summer draws to an end...

Right in the middle of the dog days of  summer and it's hot!. Its always hot in the summer but, I think this has been the hottest summer of my lifetime. Living in Florida is not for the wimpy. Thank you Lord for air conditioning. I do venture out to my front porch though; usually in the early mornings and late evenings. In fact, it's the first place I go every morning with a cup of coffee. I was sitting there a few days ago with my striped pink, green and white slippers on my feet when a pretty little gold butterfly just flew right up and landed there.  He sat. And he sat. His golden wings hardly still for a moment. Where is my camera when I need it? They seem to be drawn to my little flower garden that is right off the porch. I often sit and watch them flutter from one flower to another. There have been times this summer that I counted as many as fifteen on my Lantana. They don't have a care in the world. My flowers, on the other hand, take quite a beating by the summer rays. They love the sun at the beginning of summer but by the end of summer they are quite droopy. 💮

Always loved the summers when I was growing up. When I think of summer, I always think of swimming in the icy cold waters of  the creek across from our house. My fingers swiveled up so tight that I could barely move them and my lips as blue as a corpse, but that creek still holds a lot of special memories. I remember climbing a huge oak tree and swinging from a rope hanging in it. Eventually dropping hundreds of feet below into the refreshing waters of Holmes Creek.  There is no telling how old that tree is or the rope either. I had an old inner tube that daddy got from somewhere to float down the creek. The swift currents would take me far off if I didn't pay close attention to where I was going. It was easy to lose focus and time in those waters.

 I grew up taking swimming lessons at the local pool in a nearby town during the summer. I could pretty much swim like a fish. Swimming lessons in the morning and splashing in the creek in the afternoons. We were transported in the mornings by school bus from our school to a nearby town for swimming lessons. My daddy drove it most of the time. He taught tennis lessons while my sister and I took swimming lessons. After the lessons were over we all took just enough money to buy an ice cream cone dipped in chocolate at the Dairy Dip, next door to the pool. We then went home for lunch. Mama had it ready when we walked in the door. You know how it is when you've been swimming? You feel like you could eat a mule. After lunch we went back to the school for arts and crafts and an occasional movie. My favorite was arts and crafts. Loved Ms. Franz. She was a quirky lady but boy howdy was she crafty. I modeled little clay bowls and figures with my hands. She put them in the kiln that she had at school to let them dry. Don't remember how long it took but after they were ready I painted them. My favorite thing though was to make pot holders with those little colored stretchy pieces of cloth that you pull onto a frame. I can't even begin to tell you how many of those I made for my mama. I wish I still had one.

Summers over for all the kiddies around here and schools back in. It seems so early. Didn't we use to  start after Labor Day? I always enjoy looking at the pictures that parents post of their kids first day of school in their spiffy new clothes. They look so eager and ready to start a new school year...until they get home from school that day. They exclaim, " I got to wear my new clothes and I saw all my friends, so now I don't need to go back." I saw a funny picture of an elementary age child.  It was a before and after day at school shot.  On the left side of the page, the picture was perfect; the child's clothes were so neat, and not a hair out of place. The picture on the right side was quite different; clothes dumpy and dirty and hair like a hurricane had blown through it. Amazing how much difference one day can make. I remember those days. Starting back to school when I was in elementary school was a huge deal.  Especially school shopping. I think Sears was our happy place or it might have been J C Penny. Mama told me she had a credit card at one of those places. That might be the reason I started to school with so many dresses. That is all that we could wear in those days. It didn't matter to me that I had a dress on though, at recess, I flipped over and over on the playground bars. Not a care in the world. I'm sure that when I got home I was quite the sight to see. I didn't wear all my new dresses the first week. I spread them out over a long period of time. I remember starting to school with some pretty colorful panties too. Each pair was labeled with an embroidery print of the day of the week. I was sure to wear my panties labeled Monday on Monday. And the same throughout the week. I was very organized. I hung my dress and placed my panties next to it so I would know what to wear each day of the week. It didn't take very long though before I was wearing Saturday panties on Tuesday. Organization has never been my forte. I know what you're thinking. If you're going to flip your dress over so everyone can see your panties, make sure you have the right day of the week on. Right? LOL

My husband and I attended a friends funeral today.  Then we got news of another close friend that I taught school with for a very long time that wasn't expected to live. It's really sad.  Like I hear my pastor say so often, we have no promise of tomorrow. Thought about my flowers in my garden. Beautiful at the first of summer but by the end they look tired and wilted. Oh, how quickly they fade.  Here today gone tomorrow. Just like us. So thankful that both my friends know Jesus. More importantly... that He knows them. In that way, it's not so sad anymore.

