<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773</id><updated>2024-09-21T18:51:34.737-04:00</updated><title type='text'>   Seasons and Memories            </title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>106</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-471338014705897598</id><published>2015-09-21T19:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2016-04-07T10:26:13.868-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Go To The Next Pitch</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5DJ3EtDSzluXWtOY4MRy0_1JGNls9_JwViNRqnaR-hxprK2f0yXsE1U8-oQGT7ssAmZGLvUGDVkUJFfgO3Wi6GeVdpQelBAT_zFR2C_DPlkrfGyVzHdOhRY65q9gMYWEP_RxsJmNG-6t/s1600/Drew+62.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5DJ3EtDSzluXWtOY4MRy0_1JGNls9_JwViNRqnaR-hxprK2f0yXsE1U8-oQGT7ssAmZGLvUGDVkUJFfgO3Wi6GeVdpQelBAT_zFR2C_DPlkrfGyVzHdOhRY65q9gMYWEP_RxsJmNG-6t/s400/Drew+62.jpg&quot; width=&quot;252&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
For several years, my son was a baseball coach. During that time, I attended many games - both as mother of the coach and grandma of the (world&#39;s greatest) second baseman. One of the cliches I heard the coaches use so often was &quot;just go to the next pitch.&quot; Which meant, do not let your mistake slow you down, move on with the game and do what you know to do. I thought that was good advice for a sporting event but today I found a spiritual application for it.&lt;br /&gt;
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Psalms 23 talks about when we walk &lt;i&gt;through&lt;/i&gt; the valley of the shadow of death.&lt;br /&gt;
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Isaiah 43:2 says, &quot;when you pass&lt;i&gt; through&lt;/i&gt; the waters I will be with you. And &lt;i&gt;through&lt;/i&gt; the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk &lt;i&gt;through&lt;/i&gt; the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
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Isaiah 43:16 &amp;nbsp;&quot;Thus says the Lord, who makes a way &lt;i&gt;through&lt;/i&gt; the seas and a path &lt;i&gt;through&lt;/i&gt; the mighty waters.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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Are you seeing what I see? The key word is &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;through&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
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God fights our battles as we keep walking.&lt;br /&gt;
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In Isa 43:8 it says, &quot;Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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Keep moving forward. God is with you. He will help you.&lt;br /&gt;
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Jesus said, &quot;Lo, I am with you always. Even to the end of the earth.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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That&#39;s all I got - sorry it isn&#39;t more eloquently written. But, the point is, God never intended for us to settle down in one season. He wants us to always keep moving. &amp;nbsp;Life is painful, sometimes even debilitating. We have good times and times that are not so good and God is with us every step of the way.&lt;br /&gt;
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Sometimes moving forward is like walking through wet cement. It sticks to our feet and pulls us downward as we squish our way along. There are days when we really want to crawl back in bed and cover our head -- some days I do -- but there is the still small voice which says, &quot;this is the way, walk ye in it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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And so we walk.... walk... &amp;nbsp;the next pitch is waiting for you.&lt;br /&gt;
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Love y&#39;all!&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/471338014705897598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/471338014705897598?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/471338014705897598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/471338014705897598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2015/09/go-to-next-pitch.html' title='Go To The Next Pitch'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5DJ3EtDSzluXWtOY4MRy0_1JGNls9_JwViNRqnaR-hxprK2f0yXsE1U8-oQGT7ssAmZGLvUGDVkUJFfgO3Wi6GeVdpQelBAT_zFR2C_DPlkrfGyVzHdOhRY65q9gMYWEP_RxsJmNG-6t/s72-c/Drew+62.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-8546504949435959608</id><published>2015-07-22T14:34:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2016-08-06T11:26:11.460-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Portal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nJKIneAQwGq0rGuhlyZBy2TqVVxRpKlEQUmL37_8TpruDddBvXftwLEH3kVm337HNZY9WAOexpd3VHevAlXbI_7bprxhp7UGBL15JETzlo9fYHUZ1FQBerc2ZxEPuyMnXvc6_nydineu/s1600/I+phone+July+2015+074.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nJKIneAQwGq0rGuhlyZBy2TqVVxRpKlEQUmL37_8TpruDddBvXftwLEH3kVm337HNZY9WAOexpd3VHevAlXbI_7bprxhp7UGBL15JETzlo9fYHUZ1FQBerc2ZxEPuyMnXvc6_nydineu/s400/I+phone+July+2015+074.JPG&quot; width=&quot;300&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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So, yesterday, I passed through that &quot;Old Age Portal,&quot; called 70. It was stressful, intimating and wonderful, all at the same time. But, this morning, I really cannot remember too much about it, so glass half full, right? Lately, people aren&#39;t saying, &quot;You are NOT old.&quot; Instead, I hear more of &amp;nbsp;&quot;You look good for your age.&quot; What does that even mean?&lt;br /&gt;
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True, in the last decade, I have experienced a slight decline in my physical being which moves a little slower - perhaps because it has more to carry these days. I have also noticed that &amp;nbsp;my mental clarity seems to float in and out at will. But, that&#39;s another post for another day. Today I am pondering on this large opening over my head. It loomed in the distance for a while and frankly I was a bit surprised to find it right on top of me.&lt;br /&gt;
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Since the name of my blog is &lt;i&gt;Seasons and Memories,&lt;/i&gt; I think it is appropriate before I pass through, to take a moment and look back over the seasons and recall some of the memories of my first seven decades on this earth. Standing here in the portal door, I can turn and look back and see the terrain of my life. Mountains and valleys are interspersed with deserts and fields of golden grain. There are highways where life zooms by in a blur, and soft green meadows where the days laze by softly. Torrential rains and gentle showers combine with hurricane winds and delicate breezes. The turns and curves are obvious, also the dead ends. I notice barriers that are broken and road blocks torn down by my speeding car, but also winding roads where slight slopes were taken with grace.&lt;br /&gt;
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Life has taught me lessons and shown me things I never dreamed possible. Some I received with an open heart, some I wished had been torched and thrown out before I ever saw them. But, that is the thing with life, we rarely get to choose what we experience. There have been times of almost poverty and times of over abundance of money. Personally, I prefer the latter, but the truth is, I was just as well provided for in both extremes.&lt;br /&gt;
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There were times of heaviness and loneliness that I thought would be my undoing. Times when I wanted to close the garage door, crank the car and forget it all. But, those times did not last. Before I plummeted into a place of complete hopelessness, God always pulled me out, wrapped his big arms around me, set my feet and mind straight and started me on the right path again.&lt;br /&gt;
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And, of course, there were times of such happiness that I thought my heart would burst right out of my chest. There were parents who loved and protected me, marriages - yep, plural - children, grandchildren, cousins by the dozens and friends too many to count. &amp;nbsp;I have been loved. Some folks would even say I have been spoiled, but that doesn&#39;t bother me. I kinda like being spoiled.&lt;br /&gt;
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There has been pain, both emotional and physical. There has been healing and restoration. There has been salvation, rescuing and relationship. You know, as I write this and think back, I do not want to change one thing that happened. Even the sadness, the want and the rejection had a place in creating the person I am today. &quot;Thank you, God, for everything you have done, everything you have been to me and everything you have in store for the next decade.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
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Several years back our cousin, Troy Miller, was pastor of the Church of God in Wildwood, FL. We visited whenever we were in town because God normally showed up and also because he was an awesome preacher. There was a lady who sang a song that has stuck with me through the years. No, I can&#39;t remember the name of the song. I am seventy, remember? But the lines went something like,&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;Hasn&#39;t He always come through for you? &amp;nbsp;You may not know how, you may not know when, but He&#39;ll do it again.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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I have no idea where she is today, and I am also certain she had no clue how many times that song helped my heart. (I hope I told her) Being reminded of His track record and His commitment to keep on doing the same thing, warmed my heart and set my feet to dancing.&lt;br /&gt;
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Today I have things that are hurting my heart. Personal burdens that threaten to take me under, but I know that I know, He has always come through for me and He will do it again. I also have great joy and happiness in some areas. I am still loved - imagine that??? I am covered, protected and provided for - even in the midst of the storms that hover. And so, I walk in a place of contentment, peaceful with where I am in life and yet expectant. Seventy is going to be an awesome year of revelation and understanding, a time of learning and growing in Him. Why? Because He&#39;ll do it again!&lt;br /&gt;
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Thank you all for loving me - I love you back. And who knows, perhaps we will get to dance together in the wildflowers this year?&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/8546504949435959608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/8546504949435959608?isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/8546504949435959608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/8546504949435959608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2015/07/the-portal.html' title='The Portal'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9nJKIneAQwGq0rGuhlyZBy2TqVVxRpKlEQUmL37_8TpruDddBvXftwLEH3kVm337HNZY9WAOexpd3VHevAlXbI_7bprxhp7UGBL15JETzlo9fYHUZ1FQBerc2ZxEPuyMnXvc6_nydineu/s72-c/I+phone+July+2015+074.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-4709704460453844878</id><published>2015-05-09T10:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2015-05-09T10:30:10.665-04:00</updated><title type='text'>BAM! There He Is!</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cIjhjWa8xpiGmNVYLp5jbe_zHPn5Zy16089NUp_UmbylIQeKzp9Ooq4aa1L2nsdwPdj7hhlr5lQFfys9jah8AU-PQyXSL53yoJNijcJVWzvC6ShmqkM9rH62qD51LKVEAN0z08A9Bvut/s1600/Imported+Photos+00042.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cIjhjWa8xpiGmNVYLp5jbe_zHPn5Zy16089NUp_UmbylIQeKzp9Ooq4aa1L2nsdwPdj7hhlr5lQFfys9jah8AU-PQyXSL53yoJNijcJVWzvC6ShmqkM9rH62qD51LKVEAN0z08A9Bvut/s320/Imported+Photos+00042.jpg&quot; width=&quot;219&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
As usual, I am writing this more to myself than anyone else, but I hope you will join in and read along with me. We all know the principle of praising and worshiping the Lord during rough times. We have been taught and know it is important to God. We also know it can be difficult to say the least, and at times almost impossible, to lift up a sincere praise when our world is falling apart. I have experienced some dark times over the years and have found this principle to be true, but I have never tied it to the scripture in Genesis 22:14.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;So Abraham called that place The Lord Will Provide. And to this day it is said, &quot;On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided. (NIV)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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BAM! There it is. Abraham had taken his son up to the mountain in an act of obedience and worship. He was in the act of sacrificing his son when the Lord stopped him. Yes. But also, in that moment of supreme surrender, the Lord provided.&lt;br /&gt;
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Over in the thicket was a Lamb - on the mountain top of worship and surrender, Abraham found the Lamb. He named that place Jehovah-jireh which means &#39;the Lord my provider.&#39; OK - is anyone else as excited as I am right now?&lt;br /&gt;
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Psalms 34:7 (Amplified Bible)&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;footnote&quot; data-fn=&quot;#fen-AMP-14396a&quot; data-link=&quot;[&amp;lt;a href=&amp;quot;#fen-AMP-14396a&amp;quot; title=&amp;quot;See footnote a&amp;quot;&amp;gt;a&amp;lt;/a&amp;gt;]&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;[&lt;a href=&quot;https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalms+34%3A7&amp;amp;version=AMP#fen-AMP-14396a&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;&quot; title=&quot;See footnote a&quot;&gt;a&lt;/a&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;&quot;&gt;The Angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him [who revere and worship Him with awe] and each of them He delivers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;footnotes&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-transition: all 0.2s; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; transition: all 0.2s;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
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Want deliverance - for yourself or for someone else? Want provision in the middle of your pain? Want an answer that only the Lamb can bring? Worship Him. Not out of a selfish desire to have your way, but out of a heart that is in love with the Lamb. Worship Him and Him alone. Surrender your will and your way to His perfect will. Come up high on the mountain top of worship and lay it all down. It is there, in that place of true worship that the Lamb will not only appear but He will be your answer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;i&gt;John 4:24 God is spirit and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth. &lt;/i&gt;When we worship in truth, all thoughts of ourselves are laid aside. Only the object of our worship is important.&lt;br /&gt;
