tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294496882024-03-06T21:13:53.234-07:00My Own Little CornerCome, sit with me in my own little corner.
Let's talk heart-to-heart about loving Jesus, our husbands, and our families.
As Christians, as Writers, as Speakers, as women,
let's cultivate lives that nurture others and glorify the Lord.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.comBlogger213125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-31098607859095456152012-08-12T20:46:00.000-06:002012-08-12T20:46:25.506-06:00Special Announcement<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2rRJ20rfsU3qob1ZMqQvUJp0RKbEpvgZNGWtmB1gskUeE-ZNQhLCJv-MAlcZgTrNzjiwylVHOLQSxJapLMGrTQQcbmCGa-WU8IgpSh0Ef9KWCgzAitQx3l8jCduuFnqzNtSe6/s1600/book-cover-small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2rRJ20rfsU3qob1ZMqQvUJp0RKbEpvgZNGWtmB1gskUeE-ZNQhLCJv-MAlcZgTrNzjiwylVHOLQSxJapLMGrTQQcbmCGa-WU8IgpSh0Ef9KWCgzAitQx3l8jCduuFnqzNtSe6/s400/book-cover-small.jpg" width="259" /></a></div>
Dear Readers,<br />
<br />
I want to let you know about a change that I'm making soon.<br />
<br />
Since establishing my new web site, www.grammysue.com, I haven't been spending much time on this blog. It seems to make sense to shift my blogging over to that site and close this one.<br />
<br />
I sure hope you'll join me there!<br />
<br />
Many of the topics are related to Biblical sexuality, but I also have a section called, "Reflections on Life." The posts there are more of the devotional type of writing that appears here on My-Own-Little-Corner.<br />
<br />
Thanks for understanding.<br />
<br />
Blessings to all,
Sue<br />
<br />
Find me at: www.grammysue.comGrammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-43699008922978014772012-08-12T20:25:00.001-06:002012-08-12T20:31:34.286-06:00It Looks Dead -- But Is It?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaj6kRI5DddkvYiKE2DZGoX8W1aZGTHetZawA_QxOa0rZmx82kRLZuZs-LLZkvywrqIFWTpRHLvStGxwx-fN1ZaBl11ib78x6vxW0pHLLVw2tM2KDYroDJE6sIJuPdjOCM66m/s1600/Palm+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="166" width="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxaj6kRI5DddkvYiKE2DZGoX8W1aZGTHetZawA_QxOa0rZmx82kRLZuZs-LLZkvywrqIFWTpRHLvStGxwx-fN1ZaBl11ib78x6vxW0pHLLVw2tM2KDYroDJE6sIJuPdjOCM66m/s400/Palm+Tree.jpg" /></a></div>
It’s not often that it freezes here in the desert, but last February we experienced a week with temperatures dipping below zero. The palm trees were hit hard, most suffered, many died. In the following months, trees were chopped down all over town. Stumps in yards served as reminders of the once lavish palms, others trees were totally uprooted and replaced.
Our neighborhood was filled with the shriveled giants. They looked like huge burnt-out torches. I mourned the loss of these towering beauties with stiff fronds waving like green fans against the blazing blue sky.
But today, on my morning walk, I noticed that some of the palms that hadn’t been cut down were showing signs of life. Not long ago these trees looked totally dead, but now green appeared amid their brown tops. It’s hard to tell from the outside if something is alive on the inside.
Faith can be like that. We may know someone whose faith has died. Maybe it’s our beliefs. When we were little we sang, “Jesus loves me, this I know,” and believed it with all our heats. But somewhere along the journey of growing up, we were stripped of that simple knowing. Maybe it’s pain, injustice, sinful longings or uncontrollable circumstances that snuck in and robbed us of our childhood treasure. Today that place in us is dried and withered. When faith dies, everything may look dead but there may still be a root of life buried deep within our heart.
Don’t be too quick to declare yourself or someone you love as a lost cause. Time brings perspective, wisdom and healing. God is good at resurrections and His love blows like a soft breeze, inviting scorched ones to come back to life.
And, if you’ve figured you’re just too far-gone to ever come back to life as one on His children, please reconsider. Let that early, first love, break through the hard soil of resistance and shame and find it’s way into God’s freely given light. Bloom again. Let the green shoots rise up. Rejoice that God is the good Gardener who is eternally patient. He’s never in a hurry to chop down, cut off, or replace those who’ve experienced devastation and damage. He will wait for you to come home again. As long as there is even a tiny seed of faith residing inside, there is hope, there is potential for new life.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-47165221082932942442012-07-19T12:10:00.000-06:002012-07-19T12:14:47.265-06:00Grace Like SnowHi to anyone who is out there with time and the desire to read my post.
I'm trying to figure out where to spend my blogging time -- here where I've been for a while or on my new website (where I can add posts).
But for today, I'm sharing a short (true) story about<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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a time when I felt totally unable to do -- well, most everything and God showed up to help me. I feel that way a lot and it is amazing that He cares enough to respond and help me. Hope you enjoy --
What depressed me most was I couldn’t think of one real reason to feel so miserable. My closest loved ones and I enjoyed good health. We didn’t face any major financial or personal problems. And, at a young age, I had married the man who continued to walk beside me through the changing seasons of life. Compared to most people in the world, I lived a very blessed life. True, I’d just turned fifty but wasn’t that something to celebrate?
Still, the thoughts continued to shoot through my mind inflicting injury to my sense of well-being. “You’re past your prime.” “It’s too late to do the things you thought you’d do.” “You’re a failure.” “You’re not as strong or as pretty as you used to be,” “No one wants to listen to an old woman.”
Each morning, in order to have the courage to get out of bed, I sang a little song to myself. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. In all my years I’d never doubted this before but these days I felt totally unlovable with nothing to offer anyone, even the Lord.
Thinking that a change of scenery might affect my mood, I arranged to use a friend’s mountain cabin. I headed out with the regal plan to finally take time to write, or at least begin the book that resided within me. For days I stayed inside the cabin in an unsuccessful attempt to create any semblance of a manuscript. Even when I have uninterrupted time and no excuses, I’m still too undisciplined to write. What a failure.
Even though I knew I wasn’t a total failure; a look at my successful children told me I’d done a good job raising them, and I enjoyed a small but steady publishing history over the years. But I couldn’t dismiss the accusing thoughts that bombarded me. Each one held an element of truth. And the truth of all I failed to do with the time entrusted to me was so discouraging that I wanted to stop trying. I’d come away to the mountains to write and couldn’t even manage that. So, I decided to go hiking.
Feeling old and fat helped me choose a hike rated ‘easy.’ The sky was clear but the air cool, so I wore a coat. My emotional state convinced me to take a small backpack with tissues, chocolate, a water bottle and my cell phone. It felt really good to be outside. My spirits lifted as soon as I entered the empty parking lot near the trailhead.
A short path led through the pines to the place where the trail went straight down into a steep valley. I couldn’t see the bottom but had read that there was a stream down there. The sound and look of running water had always drawn and soothed me so I began to make my way slowly down the slope.
At last I reached the bottom and felt a rush of joy at the sight of the flowing stream. I took my time strolling beside the water, sitting on logs, enjoying the scent of pine and watching squirrels scamper around the forest. The heaviness of the past few months lifted. “Thank you, Lord, for this beautiful place.”
A few hours later, my chocolate was gone and I thought it might be time to head back to the cabin for an afternoon nap. It took longer than I expected to get back to the trail that led to the parking lot. By the time I got there I was already out of breath. Then I looked up the very long, very steep path and felt my heart sink. I knew I’d descended into a deep valley but never considered what climbing back out would require.
Why did I spend so much time walking beside the stream? Where would I get the energy to climb this nearly vertical path? All the self-doubt and insecurity of the past months returned and settled like a giant weight on my already slumped shoulders.
I don’t think I can do this. It’s too hard. But what choice did I have? My car was up there in a parking lot I couldn’t even see. I couldn’t simply stay down here by the lovely stream forever, and my chocolate was gone.
Calling 9-1-1 seemed like an unrealistic and embarrassing option, so I began to climb. I didn’t rush, just took one small step at a time. The high altitude and the extra weight I carried combined to make the journey very difficult. I seriously began to wonder if I could make it to the top. It’s too steep. I’m too weak and out of shape.
Suddenly turning fifty felt like a death sentence. It meant I was old. I didn’t like the feeling. I didn’t look forward to continuing to age and weaken with each passing year. And this climb up the side of this valley demanded too much from me. I just couldn’t do it. I unzipped my coat, wiped my face with a tissue and took a long drink of water.
Maybe I should sit and rest. I pictured myself trying to plop down on the steep incline only to tumble all the way back to the bottom. Then I’d have to start over. And what if I broke something?
