Brick by Brick: Rebuilding the Broken

My children were born in a small town. Our backyard was an empty field leading to a small creek. They thrived on playing outdoors and catching all kinds of bugs. Having three brothers, my daughter always joined in their shenanigans. Knowing how much fun it was to find a caterpillar on the ubiquitous milkweeds in the field, I showed them how to keep them alive and constantly fed so they could grow. They even had special jars for each kind of critter they watched. We were fortunate to be able to see the transformation more than once. It almost became a summer tradition. The caterpillars would eat, and eat, and eat, until it was time to make a chrysalis. It was a fascinating, albeit a little too slow for the busy crew. The final, shining green and gold chrysalis was a beauty all its own. Then we waited. Daily, they would check on the little, hanging green marvel. Ten days is a long time to wait for a child, but soon they were rewarded for their patience. The

My colored picture here might not make much sense to the general public, but to me, it speaks volumes. Owls are a much misunderstood creature, and perhaps some may find them creepy. Why would I choose this Bible verse to coincide with a seemingly violent renditon of an owl, any way? Let me give you a quick back story - When we first moved onto the family acreage,  the backyard was pretty empty. Farming had ceased a few years back, and the outbuildings were rarely entered. So the rabbit population was kept at bay by a family of owls. The boys had loved the spooky sound of a random - "Whoo, whoo!" whenever staying overnight at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Now it was their backyard! The night time explorers had a wonderful place to check out on their own. In the middle of growing up out here, I had decided to begin a book for the kids. A fictional land of talking owls, and how they were once human and what it takes to get their memories back. (Th

Washing dishes was never a favorite task of mine. Because of my disdain for the job, all of my boys learned how to wash dishes. It came in handy at times, as a mom of four young children. They didn't seem to mind a bit! In fact, they had lots of fun.  Mom didn't even flinch when they made enormous bubble towers and played in the water for hours. They were good about not dropping dishes on the floor, and never left a mess behind. I think I was probably the one that broke most of the dishes that fell to the floor. If anything crashed, I was frantic, with all the little bare feet running through the kitchen. I made them all go to their rooms and put shoes on, while I mopped up the shattered mess. Then, came the small, blond headed voice of reason -  "It's ok Mommy, that's just one less dish to wash...." Sigh. He's right you know. Why fret about losing Great Grandma's bowl? I learned to be thankful for the willin

One of the first things that we had to do after the death of our 24 year old son, Nathanael, was to search through our photo albums for the best pictures we could find of him and our family together. We needed memorabilia and a photo collage for his funeral. The best and worst part of that job was seeing how often we had taken pictures.  I don't even remember doing it, but I can remember how full that canvas was, stuffed with so many beautiful, heart breaking memories.                                  The Good                                                              The Bad                                                                And The Ugly We had been through so much in those 24 perfect, unforgettable, wonderful, crazy, tender and tough, blessed short years. And then we were left with rubble...      (It will be three long years this October) But after the smoke and dust and pain has settled to a quiet background buzz that will never en

What comes to mind when you hear the word freedom ? Do you imagine a warrior yelling as he rushes the enemy? Do you hear the Liberty Bell ringing? Do you feel the adrenaline rising as the music swells? Can you empathize with those who have been freed from slavery? Is freedom just a word that carries no weight, no meaning? Has freedom eluded you, keeping you bound by whatever holds you back from victory? We can't all be as bold and valiant  as William Wallace in Braveheart,  leading an army to battle. But perhaps we can, when we lead our own battle against the war within. As God's children, we aren't promised to have a life lacking in problems. In fact, Jesus tells us - “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” - John 16:33 That doesn't sound like freedom, you say? Just as every one of you  has a different image of the word freedom - God

When I was a very small, I saw my first ballet on television. I was entranced by the delightful music, graceful swaying, and delicate flying, it seemed. That must have been why I thought fairies were real. I was in awe of the beauty and surrealness of the scenery. I hoped silently that I could be able to dance like that someday. I was so excited when I saw my first pair of real ballet slippers. I fingered the lacy fringe of the pink tutu and dreamed it was mine. But my hopes were soon dashed. I should have known better to ask. My piano teacher's daughter was a ballet dancer and a tap dancer. I was already at her house, playing piano. I could have learned a few more things while I was there. But that is not the way we did things at our house. I should be ashamed to think of asking to wear such things and parade around half naked in front of people. We do not dance at our house. End of story. You can take a horse to water, but you can't make

I learned two lessons today while reading my devotions. That is amazing, considering I was reading it on my phone. I am computer challenged, simply because I have troubles remembering how I did it last time. Much to my son's chagrin. Realizing that, it is a miracle I even have a blog and a coinciding facebook page Brick by Brick , which I single-handedly constructed without asking for help. "Woo -Hoo!" In my "old school ways", I enjoy the feel of a book in my hand. The way the crisp pages turn, it seems I can touch the soul of the writer. Then again, in my "old crippled ways" - a book gets too heavy to hold, bending over a table and keeping the pages down is a hard task. So, I am using my phone for devotions, but I still use the computer to write my stories. That said, I have forgotten why I was writing - See? This is why I have a long way to go in therapy... As you can imagine, I may feel pretty much useless at times. But I