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Trust me, I understand it is not an easy walk up that mountain. You and I have both walked it at times. We all know the path is steep and rugged. For Abraham it was a three day trip just to reach the top. For me it has often been longer than that, but when we reach the top it is all worth it. There in the thicket we find the Lamb.&lt;br /&gt;
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So, those are my Saturday morning thoughts as I look forward to Mother&#39;s day weekend. As moms and dads we understand the pain Abraham must have felt when God asked him to sacrifice his son. But, as children of God we understand the Lord&#39;s heart and the fact that He was truly working all things together for Abraham&#39;s good. He is the same today. His love for us is unconditional and never changes, but when we obey and worship we see his hand at work in mighty ways.&lt;br /&gt;
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Happy Mother&#39;s Day everyone!&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/4709704460453844878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/4709704460453844878?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/4709704460453844878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/4709704460453844878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2015/05/bam-there-he-is.html' title='BAM! There He Is!'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cIjhjWa8xpiGmNVYLp5jbe_zHPn5Zy16089NUp_UmbylIQeKzp9Ooq4aa1L2nsdwPdj7hhlr5lQFfys9jah8AU-PQyXSL53yoJNijcJVWzvC6ShmqkM9rH62qD51LKVEAN0z08A9Bvut/s72-c/Imported+Photos+00042.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-964404725640066037</id><published>2015-04-21T10:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2015-04-21T10:47:18.648-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Mighty Warrior</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjte2smtDMfvkhKB2Z-wLE5Dme9Um7HywqGMn7z9Z7jziPfwZsj9gL5YB5jHmlbISpdcBzy0sYPD48KctchnxP4ivHJBmwYskxB4WuBdjqr9HkpfdTwZYEzNbUAtiQPlavcf0Da_9M0H_gS/s1600/for+ben.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjte2smtDMfvkhKB2Z-wLE5Dme9Um7HywqGMn7z9Z7jziPfwZsj9gL5YB5jHmlbISpdcBzy0sYPD48KctchnxP4ivHJBmwYskxB4WuBdjqr9HkpfdTwZYEzNbUAtiQPlavcf0Da_9M0H_gS/s1600/for+ben.jpg&quot; height=&quot;212&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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The Lord has surrounded us with his holy angels to keep and protect and watch over us. At times, in heavy battle He will even send Micheal, the Warrior Angel to fight for his child.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I believe, though, there are times when we cry unto the Lord over a battle so heavy and so long that Jesus Christ Himself will show up as the God of angel armies and do it Himself! He is &quot;The&quot; Warrior!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
II Sam. 22:8 &quot;Then the earth shook and trembled; the foundations of heaven moved and shook, because he was wroth.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I love this verse. It gives me a mental picture of Jesus angry over something the enemy is attempting to bring on one of his children. A little like the mama bear that comes out when someone messes with my child - or yours. Only bigger....much, much, bigger and infinitely stronger.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Verse 10 - 11 &quot;He bowed the heavens also, and came down; and darkness was under his feet. And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly: and he was seen upon the wings of the wind.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
There have only been a few times in my life that I sensed this type of anger from the Lord. It has never been against me or any of his children, but &amp;nbsp;I believe the enemy sometimes crosses a line where Jesus comes down and takes care of business. And no one ... ever ... anywhere ... can stand against Him. He is the God of angel armies!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Verse 18: &quot;He delivered me from my strong enemy, and from them that hated me: for they were too strong for me.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
There is no one like Him and there is no one that can stand against Him. There is no battle He can&#39;t win and no foe too great. He is our Mighty Warrior! He knows how to deliver those who are His and no one can snatch them out of his hand.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Sing unto the Lord a new song, for He has come to deliver!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/964404725640066037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/964404725640066037?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/964404725640066037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/964404725640066037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2015/04/our-mighty-warrior.html' title='Our Mighty Warrior'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjte2smtDMfvkhKB2Z-wLE5Dme9Um7HywqGMn7z9Z7jziPfwZsj9gL5YB5jHmlbISpdcBzy0sYPD48KctchnxP4ivHJBmwYskxB4WuBdjqr9HkpfdTwZYEzNbUAtiQPlavcf0Da_9M0H_gS/s72-c/for+ben.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-5080522141010382076</id><published>2014-07-30T13:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2014-10-26T20:06:55.721-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fried Cornbread &amp; Jesus</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbt27m4QXOKxrsBQruirtQLCg4zFMyPRAUGcdf58H_gJU7l_y-oLlY25fwaNI5SFLLzhsZsybLIDm1ngti7wnHHf_9HsBEGSntvSfCMklAKcbRYCedrstd6X-71oJAvB8hbo8RF4BEN7v/s1600/DSC_2661.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbt27m4QXOKxrsBQruirtQLCg4zFMyPRAUGcdf58H_gJU7l_y-oLlY25fwaNI5SFLLzhsZsybLIDm1ngti7wnHHf_9HsBEGSntvSfCMklAKcbRYCedrstd6X-71oJAvB8hbo8RF4BEN7v/s1600/DSC_2661.JPG&quot; height=&quot;263&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
My husband has long been convinced that fried cornbread is
spiritual. He read something in the Old Testament about using the finest meal
to fry cakes in a pan. That is all it took to satisfy him that God actually
likes fried cornbread. Because I am of course a loving, submissive wife, I
agree and eat it with him. &amp;nbsp;It’s my job
you know.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
In Hosea 7:8, the Lord calls Ephraim a cake not turned.
Spurgeon compares this to a Christian who is mature and sanctified in some
areas of their lives but still raw in others. Since I have cooked a few
skillets of fried cornbread over the years, I understand what it means to leave
one side down in the oil too long. The bottom gets black and the top is still
gooey. So, does this mean that when we refuse to allow the Lord to
turn us towards his Holy Fire we are showing our gooey side to the world? And
even worse, one side of us is so drenched with religion we become burned and
distasteful?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
God works in each of our lives teaching, healing past wounds
and bringing revelation about different aspects of His nature while changing different
aspects of our nature. It is important for Him to work maturity, character and
integrity into our being if He is going to be able to use us as He desires. And
so comes the cooking.&amp;nbsp; (I am laughing as
I type this – what a horrible way to describe God’s faithfulness and
sanctification….but we are going with Hosea here.)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
I believe the Lord allows (ordains?) circumstances in our lives
that will turn our gooey side to His holy flame so He can ‘cook’ that part of
our person. Could it be that perhaps
there are times when God steps back and allows this life to bring situations to
us that He can use to cook our goo?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
Thinking back on my own past, I can remember times when life
threw me a curve and turned me in a direction that caused me to scream like the
little girl I am. &amp;nbsp;Let’s face it, no one
likes the fire. When I hear someone say they just love the fire of God, I
wonder if they have really experienced the fire of God. Don’t get me wrong, I
love and cherish the results of His fire, but walking through it … nope, not an
enjoyable thing for me. However, once the Lord has proven Himself to me in that
area, the next trial doesn&#39;t scare me … at least not so much.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
Fortunately, when God allows life to flip our gooey side
down, He walks with us through the trial. The truth that it is His fire means that He is in it with us. (deep sigh here)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
We are individual and unique before God. Because of that He
works on a special timetable for each of us, according to His purposes and our
ability to trust Him. No matter the situation, I believe he will use it to draw
us closer to Him. It will increase our faith and give us deeper
revelation of His person. Whatever the problem, whether its pain, sorrow, loss, grief &amp;nbsp;– &amp;nbsp;if we
can bring ourselves to embrace it and trust God through it, we will be not only
healed but made stronger in Him. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
Isiah 45:3 is one of my favorite verses. There &lt;i&gt;are&lt;/i&gt; treasures in the darkness and the
greatest treasure is Him. &amp;nbsp;Even in the
fire of His holiness we stand complete in Him and come out of that season
leaning on Him and moving forward in maturity and love. The greatest
sorrows of this life will work together for our good if we love Him and are
called according to His purposes. God promises that. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
Turn me Lord and make sure I am fully cooked.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5080522141010382076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/5080522141010382076?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/5080522141010382076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/5080522141010382076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2014/07/fried-cornbread-jesus.html' title='Fried Cornbread &amp; Jesus'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlbt27m4QXOKxrsBQruirtQLCg4zFMyPRAUGcdf58H_gJU7l_y-oLlY25fwaNI5SFLLzhsZsybLIDm1ngti7wnHHf_9HsBEGSntvSfCMklAKcbRYCedrstd6X-71oJAvB8hbo8RF4BEN7v/s72-c/DSC_2661.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-5202167299553545220</id><published>2014-04-04T11:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2014-04-04T11:43:01.728-04:00</updated><title type='text'>God&#39;s Economy - Treasures of the Darkness</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBFBdEAGFF4qOhiJ-txi9rI2yC4oMLW5CzGIICG9o7E2B-p0qxE90jSnMBMsJ3RDY6jlOgq58hGEA0bNE22w1chMB34QXxBbGENWkrESUbHre7PK9wLbFDA-anaxO66zbpIkdOAyN1Cf_/s1600/u12610079.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBFBdEAGFF4qOhiJ-txi9rI2yC4oMLW5CzGIICG9o7E2B-p0qxE90jSnMBMsJ3RDY6jlOgq58hGEA0bNE22w1chMB34QXxBbGENWkrESUbHre7PK9wLbFDA-anaxO66zbpIkdOAyN1Cf_/s1600/u12610079.jpg&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; width=&quot;235&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Surrender. Just the sound of the word conjures up an unhappy feeling. It involves a white flag, an admittance of failure. The most common picture is of one general facing another either on a battlefield or in a meeting room, surrounded by the enemy and laying his sword down in shame. His surrender puts him under the other&#39;s authority. Any way you look at it, surrender is an ugly thing. It is painful, embarrassing and leaves me feeling empty inside.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And yet, that is exactly what Jesus did when he allowed them to nail Him to the cross. He surrendered to people that he could easily have annihilated. His surrender bought peace for you and for me. That is the amazingly good news. The rest of the story is not always so amazing. That&#39;s the part when He asks us to do the same. To follow his lead in surrender is painful, often embarrassing and just plain scary.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This past week, the Lord brought me to a place of surrender in an area very close to my heart. It was painful and frightening. I resisted for quite a while. I &#39;discussed&#39; it, argued with the Lord, made my claim to rights - all very legit claims in the natural. But the time came when the Lord brought me to that still small voice that asked if I really wanted to hold onto what I was claiming rights to. If so, He would let me keep it and that wold be the end of the trial. No more bartering, no more whining, He would still love me and I could keep it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
About the time I drew a deep breath and started to relax, He mentioned that if I would surrender and trust Him, the peace coming out of the surrender would be so much more wonderful. &amp;nbsp;Of course when He put it like that, there really wasn&#39;t a decision. I wanted His peace more than anything.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m sorry I cannot go into detail, but I can tell you this - the freedom that came out of surrender has been amazing. In surrendering something I thought was so important to me, I found deliverance in an area I had prayed about for years. The two were not connected in any way, except in obedience and surrender. God&#39;s economy continues to mystify me. He alone is God.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, my friends, surrender can be a wonderful thing. In many ways, the word has been given a bad rep. There is freedom and peace in surrender ... when the Lord brings it about.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Jesus answered, &quot;It is written: Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.&quot; Mat 4:4&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5202167299553545220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/5202167299553545220?isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/5202167299553545220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/5202167299553545220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2014/04/gods-economy-treasures-of-darkness.html' title='God&#39;s Economy - Treasures of the Darkness'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBFBdEAGFF4qOhiJ-txi9rI2yC4oMLW5CzGIICG9o7E2B-p0qxE90jSnMBMsJ3RDY6jlOgq58hGEA0bNE22w1chMB34QXxBbGENWkrESUbHre7PK9wLbFDA-anaxO66zbpIkdOAyN1Cf_/s72-c/u12610079.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-2982280820084988</id><published>2014-02-14T14:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2014-02-14T14:51:39.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pursue!</title><content type='html'>Pursue: you shall recover all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Pursue:&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class=&quot;hwc&quot; id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;hwc&quot; id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;follow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;hwc&quot; id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;hwc&quot; id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;order&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;hwc&quot; id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;hwc&quot; id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;overtake,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;hwc&quot; id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;capture,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;hwc&quot; id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;kill,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;hwc onclk&quot; id=&quot;hotword&quot; name=&quot;hotword&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #9999ff; cursor: pointer; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;etc.;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