With the sound of the stream growing faint behind me and feelings of inadequacy looming huge inside, I criticized myself. I’m just a weakling and it’s my own fault for being out of shape. Other fifty-year-olds are probably running marathons and eating celery. Each negative thought and every slow step brought a reminder of how useless I felt.
Out of breath, I stopped walking. Sorrow and discouragement welled up. I blinked back tears. Oh, Lord, I need help! I can’t do this. It’s so hard and I don’t have what it takes. I’m not young or strong anymore. I really don’t think I can keep going.
No sooner had my prayer been raised to heaven than an unexpected response came floating down in gentle white snowflakes. In wonder, I watched them swirl through the spaces between the trees and dance gracefully in the air surrounding me. A soft layer of delicate lacey flakes coated the dark ground with a sparkling beauty. Like mercy the snow transformed everything.
No rain or snow had been predicted that day. This was God’s overwhelming love drawing near. Awestruck at the surprise, I laughed out loud. Thank you, thank you, Lord. You are here with me and you are helping me!
Snowflakes frosted my flushed cheeks, coated me with fresh strength and melted my despair. Before long I reached the top, startled at how quickly I had finished the last part of the climb. I stopped beside my car, tilted my face skyward and opened my mouth wide to taste the falling snow.
That’s when I embraced the fact the God of heaven was not done with me or with my life. Although negative thoughts had dragged me into a deep valley of depression, His truth had the power to pull me out.
God’s mercy falls new every morning giving grace to help move me forward into new possibilities. And when I call out to Him in my weakness, He offers me fresh strength so I can take each step on the path laid out before me until the day I climb out of this life into the next.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuVn5OTf2ChgrRc4jlmdFOXcNRUa23Zh4Tswymvt6F4tI_grgZZYL2ku71Yt0h0q2WWsdDpRUmf4ydcNa9bxlVPfHh0pXWPPisBKSryrdBYA3p_orgh1yVHVzquseYKa9o0ycI/s1600/P1010504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuVn5OTf2ChgrRc4jlmdFOXcNRUa23Zh4Tswymvt6F4tI_grgZZYL2ku71Yt0h0q2WWsdDpRUmf4ydcNa9bxlVPfHh0pXWPPisBKSryrdBYA3p_orgh1yVHVzquseYKa9o0ycI/s320/P1010504.JPG" /></a></div>Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-9712821113284174522012-01-31T13:39:00.001-07:002012-01-31T14:12:52.903-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhyphenhyphenY4VhBd3jjQDksbyDZzfPh9pmfysTDms9JIMeQH0i9feUaTzTDQSnGHupHjs_oP_yqhphTgalE2fPCv25-FIlsAUtYIVPoaGcYyiTh2UlynJm20-EKxR12UJjoQIBPOXwXI/s1600/Jan.+30flyer%253Aspanis.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhyphenhyphenY4VhBd3jjQDksbyDZzfPh9pmfysTDms9JIMeQH0i9feUaTzTDQSnGHupHjs_oP_yqhphTgalE2fPCv25-FIlsAUtYIVPoaGcYyiTh2UlynJm20-EKxR12UJjoQIBPOXwXI/s400/Jan.+30flyer%253Aspanis.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703898823475624978" /></a><br /><br /><br /> The thing about a seminar for survivors of sexual abuse is that most people are embarrassed to attend—even those who would benefit the most. <br /> I’m thinking about the story of the Good Samaritan. He was a man just going about his business when he saw someone who had been stripped, beaten, robbed and left. He didn’t witness the attack, but he saw the results. Most of us are like him. We know someone who has been abused and even though we didn’t see it happen, we can see the results. <br /> Survivors of sexual abuse respond in various ways. Some are so angry that rage defines them. Others struggle with self-destructive behaviors, depression, addictions to alcohol, food, or porn, or they have an aversion to sex or an eating disorders, chronic unexplained pain, cutting or shame. These types of symptoms can often be linked to surviving sexually abuse, but being left alone and never being helped to reach the place of healing.<br /> Chances are you know a survivor of sexual abuse; maybe you are directly affected by the fact that they are still suffering. Will you do as Jesus said and show them mercy? The Good Samaritan didn’t know the stranger that he saw stripped of his clothes, beaten and bleeding, but he decided to get involved. It took time, energy and money but he noticed that wounded person and took him to a safe place where healing could happen. <br /> Let’s not be like the religious people who looked the other way and pretended not to see the person who was just left alone to suffer. No, let’s do all we can to see each wounded one made whole.<br /><br /> Jesus challenges us to move beyond our comfort zone and to notice those in our families, in our pews, in our communities who have been hurt. Let’s not leave them alone; let’s figure out how to help them. Please consider joining us for the Help4Survivors seminar.<br />Thanks,<br />SueGrammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-70271166186380916612011-11-19T15:38:00.003-07:002011-11-19T15:49:24.127-07:00Falsh Fiction Fun<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKVbK6h6hAjUdk8mRsonWsBhdtIdfItELBItUr2ObGGromScUQYy8VY2OI0d2dmBPcuGSvw60cBgAoZb5LRhPbcFwqjD5TTLf62E9-8_SizN0bx6GrnfPn9r9JumnIh-nYZzF/s1600/family+wedding.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKVbK6h6hAjUdk8mRsonWsBhdtIdfItELBItUr2ObGGromScUQYy8VY2OI0d2dmBPcuGSvw60cBgAoZb5LRhPbcFwqjD5TTLf62E9-8_SizN0bx6GrnfPn9r9JumnIh-nYZzF/s400/family+wedding.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676841629809068786" /></a><br /><br />Here is a picture of our whole family in July at Aimee and Luke's wedding.<br /><br /> I recently entered the "HIS Writers Flash Fiction Online Contest,"<a href="www.hiswriters.afcwcolorado.com/flashfiction.php"></a>(www.hiswriters.afcwcolorado.com/flashfiction.php). And was so suprised to win first place. Basically, all who entered used the same first sentence, middle sentence and last sentence to write a short story of 1000 words. Here is my little story. <br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />THE FAKE<br /><br /> There she was, Amy Gerstein, over by the pool, kissing my father. I sprinted toward them intent on executing a perfectly aimed splash. “Cannonball!”<br /> When I came up for air, Amy was breathless—and dripping. She sputtered. “Why you little. . . ”<br /> Come on, say it. If she’d actually admit I was a brat, my father would drop her like a weight and their relationship would sink into oblivion. <br /> Amy managed a coy smile. “You little—future Olympian.” Then she slipped gracefully out of her shoes and into the water.<br /> “Amy?” My father sounded as astonished as I felt. “What are you doing?” <br /> She laughed. “Swimming. Join me.” <br /> “But, I’m not wearing a swimsuit.” <br /> “Me neither.” She glided effortlessly through the water and up the steps. “But I think this dress worked fine.” <br /> My father looked like he agreed as he scrutinized her. Brother! I dove. You’re a sly one, Amy Gerstein, but not smart enough to get my father’s money. In honor of my mother’s memory, I’ll see to that. <br /> I enlisted help from my best friend, Maggie. We sat on the porch. “I can’t get rid of her. She even ate the Spam and horseradish sandwich and then pretended to adore snakes when I released Slinky.”<br /> Maggie spit a watermelon seed. “Maybe she’s not like the others, but just a nice lady.” <br /> “My thoughts exactly. But, yesterday, on my bike and nearly ran over Lupe as she climbed out of Amy’s car.”<br /> “So?”<br /> I leaned close. “Lupe found a diamond bracelet in the back of the car!”<br /> “Your mothers?” <br /> I nodded. “Yes, and it’s supposed to be locked in the safe.”<br /> “Did you tell your father?”<br /> “No. He’s crazy about Amy.” I stood, took careful aim and spit my seed halfway across the lawn. “But I have a plan that’ll prove she’s a thief.” I faced Maggie. “Will you help?”<br /> Three nights later, I smeared a glob of face paint across Maggie’s forehead.<br /> “That’s enough, Ashley. No one will see us anyway.”<br /> I zipped my black sweatshirt. “Remember, no talking when we’re in the study.”<br /> “Right. We just wait for Amy to open the safe.” Maggie paused. “Why’s she doing that, again?” <br /> “To put in the fake bracelet so no one will know she stole the real one.”<br /> Maggie looked confused. “How do you know she’ll do it tonight?”<br /> Sighing, I explained. “Tomorrow’s the first Saturday of the month when my father always checks the contents of the safe. Tonight’s perfect since he’s busy with all the dinner guests. Got it?”<br /> “Yeah.” <br /> I touched Maggie’s shoulder. “You scared?”<br /> “Nope.” <br /> “Me neither but I have this just in case.” I held up the letter opener.<br /> “Looks really sharp.”<br /> “I’ll be careful,” I said, slipping it into my pocket. “Hurry, I hear someone coming up the stairs.”