The Sparrow

"Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins?* And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. ~Luke 12:6-7

During my deepest, darkest times, this scripture has resonated within me. Today,my friend, Amy, shared this link on Facebook.

What a beautiful way to begin today.

Sparrow

Tags: Courage

I have always loved the verse that says God cares about us more than sparrows.

I’m not sure I’ve always believed it, though.

For the longest time I kept it to myself, always nodding at the right time while in Christian circles, furrowing my brow in agreement when it was brought up. As if I was considering the depths of this unfathomable love, and swallowing it like sweet tea in the hot sun.

Delicious.

But that wasn’t what I was thinking.

I was actually imagining what it must be like to honestly believe God would love me that way.

Those girls in Bible study had their act together. And all I had was a Bible that had brand-new stuck-together pages and a date with a guy who couldn’t remember my last name.

I decided it was a complicated last name and stifled the desire to be known by either one.

But the image of a sparrow chased me everywhere I went.

Years passed.

Decades, in fact.

And I continued to believed that a God Who would love someone like me wasn’t worth loving back.

And one day, over a cup of too-cold coffee, I decided I wanted to know what it was that made this bird so important. I had gone through a very dark time in my life and I was looking for Him, for answers, for a reason to believe He even cared, let alone loved me.

Quite frankly, I wasn’t that worried about love.

I just wanted to know I existed to Him.

Why would He care about the number of tears I cry, or hairs on my head? I just wanted Him to know I cried at all.

I waited on Him.

After about an hour I came across (I was tempted to say stumbled, but we all know that isn’t true at all) an article on a particular type of bird. It wasn’t a Christian reference, but rather a zoological-type book with statistics and pictures for someone who knows much more about birds than I do.

I skimmed it until I came across a sentence that explained how this certain type of bird learned how to sing. I didn’t finish reading it before the tenderness overcame me.

“And this particular bird cannot learn to sing in the daylight because it is always concerned with the chatter around it. Instead, its cage must be covered so that it is in complete darkness. Then, it is able to hear its master and will learn to sing…”

More than a sparrow.

More than the pitch-black-darkness.

He loves me.

And in that place of feeling left alone, unwanted, disregarded, abandoned, He whispered to my weary soul;

Sing, love.

In the black night, I listened to His voice and I heard Him in a way I never had before. I stopped trying to focus on the silhouettes around me, panicked and desperate for my bearings. I accepted the fact that it might be a long while before I knew where I was and how to find my way back. Slowly, I started to believe that He treasured me enough to trust my voice in the dark. Nobody watching, nobody to judge.

Just me and the One Who told me I was worth it.

Have you heard Him, too? I pray so.

Sing, love.

Despicable as the shadows may be, they hold the promise of the Master’s voice. Worry not about tomorrow, wondering if the sun will come again.

It will, as it always does, in some sense or another.

In the meantime, raise your voice to the One Who loves you.

He loves you.

It isn’t too late to fill the sky with the sound of song. And when you do, know I will be not-so-far away, joining in with you as we await the dawn.

Sing, love.

The Master is listening…

By Angie Smith, Bring the Rain

Now the computer's back, where were we?

This month we gained 2 new additions to our family. Meet Mr. Toad and the wet Sprocket.

It took me a year and a half to convince S that we should get some, but he finally caved and we have had so much fun with our African dwarf frogs. Their names are a double entendre of sort. Mr. Toad's name comes from Wind in the Willows which I loved as a kid. When you put Mr. Toad with Sprocket, you get a great band - Toad and the Wet Sprocket. Ha!

In any case, W has the dubious honor of getting to feed them and he proudly tells S, "Daddy, that's MY job!" Lil'G, on the other hand, he is more like the girl "FISSS-SHE's" that the dentist wants to give Nemo too. So, our job, is to save the frogs from G's loving but deathly embrace.

Hard lesson

This month started out with a bang. About 3 weeks ago, little G, unbeknownst to me, highjacked my large bottle of water and poured it over a closed, but running laptop. Yep, sweet baby boy had caused over $800 worth of damage. Thankfully, the good Apple people took pity on this poor mother and the Genius guy, without me asking, went to his management to ask them to cover the repair costs. Then the clouds parted and the angels started singing because Apple management said yes to covering the repair costs although it really was our fault. (It pays to be nice and funny to service reps!!)

With that said, there is always good with the bad and vice versa. When we got the computer back, we had lost all our precious pictures, videos and music collection. We were not able to backup the computer before we took it because it just wouldn't run long enough. We almost physically sick thinking about we had lost... over 6 years of wonderful, precious memories. (We do have an external hard drive, but, like idiots, we hadn't backed up the computer in quite some time. More than that, we can't locate it. (It had been kept downstairs, but was moved due to flooding and construction in the room.))

