P.S. I'm the one that looks like a watermelon ;)
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Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freedom. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Tuesday Talk #35: Happy Memorial Day!
Happy Memorial Day from our family to yours! Hope you had a wonderful weekend with friends and family, and that you paused to remember those past and present who have fought for our freedom and our country!
P.S. I'm the one that looks like a watermelon ;)
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Follow Sweet Little Ones's board Tuesday Talk Features on Pinterest.
Join the party, friends, by linking up with your favorite post from the week! Here's the scoop:
P.S. I'm the one that looks like a watermelon ;)
Want to join this week's link up? Grab our button below and link back to one of the hosts!
You can join us on Pinterest, too!
Follow Sweet Little Ones's board Tuesday Talk Features on Pinterest.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Media Detox
I'm detoxing this week, friends.
No, I'm not drinking that weird mix of lemonade, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper.
I'm not slurping green smoothies with chunks of broccoli and kale floating in them.
I'm not even exercising (okay, I'm going to try to take a run tonight!).
Instead, I'm cleansing my mind and spirit from habits related to a little handheld idol...
My Smart Phone.
The other day I was reflecting on the amount of time I spend on my phone (and the internet). It's not that I spend long hours at a time online...but rather that I fill little moments with it. If I'm in a waiting room at a medical office, waiting in the grocery store, eating lunch by myself, even if I'm procrastinating getting out of bed in the morning-- I'm scanning through the apps on my phone. What's new on Facebook, Instagram, or Pinterest?
It's so. easy. to get hooked on it and to waste those precious little moments with it. I mean, what else would I be doing during those short bursts of time? But that's the problem! What could I be doing with that time? (Prayer for others, meditation on God's love, thinking of a creative way to bring joy to someone else, relishing silence and simplicity.)
My phone can be an enjoyable distraction and a comforting habit. But it's also a thief. Of mental energy. Of focus and concentration. Of joy and contentment (what one of us has NOT struggled with comparison or jealously perusing a social media site at one time?).
Enter the detox plan.
As I reflected on my phone use and wondered what it would be like to use those moments in other ways, I thought...."I should do a fasting week from my phone sometime." Sometime. You know, like far in the future.
But then I changed my mind. There's no time like the present, right? So I announced it to my sister to hold me accountable. And then she decided to join and told my mom. And then my mom decided to join.
And then that night on the news they discussed a recent study on cell phones and the way our constant 'notifications' from them distract our focus and cause us to make up to THREE TIMES more mistakes than we would normally make on whatever we're working on. Thank you, Lord, for the affirmation of my decision! :)
Want to join us? Here's the scoop. We're not throwing the computers, laptops, and phones in the lake. We're being pretty reasonable about this, in case you were getting nervous when I asked you to join.
Here are my rules for the week:
1. Phone can only be used for texts and calls.
2. I am allowed to reference my Pinterest boards for projects/DIY/recipes that I'm working on, but no new pins or scrolling through my feed.
3. I can blog to my little heart's content because writing is creative and beautiful and joyful.
4. No Facebook at all. No Instagram at all (painful!). No surfing from blog to blog to blog.
I'm on Day 2 and it's been fabulous. My mind feels clearer already. I feel closer to the Lord because I don't feel like my online activities are coming before Him. I don't think we were ever meant to have such information overload and such busyness that the online world creates. I'll go back to it, of course. Just like I'd go back to a slice of chocolate cake after a veggie detox. But I'm re-creating better habits in the meantime. Like more discipline in my prayer life and time management.
I'll let you know more thoughts when the week is over! Until then, don't pin anything great that I'll miss out on! ;)
Love,
Friday, July 4, 2014
Happy Independence Day!
 |
| (photo credit to my friend K., who took this picture last night at the river fireworks with me!) |
Life is beautiful. And it doesn't end here. I heard this timely and appropriate thought on the radio this week: may God bless America, but more importantly we need to pray that America will bless God...with the laws we pass, the words we speak and the truths we defend...as well as the quiet witness of our daily lives and the love we reflect to others.