<br /> We raced down the hall, into the dark study and crouched under my father’s massive desk. A moment later, the door opened and someone entered. They held a penlight and located the hidden button. The large painting that hung in front of the safe slid to the side. <br /> My heart pounded crazily, more in pride than in fear. Tonight I would expose Amy as a fake. My father would be so grateful that he’d probably never want another girlfriend.<br /> The thief opened the safe and I elbowed Maggie. We yelled and jumped up from our hiding place. That same moment the door opened and the lights came on. I lunged toward the thief who turned to face me. She held a gun. <br /> “Lupe!” I shouted. She grabbed me, holding the gun to my temple.<br /> Maggie screamed. My father and Amy rushed into the room, stopping when they spotted Lupe, the gun and me.<br /> My father looked pale. <br /> Amy stepped in front of him. She spoke calmly. “Lupe, you don’t want to hurt Ashley. Put the gun down. I understand that things are difficult for your family right now.” <br /> Lupe began to tremble. “Yes.”<br /> I slowly started to remove my weapon.<br /> Amy’s voice was soothing. “Your husband is very sick . . .”<br /> “It’s cancer—” Lupe’s voice sounded strained. “Treatments costs so much and my son . . . ”<br /> “Manuel?” Amy asked gently. “He’s in trouble and so he took all your savings, didn’t he?”<br /> Lupe looked sad. “How did you know?”<br /> “We’ll help you. Please put down the gun.”<br /> I clutched the letter opener and glanced at Lupe. She raised me. I can’t stab her. <br /> Lupe’s eyes darted to my father. “Mr. Stone, I’m not stealing from you. I just need to borrow some things to take to the pawnshop, to help my husband. When Manuel pays me, I’ll return everything.” <br /> My father stepped forward. “Why didn’t you ask me for help?”<br /> “I felt ashamed about Manuel.” A sob rose from deep inside her. <br /> My father continued. “When items began to disappear, I hired Amy. I never imagined it was you, Lupe. You’ve been our trusted friend for years.” <br /> Lupe dropped the gun. “I’m sorry.” She covered her face and sunk to the floor.<br /> When I lunged toward my father’s open arms I tripped. The letter opener in my hand slid through the blue fabric of Amy’s evening gown. <br /> My father caught me. “Ashley! Thank heaven you’re safe.”<br /> I smiled at him.<br /> “What ever do you have on your face?”<br /> “Camouflage.” I looked into his eyes. “You hired Amy?” <br /> He nodded. “She’s a private investigator, posing as my girlfriend.” <br /> “So, she was a fake?” <br /> “Yes.” His eyes rested on Amy. “But it seems that in the midst of all our pretending, we’ve grown to love each other.” He smiled. I realized how long it’d been since I’d seen him that happy.<br /> My father lifted my chin. “In fact, I’ve decided I never want another girlfriend. It’s time you had a new mother.” <br /> Amy blushed at his words. I smiled at her. She’s smart, pretty and fun. And she didn’t even get mad about the tear in her dress.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-29956415315192825882011-09-06T12:49:00.002-06:002011-09-06T12:55:54.583-06:00Take a Walk, it cheap, easy and life changing.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbdgfqUTVi3yeJTzZGhQEdrokr4GOLl4LPWUd0281wZKDM-ayvu7b2s2hC_NCgXNjtHM-PbRA2WBnKxzvIiRIivljgIUOu5tJtEopRwAt0rcN6BkMeQ23gZyt6OSJRDRccrCWK/s1600/P1010687.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbdgfqUTVi3yeJTzZGhQEdrokr4GOLl4LPWUd0281wZKDM-ayvu7b2s2hC_NCgXNjtHM-PbRA2WBnKxzvIiRIivljgIUOu5tJtEopRwAt0rcN6BkMeQ23gZyt6OSJRDRccrCWK/s400/P1010687.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649321971820004834" /></a><br />When you take a walk, you see and hear beauty.<br /><br /> In Sunday school we were challenged to find time this week to take a walk with our spouse. While we all agreed this simple activity is more complicated for those with little ones, we also acknowledged the value of actually walking together.<br /> Why is taking a walk good for couples? It’s cheap, easy and takes us away from the normal tasks of life, which take us, and our attention, away from each other.<br /> We found examples of those who took walks. It all starts in Genesis where we read that God walked in the garden in the cool of the day. Wow. So, when we walk, we’re imitating God. Now if anyone in the universe is busy, it God. He takes time to walk, so what’s our excuse? <br /> We also read about how when a man named Enoch walked with God, the Lord simply lifted him out of this life into the next without the usual annoyance of having to die. This event sets Enoch (and Elijah ) apart from all other people ever born yet the only real description we have of this unique man is that he walked with God. I guess that’s all he needed to do in God’s eyes for it to be recorded in His Book.<br /> Then there’s Noah. Now there’s a famous name. When I think of him a song comes to mind, “The Lord said to Noah, build me an arky arky. . . ” He’s a guy who spent many years building an ark, while being ridiculed by others. He also ended up running a zoo and somehow persuaded his family to join him inside just before the door was locked from the outside. Noah impresses me. And while all that he did is recorded in Scripture, the description of who he was as a person is: “Noah was a righteous man, blameless in his time; Noah walked with God.” That is what the defining feature that made his life different than those around him.<br /> So, I’m thinking that God delights in those who take the time to walk with Him. Not those who preach to others, not those who build elaborate buildings in His honor, not those who record songs or write books (or blogs) – even though I might like to hear the Lord say, “Sue Cameron blogged for me,” it doesn’t seem like that matters all that much to Him. <br /> What pleases God? What delights Him? What quality in us does He seek? It seems to be those among us who take time away from our normal tasks to go walking with Him. It’s being accessible, present and available to Him as He is ever to us. In relationship with Jesus, or with our spouse, this is time to focus on just being together, to talk, to listen, to walk. It’s simple, cheap, easy—and life changing.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-25796017392829098512011-08-17T16:23:00.005-06:002011-08-17T16:49:09.596-06:00Passionate about the next life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMOXI7UQi0DPtL7s7AvfydHd_bKI340NXDM5zN_oS33AoIjUp23daQFsEbWcwIgifl-tMjr1C11K-VyzUOF5IS1Azp5kOKMl9iHrMYtgZaFKDCj8y9LyfTelMelSjTB1kNAJz/s1600/P1000346.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMOXI7UQi0DPtL7s7AvfydHd_bKI340NXDM5zN_oS33AoIjUp23daQFsEbWcwIgifl-tMjr1C11K-VyzUOF5IS1Azp5kOKMl9iHrMYtgZaFKDCj8y9LyfTelMelSjTB1kNAJz/s400/P1000346.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641954528087556066" /></a>
<br /> THIS IS A PICTURE I TOOK WHEN WE WERE IN KAUIA
<br />
<br />On a recent flight I listened as the lady sitting next to me talked for several hours. She felt passionate about the fact that cancer and diabetes result from parasites and that curing them simply requires ingesting the right supplements. She didn’t know that Robert died of testicular cancer or that six-year-old Ethne has type 1 diabetes. It was evident that she had invested a lot of time doing on-line research to uncover these hidden facts, which, according to her, have been suppressed by pharmaceutical companies and the US government.
<br /> I did not question her sincerity or even her conclusions, since she has as much right as I to choose her beliefs. But now that I’ve thought it all over I am wondering if she has ever felt the need to consider her spiritual health. Sooner or later, even with the right supplements, she will die--maybe of illness, old age, violence or an accident. And, I’m wondering what my life would look like if I felt as concerned about my eternal life as she does her temporary life.
<br /> Gaining and maintaining health is important, in fact I believe it is a matter of stewardship. God has given us this life and our bodies and minds to bring Him glory. So, making decisions to honor our bodies and to do our best to stay, or get, healthy is a part of acknowledging God’s ownership of us.
<br /> What would my life look like if I spent more time thinking of my eternal health? What if I considered every decision in the shadow of eternity? Would my days look differently? What if, instead of shopping for the best deal on airlines, car rentals, clothes or gadgets, I invested those hours in seeking first the kingdom of God? Jesus did promise to take care of the things of this life for me. Wouldn’t my time be freed up if I actually let Him? What if I spent those hours seeking Him with all my mind and heart, wouldn’t I be more passionate about eternal things and about bearing the light to a darkening world?