David had just returned to Ziklag to find the village burned and every woman and child taken captive, including his two wives. He inquired of the Lord whether he should go after them. God&#39;s answer was:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Pursue, for you shall surely overtake them and without fail recover all. &amp;nbsp;I Sam. 30:8(b)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
David pursued and recovered everything, just as the Lord had spoken. Sometimes in our lives it is necessary to pursue, to fight, to overtake, to recover what has been taken from us. It is wrong to fight when we are told to hold our peace, it is also wrong to sit calmly when the Lord instructs us to pursue. We wrestle not with flesh and blood, but we do wrestle.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Eph 6:12&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
Today I am battling an enemy - perhaps you are as well. Let&#39;s join forces and overcome in the power of the Spirit and the Blood of the Lamb. He that dwells in us is greater than he that is in the world. Come, Holy Spirit and teach us wrestle and when we&#39;ve done all we can, help us to stand in the power of your name and your authority. Let your presence rule and reign in every area of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In my limited experience, I have seen that God never sends us into a battle unless He has prepared a way for victory. His love and grace constantly cover us, even when it appears we are drowning - still, He is there. Look up and see Him standing calmly, in complete control over His children.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;For all the promises of God in him are yea, and in him Amen, unto the glory of God by us. 2 Co. 1:20&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2982280820084988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/2982280820084988?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2982280820084988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2982280820084988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2014/02/pursue.html' title='Pursue!'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-5377994712651959041</id><published>2013-12-20T13:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2013-12-22T15:41:12.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Because He Knows...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
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Isaiah 33:22&lt;br /&gt;
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For the Lord is our judge&lt;br /&gt;
the Lord is our lawgiver,&lt;br /&gt;
the Lord is our king;&lt;br /&gt;
it is he who will save us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know I have read this verse many times before. It is one I have highlighted in my Bible. But this morning I READ this verse. You know? So, this is what I&#39;m thinking.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1.&lt;i&gt; He&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;wrote the law so&lt;i&gt; He&lt;/i&gt; knows it like no one else.&lt;br /&gt;
2. &lt;i&gt;He &lt;/i&gt;is alone is our judge; so&lt;i&gt; He&lt;/i&gt; knows when we break&lt;i&gt; His&lt;/i&gt; laws like no one else would.&lt;br /&gt;
3. &lt;i&gt;He&lt;/i&gt; is the king who has the power to forgive and overrule the judge. (&lt;i&gt;Him&lt;/i&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;
4. Because&lt;i&gt; He&lt;/i&gt; is king, he knows all things, including that we can never keep&lt;i&gt; His&lt;/i&gt; laws.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Common thread? HIM! He does it all. Our only responsibility is to acknowledge that we need Him; that we cannot keep these laws. For me, that comes easily since I spent much of my life failing miserably. But, thanks be to God who gives us the victory, He stepped up in my place and took the punishment. Death had to occur to satisfy the law. However, &amp;nbsp;He didn&#39;t stay dead. So now, because He did not stay dead, I don&#39;t have to stay dead either. Because He has become me. Mind boggling. Amazing.&lt;br /&gt;
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He knows the price needed like no one else because he made the laws in the first place. Now the lawmaker, the judge and the king are all satisfied. Full circle. All about Him.&lt;br /&gt;
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WOW! Feeling blessed, feeling free, feeling indebted ... all to Him. Now I just need to remember to LIVE that his amazing sacrifice on my behalf will not be useless.&lt;br /&gt;
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His birth is the greatest gift ever to all of mankind. I&#39;m thinking of a chorus we used to sing:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Isn&#39;t He wonderful, wonderful, wonderful?&lt;br /&gt;
Isn&#39;t Jesus, my Lord, wonderful?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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Yes He is!&lt;br /&gt;
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Merry Christmas!&lt;br /&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5377994712651959041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/5377994712651959041?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/5377994712651959041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/5377994712651959041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/12/is-it-really-all-about-him.html' title='Because He Knows...'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WN-U6Mn0KE_3w49A2GyrBs_CC-Q6mG-b2IQ_X5WQsZPRMw_dFBTD7UlpbJeQSyVCRalk1ZDYy9pA4hXZ_wtW6vKREv8zXBJm2fGjWioMch4LErxDWvCzOe1huO2_gEr8w_fizdXuujH9/s72-c/Christmas+2012+1+037+2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-2855658564414009021</id><published>2013-10-23T15:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2013-10-23T15:11:09.931-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Coverings</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8qJIKARaBK80XI6zza1HZaMkSb_gA472t8qSlc0EqXPhL-j0X8qpI8STbEkFsMzoAHbH6QAzUXoWMKXy20LLkYnflp5zoUvQAZLSW5yQtMAzaEkm-iPYiO_TYA7M8g37__nmEJia7SiJ/s1600/I+Phone+July+2013+053.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;640&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8qJIKARaBK80XI6zza1HZaMkSb_gA472t8qSlc0EqXPhL-j0X8qpI8STbEkFsMzoAHbH6QAzUXoWMKXy20LLkYnflp5zoUvQAZLSW5yQtMAzaEkm-iPYiO_TYA7M8g37__nmEJia7SiJ/s640/I+Phone+July+2013+053.JPG&quot; width=&quot;480&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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A few days back Royce and I were having one of those lazy days just driving casually along, not talking much. Actually, I was driving, which makes this revelation a tad more interesting, since for a few moments I was completely caught up in God&#39;s presence. I could hear Royce telling me something in the background but he sounded a little like Charlie Brown&#39;s teacher -- you know, blah, blah, blah....nothing personal about his talking, I had just left the car for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;
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The sky was blue, blue with large fluffy white clouds scattered around. Off to one side were white swirls of clouds that looked like brush strokes on an artist&#39;s pallet. Gradually, I realized we were under a huge tent; one with a stunningly blue top and sides with wisps of white flurries and billowing cotton balls. The sides came down to the ground, forming not only a canopy but a bubble completely encapsulating us in a protective covering. All around me, people were going about their business; driving, talking, walking, shopping. Trees were growing in the atmosphere provided by this amazing covering; flowers bloomed along the side of the road and birds flitted here and there overheard, obviously enjoying the sunlight and shadows alike.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTHaA9zRaQfhuruyoWvDY8NqqMWvfJ3xoHwfC_-zcoW8sW7yYEzJshtv_uRE0zZ1adq8nHgXSIFqssP91Ci93USkYvULYGZhbbcurLfCv7wqrlom46eQtqDGAGraBzjkXAYzqYR_DFh3Ft/s1600/_DSC1319+2.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;267&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTHaA9zRaQfhuruyoWvDY8NqqMWvfJ3xoHwfC_-zcoW8sW7yYEzJshtv_uRE0zZ1adq8nHgXSIFqssP91Ci93USkYvULYGZhbbcurLfCv7wqrlom46eQtqDGAGraBzjkXAYzqYR_DFh3Ft/s400/_DSC1319+2.JPG&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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The thought crossed my mind that God could have left out the sky when He created earth. We could be constantly looking up at a huge black hole that goes on forever with only other planets far away here and there. We could be constantly worrying about drifting out into outer space and getting lost in that blackness or drawn up to one of the stars or planets far, far away. But, no, in His graciousness and love, the Lord made a beautiful sky to cover His creation and because of that we feel settled, covered and loved under this amazing piece of God&#39;s handiwork.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My friend, Cynthia and I share a love of the sky and it&#39;s beauty but up until now, I only saw the beauty. Who hasn&#39;t felt comforted by the blue sky and beautiful sun shining down on us? Even a cloudy rainy day can bring comfort and a sense of closeness. And who hasn&#39;t peered into the clouds to find animals, faces, even angels looking back at us?&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkYtyprnaeHWsYlf78Y2f6juoKjDxskkuvHuKrmrSTaMj6sKuh6c5XnFThzw8Fz2EtKOBhlLAvTNVIGer-V3DtbYU0i42XrAbz3pKJMKRa4-xd-eJGf7pfKQgHS6ba8jgJ5rCNK_IytrV/s1600/church.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;268&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkYtyprnaeHWsYlf78Y2f6juoKjDxskkuvHuKrmrSTaMj6sKuh6c5XnFThzw8Fz2EtKOBhlLAvTNVIGer-V3DtbYU0i42XrAbz3pKJMKRa4-xd-eJGf7pfKQgHS6ba8jgJ5rCNK_IytrV/s400/church.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
And so, in those few moments I was caught up with the Lord, I thanked Him over and over for this beautiful canopy that covers us every day. To me its a reminder of His presence that covers us, protects us, and goes with us wherever we travel. Nothing is out of His control and all things are working together for our good if we love Him and are called according to His purpose.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today we rest under the canopy of the sky as well as the canopy of His presence and feast on the love He is constantly giving. Because He loves, He gives .... everything we need to succeed in this world that he created just for us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And we rest in His promises over our families and over us, even when pain and darkness comes to our lives, even when threatening storms cloud the horizon, even then, still we rest in His promises. &amp;nbsp;Just like the sky that will remain until He speaks otherwise, His love and care over us will remain until the end of time.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-YRlA8qQaFnx04yHLkt2lZDWAeOveH-nVKFIjEGrp27GrlsXQwo_7UOApQGfDFfeYrTcEpCdNtzoPg2Zw1p-2VnChprFV0DkXcYuw4Q21JxGzewtE4p-sqamROzDXLDmhJv8h3gjngdjt/s1600/rainbow+adjusted.bmp&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;268&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-YRlA8qQaFnx04yHLkt2lZDWAeOveH-nVKFIjEGrp27GrlsXQwo_7UOApQGfDFfeYrTcEpCdNtzoPg2Zw1p-2VnChprFV0DkXcYuw4Q21JxGzewtE4p-sqamROzDXLDmhJv8h3gjngdjt/s320/rainbow+adjusted.bmp&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&quot;For I know the plans I have for you,&quot; declares the Lord, &quot;plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.&quot; Jer. 29:11&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2855658564414009021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/2855658564414009021?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2855658564414009021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2855658564414009021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/10/coverings.html' title='Coverings'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8qJIKARaBK80XI6zza1HZaMkSb_gA472t8qSlc0EqXPhL-j0X8qpI8STbEkFsMzoAHbH6QAzUXoWMKXy20LLkYnflp5zoUvQAZLSW5yQtMAzaEkm-iPYiO_TYA7M8g37__nmEJia7SiJ/s72-c/I+Phone+July+2013+053.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-7692865831817543109</id><published>2013-09-12T14:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2013-10-08T17:46:12.588-04:00</updated><title type='text'>God Is Bigger Than The Boogie Man</title><content type='html'>&quot;God is bigger than the boogie man. He&#39;s bigger than Godzilla or the monsters on T.V.&quot; &amp;nbsp;I love this Veggie Tales song. &amp;nbsp;It was written for little children with a message that is simple and easy to understand. I guess that is what makes it work for me. &amp;nbsp;As we all know, the boogie man is very real and comes in all sizes and shapes. He infiltrates any aspect of our lives that he can get even a toe hold in. Even the slightest unhealthy mindset can open a door to his deceit. And once in, he sets up shop with all kinds of lies and insults. He can mess up a really beautiful day in a heartbeat. I know the popular thing to say now would be, &quot;if we let him.&quot; Well, duh! Who ever intends to &quot;let&quot; him do anything? It&#39;s just that we get caught up in living our lives and he slinks around waiting for just the right moment. Sometimes he can slip in there before we even realize it.&lt;br /&gt;
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Thank goodness, Jesus is never taken by surprise in anything, much less by the antics and deceits of this guy. The Lord is always covering, protecting, caring and helping His children. If the enemy slips in past us, Jesus is there waiting for him. We all know He &amp;nbsp;is bigger than any deceit, any interruption or blockage the other guy can sneak into our lives. Someone once told me, &quot;It&#39;s good to know all about your enemy and then forget him.&quot; I like that. We know what he is capable of so we are not taken by surprise nor drawn into his schemes but we do not focus on him but on the One who saved us and took us as his own. We concentrate on the One who is constantly by our side; leading us in the way that is right for us.&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Finally, brethern, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of a good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;Phil 4:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