So here we are, trying to piece the last 7 years of our life together. Fortunately, S remembered he might have some duplicate files that he had been planning on deleting at work. He brought the jump drive home and I nearly cried. We regained over 6,000 pictures! Praise be! I have never been so relieved! We got back most of our photos, with exception of the last year and a half.

And I hate that. Because, it means I've lost so many photos of precious baby G. I cried for 2 days as the realization sunk it. We had photos of his birth and the first 2 months of his life and then nothing. I can be thankful that we have great family who are willing to give me copies of their photos, but I have a hard time swallowing that we've lost those day-to-day pictures.

On Friday, I went out and bought a new external hard drive. I backed up everything immediately. We will not go through that again.

The joy of Christmas

Dear W & G,

It was my honest intent to do this on Christmas Eve, but by the time Santa had arrived, I was just too pooped out. The year has been one of my best Christmases ever. The time I have spent with you two has been priceless. We've been a part of countless Christmas parties, sung Christmas songs again and again, rode the Santa Express, visited Zoolight Safari and even had a few visits from Santa.

W, my darling boy, this is the first year you truly get Christmas. You've spent countless hours pouring over the Toys R Us catalog, eyeing a Zoo set with "all dose animals" and wondering if Santa is going to bring you. You've also been worrying about if mommy and daddy can take away your new toys if you misbehave and the unfortunate answer to that is yes. But, you are a wonderful boy, and even if you do lose them for a day or two, I promise we will give them back. It's also been a season of "Why?", because that is your favorite question these days. You're very inquisitive and want to understand why things are done. More importantly, we've spoken of how Christmas is baby Jesus's birthday and that He is the reason we give presents at Christmas. It makes me so happy to share that with you and that you are beginning to learn about our faith. I love you so much and pray that you continue to grow strong in the Lord and know the peace that only He brings.

G, my little imp, you are so precious to me. This year you understand that Santa says "Ho Ho" and you are perhaps understanding that with Ho Ho comes gifts. You are mischievous and it is that little giggle and infectious smile which gets you out of trouble most days. You are naturally curious and have broken no less than 10 ornaments this year, which is ok by me because I'd live with 10,000 broken ornaments to have you in my life. The thing you loved most during this Christmas season is the Advent calendar, not necessarily because you understand what it was about, but rather you understood it's contents...chocolate. You will beg incessantly for it because you, my sweet baby, love sweets. This year your big gift was a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe. You practically hyperventilate when you see one so Santa thought you deserved one of your own. You enter it a la Dukes of Hazard style and ride around it while going "beep, beep." You...are...simply...adorable.

While this season brings us great joy, there is always a little sadness. This year marks my second Christmas without my mother, your "Gigi" and your daddy's 3rd Christmas without his mother, your "Grandma." It breaks our hearts that you didn't get to have them longer. They loved you both so very much and I firmly believe that they are your special angels from above, keeping a watchful eye over you. Your daddy and I are very grateful though for your grandfathers who love you both dearly. It is our sincerest hope that you have them for a long time and have great relationships with Papa and Grandpa.

As Christmas comes to a close, we pray that you both feel the fullness of our love and the fullness of our Father in Heaven's love. Because, W and G, you are our joy of Christmas and are so precious to us. Merry Christmas, sweet babies.

Love,

Mama

Leaving cookies, Christmas pretzels and milk for Santa

plus a few carrots for the reindeer.

Our tree

W's loot

G's loot

Can we open dis? Can we open it?

Can we open dis?!! PLEEEEASE!

Whatcha doin, Daddy? Can we help?

i love my vacuum cleaner. I love my hat.

I love my vacuum cleaner and hat.

Playing with our new garage.

Not really a 2-seater.

Alright, I'll push you.

a southern christmas meal

This is the first year that we aren't doing a big extended family Christmas dinner. Growing up, I had several Christmas dinners so to speak. We always got together with my mother's family (a grandmother "Granny", 5 sisters, 1 brother, their spouses and all the children) the weekend before Christmas. Then, we did the big Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve with my father's family (1 grandmother, 1 grandfather, 3 sisters, 1 brother, their spouses and again a whole passel of children).

Neither of the get-togethers were fancy. It was strictly potluck, but we had more food than you could ever imagine - turkey, ham, chicken, dressing, appetizers, casseroles galore, desserts. Every female had a new dish plus the one they had perfected throughout the years that they wanted to showcase, so to speak. No one, male or female, made a fuss over who was carving the turkey, but Southern women do stake a claim whose makes the dressing.

