Jesus

You are in your car driving home. Thoughts wander to the game you want to see or meal you want to eat, when suddenly a sound unlike any you've ever heard fills the air. The sound is high above you. A trumpet? A choir? A choir of trumpets? You don't know, but you want to know. So you pull over, get out of your car, and look up. As you do, you see you aren't the only curious one. The roadside has become a parking lot. Car doors are open, and people are staring at the sky. Shoppers are racing out of the grocery store. The Little League baseball game across the street has come to a halt. Players and parents are searching the clouds. And what they see, and what you see, has never before been seen. As if the sky were a curtain, the drapes of the atmosphere part. A brilliant light spills onto the earth. There are no shadows. None. From every hue ever seen and a million more never seen. Riding on the flow is an endless fleet of angels. They pass through the curtains one myriad at a time, until they occupy every square inch of the sky. North. South. East. West. Thousands of silvery wings rise and fall in unison, and over the sound of the trumpets, you can hear the cherubim and seraphim chanting, Holy, holy, holy... The final flank of angels is followed by twenty-four silver-bearded elders and a multitude of souls who join the angels in worship. Presently the movement stops and the trumpets are silent, leaving only the triumphant triplet: Holy, holy, holy. Between each word is a pause. With each word, a profound reverence. You hear your voice join in the chorus. You don't know why you say the words, but you know you must. Suddenly, the heavens are quiet. All is quiet. The angels turn, you turn, the entire world turns and there He is. Jesus. Through waves of light you see the silhouetted figure of Christ the King. He is atop a great stallion, and the stallion is atop a billowing cloud. He opens his mouth, and you are surrounded by his declaration: I am the Alpha and the Omega. The angels bow their heads. The elders remove their crowns. And before you is a Figure so consuming that you know, instantly you know: Nothing else matters. Forget stock markets and school reports. Sales meetings and football games. Nothing is newsworthy.. All that mattered, matters no more.... for Christ has come. What is important to you today?

Psycho Test

Read this question, come up with an answer and then scroll down to the bottom for the result. This is not a trick question. It is as it reads.

A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met this guy whom she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing, so much her dream guy she believed him to be just that! She fell in love with him right there, but never asked for his number and could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister. Question: What is her motive in killing her sister? (Give this some thought before you answer). Then, SCROLL DOWN.

Answer: She was hoping that the guy would appear at the funeral again. If you answered this correctly, you think like a psychopath. This was a test by a famous American Psychologist used to test if one has the same mentality as a killer. Many arrested serial killers took part in the test and answered the question correctly. If you didn't answer the question correctly good for you! If you got the answer correct, please let me know so I can take you off of my email list unless that will tick you off, then I'll just be extra nice to you from now on. Be sure to share the test.

Prayers to the Chapman family

(Left to right Will Franklin, Maria, Steven, Shaoey, Mary Beth, Stevey Joy, Caleb and Emily) MARIA SUE CHAPMAN, DAUGHTER OF STEVEN CURTIS CHAPMAN, DIES IN ACCIDENT AT FAMILY HOME NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE... 5/21/08... At approximately 5pm on the afternoon of Wednesday May 21st, Maria Sue Chapman, 5 years old and the youngest daughter to Steven and Mary Beth Chapman was struck in the driveway of the Chapman home in Franklin, TN. Maria was rushed to Vanderbilt Children's Hospital in Nashville, transported by Life Flight, but died of her injuries there. Maria is one of the close knit family’s six children and one of their three adopted daughters. This tragic story is not in the headlines today, but I wanted to share with those of you who may want to pray for this family. Many of you many know Steven Curtis Chapman from his success as a Christian music artist. He and his family have also become strong adoption advocates, and they are the founders of Shaohannah's Hope, a foundation that awards grants to assist adoptive families. The 5-year-old daughter of Steven Curtis Chapman has been struck and killed by a sport-utility vehicle driven by her brother. Authorities in Tennessee say the girl, Maria, was hit in a driveway at the family home today south of Nashville and died later in hospital. The Toyota Land Cruiser was driven by the girl's teenage brother. Reportedly several members of the Chapman family witnessed the accident. The brother apparently did not see the little girl. No charges were expected to be filed. Chapman and his wife have promoted international adoption and have three daughters from China, including Maria. They also have three biological children. The singer's web site says the couple was persuaded by their oldest daughter to adopt a girl from China. The experience led the family to adopt two more children and create Shaohannah's Hope, a foundation and ministry to financially assist thousands of couples in adoption. The Chapmans did missionary work at Chinese orphanages in 2006 and 2007, according to the web site. More than five years ago, Chapman and his wife Mary Beth founded The Shaohannah’s Hope Ministry after bringing their first adopted daughter, Shaohannah, home from China. The ministry’s goal is to help families reduce the financial barrier of adoption, and has provided grants to over 1700 families wishing to adopt orphans from around the world. Chapman is a five-time GRAMMY ® winner and 54-time Dove Award winning artist who has sold over 10 million albums and garnered 44 No. 1 singles. In lieu of flowers, the Chapmans request any gifts be directed to Shaohannah’s Hope.