On my front porch again, my very favorite place to be when I am at home. I'm thinking about how proud I am of my hubby. It's funny how I  just realized that it wasn't such a big deal for a butterfly to light on my slippers the other day, my hubby just had one light on his hand and he carried it all the way to his face...now that's a true butterfly whisperer...love that man. I'm so proud of  him.  He works hard. He's a faithful friend. Tries hard to please me. Which isn't easy (at times.) Above all else though, he love's the Lord with all his heart. Now, that's a good man. Thank you God for giving him to me.

Last thoughts as summer draws to an end; (1)Take time to enjoy the butterflies and flowers on your porch (2) Love the ones that God has given you (3) And say yes to Jesus today... for we have no promise of tomorrow ❤

sammie jean

I am a flower quickly fading
here today gone tomorrow
a wave tossed in the ocean
a vapor in the wind
still you hear me when I'm calling
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling
and you've told me who I am
I'm yours

Casting Crowns

 It might have taken sixty years. And God rerouting my life a few times. But, no matter how many times it has taken. He has been faithful. Faithful to knock the dust off my shoes and nudge me in the right direction. All while changing my heart and putting new desires in me.  I believe, ones that please Him. One of those being to share the love of Jesus with people I don't even know. A group of us went from our church in Florida to Mt. Storm, West Virginia. I first met Pastor Tom, pastor of the church there, at our church around a year ago. You couldn't help but love him. A big heart for the Lord. He showed up at our church in a little"doodle-bug." That is what I call it. A Volkswagen Beetle straight out of the sixties. He drove almost 1,000 miles to visit us on it.  Some of the mission team members had already met him. They did bible school and a building project for him last summer. So, when our church put out the word that they were going back to Mt. Storm to help them again this summer, my husband and I felt the call to go too. We had already felt the pull to help him on his visit to our church. This would be our very first mission trip. My mission field for over 30 years has been to teach children. But, for many years now my desire has been to go beyond my comfort zone. That is just what I did. Let me insert here because it is extremely notable to me that God brought a man in my life that has similar desires. His broken roads and my broken roads intersected at just the right point in time for a time as this. Speaking of roads! West Virginia is beautiful with its picturesque mountains and green valleys. The countryside laden with wooden barns, silos, and luscious gardens, planted neatly in rows. Deer grazing in the pastures. The roads so curvy that you meet yourself coming around them. Not going to lie, my head became as dizzy as a goldfish swimming in a fish bowl. A special shout-out to my husband and my pastor who did everything in their power to keep that from happening. Although the scenery was picture perfect it didn't take us long to realize that like everywhere else in the world, sin was abounding much. Pastor Tom's little church, up the mountain has been there for several years but just can't seem to grow. My heart goes out to them. All this was definitely new to me. I was mostly "all eyes and ears." There couldn't have been a better group to train my husband and I then the group that went on the trip. The love of Jesus oozes from them. They have such a servants heart.  Talking to people about Jesus is just their second nature. Three of us spent the morning doing bible school with the kids. Our church bus picked up the kids. Everyone pitched in to help out in the afternoons at the park doing sports camp. I learned pretty quickly though about missions. Expect the unexpected. You plan one thing but there is a real big possibility that Holy Spirit has a different plan. He did. The children that we did bible school with and the pastor's family, was very encouraged by our visit. I believe that. But, the greatest thing of all was four adults came to know Jesus as their Savior. My pastor invested all the time that he needed on a high school kid playing basketball. Pastor Tom did the same for a couple fixing to get married and the girls father. It really was a beautiful thing. It's hard to say which part of this trip was my favorite. It might have been the friendship between members of the mission team. Talking and laughing and getting to know each other. Sharing good food together. I believe Jesus is very pleased with close relationships formed around the dinner table. We ended each evening with singing. Adults and children gathered close around my pastor leading on his guitar. The first night, I sat and watched a man with a full beard. It looked like it hadn't been cut in over 10 years. His wife pregnant with their ninth child. Later realizing this couple was faithful members of Pastor Tom's church. He sang to the top of his lungs. It was louder than anyone else. And he was definitely off  key. It touched me in a most unexpected way. Tears filled my eyes. It came to my mind. This was it! This is what my soul had longed for. To be among people I do not even know, people that are culturally different from me in every since of the word, but I loved them anyway. It was heavenly. I knew that this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. There is nothing else in the world like it. It is exactly what I envision the scene in Revelation as being like. Every tribe and tongue from every nation singing around the great white throne. It's going to be huge. I definitely do not want to miss it!

