether I be by my mother when she’s dying or be with my daughter when this child is near birth. Yet, I actually did have to make that decision - before it became a last minute one.

About a month before Mother passed, the head nurse wanted to speak to me in her office. She wanted to know if they should bring in Hospice. After a lot of quandaries about whom it would benefit, I was told it was mostly for the family.  I just didn’t need another set of strangers trying to help me get my mind around what was happening. We discussed my daughter’s situation, and I had to choose. The nursing staff assured me they could meet mother’s medical needs, and each time I visited, she was able to do less and less. I did battle with myself as I watched her, one day, able to get up, into her wheelchair and go from window to door trying to find how to get out. I wanted so badly to put her in the car and go for a ride.  As always, she wanted to go back to her home.  My heart ached for her, because she never forgot about having a home.  Thing was, she didn’t remember it when I showed her pictures of it, and while she stayed with me, she thought my house was her home. Some days when she knew me, she was angry because I didn’t carry her home. I would explain but she never accepted the explanation, nor did she remember it.  But, in the nursing home, she knew she wasn’t home, and she wanted to go home.  On one day when she was active, she told me all about home. She didn’t know me, but she was describing home in great detail.  I just nodded as she told about a place in the mountains where she lived as a small child.  That was definitely not a home I could have carried her to even if I had tried. She insisted that someone would be waiting for her there. Someone who visited elderly patients often, from a church, once told me, “Always say: maybe you will feel up to it tomorrow and I can take you then.”  Yet after she left, I saw the person she had visited stress all day about getting packed and calling her son to come get her. And the next day watched her live through the hours of  fear that she was not getting to go home.  Alzheimers is a strange disease.  And the brain a strange thing.  It is as much a roller coaster for them as for us.  A month before they thought Mom was dying, and she didn’t. A month later, she had found strength to get up and appeared to be fighting to get well enough to hold the baby when it came.

The days came that I would go into her room and she would be lying there so still. When I touched her she was so cold that I actually thought she had passed. I would call staff, and rub her arms and legs and after a great deal of calling her name into her ear she would come around. She usually recognized me for a while, and we had a very short conversation about something semi-normal, before she began the ritual conversation. She wanted to get up and go to the bathroom.  By this time she couldn’t, and there was nothing in the world that I could say to help her understand what a catheter was, or that she hadn’t drunk enough water to be able to go.  No, I don’t miss my mother being here, going through that.  I don’t miss going into her room every time and thinking she was already gone. What I miss is the mother I used to know, who hasn’t been here for years.

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I am a person who has tremendous difficulties remembering dates. I am not a time-oriented person. My husband checks his watch regularly, knows exactly what he has to do for the day upon awakening. He is the romantic who always remembers our special days.  I am the opposite of that. So I jokingly say that on the day they have to take me to the hospital, and the first thing they start asking me is, “What day is it,” please have them ask me some other question to know if I am mentally competent or not. I will not be able to tell them the date or day, and I may not know the year. Which brings me back to my referencing my mother’s death being so close to the baby’s birth. My daughter insisted I go on to be out of town for mother’s funeral. She promised that if anything happened someone would fly me home.  I could scarcely breath I was so tormented over going away and leaving her. I had not been with mother when she died; heaven forbid that I not be there if either Heather or the baby should be in jeopardy for a moment of the unthinkable.  Thankfully, God did not make me decide between being with mother or with my daughter.  And God took mother so quickly I couldn’t have been by her side without being there round the clock.

 Staff said that, on that morning, Mom was awake. They had her up and dressed her, and left.  When they returned with her medicines, she was gone.  The nurse told me, that a month earlier they were thinking she was about to die at any time. But after she had gotten better and was getting up many mornings, this was a shock. They hadn’t anticipated a need to call me now. This was the last day they expected her to die. God did not make me chose. Still, I had to do something that was very difficult.  I had to make up my mind to simply trust God at all costs, and leave my daughter in God’s hands while I left town to bury Mom.

