A Mama’s Hope

stuff i tell my sister

Taken In Ireland by my sister, Renae ~ Taken In Ireland by my sister, Renae ~

Good Friday.  I really never understood why it was called “good”.  I’ve read the account repeatedly.  I could understand Easter being called “Good Sunday”.  But Friday was a horrific day for Jesus.  For those that loved Him.  For His mama.

When I ponder on the heartache I have held for my own children, I cannot begin to  imagine Mary’s.  Illness.  Struggles. Disappointment.  Mistakes.  A mama wants to fix these things for her children, no matter their age.  The hardest place is when you come to the realization that you have no power to change a circumstance.  Were the many prayers sent up for this child all in vain?

And then I reflect upon Mary.  She had no power.  No prayer left.  Her heart exposed.  I cannot help but wonder, when her eyes met His eyes that day, did she know?  Did…

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Never Forget

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Peacemaker versus Peace Seeker

Blessed are the Peacemakers…yes♡

Musings from an Empty Nest

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I prefer to avoid conflict at all cost. Insert four children. For years I prided myself on being a peace-seeking person. This simply meant I was a big chicken who would go around the block to avoid conflict. One day I learned Jesus said blessed are the peacemakers, not the peace seekers. Ouch! The reality of that lesson and realizing the difference meant a life-adjustment for me. If the blessing comes in peacemaking, I decided I wanted to learn the skill.

My children provided me ample opportunity to practice this newly sought peacemaking skill. It meant I could no longer yell from another room, “Don’t fight with your brother!” I had to get in the middle of conflict and make peace. This included sitting with my children and listening to them to evaluate the problem and resolution. It might have meant a consequence where they had to work together at…

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A Mama’s Hope

John 3:16 For God So Loved the World ~ Found in the Moore tornado debris.

Good Friday.  I never really understood why it was called good.  I’ve read the account repeatedly.  I could understand Easter being called “Good Sunday”.  But Friday was a horrific day for Jesus.  For those that loved Him.  For His mama.

When I ponder on the heartache I have held for my own children, I cannot begin to  imagine Mary’s.  Illness.  Struggles. Disappointment.  Mistakes.  A mama wants to fix these things for her children, no matter their age.  The hardest place is when you come to the realization that you have no power to change a circumstance.  Were the many prayers sent up for this child all in vain?

And then I reflect upon Mary.  She had no power.  No prayer left.  Her heart exposed.  I cannot help but wonder, when her eyes met His eyes that day ~did she know?  Did she know through the tears, the blood, and His broken body, that He was to save the world?  Did that tiny speck of hope still lie somewhere deep within her aching soul?

She was a mama.  Mama’s always have hope for their babies.   And somehow, I think she knew….

Sunday was on its way.

(In reflecting on Good Friday, I was taken back to this post of a couple of years ago. When I relate my feelings for my own children to even a smidge of what Mary might have gone through…..it brings it home….it makes it real.  I needed to make it real.  ♥)

cross by malachi

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The day you were born…

Source: The day you were born…

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The Bible: God’s Love Letter

The Good Book….

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Shared from WordPress

A L♥ve Story~ (my sister took my wedding rings!) ~ by Faye Sims for Jo ~ – http://wp.me/p1mjA9-5M

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Buttons of Love

This is a love story of sorts. One I’ve been longing to share with you, but hesitating, as it still hurts my heart. I pray it reaches into your souls, as it has ours. About four months ago, m…

Source: Buttons of Love

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My Friend, Jane

My friend Jane passed away Saturday evening. She was 91. Her desire was to have her body donated to science. She was hopeful that if they studied an “old” body, maybe they could learn how to help older people lead a healthier and richer life.
There will be no service. No hearse for family and friends to follow to a cemetery, no grave to place flowers. No sad hymns sung.
But I mourn for Jane. I weep for Jane. I will write words to honor the life that her family had no time for any longer.

We didn’t mean to be friends. I knocked on her door one day, while visiting at the nursing home, and she invited me into her room. She then proceeded to tell me that if I was going to talk to her, I’d have to speak up! So I did. ~Smile~ She was polite, yet direct. Sweet, but bossy. A very picky eater. Maybe what I saw was myself in forty something more years? She loved to read, had a sweet tooth, and had to have her daily diet Pepsi. She was soon to be moving to another state to live with her granddaughter.
Jane was an only child. She adored her mother, an RN, and her daddy, a pharmacist. She never knew of hard times because no matter what, her daddy spoiled her. She went to a dance with her girlfriends one night at the canteen in Kansas City….and she danced with a soldier that soon became her husband. They had a son, though at a young age, a childhood disease crippled him for life. Years later a daughter was born. When Jane lost her mother, too young….she was broken and depressed. The family doctor asked her into his office one day. Jane, he said, you have to move on. You need to do something with your life. She asked him, “What could I do?” And he told her to go to school and become a registered nurse, and that’s just what she did. She eventually ended up in the pediatrics department of a children’s hospital. But before that, she did private nursing, and loved talking about when she took care of Elizabeth Taylor’s father for a time while in California. In her later years, she was a beloved nanny for a Tulsa newscaster’s family. She loved their boys as if they were her grandsons.
Jane called Kansas City home, though she lived in Oklahoma longer. She was of the Cherokee Tribe, and the history she shared was just amazing.
Jane was not an old person in a nursing home. She was smart and witty, sad & alone, she was living history with so much to share! Her last year was rough though. When she finally resolved that she would end her life where she was, she gave up. She was tired. She was finished. But we did give it a good fight, didn’t we Jane?

This is real life. Thousands are in nursing home facilities that would love for you to knock on their door. But it is a commitment. I had no idea of the commitment. And advocates are needed because I would guess that maybe two out of twelve people that work in such a place are there to actually help and care for the patients. God bless those that do!
The others ignore the call lights or bring food that cannot be eaten, or let them live in filth and pain and stench. They speak in a condescending manner to the resident. They abuse. They neglect. They steal.
Every person in a nursing home needs a person. Jane wanted you to know this.
So here’s to marshmallows, cinnamon discs, and diet Pepsi, sweet Jane. You can rest in peace now, my friend. I told them. Go with the angels.

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Victim or Warrior?

stuff i tell my sister

We are fortunate as we go through life, to be introduced to many people along the way.  A young man who I knew while still in his mama’s womb is now sharing with others what he is learning in life. The words are powerful and  I feel honored to share them.  Thank you, Kannon Manis!  I am proud of you!

Regime Change

One of the most beneficial lessons I have learned in 14 years of martial arts training is the ability to hold myself accountable for my actions.  This was no easy feat.  In fact, it required a complete mindset change for me.  For a long time I wasn’t living up to my potential as a leader and mentor because it was far too easy to blame my failures and mistakes on my circumstances, or worse, on someone else.  If you have the mindset of a victim, then nothing is your fault.  Every…

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