We all have had times of pain in our lives; some more than others. Of course my mind goes back to the year 2000 and the horror of the burn unit, but I can also name many other battles, places of pain and discouragement the Lord has brought me through over the years. The bar was raised a little higher with each victory. Every time He brought me out, He brought me up a little higher. I love Him more with each new revelation; and I have discovered that Isaiah 45:3 is true; there are treasures in the darkness and riches in the secret places. We don&#39;t have to be afraid in the dark times; He is there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today let&#39;s remember the victories; let&#39;s remember the celebration of answered prayers and then let&#39;s dig down inside to get what we need to reach up high and take hold of His hand. Above all of the frustration and confusion, there stands Jesus in complete control.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross; despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. Heb 12:2&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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And oh, one more thing: God is bigger than the boogie man!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-WeeIn9sRY&quot;&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-WeeIn9sRY&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7692865831817543109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/7692865831817543109?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/7692865831817543109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/7692865831817543109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/09/god-is-bigger-than-boogie-man.html' title='God Is Bigger Than The Boogie Man'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-1566406913553901157</id><published>2013-09-07T14:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2013-09-07T14:10:21.571-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mamma Hugs </title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;
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It isn&#39;t Mother&#39;s Day; it isn&#39;t her birthday; it is no where near the holidays, but this past week I&#39;ve been missing my mom. She passed over to dance in the heavenlies in 1995. Wouldn&#39;t you think I would be over missing her by now? But, no.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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What I wouldn&#39;t give to see her face, hear her voice and get one of those strong, encouraging hugs. Is it just me, or do Mom&#39;s have a way of connecting with our emotions in a way no one else can....ever. Her hug was different from anyone on earth.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJCVF3ND3qeq7dUi8o8rGTgB1i_vsQgpo2PlAREE0pgZsVuuloeheF9HDhQ0iEWdJTsgHtrzZn-y8ABOdlLSYwXx1wd8QG0rzM2yBmDtb1cPGrpXC_vkeJc5YPWGGkH9ocFutHDT5MwVLX/s1600/mother+one.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJCVF3ND3qeq7dUi8o8rGTgB1i_vsQgpo2PlAREE0pgZsVuuloeheF9HDhQ0iEWdJTsgHtrzZn-y8ABOdlLSYwXx1wd8QG0rzM2yBmDtb1cPGrpXC_vkeJc5YPWGGkH9ocFutHDT5MwVLX/s320/mother+one.jpg&quot; width=&quot;266&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Perhaps its because we just moved into our new house. When Mom was here with us, any big change; or any small change, was discussed at length with her. We could sit for hours talking about nothing, which is not to say we agreed on everything. Far from it; but we talked about everything. She pushed my buttons on a regular basis and I&#39;m sure I did the same for her, but when two people are so close the button pushing is just part of the relationship.&lt;br /&gt;
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I remember her laughing and telling me she wished she could be around to see me when I get old. Of course it was so she could say, &quot;I told you so.&quot; She&#39;s probably laughing right now and saying it from Heaven... Heaven.. her home now; my future home. (big sigh here.) One day, Mom, we are going to hook our arms and walk around Heaven for about a thousand years and catch up. We will laugh at all the silly things that bugged us about each other; we will remember and be amazed at how the Lord kept us all those years, and we will remember the fun, the laughter and the intimacy.&lt;br /&gt;
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And there will be joy. Joy at seeing each other and joy at finally being with Jesus. How wonderful it will be to stand beside my Mom and talk to Jesus. Maybe, just maybe, He will wrap his arms around both of us at one time for a family hug.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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But for now, I am content and happy in our new home while deep in my heart and memory is a lovely lady who is a great example of a wife, mother, grandmother and person. Her life struggles growing up as the oldest of six children, living through the depression, sending a husband and four brothers off to war plus the later struggles with a husband who was wheelchair bound would make a book so staggering some would doubt it&#39;s truth. My mom was of &#39;that&#39; generation. She was strong, competent, hard working and committed, but also loving, encouraging and funny. Early on I learned that humor and positive thinking gets me through a lot of hard places.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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Thanks, Mama, for loving me and never giving up on me. You always saw things in me that no one else did .... not even me. When you were on this earth, I had a protector, an encourager and a friend. I love you in a way that defies words. Save me a seat at dinner - I will see you one of these days.&lt;br /&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1566406913553901157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/1566406913553901157?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1566406913553901157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1566406913553901157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/09/mamma-hugs.html' title='Mamma Hugs '/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ8GEbUD4OMwkvclF_7xMScn02Z7HFNmPvXmXizCkyQgTUcyPHK-7rsx8oJJBKNrMWxz4qtwqzeEMjhTxUJJ-gofXQPVAgoZb1vCDBY_z5_9QZvVS2iXDGtKYSIUVZN0kqXAZK3it-Aojp/s72-c/RMW_20S.TIF" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-6471460660543970304</id><published>2013-07-26T20:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2013-07-26T20:07:35.698-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It&#39;s Time For A Change</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
We were busy emptying out the house; piece by piece. No one realized Little T was on the couch until his head popped up. &quot;People are taking stuff everywhere and I don&#39;t understand what&#39;s going on. I am SO confused!&quot; Bless his heart, he had no idea he was voicing Grandma&#39;s feelings as well.&lt;br /&gt;
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It is a mega season change in our lives; one that has been hovering on the horizon for a few years now. You know how one season blends into another without much notice and then one day you wake up and snow is everywhere, or it is 80 degrees at 9:00 in the morning? It&#39;s then you realize, the season really has changed. I think that&#39;s where we are. Still not sure though, if it&#39;s snow or hot because I&#39;m not sure which direction the season is going.&lt;br /&gt;
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Seriously, we have sold our beautiful home, given away or sold truck loads of &#39;stuff,&#39; filled up a very, very large trailer-sized dumpster, two pods, two storage units, and one basement. The rest came with us. Let me say right here, storage units are right up there with laundromats. Necessary, useful, hot, miserable and annoying. Having said that, I am thankful for them. It&#39;s a new experience to &#39;run by the storage unit.&#39; Please tell me this aspect of our new season is temporary.&lt;br /&gt;
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We decided to make this move because we are not as young as we once were. The house seemed to get bigger every time we cleaned it, the yard grew so big there wasn&#39;t enough grass to cover it and bare spots popped up everywhere. Then, of all things, the steps going down to the lower level got higher and steeper and took much more energy to descend and then ascend again. On top of all that, our once young and lively brood of grandchildren decided to grow up. Of course we have a few that are still young enough to think sleeping at Grandma&#39;s house is really cool, and for that we are very thankful, but most of them prefer their girls, their cars, college and/or their jobs. Shudder.&lt;br /&gt;
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So, here we are. In between houses, but not in between homes, thanks to family who love us. We can only pray they continue to love us long enough for us to find a new place. Or, maybe when our time runs out here, we can move on to the next family. The upside is, no housework, no yard work, no cooking .....hey this isn&#39;t so bad after all!&lt;br /&gt;
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God is faithful in every season and His love and grace are sufficient for any challenge.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/6471460660543970304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/6471460660543970304?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/6471460660543970304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/6471460660543970304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/07/we-were-busy-emptying-out-house-piece.html' title='It&#39;s Time For A Change'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-7638917162862015887</id><published>2013-04-04T11:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2013-04-04T11:58:17.054-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepless in Sharpsburg</title><content type='html'>It is that time late at night when I have been in bed for a while but sleep isn&#39;t anywhere to be found. I have thought through all the &#39;challenges&#39; of the day and pondered on the causes of each. I have rehearsed in my mind exactly what I should have said and how I should have responded but didn&#39;t. Next time though I will. Next time I will know just what to say. Uh-huh.&lt;br /&gt;
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And there has been the time of prayer; of thanking the Lord for His endless mercy to me and to my family. You have to understand, I am a Mom and a Grandma, so my prayers can get pretty specific at times. In the midst of prayers for healing, deliverance, salvation, restored relationships, are requests for a lingering cough, a missing tooth, a new bike, a good game, and someone to play with at recess.&lt;br /&gt;
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So, here I am in the night. Everyone else in the house - and who knows how many or how few that may be - are all asleep. It is quiet and dark. Even if they were awake I could not explain my thoughts to any of them. Some things are so deep inside that even those closest to me do not know about them. Some of them are so deep inside I can only guess at their origin and certainly cannot put those thoughts and feelings into words. I struggle. I toss around in the bed. I refuse to open my eyes because I am determined to go to sleep. I write books, clean house, prepare meals, finish my family cookbook, make movies and take photographs; all in the stillness of the night, without leaving my bed.&lt;br /&gt;
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Finally, after several hours, my spirit begins to quiet. I sink a little deeper into my pillow. It is even quieter than before. I feel relaxed, I feel loved, secure. It is OK if I cannot form words for my heart thoughts. I begin to feel warm and loved. There is a gentle covering of all the days struggles.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;He&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; is here.&lt;br /&gt;
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He wraps His strong arms around me and gently holds me. Tears fill my eyes and slip down my cheeks; tears of love. He is here and nothing else matters. I know He understands every feeling, &amp;nbsp;every memory, every pain, every dream, everything that is &#39;me.&#39; He gets it - He gets me. And amazingly, He loves me.&lt;br /&gt;
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In the gentleness of the night He has come to hold me and all is right inside. My heart is still beating, my mind is awake, but I am not here - I am with&amp;nbsp;Him&amp;nbsp;and all is well.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;ol class=&quot;keyword-result-list text-html&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;
Grace, mercy and peace from&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;God&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;the Father and from Jesus Christ, the Father’s Son, will be&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;with&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;us&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;in truth and love.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;keywordresultextras&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20John+1:2-4&amp;amp;version=NIV&quot; style=&quot;color: #b37162; text-decoration: none;&quot;&gt;2 John 1:2-4&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7638917162862015887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/7638917162862015887?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/7638917162862015887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/7638917162862015887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/04/sleepless-in-sharpsburg.html' title='Sleepless in Sharpsburg'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-1523579804345927055</id><published>2013-03-26T13:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2013-03-26T13:38:51.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Was The Masked Man??</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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Thirty years ago I was a single mom with three children and a new found relationship with Jesus Christ. After much prayer, screaming, crying, surrender and soul searching, I had accepted that I would be single forever. Jesus fulfilled my every need, and I was completely in love with Him, but there was still this little nagging deep inside that longed for my soul mate here on this earth. It was something the Lord chose not to take away. I wondered why.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then one day, I heard something. It was far off in the distance, very faint. Remember the old Western movies when they would put their ear to the ground and then stand up and say, &quot;one rider on a fast horse.&quot; It was kinda like that. I passed it off and went about my day.&lt;br /&gt;
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A few days later I heard it again, only stronger, closer. After that I would be working away or just sitting and thinking and there would be this flash of something white. It&amp;nbsp;always&amp;nbsp;passed so quickly I could not tell what it was, much less describe it. The sightings and the&amp;nbsp;hoof beats&amp;nbsp;grew closer and I saw them and heard them more and more often. One day I was able to distinguish a cape; another day I saw a sword; later there was the glimpse of a beautiful steed tossing his mane in the air.&lt;br /&gt;
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By now, I was enthralled with the mystery heading my way. Could it be? Could it POSSIBLY be? But no, I had told the Lord I only wanted Him and that I would stay single for Him forever. But now this. What exactly &lt;i&gt;was&lt;/i&gt; this? Every day it grew closer and closer. Then one day, I heard the Lord say, &quot;unencumber&amp;nbsp;yourself.&quot; &amp;nbsp;I knew I was making room for something or someone new in my life.&lt;br /&gt;
