Memory Monday: Photo Flashback

First stop after that very first road trip? Disney World! 

Grandma, Me, Meah and Mom. Dad's behind the camera! 

Yes, Meah and I are wearing matching outfits and yes Meah is sportin' a fanny pack. 

Good times. :)

Proof (plus some super cute pictures!)

Let's take a look at Wednesday's picture of me again.

Okay, these first two pictures were my attempt to recreate the first photo. Also they're just super cute so I included them.

But here is the proof that he has ears like his Momma! Look at those ears! So so cute! Okay, can you tell I'm a bit biased? Plus? That smile is only the best smile I've ever seen before! Makes my heart melt!

He'a 4 months today! Love you little boy!

Unfadingly Beautiful

In my early twenties, for 5 summers in a row, I volunteered at a camp for kids ages 7-11 who have been victims of abuse and neglect. The camp is one week long and we pour every ounce of love, encouragement and fun we can into the kids during that week. My favorite event during the week is the birthday party. We throw one big birthday party to celebrate all the campers' birthdays. The boys wear ties and tuxedo shirts. And the girls-oh the girls wear beautiful dresses and have their hair and makeup done and wear jewelry and practice walking in sparkly high heels. And inevitably, every year, at least one of the girls says something like,"Look at me! I'm a princess!" or "I'm so beautiful!"

And you know what? Every  one of them is beautiful. Every one is a princess. And it's not the hair and makeup or the jewelry and beautiful clothing that makes this true, for they were beautiful long before and after the birthday party. Sometimes, though, those things are just tools that help bring out the beauty that's already there- the beauty that's been there all along. Truly what makes those girls beautiful is the hand of a Creator Who looked and called them good after He designed each and every one of them. Uniquely designed. Amazingly lovely. Unfadingly beautiful.

I believe that for every day of her life, every woman should get to look in a mirror and sincerely declare, "I am a princess! I am so beautiful!" And that, my friends? That is why I love Unfading Beauty- the spring fashion review my church puts on every other year. Because whether you are walking down the runway or sitting in audience, the goal of the show is for you to know that you are beautiful. You are amazingly unique and lovely and you deserve to be celebrated. And if it takes a little make-up and a cute outfit to get you to realize what we already know about you, what God already knows about you- well- let's make a night of it then!

So bring your girl friends and your daughters and your momma and your aunts and go and be celebrated for the uniquely made, beautiful woman you are. And while you're there, review the latest fashion trends with modesty in mind, have some dessert, enter (and hopefully win!) some fabulous giveaways, shop at local vendors' booths, hear a passionate woman speak all about you, and mix and mingle with other beautifully made ladies.

And if that's not enough for you, join us for breakfast the following morning and a mini-conference designed with you in mind! Sign up for a break-out session, be encouraged by a great speaker and walk away with tools to help you love you more and more! I'll see you there next Friday at 7:00 at Christ's Place Church! More details here!

Less Words Wednesday: The First

It's true.
I was born.
On this day, 28 years ago.

This picture was taken around my first birthday. Insert oohs and ahhs here.  Look at those ears! You can hear a dog whistle with ears like those! Also? Lincoln has ears like those, too. They're genetic apparently. I'll prove it later when I can take a picture when He's NOT sleeping. I don't care if you don't believe me. I refuse to wake him just to prove this point.

Hmmm....apparently turning 28 makes you snotty towards your blog readers. Sorry. :)

Wow, that's a lot of words for "Less Words Wednesday". Better wrap it up. Have a good day. Eat some cake for me! (I mean, with me, cause it's my birthday and I'll eat cake if I wanna!)

Memory Monday: What Wednesdays Used to Mean

I got the old photo albums out the other day. The ones with pictures of me when I was small, and of Meah, too. Pages filled with my smiling parents, arms around each other. Meah here petting a rabbit at the County Fair; me there crying on the carnival ride I thought I wanted to go on but changed my mind too late. 
Memories.
     It's funny what change can do to memories. Change like your parent's divorce or your sister's death. Drastic changes can make true remembrances seem instead like mirages so that when you get close you see they are not what you thought they were; what you thought you remembered. But that is Satan's lie, for they are what they were when they were made-fossils from a time, frozen and preserved. Though life now may look drastically different from the times of those memories, they are still true. Aren't they?
     It's then that I realized I needed to preserve those memories. Fossilize them right where they were when they were made. Put words to the pictures I know so well. Put words to the life I can forget if I'm not careful. A sister I loved, now gone. A family I cherished, now scattered. But I have those memories. And in them- the pulse, the heartbeat of a time I long to remember. A time that made me, largely, who I am right now. A time I can't find anymore but know was there because of the memories.
     Do you want to join me? Lock arms with me as I toddle down that lane? You know the one- that lane with all the memories. Perhaps you, too, have some that need revisiting, need refocusing, just need conjured up for a while. Perhaps you have some you need to preserve? Lock arms with me then. Toddle with me now. We'll see what we can see. We'll find what we can remember.


So thank you for joining me for Memory Monday. And here is what Wednesdays used to mean.