I don't want you to either 💕

sammie jean

Dear Grandson

Happy Birthday!

 Eighteen years ago I met you for the very first time. The prettiest baby boy. The first thing I saw as you were birthed from your mother’s womb was one huge dimple, on your left cheek. Soft, curly, black hair. Beautiful, brown skin. My first grandson. It was love at first sight.

 I had had nine months to get use to the idea of having a grandchild. To be honest with you, it wasn’t that easy at first. I’m not professing to have handled it with much grace. Your mama was 22 and unmarried. I can still hear her now, "Mama, I'm pregnant." It rang in my ears and burdened my heart for a very long time.  She had been living with your daddy. I didn’t really know him well, but because he had other children that were living with their grandmother, I was concerned about what kind of daddy he was going to be, if one at all. He was African American. I got off the phone with her. And I cried for months. I even pleaded with God. You have to understand how it was for me, being raised in the south in the 60’s. Black and white people were just beginning to go to school together, drink from the same water fountain and eat in the same restaurant. It was just the culture of our time. Races didn’t mix much. Even though, our housekeeper/baby sitter was a black woman that kept me when I was young and I had a lot of black friends in high school, we didn’t go home with each other to spend the night. I didn’t know of any bi-racial couples. It was foreign to me. I don’t think I had ever seen a mixed child before. Like I said, I had nine months to let it all sink in. After I saw you for the first time, all my fears melted on the floor like a pile of white snow in a warm room.  I was totally smitten.

You were a fun-loving, happy child. Chunky cheeks and legs. Not overweight. But just the right amount of pudginess to make you want to get a pinch or two. You did love to eat. I can’t think of anything that you didn’t like. You loved to talk. The only problem was, we couldn’t understand you. You created a language all your own for the imaginative world you lived in. You were very busy. It was really hard to rein you in. Maybe we didn’t try very hard. You loved the outdoors, so that is where you spent a lot of your time, catching  bugs...anything that had had six legs; maybe a spider or lizard too. I can hear you now, "Ammie, can I have a jar?" You faithfully asked every time you set foot in my house. I opened the cabinet to look through my collection of jars and plastic butter tubs that I had saved just for you, punched a whole in the top and you were off. Off on another critter hunt. No bug was safe when you were around. You have always loved to fish. I guess the very first place that you ever fished was in the pond at your nana and papa’s house. The day you caught your first catfish, hooked you for life. Do you remember picking up colorful fall leaves on our walks? Acorns too. Picnics. Swimming. You were a friendly little boy. I remember telling you and your brother at a lake one time. "Now, you don't have to talk to everyone you see in the water. You can just swim and have fun.” The next thing I knew you would be all up in someone's conversation. It was useless for me to ever say anything. This great big world has always been your playground.