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Late in December the sightings had become daily and the sound of the hoof beats thunderous. Then early one morning in late December the phone rang.&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;Hey Booger. Can I come go to church with you?&quot; It was my old flame, Royce.&lt;br /&gt;
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And the rest, as they say, is history. My knight in shining armor had arrived!&lt;br /&gt;
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My dear Royce, you rescued me, covered me, loved me, paid my bills, held me close and loved my children. It&#39;s been an amazing ride - the best of my life! I know the Lord sent you to me and for that I am forever grateful. He knew just who I needed.&lt;br /&gt;
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Happy Anniversary Dear!&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1523579804345927055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/1523579804345927055?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1523579804345927055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1523579804345927055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/03/who-was-masked-man.html' title='Who Was The Masked Man??'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-2322707321639814293</id><published>2013-03-13T14:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2013-03-13T14:13:16.295-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Beauty in Barrenness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMS3AiHuBJk3upvLzc5tC8yF5xTS1U8DVgwLOVlOnrAKyTRLnaKsocUQ4Kr_xDmsde_fx6ZCd_ekdLQIWvmBARpA-8FN0GZBdmzaurvzO1UPEM05xCUp33AgAKVn_aAOtBHrSZN6yKBdR/s1600/DSC_5413.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;267&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMS3AiHuBJk3upvLzc5tC8yF5xTS1U8DVgwLOVlOnrAKyTRLnaKsocUQ4Kr_xDmsde_fx6ZCd_ekdLQIWvmBARpA-8FN0GZBdmzaurvzO1UPEM05xCUp33AgAKVn_aAOtBHrSZN6yKBdR/s400/DSC_5413.JPG&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Even in death there is the beauty of life just waiting to burst forth. The seed is in the ground and it appears that death is everywhere. Life has ceased and dust covers all. But in that darkness, in that barrenness, there is beauty. It is the beauty of surrender; of trusting; of knowing that He is still in control; that life will begin anew.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Jesus is the seed of God the Father, placed in this world to die and reproduce. We are His reproductions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;sup class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;Matthew 27: 35&amp;nbsp;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;And they crucified him, and parted his garments, casting lots: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, They parted my garments among them, and upon my vesture did they cast lots.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;sup class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;45&amp;nbsp;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Winter is cold and drab. The sky is often cloudy and dreary. We see brown sticks where lively green tress once were. The flowers from last season are all gone, leaving no evidence they will bloom again. But the beauty is that beneath the earth, in the darkness, in the the quietness of our soul, these tiny bulbs are drawing nutrients from the soil in preparation for a new season.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Matthew 27:59&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;sup class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;60&amp;nbsp;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;And laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;The winters of our life are a quiet place where nothing seems to be happening; it is a place of death. But that death is beautiful because it will usher in new life.&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. John 12:24&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. Psm 116:15.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;In times of barrenness we wait&amp;nbsp;with&amp;nbsp;expectancy and prayer until the Lord comes and brings new life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Sing and rejoice, O daughter of Zion; for, lo, I come, and I will dwell in the midst of thee, saith the Lord. Zechariah 2:9-11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;sup class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;Matthew 28:2&amp;nbsp;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;And, behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;text Matt-28-6&quot; id=&quot;en-KJV-24202&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;sup class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;6&amp;nbsp;&lt;/sup&gt;He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;text Matt-28-7&quot; id=&quot;en-KJV-24203&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;sup class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;7&amp;nbsp;&lt;/sup&gt;And go quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead; and, behold, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see him: lo, I have told you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;text Matt-28-7&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;There is resurrection power in our lives as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;text Matt-28-7&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;sup class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;11&amp;nbsp;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Hang on Sloopy - springtime is close!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2322707321639814293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/2322707321639814293?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2322707321639814293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2322707321639814293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/03/beauty-in-barrenness.html' title='Beauty in Barrenness'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMS3AiHuBJk3upvLzc5tC8yF5xTS1U8DVgwLOVlOnrAKyTRLnaKsocUQ4Kr_xDmsde_fx6ZCd_ekdLQIWvmBARpA-8FN0GZBdmzaurvzO1UPEM05xCUp33AgAKVn_aAOtBHrSZN6yKBdR/s72-c/DSC_5413.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-1093176971158475758</id><published>2013-03-12T13:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2013-03-12T13:36:57.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Awesome Aunt Agnes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
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This past Sunday we celebrated the life of my Aunt Agnes. It was a bittersweet day with memories of the past alongside celebrations that she is safely home with her Lord. Isn&#39;t that always the case? Good for the one gone on but not good at all for those of us left behind. We miss her smile, that twinkle in her eyes, her gentle ways, her love.&lt;br /&gt;
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This morning I was thinking over all the things she taught me: everything from how to apply makeup to how to peel a boiled egg. Start with the big end where the pocket it - it works every time. But, more than what she taught me was the example she lived before me. I remember the summers she paid me to come and play with my cousins. Seriously, she did just that. They were only a couple of years younger than me but she paid me to come and stay at their house every day during the summer. I&amp;nbsp;thought&amp;nbsp;it was a big time job but looking back I suspect she did that to keep me from having to stay home alone all summer.&lt;br /&gt;
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My mom worked about a mile from their house so I would ride to work in the carpool with Mom. The plan was for me to walk the mile down to their house in the morning; no big deal for a twelve year old girl. The problem was the dog. He lived on the way and I had a big issue with dogs. So, Aunt Agnes stopped mid-way of preparing for her work day and drove up to meet me every morning. That dog wasn&#39;t going to hurt me, but she knew I was scared. That is how she was; quietly giving of herself. It may seem like a small thing, but to me at twelve years old it was huge.&lt;br /&gt;
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Aunt Agnes was one of five aunts on my mom&#39;s side of the family. They were all great in their own ways, but during my childhood, she was the most hands on. I guess you could say she was &#39;user-friendly.&#39; She and my uncle often visited us and it was always a happening because they&amp;nbsp;were&amp;nbsp;so much fun to have around. I am sorry I didn&#39;t take the time to sit and tell her and Uncle Jr how much they mean to me; that they have been two pillars in my life for as long as I can remember. That they have always encouraged me and loved me, even in my worst of times. But one day, she and I will hook arms and take a walkabout in Heaven where I will reveal all my heart thoughts to her.&lt;br /&gt;
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I realize that in the busyness of today&#39;s world, families are not always as close as they were when I was a child. The Sunday trip to Grandma&#39;s house doesn&#39;t happen as often as before. You know, those Sunday afternoons when the grownups sat around in chairs outside and talked and laughed and ate good food while the kids ran around playing silly games and establishing clubs and forts. There was an acceptance and a freedom in knowing we were much loved. Cousins were in a class all their own and it did not matter the age difference, we all had something in common: we were family. &amp;nbsp;Of course that did not mean we were free to act anyway we wanted to. Nope, Mama Sosebee was quick to keep us in line at her house. But to me, that is just one more indication of her love for us.&lt;br /&gt;
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Mother once told me that in all the years they were together as a family, she never heard one of my aunts have harsh words with another. And in turn, I never heard my mom say anything negative or critical about any of them. I, personally, find that amazing. The bond of love and friendship was birthed in God and showed in their everyday lives. That is the core of what they have taught me. Unconditional love;&amp;nbsp;commitment&amp;nbsp;to family; concern for the lives of others; and being there. Always being there. There is strength in a family that stays true to God and to each other.&lt;br /&gt;
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I pray today that I can be hands on and user friendly to those God has placed in my life, that His love will be free to flow through me. &amp;nbsp;His love&amp;nbsp;surpasses&amp;nbsp;all hurt, offense, wounds and grief. Today my prayer is for my Uncle Jr and his family; that God&#39;s love and comfort will reach deep into their&amp;nbsp;spirits&amp;nbsp;and bring His peace.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1093176971158475758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/1093176971158475758?isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1093176971158475758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1093176971158475758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/03/awesome-aunt-agnes.html' title='Awesome Aunt Agnes'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTLUUCs51OzPM-g23STfVm2TecD9rdNyEfhtwMHHr0B0Fsg9SHeYCY9ubKkj-xuBYfFaZ1TO8YT7GWG86fJNepgCT1UepZsbRKQlfSodDy4HmQ0gTeq154G7LnUZfr8ZwuewxszHX_QhQ0/s72-c/191.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-2765132857236948817</id><published>2013-03-07T09:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2013-03-07T09:59:21.096-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Promise</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;
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It is very quiet and peaceful this morning. Looking out our bay window I see a sunny sky for the first time in a few days. Just staring at that soft blue sky with a fluffy white cloud here and there brings a calmness. I&#39;m content to sit and drink in God&#39;s gift to me this morning; another beautiful day filled with His love. His handiwork is all around me, in the beauty of nature.&lt;br /&gt;
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There is a little drama playing out in our backyard; one we see every year about this time. The trees are all barren and brown. Long spindly pines have a few green needles here and there but they are mostly at the top of their skinny trunks. The hardwoods are void of any&amp;nbsp;foliage.&amp;nbsp; They are brown and empty. Row after row of barrenness, as far as I can see. The trees reach up to the sky as if they are pleading to be released into new life. The grass is brown as well with a few muddy circles here and there left over from the recent rains. Overall its a drab scene.&lt;br /&gt;
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Right in the middle of all this barrenness is a yellow bell bush in full bloom. It&#39;s tiny yellow leaves are standing at attention, reaching up and capturing all the rays of the sun and reflecting them back into its surroundings. I love this bush and its message to me that spring is so very close. Every year I watch for it&#39;s blooming as a sign that new life is about to explode.&lt;/div&gt;
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A few weeks from now when everything around it has burst forth, the yellow bell bush will barely be noticed. It&#39;s yellow leaves will turn green and it will blend in with its surroundings. But today, this week, is it&#39;s time to shine. This little bush has a purpose, a command to herald the beginning of a new season. When everything around it is still asleep and barren, this little bush is shining, alive and bright.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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I&#39;m sure the little bush thinks he is all alone out there, listening to the Master&#39;s command to come forth, but little does he know that in the front yard there are yellow flowers blooming as well. They too are heralding the beginning of a new season and they too will blend in with the new colors in a few weeks. But they and the bush will have done their job. They have notified us that change is coming. Time to get out a new wardrobe, don new shoes and walk forth into spring.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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Thank you, God for the seasons in our lives, both in the natural and in the spiritual. You never leave us barren and drab but always there is a springtime. Even in the most dreary winters, there is the promise of spring. Thank you for the centennials who stand strong and point the way to new life, even when they feel all alone. We move from glory to glory on the wings of your love.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2765132857236948817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/2765132857236948817?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2765132857236948817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2765132857236948817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-promise.html' title='The Promise'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-2291344765661577201</id><published>2013-03-04T14:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2013-03-04T15:36:32.064-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You For Your Service, Sir</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
