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I tend to get distracted easily.  It took me ten minutes sitting in here in this chair, holding down the delete button eight or so times before I could remember what I sat down to say.

Oh yes.

In all of the goodness of Christmas I usually get bogged down with a case of "the wants". 

I want some Christmas Kit Kats and some of the Cokes with Santa on the can.  I want some chocolate and oatmeal colored chevron curtains. I want some new jeans that fit, or for the ones I have to fit.

 I want my house to magically clean itself, and stay that way.

I want to get the perfect gift for everybody; a bargain deeply treasured. I want the gifts to be wrapped beautifully without getting a crick in my neck. When presents are opened, I want more than an empty heap of wrapping paper to be around the Christmas tree.

I want the whole family to decorate the house; and I want them to LIKE doing it.  I want them to want to watch Hallmark Christmas movies with me.

 My plan of Christmas delight knows no end.

I want all of those old familiar Christmas tunes to fill the house with warmth. That's why I was surprised when Jason came home with a new Christmas album.

Santa knows what I want for Christmas,

but Jesus knows what I need

Leigh Nash croons,

it can't be purchased, wrapped up and placed
under an eight-foot tree

Words from above meant just for me today.

Wanting can be consuming.  When I really get to thinking about it, there are a lot of things I could use.  My "stuff" starts looking in much sadder shape than it seemed in October. It's this time of year that I notice the places in my couch coming apart at the seams.  It's now that I have to continually press the "on" button on my curling iron so it will stay heated. 

And "wanting" for others can be exhausting and even disappointing.  Even my most thought-out gifts are not guaranteed to fit.  They may not be appreciated.  Even if they bring immediate joy, it's not a lasting joy.

Just hours ago I was preparing a meal in my messy kitchen with my old cookware with a discontent child at my side. I was consumed by a long list of "wants".  It was heavenly lyrics that drowned out my "wants"and replaced them with blessed assurance.

Santa knows what I want for Christmas

but Jesus knows what I need

Here's the song that set my soul to singing.  It's called Eternal Gifts http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmdP7NzYWP0

 It's my new favorite.  What's your favorite Christmas song?

 

 

Jason and I found a nice shaded spot by friends.  We were at the Port Neches parade.  And though we were the recipients of a few tossed jolly ranchers and butterscotch disks, neither the candy or fine floats were what I was interested in. 

We were anxious to see our girls all decked out in their Santa hats marching and twirling to the tune of Let it Snow.  We were interested in seeing them, because past parades have brought about unfavorable dispositions. 

My children aren't particularly fond of walking, even less so in near eighty-degree weather wearing fuzzy Santa hats.  On more than one occasion Rylie has ended up in the truck with James Mosley waving from the window because the journey was too much to bear.

For Hallie, smiling for that long is both unnatural and requires great effort.

Today, we were delighted.  Hallie and Rylie both marched to the parade's completion.  And they smiled.

We waited to get inside the car before having a small breakdown.  I turned around to find Rylie crying; wildly breathing into her Santa hat with her hands cupped around its brim as if it were a paper sack used for hyperventilating.

She was hot and she was winded.  She's asthmatic and dramatic.  And her water bottle was missing.  To make matters worse "all of the people on the sidewalks looked so happy with their candy" she bitterly complained after catching her breath.

Still I'm happy.  All of those steps accomplished, and with a smile. 

Completion.

Red-faced progress.

 I saw Hallie smile. It was a long walk. I wonder if her cheeks hurt. 

 Pleased with herself or not,  I saw Rylie press on.  Maybe next time we'll make it all the way home without sweat or tears.

We all have a course to march.  Sometimes we'll march with a smile while other legs of the journey will bring about inconceivable duress. 

Take heart.

We have a reason to smile and we have a reason to keep marching. 

Every step in this life-long journey is on Immanuel's ground. 

Immanuel-God with us.

Then let our songs a bound and every tear be dry;
We're marching through Immanuel's ground;

We're marching through Immanuel's
Ground,
To fairer worlds on high, to fairer worlds on high.

We're marching to Zion, beautiful, beautiful Zion;
We're marching upward to Zion; the beautiful city of God

 

March on

Shared by Ann Gattie
 
Yesterday I was running around in my normal chaotic routine. Not taking much time to think about anything outside of my to do list, dry cleaning, doctor appointment & school pick up.
 
Connor had fallen asleep in his car seat snuggled with his blanket and to the perfect rhythm of the raindrops. I wanted to snuggle up and get a cat nap, but instead I found the nearest coffee stand drive through.
 