Watch some fireworks this weekend!
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Haiti, Part III
We walked into the Children's Home.
Up until this point, I hadn't cried. (Though I'd come close to it at that chaotic airport!) But as I stood there in front of two dozen metal cribs in the first room, each with a skinny Haitian babe looking at us with curiosity or tears in their gorgeous big brown eyes...I couldn't stop the outpouring of tears.
Reality hits hard sometimes.
And as I picked up the nearest precious child holding his arms out to me, I knew my heart couldn't remain the same.
"To love the least of these..." (Matthew 25:40)
Over the course of the next week, we visited the orphanage often. Not all of the children were orphans, though. About 25 children were true orphans, cared for by the Missionaries of Charity sisters (love those amazing women!). The other 100 children were brought to the Children's Home by their parents, who could not care for them due to poverty or illness. Some of the children would be there for the rest of their life but some would be treated and cared for by the nuns and then return to their families, God willing.
I cannot convey all that I'd love to share about this place, the Missionary sisters, the children, and their families...but perhaps you will see a glimpse of the heartwrenching beauty of the experience through these memories from my journal...
-Changing diapers, holding babies, feeding my special boy his bowl of food and watching him gain energy and actually stand up in his crib. (he was 2 years old, dear friends.)
-The precious 6 year old girl who simply held my hand and smiled as we walked. (I later found out this girl was 12 years old...broke. my. heart.)
-The impromptu 'music band' of one orphan boy drumming on a toy, another shaking a toy, and a third one singing in Creole. Joy and laughter and awe.
-Seeing three orphans get adopted. Listening to the rest of the children sing and pray for them and their new families...and for the ones left behind. Watching the Haitian woman--one of the workers--cry as she hugged the teen girl for the last time before her adoption journey across the ocean.
-Singing the upcoming wedding songs (I had committed to singing for a wedding the day after I returned from Haiti--who does that?! Crazy me) with Haitian babies on my hips as I walked through the empty orphanage church.
-Watching the father of two children who was visiting them cry as he had to place them back in their cribs because the bell was ringing that visiting hours were over. He himself was thin and most likely poor and hungry...but he was showing me a vision of our Heavenly Father's deep, undeniable love in a way that was seared into my memory.
-Grace and Katelyn, a mother-daughter team staying in Haiti for a month, simply because Katelyn felt called to volunteer work before she left for college in the fall. They worked tirelessly caring for the children and keeping them clean, fed, and loved. And always, always with a smile on their beautiful faces.
-The Missionaries of Charity sisters. These incredible women of God. P and I were blessed to slip into an Adoration hour behind them. Thirty of them knelt there praying before our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, barefoot and clothed in their white uniforms with the blue stripe like Mother Teresa. This. This was how they did it. Time spent before our Lord in prayer...to have the strength to then go out and serve Him in the least of our brothers. To feed Him, clothe Him, care for Him.
The tears just keep coming as I re-live these memories. Has it really been three months since I lived with and loved these people?
It's good to remember. So good to remember.
But it hurts to be so far away when all I want to do is hold those children again. See their smiles, hear their chatter, kiss their foreheads, and press them close to my heart.
They're in my heart. I just want them in my arms.
Up until this point, I hadn't cried. (Though I'd come close to it at that chaotic airport!) But as I stood there in front of two dozen metal cribs in the first room, each with a skinny Haitian babe looking at us with curiosity or tears in their gorgeous big brown eyes...I couldn't stop the outpouring of tears.
Reality hits hard sometimes.
And as I picked up the nearest precious child holding his arms out to me, I knew my heart couldn't remain the same.