 It brought me great enjoyment to be in the same school with you. Since I was teaching there, I was able to be there on your first day of Kindergarten and your last day of 5th grade. And Summer school. You got at least 6 years of summer school because I was teaching it. It wasn’t that bad. We had fun visiting the library and playing with friends. School was always a little difficult for you. You’re definitely kin to your Ammie. If we aren't using our hands or our imagination, then forget it! Most things just don't keep our attention. Organization is not our forte either.  I remember going to your kindergarten class and looking in your cubby on occasion. Papers were smashed in there deep and wide. Never could keep up with anything. "Where's your folder?" "Where's your library book,” I asked more times than I care to remember. They were no where to be found.  Organization wasn’t your thing but singing and dancing was. I'm sure you were popular in kindergarten because of your dance moves. I loved watching you dance. You were not the least bit bashful. Ready to share your talent with anyone that would watch. Science has always been your love. So glad that you had a great science teacher. You really enjoyed his class. You enjoyed him too. He liked you.  You found your talent in sports; especially baseball. You were a really good pitcher. I’ll never forget the night I saw you hit your first home run. It was pretty amazing. It brought back a lot of memories. Watching you pitch and all.  It was just the natural thing to do, to stay at the baseball fields. I had done it for over 15 years with your uncle.  I’m so sorry that you felt like you couldn’t stay in school and that for some reason you felt like you weren’t getting the support you needed to finish.  I haven’t walked in your shoes, so I don’t understand how you feel. But, I do know that you can do whatever you set your mind to do, so don’t ever give up on finishing school. It is never too late. You have a lot of unique talents. Just like when you were a small child, you have to find your place again.

I was blessed to get to take you to church when you were younger. You have always had a kind and tender heart toward the things of the Lord. I love how you love Jesus. I’m so glad that God brought Pawpaw into our lives. I know that he was tough at times. But, I don’t think there was ever a time that he didn’t hug you and tell you he loved you after he disciplined you. God knew that we needed him in our lives. Tough love had never been in mine or your mama’s vocabulary. I’m pretty sure he had a little wisdom that we both needed. We have had a lot of fun too. The fire pit in the back yard became your stage. You, your brother and sister entertained us. He was always amazed at your talents of improvisation; story telling, dancing, and singing. The back porch became our sanctuary.  Visits from the red birds caught our watchful eye and a picture or two. Polar Express and hot chocolate became our yearly tradition. Watching Super Man with “the boys” was a highlight for him. You have brought a lot of joy to our lives.

I’m so sorry about all the tough things that you, your brother, and little sister have had to go through. They are not easily understood. But one thing I know without a doubt is God never allows things to happen that are outside of his plan for our lives. He uses each one for our good. I remember one night in particular that we made a circle and held hands and prayed. He stored those precious tears in bottles that night. And every night since then. Your mama has had a really hard time raising three children alone. It has been harder for her than I can imagine. I’m sorry that you have a daddy that hasn’t been there for you. And a grandfather too. All we can do is pray. Pray that they find Jesus. Pray that one day they come to you and tell you how much they love you. You were not named Malachi by accident. Malachi 4: 6 says He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of their children to their fathers. This can be our prayer.

You were never an accident. You are not inferior to anyone. You are loved by an awesome Heavenly Father. Always remember…Jesus is the only one that has the answer, always ask Him.

I saw a Facebook post the other day that said, in my own words, God gave me a special needs child because my heart needed a lot of work done on it. I really understand that. God gave me a "special situation" because my heart needed work done on it. I thank God for you. More than you will ever know.

My kitchen is always open for you. Who knows…I might can even find a jar or two 💝

Happy Birthday!

love you forever,
 ammie

i love music...