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This weekend, Royce&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;I drove to FL for our annual family reunion. It was around noon on Friday when we stopped to eat before helping with the set up for Saturday&#39;s&amp;nbsp;festivities. One of our favorite places to eat in Webster is at the Farmer&#39;s Market Cafe where they serve home cooked food. They have the best fried chicken and fresh peas and beans ... and banana puddin&#39;!&lt;br /&gt;
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Royce and I were waiting in the rockers on the front porch enjoying the crisp, sunny FL air with an old friend when an elderly couple came up. The man walked slowly with two canes while she followed with one cane. They were typical of older people who have learned to manage as their bodies begin to slow down but Royce&#39;s friend explained what was special about this couple. He was a&amp;nbsp;veteran&amp;nbsp;of World War II and had been injured at Iwa Jima.&lt;br /&gt;
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He was 17 when he joined the Marines and was sent to Iwa Jima where he had his knee cap blown off and had walked with assistance since.&lt;br /&gt;
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We said goodbye to our friend and went inside to eat. We were seated right next to the couple and as we listened to their conversation we noticed the gentleness and joy in their countenance and their words. People spoke and smiled and this sweet old man responded with the grace of the elderly.&lt;br /&gt;
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We wanted to pay their check, but before we could, the waitress came over to their table to say that someone had paid for their lunch. The retired Marine was confused as to why someone would do that.&lt;br /&gt;
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Over at the register stood this tall, robust cowboy. He wore working jeans, really cool rugged boots, an obviously much used work jacket and a rather large cowboy hat. &amp;nbsp;He was not a showroom kinda cowboy but an honest-to-goodness hard working guy,&amp;nbsp;probably&amp;nbsp;6&#39;4&quot; and obviously very strong and capable. The type guy you want on your team. &amp;nbsp;He turned around from the cash register and walked to the couple, tipped his hat to the Marine, then in a deep Sam Elliott type voice softened with respect, he said:&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;Thank you for your service to our country, Sir.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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Yep, Royce and I are tearing up. Then to the wife he tips his hat again, takes her hand and says in a gently resounding voice, &quot;thank &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt; m&#39;am.&quot; As he walked away he laid a hand on the Marine&#39;s shoulder and said, &quot;God bless you, Sir.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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That was all. No big show or long talk. Nothing showy or loud, just an honest thank you from a young man to an old one.&lt;br /&gt;
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Tears are now running down our cheeks but there was more. When the waitress came to clear their table the Marine handed her an obviously large tip which she tried to refuse. His reply: &quot;No ma&#39;m. This man has been kind to us and we need to spread it around.&quot; &amp;nbsp;Like his new friend, no big show, just an honest desire to pass on a blessing.&lt;br /&gt;
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By now I am a mess and my lunch is just sitting on my plate getting cold. We got a chance to talk for a bit with the Marine &amp;nbsp;and say our thanks. He could not stop thanking&lt;i&gt; us.&lt;/i&gt; How amazing that this kind and gentle man in his 80&#39;s or 90&#39;s, who had given much for all of us had such a thankful heart. No grudges, no animosity, no complaining - only a heart to bless others.&lt;br /&gt;
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I am certain there are many of all ages with that same attitude, but Friday morning was a reminder to us of the gentleness that once graced our country as a whole. Simple things like respecting our elders; loving our neighbors; showing honor to whom honor is due and loving with grace are all standards that God has placed in the hearts of His children. In Webster, FL, as well as towns big and small all over America, people still hold to those values. It&#39;s like an underground army strong in Him, marching to His beat.&lt;br /&gt;
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It would be nice if I had taken a photo to post with this blog; or even had I asked the Marine&#39;s name; but the moment was too intimate to sensationalize it. Instead I have this memory in my heart and I pray that somehow we can all grasp the importance of this simple encounter.&lt;br /&gt;
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We moved on to setting up tables and chairs and putting out flowers and all the&amp;nbsp;paraphernalia necessary for a family reunion. We were busy with life&#39;s routines, but in my heart I had a new friend. I believe that one day I will stand in Heaven and hear his name and I will know this dear man. Thank you Jesus for kindness.&lt;br /&gt;
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God bless America and all&lt;i&gt; He&lt;/i&gt; has placed within our borders. We are blessed beyond words.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;text Gal-5-22&quot; id=&quot;en-KJV-29185&quot;&gt;&lt;sup class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;Galations 5:22&amp;nbsp;&lt;/sup&gt;But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;text Gal-5-23&quot; id=&quot;en-KJV-29186&quot;&gt;&lt;sup class=&quot;versenum&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;&quot;&gt;23&amp;nbsp;&lt;/sup&gt;Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2291344765661577201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/2291344765661577201?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2291344765661577201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/2291344765661577201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2013/03/thank-you-for-your-service-sir.html' title='Thank You For Your Service, Sir'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-1957085229258178231</id><published>2012-11-18T17:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-11-18T17:21:46.812-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Teardrops in the Light</title><content type='html'>This morning I spent a couple of hours shut up in my bedroom sipping on coffee while I cried my way through a Hallmark movie.&lt;i&gt; The Christmas Cottage&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;was, &quot;inspired by actual events&quot; in Thomas Kinkade&#39;s early life. We all know that &quot;inspired by actual events&quot; &amp;nbsp;leaves a lot of room for the writer&#39;s imagination, but this morning I chose to believe that the main points of the movie were absolutely true!&lt;br /&gt;
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The story was actually written in honor of one of Thomas Kinkaid&#39;s mentors. Peter O&#39;Toole&amp;nbsp;portrays&amp;nbsp;the mentor, Glen Weissler. The movie is set in 1977 during Christmas break when Thomas and his brother, Pat come home to find mom in financial trouble. Right away, it had me because these two young men were willing to put their lives aside to help mom. According to my limited research, that part of the movie is true and was the stepping stone to Kinkad&#39;s career as an artist.&lt;br /&gt;
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Glen was an elderly gentleman who had a studio home on the edge of their property and over the years he and Thomas had become close. At the point of the movie, Thomas Kinkade had not yet become the &quot;Painter of Light&quot; as we know him today. His work was described as good drawings, but lacking heart.&lt;br /&gt;
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In 1977, Glen Weissler was very old and plagued with crippling arthritis. Every time Thomas visited Glen, he would encourage the old artist to paint just one more time. This was next to impossible due to arthritis that had deformed Glen&#39;s hands. Still, over and over, Thomas and the rest of the cast insisted that he paint again. I felt really bad for the old guy and wanted to tell them to leave him alone. He was obviously close to death; let him die in peace already. But, that would not have been nearly so wonderful an ending.&lt;br /&gt;
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You see, Glen did have one more painting in him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Even with his hands deformed and&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;losing his grip on reality, the old artist had not yet fulfilled the last of his calling on this earth.&amp;nbsp;He had been struggling with how to create on canvas a memorial to someone he loved. Over and over he tried to paint his pain, but it never satisfied him.&lt;br /&gt;
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One evening Thomas goes to him and in tears thanks him for his friendship and help and pleads with him not to give up. He then lights a small candle and leaves it on the table. After he leaves, Glen,&amp;nbsp;inspired&amp;nbsp;by the small flame, &amp;nbsp;picks up his brush and creates one last masterpiece.&lt;br /&gt;
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Of course the next day is Christmas and the old man trudges through the snow all the way to the Kinkad&amp;nbsp;cottage&amp;nbsp;(OK, this part of the story is probably imagination, but it certainly brought more tears.).&lt;br /&gt;
He came to give this last work of art to the Kinkad family as a Christmas gift. The piece was a beautiful painting of fall leaves with the brilliance of the sky and the light flooding through. And then, with a&amp;nbsp;gnarled&amp;nbsp; arthritic hand he reached up and rubbed Thomas cheek and told him:&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;Paint the light, Thomas, paint the light.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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The old artist goes on to explain that leaves grow and become green and then turn colors and finally fall away. But the light .... the light is always there. Paint the light!&amp;nbsp;He encouraged Thomas to look at the light and not the dark.&lt;br /&gt;
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Thomas Kinkad went on to become known as &amp;nbsp;the &quot;Painter of Light.&quot; For years his paintings warmed and inspired the hearts of many people, including me. That revelation was dropped in his heart at the beginning of his career by someone who was only days away from going home. I find that incredibly encouraging.&lt;br /&gt;
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Glen was old. He was weak and dying. Many days he could not talk intelligently. And yet, in that state, he was able to receive a revelation of light and pass it along to the next generation.&lt;br /&gt;
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As long as we have breath, we have something to give.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is n o variableness, neither shadow of turning. James 1:17&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1957085229258178231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/1957085229258178231?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1957085229258178231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1957085229258178231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2012/11/teardrops-in-light.html' title='Teardrops in the Light'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-5206166732836955207</id><published>2012-09-21T11:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-09-26T11:59:32.250-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;h1 style=&quot;margin-left: 2in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;&quot;&gt;
Are You My Daddy?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Susanna fidgeted as she sat on the long wooden bench outside
the train depot. It had been a long day; one she would never forget. The events
of the past few hours were engrained on her heart and mind with deep crevices
running all through her person. Adopted. After waiting so long for a real
parent, someone had come and asked to take her. The strangest part was that she
never even saw them.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;For as long as she could remember she had lived with others
who were without parents also. The lifestyle was a hard one with many bosses
and much work to do. Susanna had tried to be obedient but many times she was
harshly disciplined for even the smallest mistake. Oh, some of the people there
were nice and tried to help but they were not her real parents, she could never
forget that. It ate at her deep inside. In the night she would lie awake and
ponder her situation, wondering who her real daddy was and why she had to live
with all these other lost children. It was strange; she had no memory of her
life before this place. She had never met her daddy but deep inside she knew he
was not dead like they told her. She just knew it!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;And then early one morning, right about the time the first
bird of the day began his song outside her window, right before she had to
start her day, right about that time, someone she had never seen before came to
tell her that things were changing. Susanna had looked around to see if any of
the other girls were awake but she was the only one. The messenger instructed
her to get up and dress and follow him. Susanna’s real father was calling for
her.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;And now, here she was, sitting on this long wooden bench
after an exciting train ride through the early morning hours. Susanna had no
idea who had paid her ticket and bought her food, but all was taken care of and
she had travelled very comfortably. Time ticked away and she tried ever so hard
to be patient but the suspense was unnerving. What would her new life be like?
Would there be a lot of work to be done like she was accustomed to? Or would
she be spoiled like the little girls she had seen with their mommies in the
stores? Girls who pouted and fussed over the smallest details.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Susanna did not think she would like being spoiled, at least
not for long. But a little while might be fun. Just to see what it felt like.
Mostly though she just wanted to meet her daddy. She wanted to sit in his lap
and listen to him tell her stories. Work did not bother her as long as she
could finally meet her real daddy. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;The day wore on and Susanna began to feel tired and a tad
hungry. She watched the other passengers being met and taken away one by one
and still no one came for her. Was this some sort of cruel joke? Surely not!