"To love the least of these..." (Matthew 25:40)
Over the course of the next week, we visited the orphanage often. Not all of the children were orphans, though. About 25 children were true orphans, cared for by the Missionaries of Charity sisters (love those amazing women!). The other 100 children were brought to the Children's Home by their parents, who could not care for them due to poverty or illness. Some of the children would be there for the rest of their life but some would be treated and cared for by the nuns and then return to their families, God willing.
I cannot convey all that I'd love to share about this place, the Missionary sisters, the children, and their families...but perhaps you will see a glimpse of the heartwrenching beauty of the experience through these memories from my journal...
-Changing diapers, holding babies, feeding my special boy his bowl of food and watching him gain energy and actually stand up in his crib. (he was 2 years old, dear friends.)-The precious 6 year old girl who simply held my hand and smiled as we walked. (I later found out this girl was 12 years old...broke. my. heart.)
-The impromptu 'music band' of one orphan boy drumming on a toy, another shaking a toy, and a third one singing in Creole. Joy and laughter and awe.
-Seeing three orphans get adopted. Listening to the rest of the children sing and pray for them and their new families...and for the ones left behind. Watching the Haitian woman--one of the workers--cry as she hugged the teen girl for the last time before her adoption journey across the ocean.
-Singing the upcoming wedding songs (I had committed to singing for a wedding the day after I returned from Haiti--who does that?! Crazy me) with Haitian babies on my hips as I walked through the empty orphanage church.
-Watching the father of two children who was visiting them cry as he had to place them back in their cribs because the bell was ringing that visiting hours were over. He himself was thin and most likely poor and hungry...but he was showing me a vision of our Heavenly Father's deep, undeniable love in a way that was seared into my memory.-Grace and Katelyn, a mother-daughter team staying in Haiti for a month, simply because Katelyn felt called to volunteer work before she left for college in the fall. They worked tirelessly caring for the children and keeping them clean, fed, and loved. And always, always with a smile on their beautiful faces.
-The Missionaries of Charity sisters. These incredible women of God. P and I were blessed to slip into an Adoration hour behind them. Thirty of them knelt there praying before our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, barefoot and clothed in their white uniforms with the blue stripe like Mother Teresa. This. This was how they did it. Time spent before our Lord in prayer...to have the strength to then go out and serve Him in the least of our brothers. To feed Him, clothe Him, care for Him.
It's good to remember. So good to remember.
But it hurts to be so far away when all I want to do is hold those children again. See their smiles, hear their chatter, kiss their foreheads, and press them close to my heart.
They're in my heart. I just want them in my arms.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Election Thoughts
Part I What is a young woman's role in the election?
Part II What are some common attitudes we see around election season?
Part III What are the key issues Christians--especially women-- should be aware of and prioritize in voting?
And a few other links from other bloggers:
Women of Grace blog: “'The Catholic faith is always personal but never private,” the letter states. “If our faith is real, then it will naturally and necessarily guide our public decisions and behaviors, including our political choices.'...Brooklyn, New York Bishop Nicholas DiMarzio’s wrote a column in the diocesan newspaper in which he said there is no excuse for voting for any candidate who supports the imposition of the birth control mandate and abortions rights, saying it 'stretches the imagination, especially when there is another option.'”
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Free
It was a bright summer morning. I was feeling happy and energetic on my drive to work. My convertible top was down, the sun was warming my face and the wind was dancing through my hair.
Freedom.
I waited at the stoplight, inching my way forward for a right turn and glancing at the oncoming traffic. A large white bus approached, blue wording on the side. As it made its way down the hill and through the intersection, I recognized its logo.
The local correction facility. Jail.
Captivity.
I squinted in the sunlight to see if there were any passengers. Dark silhouettes were scattered throughout the bus as it passed by.
The contrast settled upon me heavily. Just as I was breathing in the fresh morning air and delighting in the freedom of the day, these men and women were being transported in a dark, drab bus to or from prison.
Freedom and captivity crossing at the intersection.
But the crazy thing?
We weren’t so different from each other.
