tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41526090917933416052024-03-19T15:06:44.365-07:00Kingdom ComeA & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.comBlogger214125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-51358160093307293392018-12-12T12:27:00.005-08:002018-12-12T12:47:26.874-08:002018 Reading ListMany who graduate with any type of degree in literature let out a knowing sigh when others share about their need to "take a break" from reading after college. I'm no exception to this rule. After graduation, I wanted to read for pleasure, but also really did <i>not </i>want to read for pleasure. The voices--I knew those voices would come back, whispering in my ear: "Deconstruct!" "What growth are you seeing in this character?" "What's the underlying subtext?" "Tell me your visceral reaction to this line." (I had one professor who loved the phrase "visceral reaction.")<br />
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I've had some pretty dry years of reading since then, though the stream of longing for good and nourishing words has slowly and steadily begun to grow again. </div>
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Last December, I made a goal to read my age in 2018: 34 books. I didn't make a list; I just wanted the books to come to me as they came to me. I definitely read some duds, but I also read some books and met some characters that will stay with me forever. Some I will re-read. I broke them up into categories for my own sake, but also for yours if this is your kind of thing! </div>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">Top Five Club </b> Books that have been seared onto my heart and that I am likely to re-read</div>
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<li><b><i>Hannah Coulter</i> by Wendell Berry -- </b>I know. I know, I know... how had I gone 34 years as a literary Kentuckian and had not yet read Wendell Berry? Everyone was right: I love him. I love Port William. I love the membership. In mine and Andrew's second act, we will be selling everything to live on a farm and write poetry. Berry gives life and voices to what it means to live in community, to be good neighbors, and to steward well the land we've been given. It is clarifying and simple and beautiful. </li>
<li><b><i>Jayber Crow</i> by Wendell Berry-- </b>See above. Listen to <i>all</i> the voices and read Wendell Berry and stop putting it off like this fool did! </li>
<li><b><i>Crossing to Safety</i> by Wallace Stegner -- </b>I'm suddenly realizing that all but one of my tip-top club books were recommended to me by my husband, which is both humbling and also really endearing that he knows me that well. I want so badly to be the literary tsar in our household, but I think I've been usurped! This book is beautifully haunting. In the same vein as Berry, Stegner writes about the ordinary lives of two married couples-- the wonders and mysteries of marriage and the fabric of just the everyday stuff of life. People are fascinating and this novel shines a knowing light on friendship and love and memories and loyalty. Just trust me. </li>
<li><b><i>You are What you Love</i> by James K.A. Smith -- </b>This book gave me a total perspective shift, asking me to consider the everyday habits (or liturgies) of my life and how they are shaping my heart and my desires. Also how my desires are shaping me. How can we, as Christians, engage in liturgies that will re-orient our love towards God? This book spends a great deal of time wrestling with that question... Also the audio version is really, really good. </li>
<li><b><i>The Princess and the Goblin</i> by George Macdonald -- </b>One of those times when a children's book is not just a children's book. There are so many beautiful lines in this story and imagery that have been seared onto my heart forever. C.S. Lewis considered George Macdonald as one of his greatest influences, and after my first time reading Macdonald, it's easy to understand Lewis's respect for him. </li>
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<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">Favorites </span>Books that I also really loved, and heartily recommend <span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"> </span></div>
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<li><b><i>The House at Pooh Corner</i> by A.A. Milne -- </b>This was a re-read (read aloud to my kids), but how can you not love Pooh? Last year the humor went over Wilson's head, but this year (as an 8 year old) the jokes fell on understanding ears and it was really fun to laugh with him. </li>
<li><b><i>A Tree Grows in Brooklyn</i> by Betty Smith -- </b>This seems to be a classic, but I had never heard of it before this year! A really beautiful coming-of-age story with endearing characters. This was an easy read, a page-turner, but also had really deep waters. </li>