My husband

I have recently realized, again, what a wonderful man that God has given to me. My husband Eric is truly a gift.

He lets me be who I am, without insisting I become something that I'm not.

He believes in my feelings, that they are real and something worth spending time on.

He is willing to hold my hair while I puke and clean it up afterward.

He gives me all the time I need to recover from something, even if it doesn't feel like that big of a deal to him.

He takes his role as father and husband with the utmost respect for the position. He steps very lightly and carefully, in any direction, in guiding a nearly 13 year old boy and a 5 year old girl.

He never gives me any grief for the time I spend away from the house, just playing with my girlfriends or my mom.

He is always happy to come home to me and the kids, even when the house is in the same shipwreck, pig sty shape it was in when he left.

He supports my faith, my feeling of the Spirit moving me. If I feel "the call" to do something, whether he feels it or not, he is right beside me.

I don't have to "ask" him for his permission....we talk and come to an agreement...usually.

Even though his job is sometimes a life sucking experience, he goes without complaint because he is responsible for us and takes that very seriously.

He bravely goes into work, where people die, get sicker, get hurt, complain and rarely are ever happy and comes home to do it again the next day.

He makes me laugh. Everyday. Sometimes we just look at each other, know what each other is thinking, and start laughing.

He holds me so close and so perfectly when I cry. My shoulder fits just right under his arm; my head sets right on his shoulder. I don't know what I would have done recently during Grandpa's funeral, without him beside me.

He would happily step in front of a bullet for me. People say that but I honestly believe that he would.

He is my protector and my rock. I don't go anywhere and worry about my or my children's safety.

For example, by law a married woman is bound to her husband as long as he is alive. Romans 7:2 He is not perfect but he is perfect for me. It sounds like God has a wonderful plan in store for me!

Our worth

A well known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a $20 bill. In the room of 200, he asked,"Who would like this $20 bill?" Hands started going up. He said,"I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this." He proceeded to crumple the bill up. He then asked,"Who still wants it?" Still the hands were up in the air. "Well," he replied,"What if I do this?" And he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe.He picked it up, now all crumpled and dirty. "Now who still wants it?" Still the hands went into the air."My friends, you have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20."

Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value in God's eyes. To Him, dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to Him.

Psalm 17:8 states that God will keep us,"as the apple of His eye."

THOUGHT: The worth of our lives comes not in what we do or who we are but by WHOSE WE ARE! You are special - Don't ever forget it!

Mothers and Moms

MOTHERS and MOMS

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, 'It's okay, honey, Mommy's here.'

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors. And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or softball games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars. And that when their kids asked, 'Did you see me, Mom?' they could say, 'Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world,' and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read 'Goodnight, Moon' twice a night for a year. And then read it again, 'Just one more time.'

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls 'Mom?' in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at college -- or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting. For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart?

Is it the ache she feels when she watches her son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes her from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in her home?

Or the need to flee from wherever she is and hug her child when she hears news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation... And for mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us... Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can.

Tell them every day that we love them. And pray and never stop being a mother... Please pass along to all the mothers in your life.

'Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall.'

Happy Mother's Day, Mom, I Love you!!!

Oh, so much has happened....

So much has happened and is going to happen.

Life is getting back to some degree of normal after Grandpa's funeral. It's sad to say, but I feel like I am spending so much more time with Grandma now, than I did. Why is it that we do that? When something happens, we begin seeing things differently.....to treasure people more than ever. Grandma and Grandpa have always had each other.....now, we, the family, have to figure out how we can "fill" Grandpa's shoes. No one will ever be able to replace him.

We are already counting down the days until the end of school AND until football conditioning starts. Nick is so excited.....so am I. I love to see him play!

Abbie's 5th birthday party is this Saturday, though she doesn't actually turn 5 until the 16th. This year we are doing a Monsters Inc. theme.

Remember a few weeks ago, I mentioned Eric & I had some plans for the future and I ask that anyone reading this pray about it? Well, some of those things might be happening. Maybe I am getting ahead of myself, but I really feel like God might be at work.....well, I know God is at work, but sometimes you can't see it. I can see this in front of me. There is still a long time before we know anything and that means a long time to continue to pray for guidance.

This year at Vacation Bible School (June 23rd - 27th), the theme is the Lost Cities of the Bible. Each room or space will be decorated as a different city and have the story told as the lesson. I have Jericho and I am so ready. I have been planning how to do Jericho, in my head, for years. It is just a wonderful story of faith, prayer, and believing in God's power being greater than your own ideas.

The Youth Rally was great! It is wonderful to be surrounded by people, of all ages, whose only goal is to worship God. I have posted pictures.

I would ask you all to pray for Grant Kallner. He is the infant son of Jodi & Aaron, friends of ours that also attend church with us. He was born Monday, May 5th and was soon after transfered to another hospital with a NICU because he was having real problems breathing. I have heard that he is doing better now but still needs all the prayers we can offer.