I am sure that seems like a “well duh” moment for most people. But when you say, “I am trusting God,” are you just saying it because you know you should, or have you had to actually decide to trust?  “Lord, I am so afraid of what might happen in the next few days, that I don’t think I can bear having regrets about it.  The only way I can bear this fear is to decide to say, Thy will be done, and trust you to not make me bear the cross of what I fear becoming reality.”  The thing that was tearing me up the most was I felt like I was deserting my daughter, who was facing her own fears of the very same thing!! And I had promised I would be there no matter what!  In that moment, I felt like I could relate to Jesus when he said, in the Garden of Gethsemane, “if it could be thy will, let this cup pass from me…but whatever - thy will be done” (paraphrased). Jesus did not escape his dreaded day.  I wondered how far God would ask me to go into my deepest fears.

I began to turn my thoughts to what I believed the Lord would have me think about:

1. I could believe that God wanted this child to live.
2. God had led my daughter, her husband and the doctors to decide to deliver the baby by inducing it, so there would be no strain of wondering about the baby’s safety as they neared his natural birth date. I just couldn’t believe that God had any plan other than that this child should live.
3. Even if we had to drive all night after the funeral, we could be there for the birth in the morning. If something happened unexpectedly, I had their promise to get me home fast.
4. My daughter had a new support system. Prayer warriors themselves.
5. And I believed that I truly had reached the limit of what I could bear, and God surely knew that.
6. Therefore, I could have faith as a grain of mustard seed, and God said that was all it took to move mountains, so I asked the Lord to help me move this mountain of fear. And he did. (Matthew 17:20, Luke 17:6)

 

Even though my daughter and the baby did have a bit of a rough time of it, next day, I was there. And my faith was bolstered to help me make it through whatever happened.  So on Mother’s Day this year, I quietly celebrated in my heart that I was in a place far from all that fear, and pain, anxiety, and trauma.  And next Mother’s Day, I will know that it has been 1 yr and 7 months since my mother passed into heaven.  When the baby’s birthday rolls around, I won’t be all sad that it is also when my mother died. I will be glad that this is when my Mother met Jesus face to face, when God brought me through one of my greatest fears on just the tiniest inkling of faith, and my new sweet grandson was born, all in one week.

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Excerpts from Isaiah 61: 1-3 (KJV): 

Isaiah said: Vs1.The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me…

he hath sent me to bind up the broken hearted. Vs 2 …to comfort all that mourn.

Vs 3…to give unto them beauty for ashes,

the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise

for the spirit of heaviness.



A Place of Refreshing

It is such a pleasure to share that the Lord has blessed me with the opportunity to join two lovely ladies, Christy Eggert and Lori Cole, while we share our walk with God and inspirations from Him.  It will be a collaboration from our hearts and In Jesus Name at Christy's blog:"My Wings Are Made Of Faith" .   Also check out Lori's page, "Dancing In the Rain" where you will find the joy of her heart and music to lift your soul. You will also find tools for the walk and love and inspiration straight from the Word Of God. Join us today Click on the underlined titles to visit them now, or anytime, visit them from my side bar. I promise you will find it to be a place of refreshing.

Lord Bless our endeavor, and send this - your work - to those who are seeking, who need a word of uplifting from you, as we walk this path you have set us on together. AMEN

Always,  C

His Perfect Will

Sometimes I can walk on nothingness,

~

Sometimes I can face Hell with a water pistol

~

But, sometimes

All the angels together couldn't push me there...