<br /> Would I perhaps be so convinced about God’s love for each person, that I would be the one sharing that passion to my seatmate on the next flight I take?
<br />Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-38833224295452694722011-05-05T20:17:00.004-06:002011-05-06T20:38:04.219-06:00In Memory -- A glimpse of Heaven!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQzxvOk-E7lUMs2fmSc10nHLBfvvxwsUJoInoKP3RlEGr_shLDFJK6NPDscZNaC_Wd7zEpFdWwOD_2gHQI9QKxxD_AmXcsw0nmJZERDO66eGsaUvbDLwEPx6zgM3kXzaeNLw6/s1600/P1010533.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQzxvOk-E7lUMs2fmSc10nHLBfvvxwsUJoInoKP3RlEGr_shLDFJK6NPDscZNaC_Wd7zEpFdWwOD_2gHQI9QKxxD_AmXcsw0nmJZERDO66eGsaUvbDLwEPx6zgM3kXzaeNLw6/s400/P1010533.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603422351578477298" /></a><br /><br />This month marks one year since our son-in-law, Robert, went on to heaven. This was one of the last pictures I took of him with his girls. We have no doubt that Robert is now with Jesus, waiting for us to join him in heaven. Meanwhile, life on earth continues and we are experiencing God's gracious love. He has brought Aimee a new husband, and the children another daddy. Their wedding is in Austin in July. Luke is a blessing to us all, and an answer to the prayers of so many. Thank you for praying and for rejoicing with us!<br /><br />About 6 weeks ago, Robert's godfather, Frank Feuille, also went to be with the Lord. Shortly before his death, Frank had an amazing vision of heaven. His wife, Elizabeth, recorded it and gave permission for me to share it with you.<br /> <br />This is Elizabeth Feuille’s last post on Caring Bridge…<br />MONDAY, MARCH 14, 2011 8:30 PM, MST<br /><br /> Today Frank left this earthly world and walked joyfully into eternity. His entry was marked by a beautiful conversation that he had with me in the early hours of the Sunday morning preceding his death. <br /> Around 1:45 AM on Sunday, March 13th, the Lord awakened me from a deep sleep. I went to check Frank's blood pressure, and as he was becoming weaker and weaker, his voice was soft, yet the words were definitely recognizable. <br /> I want to share with each of you the following as I feel it will fill your hearts with hope knowing that we have the invitation of eternal life though our Lord Jesus Christ. <br /> Frank's first words were "the countenance of heaven" which he repeated several times. He then said, " I see it now, I see it now, the other side, I see it now, it's just beautiful." He also said, "I do see Jesus, it's exactly like you would expect, exactly as God, so wonderful, Jesus is through God, God through Jesus". <br /> When I asked if they knew him, he replied, "I feel like they know me, I feel each of us is part of a plan they planned." I asked if he were scared, to which he replied, "Oh no, I am not." He told me that, “this is real." <br /> After asking if he had talked to Him, he said, "I feel like I have, I've talked to him." <br /> I told him, “We love you and we’re behind you – go.”<br /> Then he said, " I feel like I have passed through. And I am so happy to be with Jesus. I am so much at peace." <br /> He then told me the names of many family member who he saw, including our dear cousin and our godson Robert who died recently at 28. <br /> I ask if he wanted to be with them and he said, " Of course, I want to be with them." <br /> He told me that I, as well as all of our children, and grandchildren would be there. He said they are going through God just as I am about to do. They are going to die, just as I am about to die, they are going there. Not everyone who believes, only those who believe in Jesus. <br /> When I asked him if he was confused, he assured me he was not (and he sounded completely clear to me) and told me that this was absolutely real, again saying "wonderful, wonderful" and reconfirming that there is a God and there is a Jesus. <br /> He told me that, "I am here and you are coming, and we are going to be a family together."<br /> My final and most important question before he again slept was "How do I get there?" <br /> His answer was definite, "Through Jesus Christ—believe—that is the one and only way to go."<br /> Today, March 14, 2011, I lost my love, my husband, my prayer partner, my best friend, the father of my children and a huge part of my life that can never be replaced. We have been married almost 45 beautiful years, and I can honestly say, Frank Feuille is the finest, most honest, caring, loving, ethical and perfect person I have ever known. I have been richly blessed to have had him now and forever in eternity as my husband. Our separation will be only brief in eternal time, but during this earthly time, it will be unimaginably long for me. I know my days will be filled with great sadness for Frank. I shall try in every way to be the person he would expect me to be, and I shall love him "until" forever. Our words to each other were punctuated by "until" rather than goodbye. <br /> As yesterday grew long, Frank's time on earth grew short. He became weaker, and we realized the time was near. Dear cousins kept the vigil with Cinco and me and left our home around 10:30 PM. Around 3:00 AM, Frank breathed his last breath and while we held his hands, he took one step over into eternity into that beautiful place he had so joyously described to me earlier. <br /> My sorrow is great, my loss is unimaginable, but I rejoice in the faith and love that this blessed man gave during the 68 years he was on this earth. Thank you Lord, and may your name be praised for sustaining me during this and the future time of my grief for Frank. <br /> I would like to express my deepest thanks to all of you have shared this special walk in our lives, and I pray that all that happened in these last brief 5 weeks will be to the Glory of God. <br /> I am not bitter or angry. My only emotion is that of great sadness. And I know this is part of God's great plan. <br /> Frank's memorial service will be held on Saturday, March 19th at 10 AM at the Church of St. Clements. Frank founded and served as the president of the St. Clement's Mission Board, which serves the poor, and requested that any memorials be sent to serve this wonderful outreach. His service will be one of praise and celebration.<br /> May God bless each and all of you and keep you in His loving care...."until." <br />With heartfelt love and appreciation, <br />ElizabethGrammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-25400820024008219122011-02-25T21:41:00.002-07:002011-02-25T21:47:21.751-07:00Very Bearish<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxZHxGuNJyAO2i7QQMNlwD6vF4HA_5wzU8N9kI2BziPpJtkQ0V3cz7b0AUNiPnLczk9o3Reo4wewzkWcYO_gy2n1V6GpL0VS_dqZPVYulxFZ42I1TSOakRuGz9j3f3tSn6SI3/s1600/P1000369.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxZHxGuNJyAO2i7QQMNlwD6vF4HA_5wzU8N9kI2BziPpJtkQ0V3cz7b0AUNiPnLczk9o3Reo4wewzkWcYO_gy2n1V6GpL0VS_dqZPVYulxFZ42I1TSOakRuGz9j3f3tSn6SI3/s400/P1000369.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577854553593112290" /></a><br /> <br /><br /> We watched the three little ones while Luke whisked Aimee off to propose. I tried to act nonchalant as if it were just another normal day of ‘going to Grammy and Granddad’s house’. But after dinner, before we tucked them in bed, I mentioned that Mommy would have a surprise waiting for them in the morning.<br /> I wasn’t there to hear it, so this story is how Luke told it to me. <br /> Early in the morning, Luke went over to talk to the children before they left for school. Ethne leaned against Luke as they sat in the lounge chair.<br /> He said, “You know how your first daddy loved you very much?”<br /> “Yeah.”<br /> “And now your first daddy is in heaven with Jesus, right?”<br /> “Yes.”<br /> “Well, God has arranged it so I can be your new daddy and I will love you for a very, very long time.”<br /> “You’re going to marry my mommy?”<br /> “Yes.”<br /> “Oh! I think Emeline and I would be good flower girls. And Egan-- he can be the ring bear, because he is very bearish!”<br /> That’s when Emeline said, “Where is my surprise?”Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-62308146444383536372011-02-02T19:15:00.004-07:002011-02-02T19:20:45.301-07:00Sharing Happy News<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfs9GatrE1vAoGvzluv7C-OmNzXBZAxgDiui6-eNH9EJu_oBXUbXXtZODDjblRjxd_nltgSdknfTcf-eqarhrIDyFxXzajbWNHTTdELfMKTTwU3kUPM-DX8cSRwYn05UAhECZG/s1600/tn-1.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 100px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfs9GatrE1vAoGvzluv7C-OmNzXBZAxgDiui6-eNH9EJu_oBXUbXXtZODDjblRjxd_nltgSdknfTcf-eqarhrIDyFxXzajbWNHTTdELfMKTTwU3kUPM-DX8cSRwYn05UAhECZG/s400/tn-1.