tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-257949092026-03-31T00:09:57.561-07:00Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.comBlogger339125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-4796054226393763092012-07-31T06:59:00.001-07:002012-07-31T07:05:28.393-07:00

Thank you Lord. My heart is full of gratitude. I pause...worry enters my head and a small voice stills me in my steps. Don't worry. Am I not in your future? Do I not hold all things together? Is your best interest not my first thought this morning? I'm surrounded by your love. It sometimes BOOMS. Once upon a time your whispers came to me and as I bent over aching in emotional torrents I was glad,

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-20956220970711432682012-07-21T14:55:00.001-07:002012-07-21T15:05:52.955-07:00

Although I have journaled all my life, I have been particularly busy in the pages of my journals this past one year since beginning our journey of many new things. I'm going to continue with my focus on unemployment coming from the perspective of a wife. I may use journal entries from the last eight months, such as now, or add new thoughts that come up along the way.So in continuation from the

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-62127738601480491742012-07-20T14:01:00.001-07:002012-07-20T14:01:20.310-07:00

If we were to sit side by side and share a pot of 12-cup Mr. Coffee, we might muse for a while about the kids and how our parents are doing. But inevitably the question would come up, "What's it like for you, personally, with a newly employed husband? How are you feeling what are you thinking?"I would sigh. Ah yes, a great big sigh and smile. I would say, thank you. We are happy to be working for

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-31083072529963241622012-07-17T23:56:00.001-07:002012-07-17T23:56:22.626-07:00

The closer you come to Christ, the sharper the contrast becomes between the things of God and the things of this world and our sinful nature. As you see your Lord more and more in all things-- the rising sun, your conversations and daily interactions, intimacies between friends and family, you will be forced to face your biases, your pride, and your ideas of how things "ought" to be. And most

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-67276093589575963452012-07-11T07:14:00.000-07:002012-07-11T07:14:05.077-07:00

Lord, my heart is good. My heart aches to display your glory but it is more than I seem able to do. I want to shed this human skin and put on your own. And yet my flesh speaks for itself, and so loudly! It screams for my attention. Your voice is drowned out in spite of my best efforts. Sometimes I actually do the right thing and I have to leave the results in your hands. I question myself...my

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-69331801684705545262012-07-08T06:57:00.000-07:002012-07-08T07:30:21.255-07:00

Good morning Sunday morning. I know my day already. I know the kids haven't slept in and we'll have a good four hours before church and I always struggle with filling the time, Sunday mornings. But we have great community so it's always nice to see that "family" on Sunday morning. I know family members are coming over this afternoon... That'll be nice, and then a few hours later time will stand

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-13260570791856675022012-07-07T21:03:00.002-07:002012-07-07T21:03:55.638-07:00

The day is over. My husband is driving home after an afternoon doing one his favorite favorites, sailing. Persuaded by a friends invitation he headed out to sea (the gorge) just after lunch to set sail and conquer the water that is only as tame as the men at sea allow it to be. Tonight he will sleep well because he worked hard in the sun and probably did a little bit of sweating. He will sleep

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-48392830410179635422012-03-07T14:30:00.004-08:002012-03-07T14:30:54.589-08:00

What if Longing had a face? What if "the journey" really was the stuff of life after all, that life wasn't about crossing the finish line but about how you run the race? Just what if? And what if all our me-ness and self-focused energies turned upside down and into something eternal? What if my life, my words, my actions, my thoughts, actually mattered? What if the afterlife actually meant

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-14409681223678798942012-03-03T21:28:00.002-08:002012-03-03T21:28:27.735-08:00

It's Saturday afternoon. My five year old is falling to pieces. He has an invisible zipper that runs from his head to his toes and someone unzipped him. Like a cranky newborn, but he's five. I'm beside myself with how to zip him back up. How to put back all these emotions and words that have spilled out. I want to be Endearing Mommy, Loving but Firm Mommy. But I can't think like Wise Mommy

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-54804351826269629372012-02-22T14:11:00.001-08:002012-02-22T14:28:19.442-08:00

The problem as I see it, is that I have to exist in this flesh. In this wretched body that's held together with nothing but bones and blood and skin. You crafted it all, I know, but I'd sometimes rather live in my heart because it's there that I am the most aware of your presence. And I'm just so easily distracted and easily discouraged. When I see you though, for who you are, it's a wonder. Oh

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-2280819631260136512012-02-17T23:22:00.000-08:002012-02-18T14:05:31.548-08:00

My three year old was recently given "My First Superman Book." As I read it, it suddenly dawned on me like a flash of superhero lighting: "This book is really about mom's!" This is my version and I had to tweak just a mere few words. Because there really isn't that much difference between Superman and Supermom (besides the whole male/female bit) My First Supermom Book Supermom has

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-40410704467028001782012-02-14T14:37:00.000-08:002012-02-14T14:45:39.008-08:00

My Valentine loves me. He spent all evening fixing my slow computer to "lessen my stress." Now it runs faster than a turtle and my stress is less. My Valentine organizes the kids toys and gets a kick out of it. Can you imagine a smirk of delight? He loves me by sending me out every Tuesday night while he finishes up dinner with the kids then puts them to bed. My Valentine loves me with