My dad has worked for Shopko since before I was born. He started out as the guy you call when somebody steals something, and worked his way up to manager of the whole store- a position he still holds. He worked mostly day hours when we were little, but on Wednesday nights he had to close the store, which meant he wasn't home until Meah and I were asleep. So Wednesday nights were just for us girls. 
Momma would be there to meet us at the door when the school bus dropped us off from school. Then we'd hurry excitedly and finish our chores because it was Wednesday, and we knew what Wednesday meant. After quick chores (and an after-school snack, of course) our Wednesday would begin.
In cold weather, we'd climb into Momma's car and cruise around town spotting Christmas lights or singing loudly to the radio. In nice weather, we'd take the long way downtown, towards Shining Lake Michigan, to play at the park on the little makeshift beach while Momma watched on and laughed that soft, tender laugh she still laughs with me today. Then we'd pile back in the car and drive to Pizza Hut which may as well have been Disney World- we loved it that much. We'd order our deep dish sausage pizza and breadsticks and tell stories about the boy at school who fell asleep during math today, and the girl who wore the same shirt as Meah without them even planning it, and didn't Momma think my hair would look better if I got it cut like just like hers and what, oh what movies would we rent tonight and could I please have a Kit-Kat AND a Reese's Peanut Butter cup because I got an A on my spelling test? And Momma would smile and laugh and nod "yes" or shake "no" and look at her girls the same way I look at my tiny ones now. And we loved our girl time and we loved our Momma.
Then after we'd stuffed ourselves full of pizza and bread we'd go to the movie store and pick out two movies, because Wednesdays meant getting to stay up just a bit later. Then we'd trek on home and Meah'd pop popcorn and I'd gather blankets and our great big pillow. And we'd smooth blankets flat on the living room floor, one on top of the other making a cushy movie palette and Meah and I would sit with our popcorn and our only one piece of candy (because A's on spelling tests don't mean excess candy) and Momma'd sit behind us on the couch- a Momma bird over her brood- and we'd watch our movies and eat our treats and Wednesdays meant something special. 
Then, after the candy, after the popcorn, after the movies and all the talking and fun, Momma'd tuck her baby birds into bed with kisses and hugs and that same, tender smile. And we loved our Wednesdays and we loved our Momma. And in the quietness of the room we shared, with tired eyes and happy hearts, Meah and I would discuss our favorite parts of the movies and what we'd want to see next week and how much we loved what Wednesdays meant.

Less Words Wednesday- Gone Fishin'

Fishing net- $1.78 Walmart
Foam Letters- From puzzle at Dollar Tree
Red Tub- $2.50 Walmart

Great indoor learning fun!

Memory Monday- How I Came to Love the Road

I got the old photo albums out the other day. The ones with pictures of me when I was small, and of Meah, too. Pages filled with my smiling parents, arms around each other. Meah here petting a rabbit at the County Fair; me there crying on the carnival ride I thought I wanted to go on but changed my mind too late. 
Memories.
     It's funny what change can do to memories. Change like your parent's divorce or your sister's death. Drastic changes can make true remembrances seem instead like mirages so that when you get close you see they are not what you thought they were; what you thought you remembered. But that is Satan's lie, for they are what they were when they were made-fossils from a time, frozen and preserved. Though life now may look drastically different from the times of those memories, they are still true. Aren't they?
     It's then that I realized I needed to preserve those memories. Fossilize them right where they were when they were made. Put words to the pictures I know so well. Put words to the life I can forget if I'm not careful. A sister I loved, now gone. A family I cherished, now scattered. But I have those memories. And in them- the pulse, the heartbeat of a time I long to remember. A time that made me, largely, who I am right now. A time I can't find anymore but know was there because of the memories.
     Do you want to join me? Lock arms with me as I toddle down that lane? You know the one- that lane with all the memories. Perhaps you, too, have some that need revisiting, need refocusing, just need conjured up for a while. Perhaps you have some you need to preserve? Lock arms with me then. Toddle with me now. We'll see what we can see. We'll find what we can remember.


So, thank you for joining me for Memory Monday. And here is how I came to love the road.


I was seven and Meah nine. We pinched pennies for months but who cares about pinching pennies because when July finally rolled in, we packed our bags and headed out for our first family trip to Disney World. Kenosha, Wisconsin is a long way from Florida, but Daddy hated flying and I feared the same, so we piled, no- squeezed into the red, four door Taurus one morning way before the sun ever thought to show, for a long, long trek to the "promisedland". Meah and I in window seats in the back and Grandma bridged between us, (and hadn't she always been that strong bridge for us leading us always to something good?) And for the first hours we slept while Daddy drove and bobbed his head to James Brown and Parliament. Then the sun made her appearance with aggressive rays right in my face making sleep impossible. And I remember, then, waking in the dawning: Daddy's music playing, his eyes smiling at me from the rearview mirror. I remember the hum of the tires on the pavement, the blur of the yellow lines gliding by. And I came to know the road. Her sights and sounds. Came to sense the sun dawning and hours later, still cruising, her descent as well. And when Momma and Meah and Grandma woke we  played games and ate the snacks Momma packed us. We sang the songs we loved and rolled the windows down and stuck our arms out, trying, just trying to catch the breeze. And in those hours, those long hours on the road, it didn't matter where we were going because we were going together. And hadn't I thought we'd always be going together? I came to love the road.


We stopped, legs stretching, bladders full and tummies in want of more than snacks. And we ate together and talked excitedly of the fun we were already having. Then readjusted pillows and cleared out wrappers and got ready to ride again. And sure Grandma's arms bumped into mine and my feet squished her's sometime, and Meah wanted to listen to this tape and I wanted that one, and Momma and Daddy fought over the map and which way was best and how late should we drive before we look for a hotel- but I loved the road, and I knew they loved it, too. I knew, from Grandma's smiles and Daddy and Momma's quick make-ups, and Meah's singing to the songs she loved the best, and my stack of books I'd never have enough road to finish. I knew we all loved it. We loved it together.


We'd make that trip again six times before Grandma died and Meah got too old to come and before Momma and Daddy split. Before Meah died. We'd make that trip and dozens others on the road, each one pounding in me a love that can't be pried up again. And I can still feel the breeze on my face, hear the hum of the tires, can still sense the dawning of the sun I came to know on the road.


I remember.