Into His Will

anonymous

Thy will be done... continued

Thy will be done…
My mother used to say: "I can't never did do anything."  She is right when we take a pouty "I can't" attitude toward everything we try.  It isn't that I can't do what God would have me do. Scripture says: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." We have an assurance, that if it is within His will, He will back us up. I have to remind myself to not back away from things that seem too awesome to try.  I must just be aware that I am not the one making the awesomeness happen.
On the surface this seems to be elementary. But reason with me for a moment. We plunge into things, just knowing God is in it, and blammo... things start going all wrong, or are challenging beyond our wildest dreams, or nothing happens. Or someone slams us. The first thing we think of is: "I must be out of God's will."  If you haven't done it, your pastor has certainly accused someone of doing it from the pulpit of your church. You know it's true. Everyone assumes that if things aren't going as planned, God wasn't in it in the first place. No human, including each of our pastors, is immune from taking this track.  It just isn't so though, that we are out of His will if things aren’t going well. We cannot be God, knowing how to do things within His perfect will, perfectly.  And adversely, we cannot do all things... in spite of the verse.  The verse does not mean God expects us to do and do and do and do, until we are useless, and wonder why didn't He give me strength when He promised.  If all things meant all things as in absolutely anything, it would mean we could murder in Jesus’ name and God would provide the strength.  That is ludicrous and extreme. Instead it means, anything that would be within God's "good graces," (to use and old, old term). All the things he prepared for our lives.

Flowers grow according
to his Will

Middle ground... think middle ground.  Anything which is in God's will, He will help us with: give us strength, finances as we need them, whatever.  But when things aren't happening, we aren't out of His will unless He says we are out of His will. Sometimes Jesus knew we would need to pray, "Lord thy will be done." Yes, I am often called to do something I feel inadequate for, or believe in my mind I do not have the strength to see it through. God has proven Himself often, that He is able and willing to get me through the roughest spots in life. But His will is often that we just take a rest, and if we keep pushing, we are not doing it according to how He made things to run. 

It was for this reason that God gave "the Law" in the first place.  For instance, His law says that we should rest about every 7 days. It is how he created us to perform best. We should have days of celebration, and reflection, holidays, and Holy Days. It is how he made our lives to best be lived.  But we wonder when we have worked 21 days straight why God doesn't give us the strength to not have a heart attack... He gave us guidelines. And yes, there are times when we cannot, in fact must not, be so tied to a Law that it strangles us. Soldiers have to keep fighting, fireman have to keep fighting, mothers with newborns have to keep fighting...and yes it is appropriate to say, "God, I believe I need rest. But if I am going to get it, you are going to have to give it."  When we pray, Jesus wanted us to say, "God, the world demands that I do things I don't think I can do right now. I am asking, will you intervene, so that the world can get back to within your boundaries? But if it is your will that I carry on this way, give me strength."  So then, if you don’t have strength, He wants you to rest! Ask for help!
There came a time that, for Jesus, it meant dying on a Cross. And even He needed the strength that only the Father could give.

My sweet Mom was intense sometimes.  Living in her perfect will was impossible, too. But unlike God, she was as likely as not to totally reject you, and throw you out of her house for not doing things her way.  I am glad that my Mom is not my example of serving God. But most people see God being more like my Mom, than like God.  "I can't please him, so I guess I will just quit trying."  Ever put God and a parent in the same category, thinking God must be like your parent.  I guess it comes from calling him our Heavenly Father. But even that picture type comparison was meant to be of a loving father.  Jesus went out of his way, to remind us over and over, that he was acting on the will of his Father. In almost the same breath, he would beg his followers to not do like the Pharisees and Sadducees who were sure in themselves that they were the ones in God's will, and doing it perfectly, because they were following the Law to the letter. They even added to it to make it tougher than it already was. Jesus wanted people to see, that the Law is not God's perfect will. It was to show us we cannot be who God wants us to be trying to fulfill laws. God knows we can't be perfect in doing what the law says. If we are chasing after doing God's perfect law, thinking that God's will is being done, then we might as well be chasing after the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. If it were possible, Jesus would not have had to die. 

God knows us. He wants us to be who He created us to be. For me, these days, being in His will is being who he created me to be. We should think of him as a loving father, who, when he knows we have done something he didn’t want us to do, continues to love us, and helps us to learn how to do it right the next time.
  
Being in God's will is finding that spot where we feel securely in his love, so much so, that we are willing to let God bring anything into our world knowing that He is there. Not just with us, but in us, to go through it. And since there is nothing God doesn't know about how the universe works, He is able to do whatever it takes.... In His Will, not In His Law.