<li><b><i>The Gospel Comes with a House Key</i> by Rosaria Butterfield -- </b>What a sharpening book. Rosaria lets you step into her life to see what it looks like for her family to love their neighbors. Though I had to keep reminding myself throughout the book that I am not called to imitate her life, there were some really good moments of realizing in what ways I hold back from sharing what we have with our neighbors. </li>
<li><b><i>Two-Part Invention</i> by Madeleine L'Engle-- </b>All of the "Crosswalk Journal" series have been really nourishing for my soul. In this particular journal, L'Engle spends time reflecting on her own marriage, and marriage in general, and walks through the painful journey of losing her husband to cancer. </li>
<li><b><i>The Irrational Season</i> by Madeleine L'Engle-- </b>In this journal, L'Engle walks through the church calendar and spends time musing on how the different seasons of the church mirror seasons of our hearts and lives. She is my soul sister and I love her. </li>
<li><b><i>84, Charing Cross Road</i> by Helen Hanff-- </b>If you love bookish books, If you love anything British, if you love books written in correspondence form, if you loved <i>Guernsey, </i>if you love a book that makes you laugh, if you love finishing a book in ONE DAY-- this is your friend. </li>
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">Really Good Books </b>Worthwhile reads (Because everything can't be a favorite)</div>
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<li><b><i>Echoes of Eden</i> by Jerram Barrs-- </b>This was the first book I read in 2018, and it was the perfect launchpad into my year of reading. Barrs discusses how God designed us to be creators and how art and literature are a reflection of His image. </li>
<li><b><i>Little House in the Big Woods</i> by Laura Ingalls Wilder-- </b>A re-read and a read-aloud with my boys. There's really not much cozier, is there? Wilson loved it. Charlie fell in asleep in every chapter. (I read it to them at bed time!) </li>
<li><b><i>The Hate U Give</i> by Angie Thomas-- </b>This was a really powerful read. A YA novel told from the perspective of a black teenager who watches her friend unjustly shot and killed after being pulled over by a cop. It's impossible to fully step into or understand the fear our black neighbors and friends live with, but this was a good start in putting on love and empathy. </li>
<li><b><i>The Road Back to You</i> by Ian Cron-- </b>I've gone on a fun journey this year looking at the enneagram as a personality framework (I'm a 9 with a 1 wing), and this book was really helpful to think through all the different facets of how others can move in and interpret the world around them. If nothing else, it helps to give some language to bring to the table when working through conflict and understanding others' points of view. </li>
<li><b><i>Everything Happens for a Reason</i> by Kate Bowler-- </b>This was a really moving reflection from a young woman still in the throes of a battle with cancer. She pushes back against all the niceties we offer to those in grief and asks us to consider that brokenness is really brokenness. It was a call to stop and grieve. </li>
<li><b><i>These High Green Hills</i> by Jan Karon-- </b>After some really heavy and somber reads, I picked up the third book in the <i>Mitford </i>series, and there's just nothing like it. Light, easy reading that is NOT fluffy and NOT shallow and feels like it has a proverb on every page, but is also so beautifully written. Excuse me while I pack my bags for Mitford... </li>
<li><b><i>Imagining the Kingdom</i> by James K.A. Smith-- </b>This is the more scholarly companion of <i>You are What You Love</i>, and I have to admit that I maybe understood 30% of it. It was really helpful to read them both at the same time so that one served to interpret the other. I am really glad I read this one in addition to YAWYL because it sharpened the picture for me, but if you needed to choose between the two and would rather read in layperson terms- I would say go with <i>You are What You Love</i>. </li>
<li><b><i>The Invention of Wings</i> by Sue Monk Kidd-- </b>I had completely forgotten about this author (I loved <i>Secret Life of Bees </i>and <i>Mermaid Chair</i> in high school), but a friend and I read this book together and I remembered why I loved this author so much: <i>really</i> rich and deep writing, powerful story telling, believable characters, and great wit, too. The subject matter (slavery and how it broke apart families) was heavy and hard, but the redemption was beautiful. </li>
<li><b><i>Mystery and Manners </i>by Flannery O'Connor-- </b>This was a collection of essays on prose by O'Connor. She is so frank and witty and clear in her writing... I loved hearing her thoughts and musings on what makes a good story. </li>
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<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">Good Books I'm Glad I Read </span>Not bad, but maybe not terribly memorable either</div>
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<li><b><i>The Shadow of the Wind</i> by Carlos Ruiz Zafon-- </b>I think a lot of people may really like this book. The storyline was intriguing (and nearly inexplainable) and the language was beautiful, but it was a little too creepy for me... and at times too graphic. But I can totally see why others consider it a favorite. </li>