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569281718787442194" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit8RZxegn4vYnkjdoooXQ7T5L2ACZpeMnonRFOMXKXS5vllY7IvhrYIYw7HjNriuevbb9rVebzbcJ8BfWNrqG9KDJS5SIchyphenhyphenuB0ZBktnrLB7rYIAw2zZHrL-8Vc3dBi7mcK__3/s1600/tn.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 113px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit8RZxegn4vYnkjdoooXQ7T5L2ACZpeMnonRFOMXKXS5vllY7IvhrYIYw7HjNriuevbb9rVebzbcJ8BfWNrqG9KDJS5SIchyphenhyphenuB0ZBktnrLB7rYIAw2zZHrL-8Vc3dBi7mcK__3/s400/tn.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569281715128677186" /></a><br /><br /><br />We are so thankful to our faithful Lord for answering our prayers and bringing Aimee a wonderful godly husband and providing the children with a new dad who already loves them! "Thank you, Lord, thank you."<br />Sue<br />This is a picture of the ring and of Aimee with Luke Barnes (our soon to be son-in-law)Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-6126538927757872022011-01-25T21:19:00.005-07:002011-01-25T21:52:57.157-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijk1C3kut9tH0WW9llYean1mXB9PFqdbutpE17i1kQ6yGEO_HDBjxqiSu4wjwnbty9alCOQYw9wfVkHeJUphkU9pZ4YbPYRDUiDOKd_5u9tu7PiJP5zhVWnFmZvshGv8QPab8Q/s1600/P1000056.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijk1C3kut9tH0WW9llYean1mXB9PFqdbutpE17i1kQ6yGEO_HDBjxqiSu4wjwnbty9alCOQYw9wfVkHeJUphkU9pZ4YbPYRDUiDOKd_5u9tu7PiJP5zhVWnFmZvshGv8QPab8Q/s400/P1000056.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566351821067111698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTgKoGMLiVX4iBNW_OyHCMDWcaVnV3H0IeA0o2zvmXOIQ8jvCk1wCUIaVXo7Toz3rMGvDk065qZBTCXC-HGmsBsfP9p7Pf9xRePuLXMm1QPh8drxSH-yWwpTdSkp-ITWLqAH1h/s1600/P1000031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTgKoGMLiVX4iBNW_OyHCMDWcaVnV3H0IeA0o2zvmXOIQ8jvCk1wCUIaVXo7Toz3rMGvDk065qZBTCXC-HGmsBsfP9p7Pf9xRePuLXMm1QPh8drxSH-yWwpTdSkp-ITWLqAH1h/s400/P1000031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566351818385932034" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9BLpemuuaYqDlgU312N1iR_R-I8_gWQKfDkA_MBYVNYQQvEWEc9pJwQSurDNoP_wLvkS1LnGFRoMenJvpfWKMYCXxzGapdSs3RAWimfO1KVaedA4_xPy3W-5QVLDqQplh4MJ/s1600/P1000024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9BLpemuuaYqDlgU312N1iR_R-I8_gWQKfDkA_MBYVNYQQvEWEc9pJwQSurDNoP_wLvkS1LnGFRoMenJvpfWKMYCXxzGapdSs3RAWimfO1KVaedA4_xPy3W-5QVLDqQplh4MJ/s400/P1000024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566351808552078386" /></a><br /><br />We've just returned from a fablously fun trip to Kauia where we watched whales leap from the ocean. We enjoyed long walks <br /><br />along reddish sands -- and a hike to a waterfall with an amazing view. There was the ride in the helicopter without doors and <br /><br />a kayak trip up a river. Lots of yummy food and time to just relax. We didn't want to leave because it is a place of such beauty. <br /><br />We even looked at property and dreamed. We really taked about living there, moving there, retiring there but each time we <br /><br />said, <span style="font-style:italic;">"If we actully move here, we'd be so far from family."</span><br /><br />Then we came back home and Aimee picked us up at the airport. Egan was with her but we needed to go and get the <br /><br />gilrs from pre-school/kindergarten. They threw themselves into our arms procliaming how much they missed us. Then they <br /><br />thanked us (sincerely) for the simple shell necklaces we brought them. And Egan laughed when he threw his new ball (inside <br /><br />the van) and Granddad caught it. The girls were full of news and had many stories to tell us. Ethne begged me to tell them a <br /><br />Fariy story. So explained that there are fairy mermaids (who can swim and fly) who live in the ocean near Kauia. They worked <br /><br />very hard to gather many tiny beautiful shells and joined them together to form necklaces for two very special girls who live in <br /><br />Texas where there isn't an ocean. The girls were delighted with the story which added to my joy of being with them again. And <br /><br />as I sat there looking at them and listening to them As I looked at them and listened a truth rose in my heart. <span style="font-style:italic;">Kauia is beautiful but not as beautiful as these children. They are even more beauitful than Kauia</span>Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-87219655568847822522010-12-22T17:54:00.005-07:002017-10-10T13:27:09.463-06:00Not the Pinky<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wPVlbcf3DxXVHn3BLxUI6i1uLFOym1XdjgrKLK7c8TLtLdspyNRsxOzxQMEzkXREMWhvmlWONmjD-zipAl6DmVhYa77cqQBUmgpYfF7EstaNWGKeGPhcGyMNtFc5R_cZjdZu/s1600/P1010545.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553676267213981570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wPVlbcf3DxXVHn3BLxUI6i1uLFOym1XdjgrKLK7c8TLtLdspyNRsxOzxQMEzkXREMWhvmlWONmjD-zipAl6DmVhYa77cqQBUmgpYfF7EstaNWGKeGPhcGyMNtFc5R_cZjdZu/s400/P1010545.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwJ5RYLwtLTiYDms6NCVUQ-fajcGnQObaALYxtdm-x03X6csK22bTZ6FZRwG948aI8WqrVvcneuUK3CZsnlyb3fOhh3bg9OOidc5TapgShcCzqBExd04q78QBUPDu0Nusf3LdV/s1600/P1010521.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553676265987012018" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwJ5RYLwtLTiYDms6NCVUQ-fajcGnQObaALYxtdm-x03X6csK22bTZ6FZRwG948aI8WqrVvcneuUK3CZsnlyb3fOhh3bg9OOidc5TapgShcCzqBExd04q78QBUPDu0Nusf3LdV/s400/P1010521.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26G8HhZeVj4YCXOAxO4RtDQIMF2h53oxK6IX005w7CDuyF32VYe7mTEmB8K1iQTxeFpMUYhEy7MM2MWaXvnEaa64UoVN7sgJmWs7V5vbJmgnZxEeL0XnfJ76MXQd9NsRfvuA7/s1600/thanksgiving20100054.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553676259780045922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26G8HhZeVj4YCXOAxO4RtDQIMF2h53oxK6IX005w7CDuyF32VYe7mTEmB8K1iQTxeFpMUYhEy7MM2MWaXvnEaa64UoVN7sgJmWs7V5vbJmgnZxEeL0XnfJ76MXQd9NsRfvuA7/s400/thanksgiving20100054.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 376px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUl0OVUcjsOeRK9IgId03lVKZxx78PDzd0IzrHHRy3HgmGOYXuIAApKypos35zYzPxISHa4a2blTkvKwQOir4L01f9gFFOFgDLMa6ubLEv_-376lyFLg8wLl83cCgQwMAy4BI/s1600/thanksgiving20100026.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553676256235896354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUl0OVUcjsOeRK9IgId03lVKZxx78PDzd0IzrHHRy3HgmGOYXuIAApKypos35zYzPxISHa4a2blTkvKwQOir4L01f9gFFOFgDLMa6ubLEv_-376lyFLg8wLl83cCgQwMAy4BI/s400/thanksgiving20100026.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
“Not the Pinky because it’s the baby,” this was our five-year-old granddaughter’s reply when Granddad asked, “Ethne, which finger should I use to test your blood levels?”<br />
She wanted to protect the baby, even if it is only a baby finger. Less than a week ago we all learned that Ethne has diabetes. I want to protect her; after all she’s still just a baby in some ways, so young, so innocent. I don’t want her to have to prick her finger four times and day and get insulin shots three times a day! Seven pokes every single day for the rest of her life, this Grammy really doesn’t like this news. It reality stinks.<br />
Still, it’s better than many other things. She gets to live, even if her life (and ours) has altered. I don’t usually invited change or challenge, I’m comfortable being comfortable. I like the boat that doesn’t rock and the status quo is really okay with me. If I had my way I’d never change, never mature, never learn about deeper faith.<br />
Good thing I’m not in charge. Someone Wise and Good loves me, and Ethne and He has a perfect plan for the whole world and for every single day of our individual lives. The only way I get better is when things get worse. It’s because I won’t change unless I’m forced to and I refuse to grow on my own. The squeeze of God’s tender hand molds me and fashions me and teaches me to trust Him, even when it’s painful. For me, the hardest test is when those I love hurt. And when it’s my children or grandchildren, my heart feels especially breakable. “Just let it be me, Jesus. Please, let it be me!”<br />