I drove up to the cashier window, smiled a quick semi-friendly smile and handed her my money. She handed me the cup of warm caffeine for my body and some warmth for my soul...."Ma'am, the car in front of you paid for your coffee."
 
In awe, I immediately asked if I could pay for the car behind me. I wanted to return the strangers gift. I,too, wanted to share an unexpected treat and hopefully a smile for the next person.
 
The barista had a huge smile and said "This is the LONGEST line of kindness I have ever seen! This will make 10 cars in a row paying it forward!"
 
As I drove away, I thought about the impact of small gestures.
 
"I was hungry...and you fed me. I was thirsty...and you gave me drink. "
Matthew 25:35
Written so long ago, those verses seem to go back and forth quite personally as Jesus talks about himself and then so bluntly points at us. "I was...and you. "
He's putting the ball in our court or rather, pointing out by such effective use of past tense that the ball has been there all along.
 
Think about it. Everyone we encounter TODAY is an "I was" and to each of them, we are an "and you".
The stranger on the street: I was alone in the world...and you smiled at me.
The angry person at work: I was irritated and having a bad day...and you showed me grace by overlooking my attitude.
The friend: I was worried and you offered assurance.
The teen where you buy lunch: I was working my first job at a fast food restaurant, and you sought out the manager to compliment me.
Whether we want to or not, and whether we realize it or not, we are all the "And you".
By realizing it though, you'd be amazed at how many "I was" lives you can turn around.
"I felt like I was alone in the world...and your kind smile as you passed by reminded me that I wasn't"
I was...
And you...

Be an "and you" on purpose today.

Imagine the impact if we all did this.

 

This is Ann's second guest post.  It was just the cup of holiday cheer I needed.  Just a reminder, Ann is Jason's sister from Washington.  We had the pleasure of spending some days during Thanksgiving with she and her fun family.  I got to snap a few pictures of them while they were here.  I think this is just the excuse I need to show them off. (Sorry Ann, It's too early in Washington to text you and ask about the pictures 😉 ).
 
 

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 Making Lemonade out of Lemons

 I try not to write posts that are controversial or of sensitive nature.  This time I went went ahead.

  I read a most disturbing article this morning.

Girls in New York City who can't take Tylenol at school without jumping through hoops  are now able to take the morning after pill. These teens in thirteen NYC schools are also able to receive birth control injections from the school nurse. They can make decisions concerning their body when it comes to birth control but not when it comes to making the decision to drink a king size soda. I never say this, but feel it appropriate now, smh!

 Years ago, my sister ran through a door in High School cutting her forearm badly.  She couldn't get stitches until my mom could be contacted and gave consent. She could have bled to death, but needed parental consent.  Now we leave major decisions in the hands of our teens?

Girls fourteen and up are able to get these and other forms of birth control from the school nurse at their teenage will.  Letters were sent to the parents with the chance to opt out; some in the mail and in other schools letters were sent through the students. 

I know my kids don't get notes to me on a regular basis; I feel sure the schools know this is a possibility with these students as well.  Parents are already saying they have received no such letter.  The only way these girls will not be able to receive the birth control is if a note is checked, signed and returned opting them out of the service. I find it suspicious that only 1 to 2% of parents have returned the note.

Why not have it the other way around? Why did the schools not reserve the service for students whose parents give them permission to receive the morning after pill or other birth control? It shouldn't be done at all.

See full article http://abcnews.go.com/m/story?id=17310468

I've spent a lot of migraines and eye twitches being torn up about things of this nature; large and looming problems which I feel I have no control over. These kinds of programs and services break down the family rather than seek to build it. 

I'm well aware that there are kids involved in activities that their parents know nothing about who find themselves in situations which need to be dealt with delicately.  In other instances parents may know what there children are engaging in but feel helpless.

One important thing I learned when teaching is that parents care much more for their children's well-being than they are often able to express.

If the school has any business in the raising of these kids, and that's what they are at fourteen/fifteen-KIDS, then that business should be partnering with parents as long as that is a possibility. 

I fumed about this today.  Jason told me I was scaring him.

I spewed irritation from my soapbox for some time before deciding to get down and do something about it.

 Jason and I are Hallie's advocate. We will be the ears that listen to Rylie. We will be the voice Hayden hears. We will seek Godly counsel as we raise our children.

 The influence I hope to have when she is High School starts now; it started yesterday.  It's my job to ensure she's open with me.  It's mine and Jason's job to have an open dialogue now that will lead her to make good decisions when she's older.

This news about birth control being recklessly given to girls was like lemons. I decided to make lemonade. I wish I could make lemonade and share it with all of the girls and moms; all the families. But tonight I started with Hallie.

