Bloom Where You Are Planted: Building a Foundation GOD's Way

Monday, April 23

If you weren't prsent tonight, you really missed a sweet treat from GOD's revealed writings. Based upon Psalm 11:3, the young preacher guided our thoughts about how to prevent the destruction of the foundations of our homes...click here to review the PowerPoint notes!

Labels: Church Family, Pearls

posted by Marsha @ 4/23/2007 09:13:00 PM

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Thursday, October 11

ABCs of Righteous Living

Excellent timing on this one, Mom! My love to you:

A lthough things are not perfect
B ecause of trial or pain
C ontinue in thanksgiving
D o not begin to blame
E ven when the times are hard
F ierce winds are bound to blow
G od is forever able
H old on to what you know
I magine life without His love
J oy would cease to be
K eep thanking Him for all the things
L ove imparts to thee
M ove out of 'Camp Complaining'
N o weapon that is known
O n earth can yield the power
P raise can do alone
Q uit looking at the future
R edeem the time at hand
S tart every day with worship
T o 'thank' is a command
U ntil we see Him coming
V ictorious in the sky
W e'll run the race with gratitude
X alting God most high
Y es, there'll be good times and yes some will be bad, but...
Z ion waits in glory...where none are ever sad!

Mom adds (and I concur):
'I AM Too blessed to be stressed!' The shortest distance between a problem and a solution is the distance between your knees and the floor. The one who kneels to the Lord can stand up to anything. Love and peace be with you forever, Amen.

Labels: Bible Nuggets

posted by Marsha @ 10/11/2007 10:35:00 PM 0 comments

Tuesday, September 25

Wordless Wednesday - I didn't tke any of thesebut,

I wanted to share my Grand"angels" - especially the unborn Cadence through the 'eyes' of technology. (She's sticking out her tongue in that pic!)

posted by Marsha @ 9/25/2007 10:33:00 PM 2 comments

Wednesday, September 19

Wordless Wednesday - Pastoral ASF

Labels: Children, grandchildren, wordless wednesday

posted by Marsha @ 9/19/2007 08:42:00 PM 1 comments

Tuesday, September 18

My Fork Is Ready

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted one of her pastors and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit in which she wanted to be buried.
Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. "There's one more thing," she said excitedly.
"What's that?" came the pastor's reply.
"This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."
The pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.
"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked.
"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.
The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from there on out, I have always done so. I have also, always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!' So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them: 'Keep your fork.... the best is yet to come.'"
The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did.
She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the pastor heard the question "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.
During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her.
The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.
He was right.
So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.
Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.
Show your friends how much you care. Remember to always be there for them, even when you need them more. For you never know when it may be their time to "Keep your fork."
Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share. Being friends with someone is not an opportunity but a sweet responsibility.
Send this to everyone you consider a FRIEND even if it means sending back to the person who sent it to you.

Personal note - thanks, Momma! I've got my fork ready!
And keep your fork...

Labels: Bible Nuggets

posted by Marsha @ 9/18/2007 04:30:00 AM 0 comments

Thursday, September 13

Wordless Wednesday - Better LATE than Never!!

Very Late Wordless Wednesday!!

Labels: wordless wednesday

posted by Marsha @ 9/13/2007 09:56:00 PM 0 comments

Thursday, August 23

Does "LIFE" really have a Silver Lining?

My granddaughter Ansley was diagnosed on Monday with pneumonia. That was after paramedics, ambulance workers, and hospital ER personnel poked and prodded for the better part of the day on her little 15 month old body and emotionally on her 25 year old pregnant Mommy. I didn't think we could have a worse day - until I experienced first hand the run-around with Ansley and Mommy today.

Mommy called early to ask about sending Ansley to MDO but had reservations because the 'labored breathing' had not really subsided. While Mommy talked on the phone to me, I made plans to go sit with Ansley as Mommy slept - very rough night for them both. Just as I walked out the door the phone rang - Mommy was headed to 'doc-in-a-box' because Ansley had worsened. I headed to the same location and was greeted by rude receptionist-type personnel who, three times when asked, replied "They left." She seemed annoyed at best that I'd even think to use her time asking where my daughter had taken my grand baby.

Two and a half hours later, searching two local hospitals and Mommy's physical address, I returned home to discover a message from my daughter that she and the baby had been 'sent' to the next small city's LARGER "better equipped" medical facility because pediatrics could tend to the baby's needs more efficiently and quicker. This is what military intervention had recommended via the doc-in-a-box facility. That was the first BIG lie told to my daughter.