She had been so hopeful that her time in the orphanage was finally over.
Susanna fidgeted and watched the birds flitting through the branches overhead.
The tree was extra beautiful to her today. Most likely it had stood over the
depot for many years, shading those who waited here. Susanna thought about
climbing that tree, wondering how the view would be from up high. &amp;nbsp;After a while she grew tired of that
imagination and looked around for something else to occupy her anxious mind. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;She found that if she would close her eyes very tightly and
listen she could almost tell whether it was a man or a woman walking behind
her. That distraction did not last long though since there were few people
about. The bench was carved here and there with initials, but Susanna had nothing
to carve with. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;The sun rose higher in the sky and began peeking through the
branches, warming her back and bringing a peaceful comfort deep inside. Maybe
she would close her eyes for just a minute. Susanna was accustomed to rising
early and working, cleaning, obeying the bosses in whatever they instructed her
to do. She did not have free time to just sit during the day. Always there was
work to be done. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Susanna let her mind wander back to the messenger who had
brought her out of the orphanage. He was kind and gentle and she had
immediately trusted him, even though he was a large man and very strong. She
had felt his muscles when he picked her up and sat her on the train steps.
After that he had stood close by all during the train ride, protecting her –
from what she was not sure, but she was surely glad he was there. And then,
when she arrived here she could not find him although she somehow sensed he was
close by. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Susanna was getting tired of waiting, but she wasn’t afraid.
The adventure had captivated her heart and she was ready for whomever or
whatever came next. Across the train track she spied an open field with
wildflowers growing everywhere. Oranges, reds, even browns that were more
beautiful than any she had seen. Why had she not noticed them earlier? Susanna
wanted to run through and pick a big bouquet for her new daddy, but the
messenger had told her to wait here, so wait she would. Deep inside she knew something
wonderful was coming; something more awesome than she had ever experienced. And
so she was determined to wait. Squirming, shifting, and straining to see down
the road that ran alongside the track, her body fairly shook with anticipation
but she kept herself glued to the bench. Waiting…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Actually, waiting was more difficult than working back at
the orphanage. By now the other girls would be cleaning the floors and dusting
the furniture. There would be the sound of others outside sawing and nailing; &amp;nbsp;building, there was always building. Susanna
had often wondered why so many came to live at the orphanage when the lifestyle
there was so difficult. Occasionally a few would leave but mostly they just
came and stayed and worked. And worked. Truthfully though, she would not mind a
little work right now. It would be easier than just sitting here. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Sighing, Susanna lay back against the warm bench and let the
midday breeze wash over her. Slowly she drifted into a peaceful sleep. Visions
of her new home and her new daddy filled her dreams. The day went on around her
with trains coming and going, passengers arriving and leaving with their loved
ones, until gradually all activity came to a stop. Suddenly Susanna sat
straight up. How long had she slept? The depot was deserted and quiet. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Susanna’s heart sank. Had she missed her meeting with her
daddy? Had he come and found her asleep and merely walked away without her? Her
throat closed up and her chest ached so badly she could barely breathe. Tears
filled her eyes as she stood and slowly looked around. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;And then she saw him. He was standing just a little ways
off, watching her intently. But, this was a young man, not old enough to be her
daddy. For a moment they stared at each other and she found his eyes to be the
most beautiful she had ever seen. They were strangely familiar. Perhaps he was
related to the messenger who had brought her out of the orphanage. Either way,
his eyes were mesmerizing. Looking into them, Susanna realized he knew
everything there was to know about her. Her heart relaxed in his gaze and
snuggled down into the warmth she found there. After a few moments, the young
man stepped toward her.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Susanna dropped her head. “I thought I had missed you,” she whispered.
&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;His reply came in a whisper also, “Dear Susanna. I have been
watching you rest; waiting for you to wake up. Do you think I have waited all
these years for you, just to leave you while you were napping? Your Father
understands you sometimes need rest.” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Then, gently, ever so gently, he took her hand. Not knowing
what was happening, but trusting him completely, she placed her hand in his.
“Are you my new daddy?” she asked. And then he smiled. &amp;nbsp;His smile had the same effect on her as his
gaze had earlier. She could trust this man. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;“No,” he replied, “but I will take you to meet him.”
Nodding, she fell into step alongside him. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;“Who are you then?” she asked. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;“I am your brother. And I will always be with you. From this
point forward I will never leave your side.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Susanna was engulfed in the security of his voice and knew
deep in her heart that he was telling her the absolute truth. Oh, if only her
new daddy was going to be this wonderful. As if he could read her mind, the
young man spoke again.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;“You do not need to worry, Susanna, our Father is exactly
like me. Actually, most people say if you’ve seen me, you’ve seen him.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
Suzanna stretched and slowly opened her eyes to her
surroundings. How strange it was to dream about her time years ago when her new
Father first called her out of the orphanage. It had been a long and exciting
adventure since then, and yet, in her dream it seemed like she was walking
through it all over again. Perhaps it was because she was in such a place of
change right now. After all this time, she should know to trust her daddy and
believe that he was taking care of things, but this latest change in her life
had brought many questions tumbling back into her heart. Oh, not questions
about his care, but questions about her ability to hear and understand his
directions.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;“I suppose,” she
mumbled to herself,” that somewhere deep inside, I am still that little girl
waiting not so patiently on the wooden bench outside the train depot.”&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;Suzanna&#39;s travels continue...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5206166732836955207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/5206166732836955207?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/5206166732836955207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/5206166732836955207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2012/09/are-you-my-daddy-susanna-fidgeted-as.html' title=''/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-1306966815785533005</id><published>2012-08-02T21:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-08-02T21:43:09.649-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It&#39;s time to stand up and be counted.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;iframe allowfullscreen=&#39;allowfullscreen&#39; webkitallowfullscreen=&#39;webkitallowfullscreen&#39; mozallowfullscreen=&#39;mozallowfullscreen&#39; width=&#39;320&#39; height=&#39;266&#39; src=&#39;https://www.youtube.com/embed/Rq7SAQx9LzM?feature=player_embedded&#39; frameborder=&#39;0&#39;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1306966815785533005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/1306966815785533005?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1306966815785533005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1306966815785533005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2012/08/its-time-to-stand-up-and-be-counted.html' title='It&#39;s time to stand up and be counted.'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-3263189753128087114</id><published>2012-07-11T15:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-07-11T15:46:10.196-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift of Fear</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBeF0hBPNlWG5b4PgtnPAfj6TTXzsu9I0mYkygvBJwW_Iniubvi0D1S0C_FHe0FwlOwEX7kxFyqcBpEcS3ZhjFl_02Ol1RDba6VOgAJ544ON71hz_eDjeQpbaehLpslU1yT8fGrPdiIaZl/s1600/FL+Trip+June+2012+045.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;265&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBeF0hBPNlWG5b4PgtnPAfj6TTXzsu9I0mYkygvBJwW_Iniubvi0D1S0C_FHe0FwlOwEX7kxFyqcBpEcS3ZhjFl_02Ol1RDba6VOgAJ544ON71hz_eDjeQpbaehLpslU1yT8fGrPdiIaZl/s400/FL+Trip+June+2012+045.JPG&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
Is it even possible that God would give a &#39;gift of fear?&#39; &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Isaiah 45:7 says:&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I form the light and create darkness, I make peace and create calamity; I, the Lord, do all these things.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Earlier in the same chapter in verse four, the Lord says: &quot;I will give you the treasures of darkness and hidden riches of secret places. That you may know that I the Lord, who call you by your name, am the God of Israel.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have been in my own darkness and felt fear in my life many times over. I would like to say I have always overcome but that just isn&#39;t the case. Often, I have tucked tail and run like a deer to safety. But that does not change the truth that His presence was and always is, able to cast out the fear and give me the courage to go forward. The times I have listened to Him and allowed that courage to rise up have been wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Not long ago I heard a sermon about being courageous and how you cannot be courageous unless you first have fear. I pondered that for a while then let it go. Then, one day this week I was talking aloud to God about my personal battle with fear when I heard a strange word in my spirit - &#39;your fear is my gift to you.&#39; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The &amp;nbsp;Lord instructs us to &#39;be courageous.&#39; Being courageous means doing something even though you are afraid. If I am fearless, then walking into a situation is routine - just another day at the mill. But, if I have fear and yet choose to trust God and walk into that situation anyway, then I am an overcomer. The very fear that hinders me is also an instrument to making me courageous.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Perfect love casts out fear. If I had a dime for every time some &quot;mature&quot; believer quoted that one to me, I would be rich. I may be too simple, but if I understand that passage correctly, John&#39;s subject is love. The love of Jesus who died for us leaving no room for fear of judgement.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, today I &amp;nbsp;suggest that perhaps, just perhaps, your fear is a gift from God. An obstacle to be overcome with and through His perfect love. And when you have overcome you will have created one more place of worship to God the Father. The glory of His presence in that place where fear once reigned will create a deeper worship of Him. It is one more way of creating an atmosphere of worship.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The sin is not in the fearing, the sin is in letting the fear control you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No fear, no courage. &amp;nbsp;Either I am His or I am not His. And if I am His, then I am fully His. He ordains my steps and allows the obstacles I need to become courageous in Him. Not in my own strength but in His. He only allows trials where he has already made provision for winning and He never sets me up for failure. The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty!&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/3263189753128087114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/3263189753128087114?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/3263189753128087114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/3263189753128087114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2012/07/gift-of-fear.html' title='The Gift of Fear'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBeF0hBPNlWG5b4PgtnPAfj6TTXzsu9I0mYkygvBJwW_Iniubvi0D1S0C_FHe0FwlOwEX7kxFyqcBpEcS3ZhjFl_02Ol1RDba6VOgAJ544ON71hz_eDjeQpbaehLpslU1yT8fGrPdiIaZl/s72-c/FL+Trip+June+2012+045.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-1261426492213202609</id><published>2012-07-08T17:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-07-08T17:40:50.250-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We Are Alive and Well in Newnan, GA!</title><content type='html'>July 4th has come and gone once again and America is another year older. It reminds me of the old Tennessee Ernie Ford song:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;another day older and deeper in debt. St Peter don&#39;t you call me, &#39;cause I can&#39;t go. I owe my soul to the company store.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&amp;nbsp;Deeper in debt and fewer jobs to pay the debt; that is our reality in America. A&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;s unsettling as that is, my post today is about the other side of the story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Saturday was Market Day on the square in Newnan and if you were strolling through the vendor&#39;s tents with the rest of us, you were surely encouraged by the atmosphere, the buying and selling and the trading going on all around us. Spirits were high, the weather was beautiful and free enterprise was thriving! Ahhhh.... we Americans do love a good deal.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Days like that remind me that in all our progress and struggles, Americans are still pretty much the same as always. Kids still run ahead or tug on Mom&#39;s arm; dogs bark excitedly when they see a friend; the food smells are mouth watering and people talk to strangers like they were closest of friends. There are the&amp;nbsp;sophisticated&amp;nbsp;in their finer and the teens in their finest unfinery. We are who we are and all in all we haven&#39;t changed much over the years.&lt;br /&gt;