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-4338925131928912202012-02-03T13:58:00.000-08:002012-02-03T23:06:02.870-08:00

Caught in a terrible mommy-moment, my son sat weeping on the couch due to my unjust anger over his childish behavior. I knew instantly I'd been wrong. I walked over, knelt down and wrapped one arm around him. He pushed back. Sobbing he said, "Mommy, if you're not nice to me, I won't be nice to you." He hit the nail on the head. "I know, I know that's right" is all I could say. Both my arms

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-60211348713775396892011-09-29T20:50:00.000-07:002011-09-29T20:50:22.189-07:00

I refuse to believe blogs aren't being read anymore. For many of us, even for those of us who aren't as usual as we'd aspire to be, writing must be done in order to breath. So as long as writers are breathing, there will be blogs. But that's not what I'm here to say.  We've been in America for a little over one month now. India is very very far away. It's been another long day with the

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-65725827316936561102011-08-23T14:49:00.003-07:002011-08-23T15:10:44.596-07:00

We've now been in America for 6 days. Internet efficiency is mind blowing! And I haven't pumped water in many days...but that's not the point today. It's happened twice now when two good friends came over with their kids and I am (still) in my pj's. And I didn't change for the rest of the day. Other than being too disoriented to make time for important things like being dressed for friends, my

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-73770694744615529202011-07-29T02:57:00.006-07:002011-07-29T03:06:15.246-07:00

Wouldn't it be nice that if during big transitions everything else would just stand still? I am sure you've been there before. Waiting for a new baby, a big move, a new school or career or a new relationship. But regardless of the fact that every morning brings you closer to chapter two, life keeps moving. The dog still needs walking, the kids still need diapering and the husband still needs

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-82458014909965473522011-07-07T10:43:00.001-07:002011-07-09T21:17:17.318-07:00

Ben has posted a short list of common questions we're getting about our move back to the USA and our answers here. Thought you might be interested! http://spottsfamily.blogspot.com/2011/07/faq-about-india-to-usa-move.html

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-14234008221641133692011-07-05T08:06:00.003-07:002011-07-05T08:15:14.469-07:00

I was 19 years old. The ride up-river on a motor-powered canoe was just long enough to feel like an adventure was waiting for us. Our group of six docked on the shore and gathered our ankle-length skirts to climb up a dirt ladder etched on the side of a hill.  We hiked until we reached our destination. It was just a shack in the middle of a dusty bare-boned village. Inside were beds and on

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-89628058942553545412011-07-04T21:27:00.001-07:002011-07-04T21:29:22.036-07:00

I couldn't have said it better myself. So I have copied Ben's thoughts from our family blog, to this one. Ben says.... "When Libby and I moved to India in January 2006, we thought we'd work here for a long time...perhaps until any children were in middle school. There are so many opportunities in India: to help the needy, a growing economy, a diverse culture, amazing geography to explore, and

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-90778131523206881442011-06-14T08:50:00.000-07:002011-06-14T08:50:09.049-07:00

Bella, our baby, is a little over two months old and get's really grumpy when she's ready to sleep. Lukas, almost three years old, is one of the funniest people I know. He makes me laugh every day. He is also extremely caring and checks in hourly, asking his mommy, "Hey mom, you okay?" Lukas is our risk taker! He's gonna break many bones (and hearts) in his lifetime and have fun doing it.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-33462762589005231352011-04-19T07:50:00.000-07:002011-04-19T07:50:44.044-07:00

You're all wrapped up. So newborn. Squeaky noises, flaking skin, rolly-polly. Rough-edged fingernails, curling toes and frog-bent limbs. Sleepy so sleepy, nursing with eyes closed and occasional open eyes. You are so newborn. You were all wrapped up inside me, not wanting to come out. Surely you wanted to meet me!, just as much as I longed to meet you. And wrap you up in my arms. But you

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-78750868197524696622011-04-17T08:05:00.000-07:002011-04-17T08:05:39.667-07:00

Thank you to my friend Renee, for the gift of capturing our sweet Bella's first breath and cries. If you are interested in viewing a tastefully done professional slide show on Bella's birth, visit the site below. Enjoy. Renee Popat or (same address) paste this: http://www.reneepopat.com/?p=424

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-5139308248208220122011-04-10T08:38:00.000-07:002011-04-10T08:38:40.718-07:00

It's a girl?? It's a girl!!!  Meet your best friends. 9 lbs., 8 ounces.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-51389452415551583312011-04-03T07:44:00.001-07:002011-04-03T07:47:22.774-07:00

Spoiled, spoiled. This is the first time I've passed my due date. My first three babies came between week 38 and 39 so this is new territory. Uncharted waters that leave me with new experiences, conversations and thoughts. I am not interested in self-inducing as I really do believe the baby and my body are in tune with one another. I am "technically" only a day over. Some friends have gone over

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25794909.post-2994722214321473762011-03-19T08:51:00.000-07:002011-03-19T08:51:07.625-07:00

Seven years ago I snuck up on him... He grabbed my hands in his... and said, "Let's run this crazy race together." We'd found our other half. Mine was tall, his was short. Love of my life.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12258494354287524592noreply@blogger.com2