But He is Lord to little Ethne, too. And He will carry her and hold her and be real to her in her challenges and in her joys—and in every single stick of the needle. He seeks out each one of us for that face-to-face and heart-to-heart relationship. And I want, more than anything, more than comfort and ease, more than painless days, I want each of these precious descendants of mine to know the sweetness of God’s faithful parenting.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-75651603367008087282010-12-20T22:06:00.006-07:002010-12-22T17:25:38.139-07:00Merry Christmas From The Camerons 2010<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnnpsAvy3w1jqqW6KhgIkrmbdYtJdTDm0Z_9QOAibF1klHYzuUzFEqLWbcNgEEXYrf88GEDuQKVy-aJ6636Qe-1xyAReKHgnIBLMXFDyiVduGE3jkqG9B9bieYt3ws77wQUZi/s1600/thanksgiving20100049.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnnpsAvy3w1jqqW6KhgIkrmbdYtJdTDm0Z_9QOAibF1klHYzuUzFEqLWbcNgEEXYrf88GEDuQKVy-aJ6636Qe-1xyAReKHgnIBLMXFDyiVduGE3jkqG9B9bieYt3ws77wQUZi/s400/thanksgiving20100049.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553005134565416162" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPK5Pbm4bdGKXhRr1oqnizzN00c89z7azSWwDxBNsmtc-PkhnB18pqwF2VXQKhl4ShVkMqbS2gH6OAePEFDhyphenhyphenpd7-ZVBx9-VWc9vp7c-EUF7Tvl-WRlUwNSbRiSVaf5HDSKjbv/s1600/thanksgiving20100038.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 157px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPK5Pbm4bdGKXhRr1oqnizzN00c89z7azSWwDxBNsmtc-PkhnB18pqwF2VXQKhl4ShVkMqbS2gH6OAePEFDhyphenhyphenpd7-ZVBx9-VWc9vp7c-EUF7Tvl-WRlUwNSbRiSVaf5HDSKjbv/s400/thanksgiving20100038.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553005127993458402" /></a><br /> <br /><br /><br /> Unaware of the danger, I clung to the inner tube as the rip tide steadily pulled me away from shore. At age eleven, I loved floating up and over the ocean swells and felt so relaxed that I could have stayed there all day. So, when people on the beach motioned for me to come in, I felt confused. <span style="font-style:italic;"></span>I want to swim. Still, I slipped from the inner tube and pulled it along as I kicked, with all my might, toward shore. When my best efforts didn’t seem to take me any closer to land, I released the float and used both arms to fight against the tide. The only result of my struggle was total exhaustion.<br /> <br /> After a while, I knew I couldn’t keep swimming and my only t thought was, Get back to the inner tube and hold on. With my last bit of strength I kicked in that direction and reached out to grab the inner tube as it floated away from my grasp. Too weary to go on, I simply stopped trying and sank calmly into the deep arms of the Pacific Ocean. I remember feeling like I was just falling asleep. Unexpectedly, the strong arm of a lifeguard circled my waist and pulled me to the surface where I took the breath of air that saved my life…<br /> <br /> This childhood incident comes close to describing our last two years. We have struggled in deep waters as our son-in-law, Robert fought testicular cancer, with our daughter, Aimee, at his side. As parents, our hearts were especially warmed by the way our children and children-in-law responded. Each one readily altered their normal life to offer Robert, Aimee and their little ones the tangible love and support they needed. Many others also did all they could to sustain this faithful, brave pair. <br /> Still, the illness raged and drained Robert’s life until he took his last breath and surrendered into the outstretched arms of Jesus. His home going will remain one of the most sacred times we’ve experienced on this earth, as the Lord drew Robert toward Himself and offered us His peace. So, at age 28, surrounded by his closest friends and most of his family, our Robert p preceded us to heaven. <br /> <br /> The lingering impression of these months is that we could not have managed without the power and absolute necessity of prayer as an untold number of believing friends, family, acquaintances, Facebook contacts, Blog followers, Flickr friends and other strangers joined to support all of us in this battle. We literally felt the prayer support and the grace that was extended to us in response. These petitions kept our heads above the deep despair that can drown the living when the young suffer and die. If the weight of this battle could be described as an immense woven sheet smothering us, the prayers of the faithful were a multitude of hands raised up that lifted the heaviness so we could continue to take care of the three little ones, encourage the sick and weary, praise our good and wise God and live each day fully under His marvelous sovereignty. <br /> <br /> Now you understand why the Craig Cameron family did not send out its annual letter last year. By God’s grace life goes on and joyfully Christmas comes again with another chance to send our greetings. Currently, Craig is entering his eleventh year with EPOSG and just re-board certified. He’s a very hard worker and thankfully still loves what he does while looking forward to retirement, or at least some sort of change, ‘in the future.” He serves as an elder in our church, leads a weekly home Bible study for men (I cook for them), has a blast flying his plane (sometimes I go along) and even skydives now and then (without me, thank goodness.) Together, we help lead an adult Sunday school class on marriage. <br /> <br /> I (Sue) stepped back from many of my activities to offer extra Grammy help to Aimee during the last two years. Recently, when she and the children moved out of our home (yes, they are doing well) life began to settle back into a routine. I’m working on a book, Healing Steps, for survivors of sexual abuse. A group meets with me each month to review the material and give feedback and suggestions. My mom, Rosli, still lives with us and keeps busy with a pet/house sitting business, playing Bridge, attending her Sunday school class and other various activities. She often helps out in the kitchen and we are so thankful for her good health.<br /> <br /> We enjoy traveling and spend a lot of time in other places, often visiting our children and grandchildren (all eight are wonderful and growing too fast.) This summer Craig and I took a fabulous cruise to Alaska and in early 2011 we will be going to Kauai for a medical meeting. We just celebrated our 33rd year of marriage and realized we’ve spent a third of that time in this one house (a record for us.) It’s a great house, with lots of space, and we’d love to have you come a stay with us in 2011.<br /><br /> We’re so thankful for each of you, our family and friends, and realize in a new way that you are indeed our greatest gifts. Blessed Christmas and a year filled with<br />God’s perfect faithfulness! Love, Craig & SueGrammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-4968694717517191132010-10-22T08:50:00.000-06:002010-10-22T08:51:30.608-06:00Forgiveness Flows FreelyHave you ever felt that your sin was too big for God to forgive? With thoughts like, “there’s no way He can forgive that it’s just too awful”? <br />Or may be, like me, you’ve felt like you’re always pestering the Lord to forgive a bunch of little things. “Forgive me for wasting time,” “Lord, I’m sorry I got so irritated and short-tempered.” <br />That’s how I felt this morning when I awoke. Before I climbed out of bed I was already bombarding Jesus with pleas for His forgiveness for innumerable attitudes and actions that formed the fabric of yesterday (and of every day—in varying degrees.)<br />In the midst of this casual one-way conversation a thought stopped my flow of confession. “I bet the Lord gets tired of all these countless requests for forgiveness. It’s a constant prayer.” <br />Well, as you know, every thought is also a prayer, at least it is certainly heard and known by the Lord, and what is prayer anyway but talking to Him (and having Him listen) verbally or in our minds and hearts?<br />So, as He does and as He will, He answered my thought. His reply was something like this: “My blood flowed freely to cover your sin. No one forced me. No one made me. I gave all of my life freely without reserve. I give forgiveness freely. It flows from Me. There is no limit. There are no boundaries. When I give it to you, there isn’t less to give to others. I offer you free and constant forgiveness each time you ask. No sin is frequent, too large or too small.”<br />Lavish! Like a massive waterfall, His forgiveness flows, rushes, cascades upon our lives and washes away the stains and wounds of our sins. How can we do anything but praise Him with grateful hearts as we splash in the cooling waters of His grace?Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-5911008646038790552010-10-13T11:53:00.005-06:002010-10-13T12:02:05.790-06:00I WAITED, NO ONE CAME<span style="font-weight:bold;">Here<a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=655337661"></a></span> is a short video of a new 'trick' of our grandson! <a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=655337661">http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=655337661</a><br /><br /> <br /> <br /><br />Today was the first day of a six-week discipleship class which I'm leading. I spent time preparing by reading the great material over and over and praying for unity among us and that God would be with us in a special way.