Lord, I want to live according to what's best for me. But since I don't always see the way so clearly, I just want to be in a place where you love me and guide me as my Heavenly Father.  Lord, no matter what others say, If I pray believing: "Thy Will be Done", I can rest in going where you lead me. Remind me to walk in your will not in your law. AMEN

Always, C

Thy Will Be Done continued...

Thy Will Be Done….
I was thinking the other day, how on a couple of occasions, someone wronged me and I just said, "Lord this one is above me, I don't know how to handle it. I am going to do what I should do more often and let You take care of that person."  On at least one occasion, the person actually died in a horrific way within a day or two, and I was struck by the "fear of God," as the Bible calls it. I, in no way, wanted the person to die, never once thought of it.  I was in a fit of confusion for a day or two, wondering if God would have brought about her death.  Thing is, what she did to me, was to deliberately try to cause my injury.  I was in a place that had I fallen when this person tried to make me fall, I could have died. I wondered did she just want to scare me or was there enough malice in her heart to actually try and hurt me. So all I could do was say, "Lord you handle this. I could be misjudging her." But when I heard she died, and how she died, I had chills and a sick feeling for days. Is this how God answered my prayer? Or was it just her time? Did her reckless behavior somehow hurt her instead of someone else?  I still don't know the answer, but I have learned that God's will may not always be the same as my will. Sometimes, in God's will, He allows our reckless behavior to take us to its consequences.
The actual meaning of "thy will be done," is to relinquish to God our lack of knowledge about how He built things to run smoothly. He doesn't expect us to be able to do his perfect will. That is how we confuse things with God. WE get things backwards. It is not that we pray, Lord I will do thy perfect will. It is that we pray, Lord I allow in my heart that you may intervene anywhere, before or after I mess things up, to redirect things toward thy perfect will. Thy will be done.  Let it happen in my everyday life. In this way, God is always responsible. It takes a huge burden off me. If God is responsible for my life and how it turns out, why do I often fall into the pit of trying to make life work out for me? It is like trying to play God.  And I can't.

Lord: I thank you that I can rest today and let you take care of the God's will part:) Amen.

Thy Will Be Done

When Jesus taught His disciples to pray one day, He prayed, "Thy will be done." When I was a little girl, I often thought about whether my prayers included the "thy will be done" part.  I was so attuned to wanting to please God. It was so childlike.  I have read that a large percentage of what a child does is based on pleasing first parents, and later teachers, etc.  This is why children are endangered by an evil adult asking them to be co-operative.  Because, children want to please, they like and respond to the affirmation.

As we grow older, we learn that responding co-operatively to everything gets us in trouble. And some adults expect too much. Some parents can never be pleased.  My Mom was like that about some things.  You just couldn't do enough right. I forgave her, and tried my hardest, but some things were actually at odds with what I needed to do to keep my grades up at school.  Like reading, she thought it was a waste of time. Mama never really cared about our grades. Well, I never remember her chiding us for a bad grade, but I do remember her standing up for me once when I got a D in art. I usually got A's and B's, and an occasional C that just tore me up. Not her, me. She knew about me and my art, and she knew I wasn't going to slack in that class. So she wrote my teacher a letter, and one to the principal, insisting my grade be changed.  When the teacher investigated, someone in the next class was taking my work, painting out my name, then putting their own name on my work.  I therefore had no work in the drawer. It looked to the teacher, (who was never in the class to actually know,) like I never did anything. Mom was right to stand up for me. And she did it because she knew me. She knew my love for art, and that I would never miss a chance to impress a teacher with my art.
God is like that.  Sometimes when we do our best to please him, something goes wrong. When things go wrong, I often second-guess my decisions; I wonder did I forget to consider if I am doing His will.  My daughter has actually asked me how to know when you are doing His will.  I simply don't think it is possible to "do His will" 100% of the time. But if we are mindful of trying, the Lord knows us, knows our hearts.  I have known Him to do like my Mama did, and step in to change things a bit. 
_More tomorrow_

I Love you Lord, for stepping in and standing up for me. There have been a few times in life that I knew I was in your will, and someone else didn't give me credit for that.  Some have dared to insist that being in your will meant being in theirs. Thanks for helping me know the difference. Amen

I Haven't the faith...