<li><b><i>The Story of Doctor Doolittle</i> by Hugh Lofting-- </b>This was a read-aloud with Wilson and it was really fun. I read this as a child and it was one of my favorites, so it was nostalgic to re-visit with him. Just a warning-- the older version is pretty insensitive to race and really derogative in its language about the African natives that Doolittle and friends meet. I think some editors may have patched things up (or over) in later versions. </li>
<li><b><i>A Wrinkle in Time</i> by Madeleine L'Engle-- </b>I'm sure I would have enjoyed this more if I read it as a 12 year old first! It was a sweet story and of course I can see the gospel links, but I think the hype was too big for me. I prefer her non-fiction. </li>
<li><b><i>Reading People</i> by Anne Bogel-- </b>Another fun visit into personality frameworks, which is so interesting to me! I love listening to Bogel's <i>What Should I Read Next </i>podcast, so I enjoyed reading something she had written. </li>
<li><b><i>Me Talk Pretty One Day</i> by David Sedaris-- </b>This read as a collection of memoirs, and some of them had me quite literally laughing out loud (I even read a couple of passages to Andrew, which is rare for me.) Sedaris is a funny, funny dude. This may be something I revisit if I need a light read and a good laugh. </li>
<li><b><i>Angle of Repose</i> by Wallace Stegner-- </b>This is a doozy at 569 pages. I loved <i>Crossing to Safety </i>so much that I picked this up immediately after. This was probably a bad idea, because they were so different and I ended up disappointed--in both the character choices and the plot turns. It was definitely an interesting read and a good study of marriage and place/home. I'm glad I read it, but it won't be a re-read for me. </li>
<li><b><i>Farmer Boy</i> by Laura Ingalls Wilder-- </b>This was another read-aloud with the boys, but Wilson decided half-way through that he didn't want to finish. (So I finished on my own, because I can be a perfectionist in that way!) It was a little bland compared to <i>Little House </i>(We missed Pa's stories!), but still a good read. </li>
<li><b><i>The INFJ Writer</i> by Lauren Sapala-- </b>If you happen to be both an INFJ and a writer (or creative of any kind), this was a really interesting read. Definitely, definitely some things to filter out and throw aside but it was good to think through <i>why </i>I may have more trouble with writing blocks than other people and what advantages I may have in writing with the way my brain processes information. </li>
<li><b><i>Peter Pan</i> by J.M. Barrie-- </b>NOT THE DISNEY VERSION. Oh my word-- some surprises here in Tink's language and recreation! The writing was super witty and also a little dark. Just some really interesting thoughts and musings about growing up and motherhood played out in a fairy land. Thankfully, I did not read aloud to my kids-- but I do think it's possible with some edits beforehand. </li>
<li><b><i>Prairie Fires</i> by Caroline Fraser-- </b>This was a biography on Laura Ingalls Wilder and the second half became more of study on her relationship with her daughter, Rose. At 640 pages, this got a little too long for me and I began to get bored (and skimmed and jumped ahead). But the first half about how her life really looked (as opposed to how she recorded in the books, which turns out to be a little bit of altered reality) was very interesting. This was especially true having just finished <i>Little House in the Big Woods</i>. </li>
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<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">Not Good for me </span>Maybe good for you? (This list is short because I made myself put down a lot of books that I started and I didn't like... This is a new and freeing grace I've allowed myself! Too many good books and too little time.)</div>
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<li><b><i>Station Eleven</i> by Emily St. John Mandel-- </b>This is heart-wrenching because Anne Bogel PERSONALLY recommended this to me, and I am such a big fan of her's. I told her I liked Stegner and Marilynne Robinson and she told me to read Wendell Berry. I said, "Give me something else because my husband already told me that!" So she told me to read this book. I felt that the characters were super dry, none of them were memorable or even likable to me. The setting is post-apocalyptic, and maybe I could have gotten into that if the characters were good but everything fell short for me in this one. Sorry, Anne!! </li>
<li><b><i>Holy is the Day</i> by Carolyn Weber-- </b>I think maybe there were some good moments in this one, but on the whole it felt too stream-of-consciousness for me... which can sometimes be okay, but this was way too jumpy. </li>
<li><b><i>I was Anastasia</i> by Ariel Lahon-- </b>I learned a lot of information in this book about the Romanov family. However, the subject matter was too grueling and heavy for me and it put images in my head that I wished were not there afterwards. </li>