<br /> I stayed up extra late (on my birthday) to bake Pumpkin Cream Cheese bars. Got up early to make Herbal Iced Tea. Pack a big napkins, plates and cups. And, at the last minute, before leaving for church, I searched through my office supplies for name tags and a Sharpie. On the way I stopped to buy a bag of ice. <br /> Once there, I carefully arranged the chairs into a small circle, put out the food and brand new books and adjusted the AC. Then, I waited. No one came.<br />I thought, I have yummy food, a wonderful study and a open heart but no one to share it with me. <br /> “Lord, is this sort of how you feel when you have prepared something good for me and I don't bother to show up? I just leave you standing at the door—knocking.”<br /> It doesn't take much for me to open the door—usually just the effort of rolling out of bed a few minuets early. He promises to come in and share a meal with me, if I'll open the door. But I'm not even aware that I'm hungry. “Show me my hunger, Lord! Expose my need. Let it gnaw at me like hunger pangs and teach me to respond to your pursuing knock. All you want is time with me. <br /> What's required of me is that I open the door. You do all the rest. The preparation. The coming. The knocking. The waiting. And you even bring the meal for us to share. But too often I leave you standing there knocking and don't bother to show up. Forgive me, Jesus when I say that I love you and want you more than all else but then don't act that way.”Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-44879057230907403222010-10-08T10:45:00.003-06:002010-10-08T10:55:35.035-06:00Robert Feuille and his photograhsDear Friends,<br />Please see this wonderful <a href="http://www.elpasotimes.com/news/ci_16282844?source=most_viewed"><span style="font-weight:bold;">article</span></a> about the opening of a show featuring Robert and his photographs. Aimee did an outstanding job of explaining the stories behind each shot.<br /><a href="http://www.elpasotimes.com/news/ci_16282844?source=most_viewed"></a><br />I cried because I miss Robert and I am so proud of Aimee.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-76907101489390122972010-09-27T21:19:00.005-06:002010-09-27T22:00:45.944-06:00IN MAY, IN THE DENVER AIRPORT I GOT IN LINE TO BUY A COOKIE. IN FRONT OF ME WERE FRIENDS FROM HIGH SCHOOL LINDA AND DEBBIE FOX (maiden name) THEY WERE ALSO WAITING FOR THIER PLANES TO TAKE THEM HOME! What a small world.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYa3o109E9MS6QI9hLDeE5Krs7JQeUajBznJV3VL-N_kpdeWYrgANVwT6OwXNMeWLsDsO3LM_phNZjpqzus8tOk_1WNCNAmzs1TjlIacyCJuTWoC6r-e9sK4fP8C0Iihg8g0s/s1600/P1010518.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYa3o109E9MS6QI9hLDeE5Krs7JQeUajBznJV3VL-N_kpdeWYrgANVwT6OwXNMeWLsDsO3LM_phNZjpqzus8tOk_1WNCNAmzs1TjlIacyCJuTWoC6r-e9sK4fP8C0Iihg8g0s/s400/P1010518.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521807053569189906" /></a><br /> A cool morning! Seven AM and not even 70 degrees! People, like me, who live in hot climates take notice of such delightful changes. <span style="font-style:italic;"></span>It's time to decorate!<span style="font-style:italic;"></span>Before I could put up our fall decorations, I had to pull them out--from under the stairway, through our kitchen pantry.<br /> <br /> A bunch of stuff had to be moved to get to the boxes marked, 'fall.' Food items, storage containers, ice chests and lots and lots of bags."It's always good to have extra bags on hand, isn't it?" That's what I told myself as I gathered piles of plastic and paper bags that littered the tile floor. <br /><br />And then I stopped. <br /><br />There, underneath all of those bags was a green item. I thought I'd lost it. In fact, I had replaced it. My fly swatter! I lifted it and hung it in it's place along side the new white one. <span style="font-style:italic;"></span> It was there all this time. Hidden under the pile of old paper bags. And I thought I'd lost it.<span style="font-style:italic;"></span><br /><br /> Some times we or people we know are like that. Lost or at least hidden under a bunch of stuff. It might be fear or anger. Maybe when the only thing others can hear is our sarcastic words. Maybe all they see are our judgmental attitudes. But all that is just the stuff that hides our pain, sorrow and hurts. It's not the real us. We're hiding. We're lost. Jesus said He can to seek and find the lost. There is always joy when a person who was lost is found and even if what you discover is as ordinary as a flyswatter, it's good when it's restored to it's rightful place.<br /><br /> I hope you've experience the joy of being found by Jesus. If not, just call out to Him, He will come and find you.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-80972956992806885292010-08-29T21:55:00.003-06:002010-09-20T15:21:30.222-06:00Life ViewI have been very blessed with new friends, stopping in to view my ramblings and then leaving a comment. Thank you to all of you. <br /><br /> We spent last weekend in Chicago. We rode the ‘L’ to the airport to catch our flight home. It was packed and I felt grateful to find a vacant seat. Poor Craig had to stand in the isle with our large suitcase for most of the trip.<br /> I sat on the side of the train with seats that faced backward. As went, the young woman in front of me spoke to her mother, who sat next to me. “I don’t like that I can’t see where I’m going.”<br /> Wow, I thought, life is like this. We can only see where we’ve been not where we’re going. And really it’s a blessing not to fully know what a day, or year may bring. And, what a comfort to know the One who is outside of time and to know He loves us and is holding us in His hand. <br /><br />“You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” Ps. 139:16<br /> Now that is wonderful. First God is writing a book (and I’m in it, so are you, so are the details of every single day of our lives.) All recorded. All known by the one who has been where we are going. “Thank you Lord, for that wonderful, comforting truth.”Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-77054389568120379872010-08-12T23:05:00.001-06:002010-08-12T23:05:39.072-06:00Two Important Things to Remember<div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"><object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="260" height="195" data="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=71377" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000"> <param name="flashvars" value="intl_lang=en-us&photo_secret=bd1dc3d095&photo_id=4886781767&flickr_show_info_box=true"></param> <param name="movie" value="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=71377"></param> <param name="bgcolor" value="#000000"></param> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=71377" bgcolor="#000000" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="intl_lang=en-us&photo_secret=bd1dc3d095&photo_id=4886781767&flickr_show_info_box=true" height="195" width="260"></embed></object><br /><span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28186541@N07/4886781767/">Em Sings</a><br />Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/28186541@N07/">grammysmc</a></span></div>Em learned this song at backyard, VBS. The words are, "Don't read your Bible, forget to pray and you shrink, shrink, shrink. Read your Bible, pray everyday and you grow, grow grow." True and good to remember if we hope to keep growing spiritually. Blessings to all, sue<br clear="all" />Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-76751904272986542622010-07-21T21:38:00.003-06:002010-07-21T21:45:44.017-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQPupUFPSMbo3GGL2ISZOxz0gqEjtsv0N5PbBmffd98lpVzDybTD7OHcZTwtDly1ma2RDFVJa9PFeBrMK-dIxKTE89Bmy72lxs3mTuvOvBDe60hgYWu1QsuwCSc49yws0Pt6E/s1600/P1010633.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQPupUFPSMbo3GGL2ISZOxz0gqEjtsv0N5PbBmffd98lpVzDybTD7OHcZTwtDly1ma2RDFVJa9PFeBrMK-dIxKTE89Bmy72lxs3mTuvOvBDe60hgYWu1QsuwCSc49yws0Pt6E/s400/P1010633.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496571269686923298" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6sG2qcxmf7CDMah6_LSOqcc1yd_moxwaheXgrjr5tK1ZtiBSkA5grP5RZmihNm0ksWE6DTH_goDKn-8N0TLHTCkt9GpBg1zmgjN3VFFp4qiXJm-guPhdUQdMJuCmHAyn71In8/s1600/P1010643.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6sG2qcxmf7CDMah6_LSOqcc1yd_moxwaheXgrjr5tK1ZtiBSkA5grP5RZmihNm0ksWE6DTH_goDKn-8N0TLHTCkt9GpBg1zmgjN3VFFp4qiXJm-guPhdUQdMJuCmHAyn71In8/s400/P1010643.