My sister's symbol that God hears her
prayers is the presence of Geese.

When I was a little girl, my sister prayed for an ailment that had tormented me off and on for several years.  When I was about 8, my hands and feet broke out and cracked so badly that just walking or using my pencil for schoolwork resulted in oozing liquid that hardened and cracked, which led to bleeding, on my papers and in my socks.  My socks stuck to my feet, and made my shoes smell badly.  Teachers wanted me taken to the doctor over and over; even though I had been and every very painful thing they had tried to help it was to no avail.  The same teachers would not allow me to bow out of Phys Ed, so every squat thrust meant my shoes filled with blood, and hurt till I finally broke down in tears. Then walking home from school, which was exactly 3.14 miles when we measured it with the car, meant I could hardly take my shoes off my feet when I got home.  But by age 11 or 12, they had discovered it was a dying of nerve cells that caused my ailment, and one specific doctor who discovered this, also helped me to monitor my emotional state. He felt that if I could calm myself, when stressed that I could possibly avoid whatever chemical things were going on to make the cells die, and I could avoid the breakouts to some degree.  He was right.  So even when we had a wreck one time, my fingers and toes were breaking out before I could get home.  I did my routine to calm down, and drum up good things to thing about, and I would sing or paint, draw, something to get my mind off the stress, and by nightfall, the blisters had stopped popping up, and the attack was minimized.
But situations at my house, sometimes continued to be more stressful than all the techniques in the world would fend off, and my hands and feet would be so inflamed and itchy, oozing and bleeding, that nothing helped. It was on one of those nights that I couldn't sleep, because my hands itched so badly.  I made the mistake of rubbing one of my fingers and it made it worse.  The itching increased to a level that all I could do was rock back and forth in the bed. I awakened my sister, with whom I shared the bed, and she reached over and pulled my hands to where she could see them, and she just prayed that God would make my hands well.  Then she went and told Mama what misery I was in and that she had prayed for me. Knowing her, she probably asked Mama to pray too.  Mama brought ice I think, to numb the itching, and it worked enough that I could finally go off to sleep.

Next morning, there were no blisters, no cracks or oozing, no signs of cracks in the skin... Just new pink skin.  From that time on, I only had one more bad attack, and it was when I was dating my husband. I believe the Lord wanted him to know that I had this affliction, and that I would need to do what it took to actively control it.  Yet as an adult, my children have not seen it like when I was a child.  Later, when my brother was born, he also had the same problem, but to my knowledge his never got as bad as mine had.  The Lord chose not to heal me entirely, for it manifested in my mouth and throat at times during my working years, giving me cases of laryngitis that nothing would heal.  In fact, I was often a member of a choir, or asked to sing at church, and one of my most severe attacks of laryngitis, left me unable to sing for over a year. But I will never forget how my sister's prayer, brought me relief and healing by morning.
The Lord asks us to do to others, as we would have them do to us.  I have often wanted to pray for healing for someone and just see him or her become well overnight. Once, I prayed for Jimmy's Granny, and they sent her home in the morning.  I always hoped my prayers had been answered.

But lately, I am numb. I don't have the faith to believe someone could be healed on the basis of my prayers. So all I know how to pray is that the Holy Spirit will honor God's word, and bring healing for those who pray.  My sister's husband is dealing with lung cancer. She is believing for his healing so much so that she doesn't talk to anyone who speaks a word of doubt. It wasn't on my faith that I woke up that next morning with my hands all well. She isn't counting on it being my faith that will eventually mean that Larry is healed to whatever extent God will heal him. All I know how to pray is, "Lord do for her the same as you did when we were children. Nothing has changed. It is the same prayer.  Would that the Spirit utter for us the things we cannot, and just bring healing to her family, to recompense the good that she did for me."  And whoever, can pray with her believing, please do.  Cause I can only pray, "Honor her prayers today just as you did on that day, In Jesus Name. Amen."