And my heart of hearts knew this as a sobering sorrow filled it.
When ministering to prisoners, Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen quipped that the difference between them and him was that he "hadn't been caught!"
How true. We all fall short. We sin. We choose evil over good, dark over light. We turn away from the One who offers freedom.
My Kutless cd spun in the player as I turned onto the road after the bus passed. The lyrics echoed my heartthoughts and I marveled at the timing.
“If you take it all, will my hands stay lifted to the God who gives and take away?”
All this I have, this freedom, is a gift I haven’t earned. This freedom in America. This freedom in Christ.
Blessings.
Did those prisoners grow up in a broken home? Were their crimes born from ignorance, pain, need, despair? What if we switched places? Would my hands stay lifted in praise to a God who is always good no matter what my circumstances?
Grace.
Grace that set me free. Grace that continues to free me from all that holds me captive.
Grace that nudges me to share that freedom with others. With those who do not know the One who shatters chains, opens gates, and pours light in dark places.
So when the sun shines and the wind dances, I praise God for the freedom He has brought into my life in so. many. ways. Yet I also pray that I "not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; [but] rather, serve one another through love" (Galatians 5:13).
Freedom.
I waited at the stoplight, inching my way forward for a right turn and glancing at the oncoming traffic. A large white bus approached, blue wording on the side. As it made its way down the hill and through the intersection, I recognized its logo.
The local correction facility. Jail.
Captivity.
I squinted in the sunlight to see if there were any passengers. Dark silhouettes were scattered throughout the bus as it passed by.
The contrast settled upon me heavily. Just as I was breathing in the fresh morning air and delighting in the freedom of the day, these men and women were being transported in a dark, drab bus to or from prison.
Freedom and captivity crossing at the intersection.
But the crazy thing?
We weren’t so different from each other.
And my heart of hearts knew this as a sobering sorrow filled it.
When ministering to prisoners, Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen quipped that the difference between them and him was that he "hadn't been caught!"
How true. We all fall short. We sin. We choose evil over good, dark over light. We turn away from the One who offers freedom.
My Kutless cd spun in the player as I turned onto the road after the bus passed. The lyrics echoed my heartthoughts and I marveled at the timing.
“If you take it all, will my hands stay lifted to the God who gives and take away?”
All this I have, this freedom, is a gift I haven’t earned. This freedom in America. This freedom in Christ.
Blessings.
Did those prisoners grow up in a broken home? Were their crimes born from ignorance, pain, need, despair? What if we switched places? Would my hands stay lifted in praise to a God who is always good no matter what my circumstances?
Grace.
Grace that set me free. Grace that continues to free me from all that holds me captive.
Grace that nudges me to share that freedom with others. With those who do not know the One who shatters chains, opens gates, and pours light in dark places.
So when the sun shines and the wind dances, I praise God for the freedom He has brought into my life in so. many. ways. Yet I also pray that I "not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; [but] rather, serve one another through love" (Galatians 5:13).
Friday, March 11, 2011
Beauty for Ashes
A cold, rainy, foggy Ash Wednesday.
With ashes still fresh on my forehead, I slowly drove down the cemetary lane and parked my car. I found the grave monument I was looking for and gently made my way through the muddy grass.
The ground was still broken in mounds, with grass just beginning to grow. A beautiful headstone stood at the front of the mounds, etched with animals and plants, a tribute to the teen boy who was such a friend of God's creation.
I stood there in the gloomy weather, praying and remembering, feeling the hushed sacredness of a cemetary. The cars passed by, the world continued on, seeming utterly oblivious to the fact that this life is so short, so uncertain.
And then I realized the meaning this moment held.
The gratitude in my heart that T. wasn't really in the grave below me. That there is more than this.
Right now I was standing in a cold and wet cemetary, on Ash Wednesday, visiting a cousin whose young death was so tragic.
But the sun rises after the rain. Easter comes after Lent. And life comes after death.