Music does something to me. It takes me to a place that nothing else can. I have been passionate about it for as long as I can remember. I wish that I could sing. I mean really sing. I must have thought I could as a child. I sang Bobby Gentry songs in the auditorium at school. Can you believe I sang Harper Valley PTA? None other than at a PTA meeting. Who in the world let me do that?  I sang hymns at church. One of my very favorites goes like this, "As I come to the garden alone, with dew still on the roses, he walks with me and He talks with me and tells me I am his own." Beautiful lyrics. I wish that I could play an instrument too. I took piano lessons for way more years than I want to admit. And the money my parent's probably spent on me to no avail. I still can't play. My piano teacher use to tell me, "If you practiced playing the piano as much as you rode your bike you would probably be good at it." Well obviously, I valued my outdoor play time at a much higher value than my piano time. I can't think of anything more heavenly than to sing and play and instrument.  I remember our first stereo. It came with albums of songs from the sixties. I thought that I had died and gone to heaven, lying in the middle of our hard wood floor in the den with no rug on it, listening to those songs over and over. Dean Martin and Moon River was timeless. I couldn't have been much older than 10 but it was music to my ears. You Ain't Nothing But a Hound Dog too. I know why I loved him though. My mama and sister were obsessed with Elvis Presley. I can still hear the amazing voice of Roy Orbison singing Pretty Woman on the jukebox at the little hamburger and french fry teenage hang-out my mama and daddy owned across from the school. After the ball games it was flooded with kids that were hungry for food and a good time. I only wanted to go home and get in my bed. I still love that song though. There isn't one time that I can think of that music hasn't played an important part of what was going on in my life.  I loved gospel music when I was younger. I use to attend a local all night gospel sing. I went with my sister and her friends. We put our lawn chairs out early to mark our spot. We came later with picnic baskets full of food. I can hear it now..."if it wasn't for the lighthouse where would this ship be." That was a defining song for me. Sunday mornings I sang out of a hymn book and Sunday night I sang gospel music at another church nearby. My sister sang in a gospel group with three of her friends. Their lives and music had a huge impact on me.  I remember when I attended a church in the eighties with my small daughter. We fell in love with the music. There was something so different about it. I had only sang hymns and gospel style music. Some of the songs were very upbeat, clap your hands, songs of praise, but the ones I fell in love with were the slower songs. The words were right out of the bible. The lyrics touched me right where I was. I remember singing, "as the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after thee." My heart just melted on the floor. It was there that I actually learned about worship. Every Sunday I felt like I joined with the angels to sing in a heavenly choir. I was totally smitten. Forever, in love with Jesus. My little daughter and I sat on the steps of our double-wide mobile home day after day and sang and sang. They forever left a mark on us. Contemporary Christian music became my very favorite, listening in my car, on my walks, at the beach, everywhere I went. Thank you Lord for Pandora. And what in the world would we watch on TV if it weren't for the The Voice and American Idol? All the different genres of music can be heard. In the mountains of North Carolina, I have been introduced to Blue Grass music. The violin is the instrument of the day. I just get lost in that sad, sultry sound. This week in Bible School our theme was Revelation 7:9, after this I beheld and lo a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindred's, and people, and tongues stood before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes and psalms in their hands. (and singing to the top of their lungs)  What a choir that will be. Can't wait!!! I just know in Revelation when Jesus says "whoever has ears let him hear" it's so that we can hear all the beautiful music 😃

music is the melody of the heart so sing it

sammie jean

help my plans die...

I'm a planner. You would never know it. I don't appear very organized. I don't often share my plans. I just make them. Plans for myself. Plans for my husband. Plans for my children. Grandchildren. Some times they actually happen. You know one of the neatest things about the "golden years" as they call them, is many things just don't matter as much any more. I think God got it backwards. We should have this wonderful confidence when we're younger, when we have a body full of vim and vigor to go along with it. We could change the world! But, as we know, wisdom doesn't come over night. I realize now what Solomon was talking about. Things in this life are not near as important as we think they are.

Every since I told Jesus that I wanted to step out of the boat I was tired of the same old thing day in and day out. He's been there. I've stopped planning...as much. I've finally realized I wasn't doing anything much, I was just planning. Now I try to actually "take a step." It seems to get a little easier each time. I remember selling our house. Moving to a different town where we only knew a few family members. Starting a new church where we only knew our grandson. And...moving into a camper. All of it an exciting-apprehensive kinda feeling. It reminds me of the creak waters that I grew up swimming in. Couldn't wait to climb the rope hanging from the large oak tree or jump in with inner-tube in hand. Even though I knew it was freezing cold. When I finally jumped in...it literally took my breath away. It was always worth it!