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Don&#39;t you love the pink hair on this little girl? How wonderful the freedom to be who we are!&lt;br /&gt;
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The pickers were on every corner.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;One of the merchants we talked with was a young man probably in his early 60&#39;s, selling homemade salsa. Very good homemade salsa I might add. He explained it has a green pepper base rather than the traditional tomato base. He assured me I would like it, which I did and had to have a jar. I asked if he made it himself and of course he did. He cooks it in small batches and brings it down to sell. I wondered how he got into making salsa to sell. Turns out, he lost his job and had to find another source of income. I immediately wanted to buy more salsa - just because. Well, just because he refused to lay down and quit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNWGJSOOj8m1XEBa7AuC-Na7ZjyfXNNh8MY2SbnOjMBdnwjxVitAyrmKfSV2UvZW3xOm5SGAqO0xe2skNbjgo-bnage8xUA8TUpGUUpJDU96ofNbTtgPiCL9asDf1rhMWE4HFfePNUkTl/s1600/Market+Day+Newnan+July+2012+007.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNWGJSOOj8m1XEBa7AuC-Na7ZjyfXNNh8MY2SbnOjMBdnwjxVitAyrmKfSV2UvZW3xOm5SGAqO0xe2skNbjgo-bnage8xUA8TUpGUUpJDU96ofNbTtgPiCL9asDf1rhMWE4HFfePNUkTl/s400/Market+Day+Newnan+July+2012+007.JPG&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;Next was an elderly gentleman who looked like he should be selling fried chicken but instead he was comfortably sitting in the shade while folks poured over his beautiful handmade pottery.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;Then there was the huge grill filled with the best smelling bar-b-que chicken in the entire universe! No joking - I wanted to pick a piece up right off the grill and let the sauce drip while I ate. Unfortunately, we missed his stand on our way out, so I didn&#39;t get their story, but he and his wife ran the stand by themselves and from the looks of things, they were having a very profitable day.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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The chicken smelled so good, I had to post it twice!&lt;br /&gt;
So, OK, that was actually a mistake but what the heck - it did look yummy.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;There appears to be no end to the things we come up with to pay our way in this world - everything from potato bags to baby dresses to blankets and of course fresh from the garden veggies. All in all, if you were walking through Newnan, GA, on Saturday morning you were aware that God&#39;s blessings are raining down on His people. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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It&#39;s hard to pass up a good bag of pig skins!&lt;br /&gt;
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In our economy, our spirituality, our finances, our family relationships, Americans are struggling. But days like Saturday remind me that we are still afloat in the best country in the world. Our values at the grassroots are strong and our determination is intact. We have battles, but we are looking to the One True God who holds us in the palm of His hand.&lt;br /&gt;
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The last guy we saw summed it all up very nicely.&lt;br /&gt;
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Lovin&#39; the season and making the memories!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1261426492213202609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/1261426492213202609?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1261426492213202609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1261426492213202609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2012/07/july-4th-has-come-and-gone-once-again.html' title='We Are Alive and Well in Newnan, GA!'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu8kBQEZJHHqhyphenhyphenuj6GDGDAcqEc0X7ksqA9Gj8nW3ksYbi0_-Y-3YV9mLbRNIWhgRpKzbK_UuyugB_PhV2O8HGkF-EjWCxjTTzJmmMQm_AzVnRUTEb3faIcJFR23p9B9DGYUGAZFr0PyiqZ/s72-c/Market+Day+Newnan+July+2012+018.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-7180867168576929762</id><published>2012-06-04T11:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-06-04T11:54:48.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shifting</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjDVuf9dilrCymqome_jlCmV63BQOosgVrxn5f6AlnyB-wWg-KGsdwegFYfitU4ol-W9t7V61K8BMnlcITClgZtAGEMNCKy_esy2GuKTqRS7nRBgoOeEUbQmNMBLTozF0exTVC46EHJ0G/s1600/DSC_8786.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;267&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjDVuf9dilrCymqome_jlCmV63BQOosgVrxn5f6AlnyB-wWg-KGsdwegFYfitU4ol-W9t7V61K8BMnlcITClgZtAGEMNCKy_esy2GuKTqRS7nRBgoOeEUbQmNMBLTozF0exTVC46EHJ0G/s400/DSC_8786.JPG&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
Some of you know that for several years we have been talking about selling our home and downsizing. It seems every time we get close something happens to change our mind. Well, apparently, this time it is for real.&lt;br /&gt;
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We love having guests stay in our home; we love having people in for dinner and a good time of singing; and we love family get togethers. &lt;br /&gt;
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In our new home, our guests&amp;nbsp;may have a smaller room, a &#39;quaint&#39; bathroom and overall live a little closer while they are with us, but we will have just as much fun being together.&amp;nbsp;I love a house full of laughter and love. That will not change - just as much laughter and love but scrunched a bit into a smaller space.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiYU4oiLU8jzPDAkDjJK_0ulE6phE3Bycb8wcSJYtDimIi6sfUwii8ipd0xUJoChoCTvqc1zeQ3WpuB06qTMsePD7KT7cCm5lo-LiAMxtB7cbL8hGCZ3rJ1eFctzqJ-sRqFyab3d5MoNDq/s1600/DSC_3243.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;267&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiYU4oiLU8jzPDAkDjJK_0ulE6phE3Bycb8wcSJYtDimIi6sfUwii8ipd0xUJoChoCTvqc1zeQ3WpuB06qTMsePD7KT7cCm5lo-LiAMxtB7cbL8hGCZ3rJ1eFctzqJ-sRqFyab3d5MoNDq/s400/DSC_3243.JPG&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
The funny thing is, this time next month I may be posting how our house won&#39;t sell and we are ready to be done with all the showing - or not showing - as the case may be.&lt;br /&gt;
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Who knows what this next season may bring? Whatever it is, I am certain the Lord has already made provision and paved the way. He&#39;s like that you know. Our steps&amp;nbsp;are&amp;nbsp;ordered of the Lord and it is our joy to follow Him.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_H86jcuXkvnhWqZMSLomMIcOpLovPU-dc5ORWAViSb9Nqcs2XBEW0TgEisdw8djbnSM4tJDwA6tqXoNhUlADRLWRbOdD134KbXWWH55v3VF3pcyTQb53gRWX3aqw0Kkkp4mIACA4TrFR9/s1600/DSC_6242.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;214&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_H86jcuXkvnhWqZMSLomMIcOpLovPU-dc5ORWAViSb9Nqcs2XBEW0TgEisdw8djbnSM4tJDwA6tqXoNhUlADRLWRbOdD134KbXWWH55v3VF3pcyTQb53gRWX3aqw0Kkkp4mIACA4TrFR9/s320/DSC_6242.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Whatever season you are in at the moment, I pray it is full of joy!&lt;br /&gt;
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Lovin&#39; the season...&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglujvGuQeoJNJLqEPNG83lZcFBN3PHVqwaLrP54KEDss1Moz7sEjmiRmqpLpRus0ZQGoeDLF48RSElLvxKmeRJ1ArtE5Bxx9LYK4alqV5lGVBbBD0GgDNyXQQzfVCXhDCuaTMpn-p-87hV/s1600/Stills+030.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;267&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglujvGuQeoJNJLqEPNG83lZcFBN3PHVqwaLrP54KEDss1Moz7sEjmiRmqpLpRus0ZQGoeDLF48RSElLvxKmeRJ1ArtE5Bxx9LYK4alqV5lGVBbBD0GgDNyXQQzfVCXhDCuaTMpn-p-87hV/s400/Stills+030.JPG&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Our MLS# is 3238147 if you or someone you know may be interested.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7180867168576929762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/7180867168576929762?isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/7180867168576929762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/7180867168576929762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2012/06/shifting.html' title='Shifting'/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjDVuf9dilrCymqome_jlCmV63BQOosgVrxn5f6AlnyB-wWg-KGsdwegFYfitU4ol-W9t7V61K8BMnlcITClgZtAGEMNCKy_esy2GuKTqRS7nRBgoOeEUbQmNMBLTozF0exTVC46EHJ0G/s72-c/DSC_8786.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425713351889963773.post-1136829404557138503</id><published>2012-06-03T18:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2012-06-03T18:42:15.443-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh182pCB4AFkaXT5BbqF55C8WxiOJT4d1z18LJQOIy8Eoy2Rem7fmZrqUaKZv1xvkHa7WT0QUgUV3Vr9-SVa2QaikCaVH-kDCKtA_jfsquvsc8xRNDPfMReoQAqlnPSWuZeyo6Hw6e1-2Vu/s1600/I+Phone+Pics+6-3-12+033.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh182pCB4AFkaXT5BbqF55C8WxiOJT4d1z18LJQOIy8Eoy2Rem7fmZrqUaKZv1xvkHa7WT0QUgUV3Vr9-SVa2QaikCaVH-kDCKtA_jfsquvsc8xRNDPfMReoQAqlnPSWuZeyo6Hw6e1-2Vu/s400/I+Phone+Pics+6-3-12+033.JPG&quot; width=&quot;300&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
I have a new &#39;do.&#39; Not just a normal do, but a drastic &lt;i&gt;OMG you are bald,&lt;/i&gt; one. I wore my hair similar to this years ago and it looked pretty good. So, I was thinking how cute and pixie I looked with it all cut off. My little thin face was all glowy and my eyes were sparkly, so why not do &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; again?&lt;br /&gt;
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OMG!!! I am all face!! &amp;nbsp;My not so sparkly eyes are hard to find with all the droopy around the edges and the red hair is mostly grey/white. I have had mixed reviews on it. Royce says he likes it, but&amp;nbsp;occasionally&amp;nbsp;when I enter the room unexpectedly he starts to laugh. Is that a good sign? Probably not. Actually, he thought I had it colored until I explained that when I cut the red off all the underneath was white. All he said was oh...&lt;br /&gt;
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Not sure why I&#39;m telling y&#39;all this; it has no significance in the overall scheme of things, except to remind me that those who love me also love my big face.&amp;nbsp;They accept me and though they may call me a man right to my face, &amp;nbsp;(you know who you are), they really do have my back. Ok, I admit, I said that to you first.&lt;br /&gt;
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The upside is, I can dry and style it in about ten minutes flat. I don&#39;t even need a brush really - just a tousle will do. And hair products will most likely last me years since I can only use a teeny tiny dab each time.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdK9zndkm0opV5Tu6k1p12hq9QgNxdZmrSrPK1_9S2NibYR-4Sh0IN2DHFb3KHuG36U1Xm3k_vw6IHUk2Mq_pkopxoSkQv_LUiWW6tMGR15eLSnIz9jAM-LBwJNOvXDDRTehr5WDpAknmp/s1600/for+blog.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdK9zndkm0opV5Tu6k1p12hq9QgNxdZmrSrPK1_9S2NibYR-4Sh0IN2DHFb3KHuG36U1Xm3k_vw6IHUk2Mq_pkopxoSkQv_LUiWW6tMGR15eLSnIz9jAM-LBwJNOvXDDRTehr5WDpAknmp/s320/for+blog.jpg&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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My new hair freedom is just one more thing I am excited about in my life these days. It is wonderful to have time to do the things you dream about when you are young. And yes, it is good that I have more free time because things tend to take longer than before.&lt;br /&gt;
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So, take my advice, love your life and enjoy the people who love you because one day you may have a new &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; that makes you look like a man and you will appreciate those who laugh with you and not at you. You will be glad you kept their secrets; prayed with and for them; stood with them and loved them through it all. They will owe you.&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you, I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.&quot; Isaiah 46: 4
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Lovin&#39; the season...&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1136829404557138503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/1425713351889963773/1136829404557138503?isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1136829404557138503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1425713351889963773/posts/default/1136829404557138503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://seasonsandmemories.blogspot.com/2012/06/i-have-new-do.html' title=''/><author><name>MrsRitaMarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04469813279077393767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh182pCB4AFkaXT5BbqF55C8WxiOJT4d1z18LJQOIy8Eoy2Rem7fmZrqUaKZv1xvkHa7WT0QUgUV3Vr9-SVa2QaikCaVH-kDCKtA_jfsquvsc8xRNDPfMReoQAqlnPSWuZeyo6Hw6e1-2Vu/s72-c/I+Phone+Pics+6-3-12+033.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>