A confession...or two and a verse

First confession: I was a bit overzealous in my choice for a memory verse. In hindsight, I should have chosen a bit shorter verse to "warm up" my brain.

Second confession: Due to confession #1, I only know the first part of the verse. (oopsie) But, that might have been the plan of the Lord because I have used the verse countless times in the past week.

Phew, now that I have gotten that out of the way, let's get on with the next verse. My dear friend Christina suggested this one and I am so excited to meditate on it this week.

James 1:2-4 Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perserverance. Perserverance must finish its good work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

I would LOVE to hear from you about how this relates to your life. Please leave a comment here, Facebook me or e-mail me. And, a huge thank-you to all of you who encourage me and are joining me in adopting the discipline of scripture memorization.

And, I have decided that Monday seems a more appropriate day to introduce a new verse. Some of us see each other on Sunday so, we can "test" each other then! Have fun.

A suprise: this still happens somewhere in America

My daughter and her friend set up a lemonade stand today. There was a little hesitation in her voice when she queried me about the idea. But, since it was at least 85 degrees today and playing Mario Cart was her current activity, I said "why not?"


As you can see from the picture, these girls dove in head first. It looked like a pretty legit operation. I must say a few things about this that brought me joy.


-it is really sweet and nostalgic that this can still happen in SoCal


-when Jer and I walked down to take the pic, my formerly "shy" girl was very boisterously hawking lemonade to passing cars


-at one point, there was a crowd of neighborhood kids hanging out. ahhh, feels like a small town in Nebraska


-a passing firetruck stopped, bought a lemonade and gave the girls stickers (an apparent highlight according to them)


-each girl made 11 bucks! Jer jokingly said, "keep setting up until the city shuts you down" (or taxes you...he added


As a parent of a teen and pre-teen, I am always happy when my kids find activities to entertain themselves. Or, should I say, do something that is a bit reminscent of "when I was a kid" without me having to say "when I was a kid".


By the way, I took my two little dogs to visit the lemonade stand and my hubby rode my sons' bike alongside. We were VERY midwest...which you know I love! :)

A knowing of where you came from

I am a transplanted Californian. Apparently that is the term used to identify us that were not born is this state. It seems like a negative term to me. When I think of a transplant, I usually equate it to the first organ not working well enough to sustain life, therefore, a substitute is needed. I guess, depending on the way you look at it, it could be a good thing and a bad thing all at the same time. A lot of pain and a lot of relief rolled all into one. Either way, I am a transplant. And, for that, I am truly grateful. Let me explain...

A week ago, I was rudely awakened at 4:00am by sirens and a megaphone. Apparently, the Santa Ana winds and their fury delivered wildfires throughout southern California and there was a fire in my neighborhood. Being the easily riled-up person I can be, I headed straight out the front door in boy shorts and a tank top, only to be met by a spotlight from a passing police cruiser. Over the next ten minutes, my husband and I ran laps through our 1585 square foot home, running smack into each other approximately 3 times. Assuming the fire was at our back door, I had to check every window multiple times as I ran through the house confused as to what to take. At some point, I remember, I have never been in a fire, and this could quite possibly be the worst thing ever.

Thankfully, after the long and short of it, we returned home and waited out the firestorm within our tightly sealed box. It was a forced recess, if you will. Unable to go anywhere and make any random trips to the store, you realize how many things we "fill" our time with. I was simultaneously annoyed and relieved to have an excuse to do nothing. Halfway through the week, I realized it was time to turn off the television and limit the scarring of my brain with dramatic images from the ragin fire.

As the fires began to subside, life tried to center back to naormal. School was scheduled to resume, gyms opened and the streets were filled with traffic once again. Next began the daunting task of cleaning up an ovewhelmingly filthy and incredibly large fireplace. My front, and back yard. So, as I swept large piles of soot and ash a couple of days ago I again realized, this was my first fire. I was not born here. I am from Nebraska. I am accustomed to tornado drills and warnings. None of which ever materialized anywhere near my home. So, as much as I love southern California, this is my transplanted home and at the next sign of fire... I am outta here.