It doesn't necessarily take away the pain. But it brings hope and healing. Because we serve a God who was victorious over death and suffering by taking up a wooden cross and showing us the way.
And now at the beginning of another precious season of Lent, we join Him, the one who gives "beauty for ashes" (Isaiah 61:3). We obey by taking up our crosses and following Him.
To life. To victory. To sun after the rain.
With ashes still fresh on my forehead, I slowly drove down the cemetary lane and parked my car. I found the grave monument I was looking for and gently made my way through the muddy grass.
The ground was still broken in mounds, with grass just beginning to grow. A beautiful headstone stood at the front of the mounds, etched with animals and plants, a tribute to the teen boy who was such a friend of God's creation.
I stood there in the gloomy weather, praying and remembering, feeling the hushed sacredness of a cemetary. The cars passed by, the world continued on, seeming utterly oblivious to the fact that this life is so short, so uncertain.
And then I realized the meaning this moment held.
The gratitude in my heart that T. wasn't really in the grave below me. That there is more than this.
Right now I was standing in a cold and wet cemetary, on Ash Wednesday, visiting a cousin whose young death was so tragic.
But the sun rises after the rain. Easter comes after Lent. And life comes after death.
It doesn't necessarily take away the pain. But it brings hope and healing. Because we serve a God who was victorious over death and suffering by taking up a wooden cross and showing us the way.
And now at the beginning of another precious season of Lent, we join Him, the one who gives "beauty for ashes" (Isaiah 61:3). We obey by taking up our crosses and following Him.
To life. To victory. To sun after the rain.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Setting Captives Free
Long ago, your people Israel
Cried to you in chains
God above, please set us free
From our bondage and our pain.
You heard their cry, You felt their pain
You led them faithfully
Despite their sin, you showered mercy
You set the captives free.
Years later, your Son came down to earth
He taught, and healed, and loved
A people still in bondage
But seeking you above.
The lame stood tall, the dead awoke
The blind man learned to see
Healed from sin and suffering
You set the captives free.
Then beneath a heavy cross He walked
Amid the cries and jeers
Of people who did not realize
They had waited for Him for years.
He hung upon this cross for us
Redeeming a world in need
And as the nails held him tight
He set the captives free.
And yet today the chains appear
Enslaved once more we become
To fear, to sin, to worry and doubt
We forget You have already won.
You break the bonds, you offer your hand
Just let them go, you say to me
I watch the shackles fall to the ground
As this captive is set free.
With praise and joy I thank you
And ask that others too may know
The joy and freedom that you give
When we let these burdens go.
Loving Father, Savior, Spirit
Give them eyes of faith to see
You’re a God of unending mercy and love
And You still set captives free.
by Laura@LifeIsBeautiful/Jan2011
Cried to you in chains
God above, please set us free
From our bondage and our pain.
You heard their cry, You felt their pain
You led them faithfully
Despite their sin, you showered mercy
You set the captives free.
Years later, your Son came down to earth
He taught, and healed, and loved
A people still in bondage
But seeking you above.
The lame stood tall, the dead awoke
The blind man learned to see
Healed from sin and suffering
You set the captives free.
Then beneath a heavy cross He walked
Amid the cries and jeers
Of people who did not realize
They had waited for Him for years.
He hung upon this cross for us
Redeeming a world in need
And as the nails held him tight
He set the captives free.
And yet today the chains appear
Enslaved once more we become
To fear, to sin, to worry and doubt
We forget You have already won.
You break the bonds, you offer your hand
Just let them go, you say to me
I watch the shackles fall to the ground
As this captive is set free.
With praise and joy I thank you
And ask that others too may know
The joy and freedom that you give
When we let these burdens go.
Loving Father, Savior, Spirit
Give them eyes of faith to see
You’re a God of unending mercy and love
And You still set captives free.
by Laura@LifeIsBeautiful/Jan2011
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