You see, whether you know it or not, there is a difference between stuffing and dressing. Stuffing is good, but dressing, well good dressing, is like a piece of Heaven. My mother, for years, was the queen bee when it came to dressing. In fact, I was well into my 30s before she would even share her recipe with me and even then, it was pinch of this and pinch of that until it reaches a trick, soupy consistency. No genuine recipe, for sure. But, with much guidance and trial, I think my dressing is really close to my mother's. When my mother passed, I thought I might be able to make her dressing and bring it to the family gatherings. I soon learned otherwise as the next one on the matriarchal list quickly let me know that she had the dressing covered.

Back to the Christmas dinners, by the time Christmas day actually arrived, my mother was quite tired of Christmas/holiday food so she instituted the big Christmas breakfast and light lunch/dinner for the other meal.

After I got married, the holidays became much more stressful with the addition of my husband's family. It's the juggling of family time that makes the holidays so hard. The first few years of marriage, we nearly killed ourselves trying to split the day with each of our families and finally we came up with a system. One family will get Thanksgiving day and the other family will get Christmas day and the next year we flip. It seems to be working for now.

This year, we will have my dad, his friend and my niece over at our house on Christmas eve and then my dad is planning on coming over on Christmas day for a bit. That is, if weather allows. You see, they are predicting measurable snow in Alabama on Christmas day. If it happens, it would be the first time ever recorded and it means that my dad probably won't make it to the house since we live up on a mountain and the roads won't be driveable. So, it may just be me and the boys on Christmas day.

In any case, it's a little surreal for me to think that all of Christmas dinner is up to me, but I'm getting a little handle on it and have been having some fun planning it out. So, without a further ado, I bring you this Southern woman's menu:

Christmas Eve

Apply Cider Vinaigrette Salad with dried cranberries, walnuts, and feta

Shish Kabobs

Roasted Asparagus

Baked potatoes

Rosemary bread

Chocolate Turtle Cheesecake

Christmas Day

Smoked turkey breasts

Honey glazed ham

Stuffed celery

Mama's cornbread dressing

Sweet potato casserole

Green beans

Cranberry orange relish

Rolls

Egg custard pie

Perhaps, with it potentially being a Christmas without the the extended family, I could take a less ambitious approach to the food, but what's the fun of that? So if you're in the area, and you feel like dropping by, come on over! We may still be in our pj's but the the food will be divine.

The Christmas Story Through a Mother's Eyes

This was posted on my mom's Bible study blog. It's a really nice article that I thought was worthy of reposting...

"The Christmas story holds new meaning for me this year as a mother. Whether you believe as a Christian or simply know the story, it's an incredible one.

Mary of Nazareth was no more than 15 years old when the angel Gabriel came to her and said she would bear the Son of God, that she would carry -- through the power of the Holy Spirit -- the Savior of the world. She was engaged to an older man, a carpenter named Joseph. Though she was scared and had no idea if her husband-to-be would believe this divine event had really occurred, she simply said, "Let it happen as God so chooses."

And then there's Joseph. Imagine finding out that your bride-to-be is pregnant before your wedding day -- before you've even had "relations" -- and she tells you a story about being the one chosen to carry the fruit of the Holy Spirit. Joseph believed and supported her.

When Mary was nine months pregnant, they were forced to travel well over 70 miles (by donkey!) to the town of Bethlehem, where they were to take part in the census. While there, it came time for Mary to give birth. With all the people in town for the census, there was not an inn or house that had room for them. So they settled in a stable, the only shelter available -- even for a mother about to give birth. Jesus was born in a manger, amongst common barn animals. No doctor. No drugs. No privacy. No family but Joseph and the shepherds looking on.

While this story took place more than 2,000 years ago, it holds some amazing truths for families like mine and yours, no matter what holidays you celebrate. It's a story of incredible faith, of ultimate sacrifice and love, of believing in what you cannot see -- all things that in today's time seem so far-fetched. To endure a lifetime with a child, knowing that he would be taken from you too soon ... how many of us would do that today?

As a Catholic, I have always considered Mary to be the ultimate symbol of what a mother should be. And now that I have my own child, I recognize her strength that much more. To give both physically and emotionally without thinking comes with the territory for us mothers. And in this season, the story is a constant reminder of the sacrifices we make each day for our children. "

written by: Christina Montoya Fiedler resides in Los Angeles, Calif., with husband Andy and son Joseph. She juggles baby and work from home as a freelance publicist and attributes her strong love for life and sense of humor to her loving familia.

From www.momlogic.com

A couple of cute pics...

I have such a hard time getting pics of the boys interacting. Most of the time, by the time I find my camera, the moment has past and someone is left in tears. But, today I caught 2 really precious pictures and thought I would share.

Breakfast is so much better

when you have a brother to share it with.

Lil'G loves story time by big brother