 I picked her up from twirling tonight and took a spontaneous, but intentional trip to Target.

Just me and Hallie.

We talked. A lot. We bought Cocoa/Marshmallow Three Musketeers.  I told her that I want to be the first person she comes to when she needs to talk.  I let her show me what shoes she liked. I listened.

Today I fumed about lemons.

Tonight I shopped and made lemonade.

 

Have you ever been a Pinocchio? Pinocchio told lies. He disobeyed his father. Even after the fairy rescues him from the mean puppet master, does he go home? No. He goes with a bunch of wild boys to an island where he almost gets turned into a donkey.

The whole time, Jiminy Cricket is telling him in his ear, I don’t think this is a good idea. What you are doing is wrong. You should have gone to school.

Jiminy is that little voice that says, “You know better than that, don’t do it!” Jiminy is Pinocchio’s conscience. We have a conscience also but it is not in the form of a cricket. It is in the form of a small voice inside of us telling us when something is right or wrong. This conscience helps guide us. When we listen to our conscience, we feel good. When we are pushed to do the opposite of what our conscience tells us then we feel tense, upset, and mad. Just really unhappy!
Sometimes when we are with our friends, they will encourage us to do things that are wrong but we go ahead and do them because we don’t want to be different. Even when we do say no then they tend to push us or maybe even tell us that we can’t be a part of the group or be their friend. So it is really hard to do the right thing.

It is really hard to tell your friends no because all too often we are afraid that they won’t be our friend if we don’t go along with them. Or maybe, we just think we are going to miss out on some excitement.

 No matter what the circumstances, doing the right thing is not always the popular thing to do. Look at Daniel in the Lion’s den. Why was he put there because he refused to obey the King who said that he was not allowed to pray to God. Daniel knew this was not right so he prayed to God anyway and was thrown into the lions’ den but God shut the mouths of the hungry lions and Daniel was unharmed.

No matter how old you get there will always be circumstances that require a choice. A choice to do the right thing or to do what you know is wrong.
I’m sharing this with you because recently I had accepted a new job. I was very excited about it and looking forward to working. I was new and wanted to make friends with my co-workers and learn. It was an okay job but every day I came home wondering about how the people were doing things.

It just did not seem right but I put it off on me being new or not knowing as much as my co-workers. It just got worse every day. I just got madder and madder. Why was I mad because I was expected to do things that I knew were not right. It was insinuated for me to do certain things that I knew were wrong. I didn’t want to quit my job because jobs are hard to come by, I was getting hours that I needed, and I liked getting paid. The reality of it was even despite all that I was really miserable because I was not listening to my conscience.

Daniel 1:8-9

8 But Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the portion of the king's delicacies, nor with the wine which he drank; therefore he requested of the chief of the eunuchs that he might not defile himself. 9 Now God had brought Daniel into the favor and goodwill of the chief of the eunuchs.

NKJV

Be prepared to listen to your conscience or what is in your heart to find favor with the Lord!

My name is Kristina DeVillier. I live in Nederland but was raised in the small town of Buna. I'm married to Craig DeVillier and have 3 children: Andy Stimits (20), Mikala DeVillier (17), and Sara DeVillier (11). I am a RN and also a Licensed Professional Counselor-Intern. I have many different names: daughter, sister, mom, wife, cousin, niece, friend, grand-daughter, counselor, and nurse. The most important ones are daughter and sister. They are the most important ones because I’m a child of God and your sister in Christ. My purpose in life is to make a difference through Jesus Christ in the lives of others

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I've been waiting to write this post.

My mom had an opportunity to bring ordinary to life.  And she's done it. It all began when some caterpillars decided to spin their cocoon on her front porch this past spring; a whole host of them.

Rather than sweep them away like most creepy crawlers, she decided to let them stay.  The grandkids began to take notice, and before the butterflies made their appearance, a story emerged.

In real photos taken from my childhood home comes the story of Jardi.  Much like my own journey, probably yours too, Jardi learns that growing up isn't always easy. True transformation comes about through experiences shared with family, bullies and buddies, hurt and healing; and most importantly divine intervention.

 

I'm so proud for my mom and so excited to share with you the link to her first book, out on electronic shelves today!

                                         

http://www.amazon.com/Jardis-Journey-Gaye-G-Fowler/dp/146272292X/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1354057252&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=jardi%27s+journey

 

 You can find it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Crossbooks. 

I LOVE stories.  What's your's?  Send it to me at kristiburden@gmail.com. And don't forget to come back tomorrow for "A Thursday for Your Thoughts" shared by Kristina DeVillier.