<li><b><i>The Chilbury Ladies Choir</i> by Jennifer Ryan-- </b>This was an uplifting and easy read, but I felt that there was a lot of plot solely for plot's sake and the dialogue felt forced to me. </li>
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A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-50104084245593250262018-10-01T10:33:00.000-07:002018-10-01T10:33:34.503-07:00Andrew's Ordination<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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Yesterday morning, Andrew preached at the English service of a local Chinese church. He turned our eyes to Jesus's parable of the mustard seed and the leaven... reminding us of the pervasiveness and the power of the kingdom of God. "A farmer knows the power of his seed," he told us. </div>
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The power of His kingdom... And yet, some days it feels like the world is getting worse-- is His kingdom really coming to earth as it is in heaven? </div>
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Andrew reminded this particular congregation, myself most of all, that God's kingdom had its beginnings in the seemingly small and ordinary. When the magi came searching for the Christ, they first burst through palace doors. And yet he was not found in royal chambers; He was found in a simple mother's arms, in a place where farm animals sheltered themselves from weather. </div>
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And God's kingdom, like leaven in dough, pervasively went forth from the workings of a Father through His Son--in small, and ordinary, and very earthy ways. This is the blessing of incarnation: A God who puts on flesh.<br />
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One of the ways he takes care of us in our flesh is to give us shepherds on this side of heaven. While certainly flawed, our pastors are a means of grace to us. Andrew has always been a shadow of the Chief Shepherd to me and to our family. I'm so thankful the Lord has called him to shepherd others, too.<br />
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Last night we had the joy of participating in worship as Andrew was ordained as a PCA pastor. During the service, one of the pastors quoted Augustine: "A sacrament is a visible sign of God's invisible grace." Although not a sacrament, he was saying what we all felt: This visible sign of the charges and the laying on of hands was a sign pointing to the kind hands of Jesus leading Andrew into pastoral ministry. </div>
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I'm thankful for the small and ordinary ways that Andrew has stepped into others' lives to shepherd and care for them. He has been a picture to me of a God who endures, a Shepherd who is faithfully present. </div>
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We are so thankful for our short time here at Perimeter Church (and Christ Church Suwanee and Atlanta Chinese Christian Church). Last night was a visible reminder of how the Lord has cared for us in the in-between world we are living in. As the elders laid hands on Andrew, we could also feel the hands of so many not physically with us. What a kind God we serve! He has shown his kindness to us through so many of His people.</div>
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I know that those who are reading this are those who have loved us so well. Thank you for your endless investments into our lives. Would you continue to pray with us as we ask God to call us to a place and a people to love?<br />
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A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-43769979173607589712018-07-19T12:16:00.000-07:002018-07-19T13:54:41.966-07:00On Hearing the MusicAndrew and I sat down in our seats at the Tabernacle in downtown Atlanta. First, actually, mid-squatting, our heads were jarred back by a chuckle from two men who would sit behind us: "We were waiting to see who these unlucky folks would be." Because: the pole.<br />
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This turned out to be a "Who's laughing now?" scenario as our friends whose knees were folded into their chests began to side-eye our ability to stretch our legs into the nothingness on either side. And a little lean--Andrew to the right and I to the left-- would not be the rain on our parade.</div>
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But I chase rabbits.</div>
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Andrew immediately pulled up The Tabernacle on Wikipedia to give us some historical landscape and ground our feet a bit. (We like context.) A Baptist church built in 1910, sold to developers in 1994 who turned it into a House of Blues. We spy copper-coated organ pipes peeking out from behind the setup on stage and we sit in an ornate lower balcony with another balcony overhead. We've come to church.<br />