 I remember how hard it was for me to take the first grade position at the local school in January this year. Very insecure to say the least. First of all I hadn't taught in over 3 years and I hadn't taught first grade for over 20. Not to even mention that I only knew 3 people at the school.  Was it hard? I don't have enough time or enough words to tell you how hard it was. I did remember for the first eight weeks asking God, "Have I done the right thing?" I kept leaning on Him. I mean literally. It was like I felt  Him holding my body up every single day as I limped into the classroom every morning and dragged myself home every afternoon. I prayed as I drove down our little dirt driveway, "Lord, help me. I can't do this without you."

         It was a most rewarding experience.

This week I'm teaching bible school. Doesn't sound like a big deal does it? But, for me it is. This time I'm actually teaching the bible lesson. Yes, I'm a teacher but something about teaching the bible, I feel all insecure about. I figured it's about time though. If I want to travel to other parts of the world to tell them about God's love, I better start in my own little hometown. So last night we talked about how God so loves His creation that He puts roadblocks in our lives for us to stop and examine our ways. He is definitely a God of second chances. I am enthralled with the story about the Tower of Babel. He told them not to build it. So much like human nature, they did it anyway. So, He confused their languages so that they couldn't continue on in their path of disobedience.

         I still feel so inadequate...but I am learning to trust Him more and more.

 Our church and everyone around this area has been praying for a little baby that was born to a precious family a few months back.  His brain not functioning properly. His little body not able to perform the functions that we just take for granted. The family had him, to love on him for only a short two months before he went home to be with Jesus. Of course, this was not their plans. I watched and listened to this devoted family embrace God's plans rather than their own. His ways are not our ways is not just a favorite little bible verse that rolls off our tongue with ease from memory to them... it is their reality.

         Lord, please help me let my plans die so that I can truly have yours.

something unexpectedly, beautiful always happens ♥

sammie jean

scars....

Looking down, there it was. I hadn't seen it in a very long time. Even though I have had it around 50 years. Looking at it today, I remembered.  I was young. Carefree. Blonde ponytail, blowing in the wind, as I sped down the driveway on my bicycle. Unique bike to say the least. Only one half of a handle bar. The other half had been broken off somehow, leaving a rusty, jagged piece on the other side. It didn't stop me. I rode it anyway. Mama probably told me not to. I don't remember. It wasn't that I didn't listen. I just wanted to do what I wanted to do. I was hard-headed. Okay. I didn't listen!!!! I was a Tom boy, outside was my playground. Being the youngest of two girls, I played alone often. I remember mama telling me one time that a teacher told her I was accident-prone. Whatever that means. I guess I was. I had accident's at school and at home all the time. I fell out of my climbing tree and sprang my arm one time. I fell on our rusty can, dog dish and cut my leg open. One time my family was frying fish at a pond and my poppy was driving all the kids out to the pond where we were going to eat. We were all in the back end of the truck. That's what country kids did in the 60's. He stopped quickly and a huge glass bottle full of water turned over and broke. He quickly jumped out of the cab and hurried to the back where we were. "Are ya'll okay?" he asked. I heard everyone say, "yes." Everyone but guess who? I looked down at my ankle, gashed wide open, blood everywhere. It's true, it seemed like I was always getting hurt. Those injuries were nothing compared to this one though. It was a hot, summer day. I had shorts on and was barefooted, which was how I usually played.  I was riding my bicycle the one with the rusty handle bars. I rode down the driveway onto the highway, which was directly in front of our house. It was a paved road with a lot of rocks. The edge of the pavement came up about an inch and a half from the side of the road. Riding along, not a care in the world, I rode too close to the edge of the road and ran off of it. I tried to correct my error but it was futile. The deep incline and loose rocks made it impossible to get back on the highway. I lost control and my bicycle turned over, gouging my right ankle. It wasn't too far from the ankle mishap I had in the back of my poppy's truck. It must have been quite painful though because my body took over and went into a sorta comatose state because I don't really remember much from that point. I don't even remember who came and got me off the road. I know it must have scared my mama to death. She told me later that daddy sent his assistant football coach to go with her to the doctor. Thank you Lord for good friends because nothing stood between my daddy and his football team. It bled a lot because I remember seeing towels and towels full of blood. They took me to the nearest town and nearest doctors office. Those were back in the days when you could just go directly to his office. Until this day, I still remember the doctor saying, "You missed a main artery." "If you had of cut it, you could have easily bled to death right there in the road." Thank God, Jesus had other plans for me that day. Around fifty stitches later my leg was all sewn up. Stitches on the inside and stitches on the outside. It was a mess. Painful experience. It took me quite a while to get over it. Funny how I haven't thought about it in a very long time until today.