Just minutes ago I was blaring down 27th street (not in the school zone of course) one minute behind my second appointment of the day.  It was just in time to swerve into the Market Basket parking lot that I remembered I had 59 minutes until that next meeting. In planning to meet with my homebound student I hadn't accounted for the time between 10:00 and 11:00. 

That gives me an extra hour today.  In addition to the planned twenty-four hours, another hour has sneaked in.

So here I sit

In perfect stillness

In the quiet

I'd already planned to worry and cook and do my running around  (and then there's sleep) for the other twenty-four hours, and now I've been handed this gift of an extra hour.

So I run through the long to-do list in my mind, thinking of how many chores I can fit in an hour.  And I then I decide!  I'll do....

Nothing.

I'll breathe

Be thankful; not worry

Pray 

I'll simply be, without doing

Every day should have a 25th hour.

One with endless possibility

or the power of nothingness 

Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love

Psalm 90:12,14a

 

Yesterday I ordered Christmas cards. 

 I'd been looking for two days, flipping through hundreds of designs; one card had red scalloped edges with the word joy in all caps, another too much like last year's with a white border at the bottom wishing its recipients a "Merry Christmas".  It was sweet relief to finally choose a card, enter my credit card number and billing information completing my purchase.

An equal amount of time went into getting the perfect family picture that goes on the card.  I'll spare you the outlining of that event.

Yesterday when I hit the "send order" button, I felt this great sense of accomplishment.  I thought of my to-do list; one down, 399 chores to go.  It's easy to get overwhelmed during the holidays.

I think of calendars busting at the seams.  I also think of friends who are taking care of sick family members, friends who are scrambling to make ends meet to try to provide a "happy" Christmas for their little ones.  It pains me to think of dear friends who are numb from tragedy this season.

For some, it's a wonderful season.

It's a busy season for some, for others loneliness is magnified. 

 For many, it's a difficult season.

For much of us, we feel all of the above.

This remains.

Christmas is coming for those of us who have gifts wrapped under the tree and who are already drying dishes with holly berry cuptowels to the tune of "Jingle Bells".

It's also coming for those who ache at its mention.

Though I know better, I've repeatedly made Christmas about what I can do; buying presents for Christmas angels, inviting people over for soup and hosting Christmas parties. I study magazines by the check-out; the covers colored with Paula Dean Christmas cookies and candle arrangements that could knock the socks off this country girl.

 Sometimes it's about what won't be there this Christmas.

 So if you're a Cyber Monday shoppin', Paula Dean cooking, deck the halls kind of gal -that's ok. 

If you're a simple girl who plans on using the black and white polka-dot wrapping paper you already had for wrapping Christmas presents-that's ok too.

To my hyper friends and those who are still waiting on motivation or cash, and to my friends still reeling from shock or sadness, Mary had it right.  In the midst of it all, heart-provoked- she treasured the babe wrapped in mystery.

Wishing each of us a thought-provoking, heart-pondering Christmas

full of Jesus

 

 

 

 

 

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I failed this go round in sharing those things for which I'm thankful.   Too busy and distracted this season, Thanksgiving snuck up on me much like it does any unassuming turkey.

So it's now, the morning after and 988 miles later that I sit at my breakfast table, pop my camera card into my computer and let it sink in just how blessed I am.

I could go crazy, now that I'm in hyper-thanksgiving mode (I've always been a day late) but I'm going to narrow my thankfulness to

 -a Thanksgiving week in retrospect

 

I'm thankful for five different pies at the desert table, enough left over for a slice of chocolate for breakfast

I'm thankful for leaves more fun than a Barbie right out of the box or a tube of lip gloss just opened

for pictures that slow you down, bring you in tight and beg for a smile even when you think you'd rather be doing something else

and for that one picture that makes you catch your breath and say deep down, "When did she grow into this beauty, and how could I not have noticed?"

for family that's not family

and teenage boy spit fights in the hot tub

for cousin sleepovers

and grandparents that are a wealth of wisdom, full of stories better than the ones in books

for sweet surrender in the nephew who let down his (picture-hating) guard long enough for you to capture one moment 

and cousins who are more like sisters and friends

I'm thankful for 87th birthdays

and being renamed "Cousin Mama"

for tickle fights intense enough to leave drool marks

for a home that waits unchanged

for that which grows old and a mess but holds in it treasures from magical days

for rays of sun that warm when the ground is cold and hard on your bare feet

I am thankful for beauty overwhelming that lasts a moment

but stays tucked in your heart forever.