I arrived at the hospital at 11-ish a.m. "They" were sending someone immediately to diagnose etc. and so forth. BIG LIE #2 (An RT did come every four hours or so to administer breathing treatments to Ansley - THE only consistent professional ALL day long.) My grand baby labored for hours with her breathing - she was scared of the seemingly unconcerned staff and terrified that she could not breathe. Her little face told the whole story - petrified sunken eyes, red tinged feverish cheeks, and uncontrollable twitches (at times) of fear and sobbing.

My wearied worried daughter, although 7 months heavy with a new little life growing inside, cuddled and comforted Ansley as best as she could. Her little wiser yet still youthful face told the same sort of story only from an adult "Mommy" viewpoint - dark circled sleepless eyes slightly reddened from pushing back the tears trying to be stoic, intermittent Braxton-Hicks contractions...a reaction, I believe, from sleep and nourishment deprivation (unable to rest for fear that something will happen to Ansley and "no food or drink permitted in the ER" .). ER personnel promised "to see what they could do" at 1:30 about getting Mommy something to eat - BIG LIE #3 - I broke the rule at 3 o'clock because Mommy hadn't had anything since sending Big Sister to school at 6:30 a.m..We gave anything Ansley wanted from our purses just to get her some kind of sustenance - she tried to eat fruit bars, Nerds, peanut butter from crackers and water. My two actually three "babies" were being mistreated by professionals who had promised to CARE for them!!

Gratefully, Mommy has a beautiful MiL who retrieved Big Sister from school and joined us at the hospital. That was at 4:30 p.m. Since 10:30 a.m. Mommy and Ansley had inhabited ER #22 triage 'closet' - waiting area at the point I arrived at 11-ish was COMPLETELY vacant; when Big Sis and MiL got there the same area was overflowing with all sorts of ailments. Ansley still had not seen a physician.

After a brief visit with Mommy and Ansley, I took Big Sis to my house (I needed an extra change of clothing for tomorrow) to see Granddaddy. Then we headed to her home where Big Sis would feel more comfortable and be ready for the school day tomorrow after a good night of sleep. (Big Sis's wish) At 9 o'clock a physician was on his way to check things out and admit Ansley. BIG LIE # 4. I requested that Mommy call me with room info as soon as that was available. Big Sis finally drifted off into a fitful 'sleep' - but not before expressing her 'Big Sister 5 year old fears' for Ansley and Mommy as well as for Daddy - he's out of the country with the military doing what he does best for the rest of us in the USA. Tearfully she said her little heart is "'broken" (her word for her feelings) because she could not do anything to help - "I'm too little." Good opportunity for object lesson about GOD's love and care for us AND the POWER of prayer. I know Daddy's heart is "broken" as well for his adoring pregnant wife, his temporarily 'guilt-ridden' oldest daughter, and for his sweet yet very sick baby....8,000+ miles around the world having to rely on professional personnel who have yet to put their ducks in a row....wishing he was the one HERE pushing to get comfort and relief for his young and growing family...Please GOD ALMIGHTY grant him peace perfect peace throughout this ordeal.

Mommy returned the promised phone call - ER #22 triage closet would be their room. Seems that Someone dropped the ball at 11-ish that morning and forgot to tell Anyone that little Ansley was struggling so that No One would be able admit Ansley because Everyone had completely filled the pediatric unit/floor. Mommy had tried to get assistance all day long....I had asked question after question to get the process moving to get relief for my Babies....MiL made phone call after phone call to find that elusive Someone or aid for Mommy and Grand baby... And now there's "no room in the inn" - so what about another floor? Did Everyone get all those spaces, too?

For those of you who know me, I usually see the silver lined clouds when the 'sparkle' is not yet evident. This post is a very raw self-examination of my emotions. I cannot seem to find the Silver Lined Cloud tonight. I am "broken" - not just my heart...my feelings, my thoughts, my actions, and as of right now my words. I am thankful that Big Sis fitfully tosses and turns in the bed so she does not experience my doubtful disposition. I guess, in a simple way, that can be the beginning of the SILVER LINING HUNT.

I ask for prayers on Ansley's and Hayley's behalves. I DO believe that Phil 4:9 holds a promise and blessing for me - in HIS time....maybe tomorrow.

Labels: Children, grandchildren, prayer requests

posted by Marsha @ 8/23/2007 02:13:00 AM 1 comments

Thursday, August 16

Photo Hunters: Twosies-twosies