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The band we've come to see... (but gosh, that doesn't say it right). The artist we have come to enjoy... (but even still, the words don't hold). Because, it's the beauty we came for and any synonym of <i>concert </i>feels too small. The Punch Brothers were making music this night. </div>
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I've followed Chris Thile for more than twenty years of his career, and, as the <span style="background-color: white;">cliché goes, he could sing his way through the phonebook and I would pay my entrance fee. What I have always loved about his performance is the way Music becomes a separate entity in the room which we all behold, himself included. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Chris T., Gabe, Noam, Chris E. and Paul all gave offerings with their respective instruments. The unlikely hero of the mandolin, smallest of all, led foot with melody and picked on all the heart-strings of this native Kentuckian. Guitar and fiddle (or violin depending on your vernacular flavor) colored the in-betweens and the bass held us from the bottom and rounded it all out. All the sounds tangled together in ways that gripped one's heart, left me chin-in-hands and elbows-on-knees. The prayerful posture for the ears, like I couldn't get them close enough to the magic. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So mesmerized by the night was I... that I didn't get any fun pictures to share. </td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The whole room was getting lost in the beauty and the magic and the fun, and the artists were, too. We watched all of them in different displays of wonder throughout the night. A smile overtaking Chris's face so heavily that it weighted his whole head downwards, chin to neck. Noam closing his eyes for a moment to listen, listen. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">And Chris Thile, in his typically sly way, was giving political commentary without giving political commentary: "It's tricky out there, isn't it?" </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Yes, we all nod.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">"It's better in here." </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">It was. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">And of all things, it made me think about liturgy. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">The cultural lean of the church worship service these days is to <i>seem</i> like a concert, <i>feel</i> like a mall, <i>look</i> like a coffee shop so that the unchurched would be led in by breadcrumbs--this feels normal, this also feels normal, still feeling normal--and then offer the gospel when everyone feels good and comfortable. (Or, in some cases, not presenting the gospel at all-- but that's a whole different animal.) </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">But what if our worship were not a shadow of a good concert... what if a good concert were a shadow of what our worship could be? </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">The beauty of that night with the Punch Brothers was that we were all enchanted with something bigger than us: the picking of the strings that became music, that became art, that became a tangible way we could hold onto the glory of God. It wasn't normal life; We didn't want it to be normal life. It was tricky outside. It was good in there. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">What if our worship services </span><i style="background-color: white;">didn't </i><span style="background-color: white;">remind us of the world we were stepping out of? What if we didn't apologize for the mystery of the gospel? When we sit at the table of the Lord's supper, when we gaze on baptismal waters and remember our own, when we hear neighboring voices singing and pleading their own hearts to heaven, when we confess our sin and allow words of forgiveness to wash over us, when we hear the truth of God's Word which stands as a rock in the midst of our sinking sand... It's uncomfortably abnormal, but it's enchanting. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0VrU1PWW0kdIFP4GLW_ajDLoQu0mynvs5JJndpatIBybiHxUgfjhEm8eD3QkJPxhDkWcn1jxK6A6q6I3a3y4rAIFzdFA7SbWlKA0bDIyY8i-7oueSoR7i0ja_OfJ-MvGr4HjEaSOHNYP/s1600/church-trappist-georgia-monastery-62285.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg0VrU1PWW0kdIFP4GLW_ajDLoQu0mynvs5JJndpatIBybiHxUgfjhEm8eD3QkJPxhDkWcn1jxK6A6q6I3a3y4rAIFzdFA7SbWlKA0bDIyY8i-7oueSoR7i0ja_OfJ-MvGr4HjEaSOHNYP/s640/church-trappist-georgia-monastery-62285.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">In worship, we are able to align our hearts with the bigger story of God's kingdom and not confuse it with our own cultural or personal agendas. We come in saying: It's tricky out there. We sit saying: It's better in here. We leave saying: Now my heart has been tuned to take the music out with me... to sing the gospel to my own heart and to sow the seeds of its goodness for my neighbor's sake. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">And in six more days (or six more minutes), our hearts will need to be re-tuned. Our minds will need to be re-enchanted. Our bodies will need to be reminded of the posture of humility. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">It's tricky out there. It's better in here. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">** A PS to say that much of my thought in this area has recently been shaped by two incredible books: <i>You are What You Love </i>and its more scholarly counterpart, <i>Imagining the Kingdom, </i>both by James K.A. Smith. I heartily recommend <i>You are What You Love </i>unless you want a real challenge in <i>Imagining the Kingdom. </i>(I think I understood about 30% of that book but that 30% was worth the read!)</span><br />
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A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-59466534578628331612018-05-12T11:00:00.000-07:002018-05-12T11:00:02.224-07:00On Mountain Goats and MotherhoodIt's that middle place for children, right after self-awareness and just before it's singed with pride and embarrassment... when they look back at you after a great or terrible act with a question in their eyes... "Did you see that?" Of course, it carries far past the little years, but there is this short period of time where their need to be seen is <i>so... </i>seen. They threw a ball! Did you see that? They pushed their brother. Did you see that? Their chubby little fingers stacked the third block and it didn't fall--- head turns and eyes grow: Did you see that?<br />
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Our seeing their accomplishment actually completes it for them... but it's more than that, isn't it? They feel at home in our gaze; They feel like a whole person with our eyes on them. To be seen is to be.<br />
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We would be fools to think that we somehow grew out of this basic human need... We've just figured out how to shade our eyes so that no one sees us looking around, trying to catch another's gaze. Did anyone see that?<br />
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We can feel this sorely (though not solely) as mothers. When every part of our body and brain and soul just needs to lie down.... and yet, we can't even remember what made us so tired.<br />
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We hurt from loving, we ache from longing, and no matter how incredibly affirmative our husbands might be--we can still feel unseen. Is anyone watching you make four lunches at once?? We may (I have) turn to sharing our moments on social media.... maybe a few hundred hearts and thumbs will quench this thirst. Maybe a comment of solidarity will pick me up off the ground--but it can't last, can it? I can't hold that person's face in my hands to fix their gaze forever.<br />
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And it's not just the hard things, like when two people need their bottoms wiped at the exact same time (always, always... law of nature!). But it's the beautiful moments, too-- when your baby hugs your leg and says, "I love you!" for the first time, unprompted. Oh, did anyone SEE that?!<br />
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And so, like I experienced as a young mother, our brains can spiral down into a philosophical depression-- Is my life of motherhood the proverbial tree that falls in the forest? Do these common, everyday moments <i>mean </i>anything outside of someone's gaze?<br />
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Now listen, I know and you know. I can recite with my children: "Does God see all things?" "YES! Nothing can be hidden from God." But for a long, long time... this truth was only swimming around in my head.<br />
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And then studying Job with a women's group at church, a verse actually took my breath away:<br />
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<i>"Do you know when the mountain goats are born? Do you watch when the mother deer gives birth?Do you know how many months they must carry their babies? Do you know when it is the right time for them to be born?"</i> Job 39:1-2<br />
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And maybe mountain goats aren't going to do the same for you, but this thought <i>arrested</i> me. There is a goat wandering the craggy cliffs of Montana who has never brushed the gaze of one human being. And yet-- my God watches her birth a new life.<br />
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And if my God follows the plight of this goat, how much more does His gaze intimately cover my entire life? We are seen. Hemmed in behind and before... there is Someone familiar with all of our ways; Even the darkness is not dark to Him!<br />
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And we don't have to be ashamed of this longing to be seen... it is woven into us. But the gaze that can actually complete a moment--that can breathe beauty and meaning--is the gaze of our Father.<br />