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496571262117042578" /></a><br /> On the last day of our ten-day vacation to Alaska, Craig and I finally began to talk about our grandchildren who we’d left behind in El Paso. <br />“Do you think Egan is walking?” <br />“I wonder if the girls are having fun at summer camp?” <br />“Sure hope Aimee’s doing okay on her own.” <br /> We got in very late Sunday night and while Aimee had waited up to greet us, all the little ones were sleeping (thankfully.) We were really excited about seeing them in the morning and also happy to be back to our own bed. Even though a cruise offers a continually rocking motion, nothing compares to the comfort of sleeping in our own waterbed. We went right to sleep.<br /> The sound of a door closing woke me at about 3:30 AM. Then a young voice, full of joy said, “Grammy!” Emeline had made her way downstairs and into my arms. I removed my bulky CPAP mask to kiss her. “Hey, Sweetie I missed you.” Craig reached over for a three-way embrace. I positioned an extra pillow between us.<br />“Is that for me?” Em asked, sounding pleased.<br />“Yes. Would you like to stay and cuddle a little while and then go up to your own bed?”<br />“Yes.”<br />And she did.<br />I lay awake awhile, feeling so loved by this sweet little girl. Her voice and presence showed me that she had missed me and was glad I was back. The purity of her unconditional love astounded me, and I began to wonder. . . Is this how the Lord feels when I finally come back after being away from Him a long time? <br />I think every single relationship, where love is expressed without pretense, reflects the love of God. We didn’t come up with the concept of friendship, spousal, or parental (grand-parental) love, He did and He decided to let us in on the delight of it. God is love and so any love we share at with one another starts with Him. He lavishes love upon us and we extend it to others. I am thankful—humbled and thankful—that He is the giver of love and that it pleases Him when His kids love one another.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-688770299287728842010-06-23T20:13:00.002-06:002010-06-23T20:27:35.362-06:00another memoryWithin a week or two of Robert going to heaven, while swimming with the girls, Ethne said, "Grammy, Jesus is here with us right now."<br />I smiled, "Yes, he is." The truth brought me comfort.<br />"And," she added, "Daddy is with Jesus. That means daddy is right here with us, too."<br />"That's true! And wonderful. I've never thought of it that way before. Who told you that?"<br />With a pure and special light in her eyes she said, " Jesus told me."<br />She swam off but I stayed montionless overwhelmed by the ways the Lord speaks to his children.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-55056901546931430642010-06-23T18:35:00.002-06:002010-06-23T20:12:11.517-06:00Things to rememberI don't want to be guilty of saying, "I need to write that down,"and then never do it. Today I am sitting in a hospital with my dad and his wife, Alice. Sadly, they discovered the reason that her abdomen was so swollen is because of ovarian cancer. This means they have many decisions to make and it means I have time to post to this blog after months of being absent.<br /> We lost our dear Robert to testicular cancer. We lost him but he found eternal life and now knows all the mysteries of heaven and lives in the presence of our indescribable Lord.<br />I want to record some of the girl's comments.<br />Just a few evenings before Robert's passing, he and Aimee talked to the girl's about it. Aimee told me that Ethne began to cry and Emeline imitated her. <br />After a while, Ethne said, "Mom, can I speak to you in private?" <br />Aimee said, "Yes," and she and both girls went into the walk-in closet. <br />Five-year-old Ethne asked her mom, "Do you want to talk to me about my inheritance?"<br />"Well," Aimee answered, "Daddy is young and so there probably won't be an inheritance."<br />"Okay."<br />Then Em piped up, "Mommy, don't you want to talk to me about my... My...my...imagination?"<br />"Yes I do," Aimee said, "you have a very strong and active imagination."Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-28574955300298796372010-06-16T23:28:00.000-06:002010-06-16T23:28:53.506-06:00<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAH_TmnV47nTSEfwF1ImcJPDoiaHAE0WOwHyFurkCsdfc3MAQkSzhobfG0T4zFBKgU_M0PR7ufgtTkkvCPu81KpuqiazF4_mg-w1oYeBXok0nazEfm7M8D8ybri-bj97JfZ-f/s1600/P1010499.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAH_TmnV47nTSEfwF1ImcJPDoiaHAE0WOwHyFurkCsdfc3MAQkSzhobfG0T4zFBKgU_M0PR7ufgtTkkvCPu81KpuqiazF4_mg-w1oYeBXok0nazEfm7M8D8ybri-bj97JfZ-f/s320/P1010499.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPCSlrH8jurtrY7Dj4TB923yzaD50hpg8IDLX3xsmTahuYqtYutSwpoXrLQ2IAJI_HGTXJ8bz_JWKaW834l9NEEG_OHvIhnee9IsIr6h_SfYeeV40tqTxeEc87btFhWI9-DrT/s1600/P1010500.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPCSlrH8jurtrY7Dj4TB923yzaD50hpg8IDLX3xsmTahuYqtYutSwpoXrLQ2IAJI_HGTXJ8bz_JWKaW834l9NEEG_OHvIhnee9IsIr6h_SfYeeV40tqTxeEc87btFhWI9-DrT/s320/P1010500.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigK2_wrSzV7q5Nr8HcMIKg2XdAZkuAt3-a8QfbKvHIbjVOSs6-OClP7wVVLVdlZn-ltTMIKkWk6lMWww9G9oEFu0tyTjL-2idlhSox5wmegmTw4-ZrWAYXJO4Mhb6HUZYe2F5j/s1600/P1010501.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigK2_wrSzV7q5Nr8HcMIKg2XdAZkuAt3-a8QfbKvHIbjVOSs6-OClP7wVVLVdlZn-ltTMIKkWk6lMWww9G9oEFu0tyTjL-2idlhSox5wmegmTw4-ZrWAYXJO4Mhb6HUZYe2F5j/s320/P1010501.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF78WqXuZ239B5vHl2YWym0jgvEZQWW9HvEyi-WuoCptHiT-0Boj-hIw6DUBHWK1eyo6ZyaAYHaZAH4ZZwE99iEmND9EwDmvNleKVDFs-JOwKyF7B87693Iff10RCXe5P7Wp1-/s1600/P1010502.JPG'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF78WqXuZ239B5vHl2YWym0jgvEZQWW9HvEyi-WuoCptHiT-0Boj-hIw6DUBHWK1eyo6ZyaAYHaZAH4ZZwE99iEmND9EwDmvNleKVDFs-JOwKyF7B87693Iff10RCXe5P7Wp1-/s320/P1010502.JPG' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-42858780608892694532010-02-24T21:51:00.003-07:002010-02-24T21:56:05.830-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6DfejrT0CT8OwSi2FWyZ1h_ldA7bMTHLqH_c1lMCms487-n58j1PstiU1U5Hdgqy_kXtz_EHRGy_3oBgIoePZC5LrtD4aUeI6yaCIHjQFY9-lHALQqjuZbe9U2Fd51NJeKsx/s1600-h/P1010262.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6DfejrT0CT8OwSi2FWyZ1h_ldA7bMTHLqH_c1lMCms487-n58j1PstiU1U5Hdgqy_kXtz_EHRGy_3oBgIoePZC5LrtD4aUeI6yaCIHjQFY9-lHALQqjuZbe9U2Fd51NJeKsx/s400/P1010262.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442039488078232754" /></a><br /> I’ve often wondered why males and burping go together. My brother could proudly burp the entire alphabet and make unusual sounds using his hand and armpit. As our sons grew up they too possessed amazing ability when it came to these type of “musical” expressions.<br /> Today I realized a possible reason,a simple explanation. I had just picked up Egan and began to pat his back when he responded with a large burp. My response? Praise! “Good boy! That was a great burp, Egan.” I smiled at him. He smiled at me. Humm.<br /> So, the next time a male in your life displays such vocal ability and you secretly wonder why—remember that since his earliest days he has been praised by the women who love him for accomplishing such feats. And smile at him. Bet he’ll smile back.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29449688.post-14039951052839438762010-01-20T14:19:00.000-07:002010-01-20T14:20:24.099-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0c4iguGxW8jIpY0WDUaXfzCWDQMPlr7MEvIWzRa7Oriig3-pBlkM6EuEque-buzjnofl2_SKS0NmIKP022ZMyW8XBCA0j28k8luDOQ74mzzundgT9kWaGWqalrD_ZYH4_N9KK/s1600-h/DSC_0573.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0c4iguGxW8jIpY0WDUaXfzCWDQMPlr7MEvIWzRa7Oriig3-pBlkM6EuEque-buzjnofl2_SKS0NmIKP022ZMyW8XBCA0j28k8luDOQ74mzzundgT9kWaGWqalrD_ZYH4_N9KK/s400/DSC_0573.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428934794028907666" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitE4bGK0k2BoE49HK_LNgPUvRTvFyAfxVI2DVscwys5u1m69cO3_2uBb4kwQBbjbXFMtKDp4WB0WB4ImLq0SPnouf39RbxwFAna1ok06qyFD8O4wD6ubn4LrQNbTuayxrswcnj/s1600-h/grammy+and+girls.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitE4bGK0k2BoE49HK_LNgPUvRTvFyAfxVI2DVscwys5u1m69cO3_2uBb4kwQBbjbXFMtKDp4WB0WB4ImLq0SPnouf39RbxwFAna1ok06qyFD8O4wD6ubn4LrQNbTuayxrswcnj/s400/grammy+and+girls.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428934796045854050" /></a><br /><br />Craig and I took the girls to an indoor swimming birthday party. It was a lot of fun.Grammy Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07844657021241303331noreply@blogger.com1