You know, all pain is like that. Whether it's on the inside or the outside. It hurts. My heart or my leg. It's painful. There is really only one way to describe it. At times, it hurts like hell. It just does. It feels like you are never going to get over it.  Never going to see the other side. I remember when I went through divorce. I remember raising my grand kids. Dreams that didn't come true. Then one day, you look at what was once a throbbing wound and you see a scar. It will be forever  present but without the agonizing pain. Only Jesus can do that.  I didn't really know when it happened, it just did. I know that it didn't happen over night. In fact, it felt like it took a very long time. But, when the time had come, I realized, that the pain was barely there any more...sometimes even completely gone.

I loved being a free-spirited child.  Even if it did mean getting hurt at times. As a young mother that little girl continued to pop out. Even as a grown woman, I still see her occasionally. Pushing those boundaries at times. Although, finally, realizing it isn't worth it most of the time. Its taken many years to see it, but pain isn't a bad thing. It's during those times that I see the faithfulness of God to me right where I am. Every time. Drawing me to Him. Not giving up on me. Not keeping count of how many times it takes me. Just simply, loving me. Now, that is a relationship I wouldn't trade for the world.

Thank you Father, that when I look at my scars I see you,

sammie jean

...and then on the third day

 I have so many things that I am waiting on. There are those little things like a new pedicure and a shopping trip. And May to come so that I can stop teaching for a while. A trip up the east coast for an anniversary trip and a mission trip somewhere...maybe Africa.  A house. Definitely a house. Living in this camper has served a purpose. I've learned a lot about myself and my husband. But, I'm excited about the possibility of building a house. I can't help but think about the times, in my past, that I was waiting on God. Thinking back, after my divorce, I waited on Him a lot. Every minute of the day. Direction for my kids. Direction for my grand kids. For His peace and presence in my life. I waited. I'm still waiting on Him for so many of the same things. One big difference now is, I'm waiting on Him with a loving husband, not just by myself anymore. However, I am still waiting.

 This morning, the day before Easter, I started thinking about "on the third day." Thinking about tomorrow...Resurrection Day!  There Jesus lay. Lifeless in the tomb where he had been so mercilessly, brutally killed the day before. As He lay in the tomb, the world waited. All those that loved him so. Waited. All those that walked with Him. Waited. They believed in Him. They knew that what He had said, what He had promised was true. But, there was no physical evidence that anything was going to happen. They just believed. They BELIEVED!!!! The women came to the tomb with their spices like they did everyday. This time was different. He was not there. Two men appeared in clothes that were different than clothes that they wore and said, "Why do you look for the living among the dead?" "He is not here; he has risen."  He has risen! He is alive. Was it exactly like they thought it would be? Did it happen like they had planned? No, it didn't. Did it happen when they thought it would happen? No, it did not. But, on the third day...In the Fathers perfect timing...it happened like He had planned. Like he had planned since the foundation of the world.

...on the third day....

Words are just not adequate. The only thing I can say with a surety is, He is my hope too. I am looking for him to show up...now and forevermore. He is my  hope when I go to bed at night. His mercies are new for me every morning when I rise. He is my hope right now as I sit and write this blog. He is my hope for the future. I believe in Him! I am watching! I am waiting!  On the third day (however many days that is for me) it will happen. His way. His timing. His provisions for my life...He will provide. I BELIEVE!!!!! 

He has never failed me and He never will ❤

Happy Resurrection Day ✞
sammie jean