Friday, August 15, 2008

Today; August 15, 2008

Outside my window...darkness.

I am thinking…I was born to be a wife and mother. It is the MOST fun I've ever had! Everything else is secondary. And inferior. At least for me.

AND I'm thinking Shiloh has eaten one of my earrings!

I am thankful for…being able to trust my gut. You must know that about me . . . I trust my gut feelings, instincts, still small voice from God Himself. Whatever you call it - I've learned through the years and some heartache to trust it. I will never doubt it again.

From the kitchen…a colander full of tomatoes. I need to take a picture of them to remind me to write about Murray's mother's cure for an upset stomach. Anytime one of her six children complained of a stomachache, she'd have them eat one of two things to settle their stomach: applesauce or stewed tomatoes! Needless to say, the applesauce always worked and they were able to go on to school or church or whatever! Smart lady!

I am creating…pretty toes.

I am going…to Houston.

I am wearing...satiny aqua-blue pajamas.

I am reading…my Bible. Am plowing through Isaiah. Much is hard for me to comprehend. But am glad to not be here during "The Day of the Lord".

I am hoping…to leave town by 7:30. But must stop by Good Samaritan on my way out.

I am hearing…the A/C just clicked on. And ceiling fan. I'm telling you - it's the same all summer long in TX!

Around the house…bags are packed - gettin' ready to go.

One of my favorite things…going through years and years of photos and seeing how family members are connected through facial expressions or even just the goofy things common to most people. For example: a picture of baby Amanda with a pair of plastic pants on her head. Ditto for baby Job.

Also the pics of people lost in their art is pretty amazing. They're concentrating so hard on what they're doing that they're totally unaware of the camera. Of course these types of photos are most often of children. Love it!

A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week…heading to Houston to go through more stuff. Unpacking my parents' house has taught me one thing for certain: something may appear to be mere rubbish, until you hear the story! After hearing the story one realizes that it really is a treasure. The story. The memory. Not necessarily the broken, beat up suitcase!

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