Finding Connections

I have been looking at great length for my ancestors, and I have a rather large file, which I feel confident is highly accurate, because I have gleaned most of my information from piles of documents.  I have stacks of cousins and family members that I can't get recorded in the more recent dates over the last 100 years.  But the older ancestors, I have most things entered.  I branched out trying to find the ancestral grandmothers, whose information is more difficult to search out.  Their names were not included in the oldest info like Census records, but the one document, which most often includes them, is the marriage record. I researched at great length the life of an ancestral grandfather, who was shot at Chickamauga, Ga. during the Civil War, and who died in Marietta, Ga. and, we believe, is buried in the Confederate Cemetery there. But his wife, whom I highly admire for what she must have endured during those very difficult years, is someone I had not been able to find a connection that led to her parents, until today.
I know where she lived and is buried.  I have pictures, and have been there.  When I go there it feels like home, for I have a great love for the mountains where it is located. There are other families with her maiden name all around, but no records that I could find in the oldest records, which indicated her parents, lived nearby. Today, while gleaning in the 1820 Census very carefully for the names of known family members, I found an entry, near my other ancestors in that county, which was a misspelling, or old spelling for McIntosh.  A female entry with 3 small girls, appears to be a widow, whose name is Rachael. (Had her husband not been dead, I would not have known her name.) However, her name is spelled McEntush. On that same document, I found an entry for a known ancestor, which was also a misspelling or old spelling. It was by coming to understand that his name was formerly spelled differently in several documents that I learned to search for various spellings in the first place.  I looked very carefully once more for any other McIntosh/McEntush entries, and there was none.  So this almost has to be my ancestral Grandmother's Mother. And thereby, she is also an ancestral Grandmother. I will want further documentation, but I am feeling good that I have found her.
Sadly, I entered it in the slot for her parents as Unknown McEntush and Rachael Unknown. But even though I don't know their full names, I know they existed, and have a record that they lived just where I expected to find them.
Now finding their parents will be tricky, because they probably came from Virginia, W. Virginia, or Kentucky. Or maybe Eastern Carolina... they won't be so easy to find. Till I do, I am just glad to welcome Rachael to the family.I may be able to find her husband's name,10 years earlier, when the 1810 census was taken, as newly married with one daughter. Also, I will search court records, if there are any, for land purchased or granted. And possibly the marriage records, from an earlier county name. And the cemeteries which I have learned to love visiting. You never know when you will find someone whose blood was the same as yours.

Sarah (Sally) McIntosh

That's an odd feeling, by the way, when you suddenly discover you are standing by a previously unknown grave, of someone you are certain was a great grandparent of many generations back, and you realize their blood was what eventually made your blood. Their body is where the DNA for yours came from. It is an instant connection, and a feeling of thankfullness for the life they lived, especially if it was filled with hardship. I often cry when I find them, and I always thank God for them.


Today I want to thank God for helping me find this lady, who is one more in the list of living human beings of the past who would never know about me, but they are totally responsible for me. Because they lived and died, I am. And I also want to thank God that because Jesus lived and died, there was a day he welcomed me into his family, and entered my name is his book of the history of Children born into his family.  And I am thankful that there is such a thing as records where someone was careful to protect the documents that allow me to find these people from my past. Now I have to find the cemetery where the McEntushes were buried and go visit them sometime.
Thank you, Lord, Amen.

Baby Bug has found Crafting Ideas

On my children's theme page, called Scripture Pages for Ryder and his Friends, you will find the Baby Bug Posters to help teach about faith to youngsters.  But following that theme, I found that Oriental Trading Co. has great projects and planning instructions for hours of fun based on bugs.  Check out: http://tradingideas.orientaltrading.com/educators/k-6/lesson-plans/bugs-lesson-plan
Kids will love these projects.

I love Oriental Trading Co.  It is a company I have ordered materials from for many years.  In fact I discovered its catalogue when my children were small, and they are in their 30s now.  Over the years, this company has continued to expand its kid-friendly products and planning and crafting market, to be the most informative up to date I know of.  But the site isn't just for kids and teachers, and not just for inspirational materials.  Wedding and party supplies are well thought out, and oh so affordable.  I love this place!