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Lift your heads up, mothers! Cry with Hagar, even in your wilderness-- "You are the God who SEES me!" Because, as with all attributes of God... His seeing is wrapped up in love. There is a <i>kind</i> gaze upon us. Our moments have meaning and our motherhood has meaning and <i>we are someone</i> because we are living under the watchful eye of Him who breathed us into life.<br />
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So ache, and be seen. Rejoice, and be seen. Long with longings too deep for words.... and know that there is One who sees what you can't even name. Run your race in the freedom of an eye fixed upon <i>you</i>, and have a very happy Mother's Day!<br />
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<br />A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-75184782052563318092018-02-08T19:54:00.005-08:002018-02-08T19:54:39.058-08:00When You Leave a Place<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There was a giant of a magnolia tree in our backyard in Hattiesburg... limbs reaching out in at attempt to cover the whole yard like a mother hen. We hammock swung there and it shaded the boys' clubhouse. Andrew took a ladder out each spring at my request to pull off those perfumed flowers that filled our whole house with the smell of Mississippi. And I feel like I know what it's like to be that tree; I stared at it with knowing eyes... my feet starting to get heavy and I could feel them getting all knotted up in the ground. My roots were taking...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I remember taking this picture while weeping... filled with love for our home and that tree</td></tr>
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When you love a place, everything gets personified. Our house... it felt like a child and a parent and a best friend. I knew which places to lunge over in the hall when a baby was sleeping, and we knew exactly at what spot and what time the peep hole will make a rainbow in the entry way, a gift to my children who waited expectantly for it every morning. "Can I hold the rainbow?"</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">little chubby Charlie hand... </td></tr>
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I can close my eyes and feel the familiarity of walking up those porch stairs and into our entry, the room warm with the light from the hanging pendant Andrew got me for Mother's Day. We stood in that entry saying hellos and goodbyes to so many dear to us... lingered there for sometimes an hour more when we meant to call it a night, because the company was just too good. We zipped jackets there and probably had a few arguments over lunch boxes and pine straw and where IS that left shoe.<br />
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We gutted that house and filled it up with us. Painted walls. Cultivated gardens to bring forth hydrangeas and kale and our own little Eden.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Day One of our move-in we started reno on the kitchen</td></tr>
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The house that knows us. That gave the background to our biggest celebrations... that kept our feet steady during days when our knees buckled under the weight of sorrow, that knew our hot breath and tears when we couldn't stand upright. We hid in its clefts during tornados and laid in the sunspots of its screened-in porch on those warm days that stretched from eternity to eternity.<br />
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And of course it wasn't just that house that was hard to leave... but it was the most surprisingly hard thing to leave. I didn't know how much my heart would cleave to it. How I would long for our car to find its way back to the driveway and to feel "home" when we are home.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yXxzxMch9uGwrSZAXlgqxuPxZX-lWcCec-i51QT_HprW_Dj0jQ7tchkHarVvqrWhR03dNtW89wM1jvK1SmhNCrfBNRM-16yeRAPewY5zBQsUrvkCsOjAMsJV6DOK_MY3jxG97fUO6Ppn/s1600/IMG_4836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1yXxzxMch9uGwrSZAXlgqxuPxZX-lWcCec-i51QT_HprW_Dj0jQ7tchkHarVvqrWhR03dNtW89wM1jvK1SmhNCrfBNRM-16yeRAPewY5zBQsUrvkCsOjAMsJV6DOK_MY3jxG97fUO6Ppn/s640/IMG_4836.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNiLyFti51dpZKdwm2IZpTsOvaFxQCxifLylclDnPCjWk8ahifUyRH8amylgNoPWCz2PgngM1EYAz3oGl0EBvg41UfsVMqz6DjXL6c8U7iiijlZGQv6-55JUdjtZbVTZWMWj0zD6cPlDbc/s1600/IMG_5473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNiLyFti51dpZKdwm2IZpTsOvaFxQCxifLylclDnPCjWk8ahifUyRH8amylgNoPWCz2PgngM1EYAz3oGl0EBvg41UfsVMqz6DjXL6c8U7iiijlZGQv6-55JUdjtZbVTZWMWj0zD6cPlDbc/s640/IMG_5473.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our precious neighbors getting salutations from my boys every time they left from and returned to their house</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I know that we are pilgrims in this world and that journeying through different places and peoples is good for our hearts in that way- it's good that we are being trained to not anchor ourselves down to temporal things. But it's also not how it's supposed to be, either. We are pilgriming to an eternal land... with finality and rest. And so our hearts long for that, too. We burrowed ourselves down in Hattiesburg and our hearts and souls practiced eternity there. It was a hard thing to pick up our bags and say, "Not yet. This is not home yet."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2rd_ge2W8ml_Knlop9JtjW57zU-4fYWaAkWce-gHmuhHm4QuuAf-BJjGhcnlBjUNJhlROoLPyGevSnQJg9j-mJMCGPqSZWM-hGgj9mJ6xbxTVohIVT5kZkDeE-nsSRhI_0u2lha4FDvf/s1600/IMG_6526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2rd_ge2W8ml_Knlop9JtjW57zU-4fYWaAkWce-gHmuhHm4QuuAf-BJjGhcnlBjUNJhlROoLPyGevSnQJg9j-mJMCGPqSZWM-hGgj9mJ6xbxTVohIVT5kZkDeE-nsSRhI_0u2lha4FDvf/s640/IMG_6526.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
So here's a long overdue homage to our Mississippi folk... you were our home in a way that no other place will ever be a home.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4E9blQ4NUBYjkpeVCl_GwgekxKuAkS01ulJTK2HlqGTo9G8r0NeGVNHMrC0czg0cAtnf_KplP3YgZyhsM3Wc8MhyigpJVbpZz6z6MmspS_agDSJK2ZILvac9HBEYyvYNIKlirzWJg_yD/s1600/IMG_5629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4E9blQ4NUBYjkpeVCl_GwgekxKuAkS01ulJTK2HlqGTo9G8r0NeGVNHMrC0czg0cAtnf_KplP3YgZyhsM3Wc8MhyigpJVbpZz6z6MmspS_agDSJK2ZILvac9HBEYyvYNIKlirzWJg_yD/s640/IMG_5629.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slow life and neighbors ending up unexpectedly on your front porch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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You lived up to your reputation to be the most hospitable and giving state in every sense of the word. Gave us Sunday-lunch tables to sit around and opened up your doors for playdates. You showed me how to value beauty in everyday things- like those magnolia blossoms in the church hallways or a little piece of pottery in your kitchen window sill.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4KUctpLlrnhA0-KRHbkPAOW9XeEYC_GSPB70E1OHLd5puoyo4ATACGVfguWa3UKNbQwAYQsc6ymg4z87cPybu3SRCCSPSOP_6CSK16-hGt-5MDDeLjkawt2EV69TlzRYSqbxVR2syHQo/s1600/IMG_6524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4KUctpLlrnhA0-KRHbkPAOW9XeEYC_GSPB70E1OHLd5puoyo4ATACGVfguWa3UKNbQwAYQsc6ymg4z87cPybu3SRCCSPSOP_6CSK16-hGt-5MDDeLjkawt2EV69TlzRYSqbxVR2syHQo/s640/IMG_6524.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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You taught me how to be a mother, how to slow down and play with my babies in the backyard. How to turn on the water hose and eat watermelon on front porches with friends. You showed up in dark corners of our lives by leaving a milkshake on our front porch when I miscarried our second baby, coming by to weep with us on those same steps when our house contract fell through.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivldxuNyiuiyYOLUTRtopToSIl_Opk1gCz2MEGqSKY6-ixsPwqgeEkRfhRiiZ9p-T_1KK5uYaLYO0IFQdYqPVq9veknSRqm-BfILwK3mlxswF5IfGweSochWJLDURyOuPYuQJ9iFXYzcnc/s1600/IMG_0960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="842" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivldxuNyiuiyYOLUTRtopToSIl_Opk1gCz2MEGqSKY6-ixsPwqgeEkRfhRiiZ9p-T_1KK5uYaLYO0IFQdYqPVq9veknSRqm-BfILwK3mlxswF5IfGweSochWJLDURyOuPYuQJ9iFXYzcnc/s640/IMG_0960.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7n32frnjUo81WmEYOESW4lILje4DCUg-hIxDuPRFsBwFsdQQeWMBdDjA-iDBxThUvFHBhL0GnZpIObcDqMHGF3iaO9TzhdQPjoHWS_zwGE-OuDMqFPWShfW5jC01LZBUd981_oZv-1g6X/s1600/DSC_0315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7n32frnjUo81WmEYOESW4lILje4DCUg-hIxDuPRFsBwFsdQQeWMBdDjA-iDBxThUvFHBhL0GnZpIObcDqMHGF3iaO9TzhdQPjoHWS_zwGE-OuDMqFPWShfW5jC01LZBUd981_oZv-1g6X/s640/DSC_0315.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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You were family to us when we had no family near, coming to Easter lunches and birthday parties and piano recitals and baptisms.... and all you precious, precious people who babysat our children just because! Just because you are so dear, and because you love so deeply and without borders. You Mississippi people do that the best.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFiHHuEFyxvzCmLzLmHzYSD7Wcr3Kd5Vtfe-rbYl_rkhG9hseKgzPU5geHiX4oZGq4LTgWAn_Mof3v61ONKx2UuSG2oXEW_FE_vynC3NXq9W7ScgLK9SOoroke9CDDHu_gyr2lxC32saLK/s1600/IMG_1544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFiHHuEFyxvzCmLzLmHzYSD7Wcr3Kd5Vtfe-rbYl_rkhG9hseKgzPU5geHiX4oZGq4LTgWAn_Mof3v61ONKx2UuSG2oXEW_FE_vynC3NXq9W7ScgLK9SOoroke9CDDHu_gyr2lxC32saLK/s640/IMG_1544.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Student becomes friend becomes family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZQ8IZ92qOiAtgzpu_gtDHt3S5W8rBRATyTsrLEQDLSdv7SwlI9IZj1wOGK9kK40t6KTXyFgn3Bms2tDy3pEtWZTTrClwvrMj-SShtRK7fsvToLOuZJDEHtNOGlGXsJdXfPsKrbR_zdgR/s1600/IMG_5443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZQ8IZ92qOiAtgzpu_gtDHt3S5W8rBRATyTsrLEQDLSdv7SwlI9IZj1wOGK9kK40t6KTXyFgn3Bms2tDy3pEtWZTTrClwvrMj-SShtRK7fsvToLOuZJDEHtNOGlGXsJdXfPsKrbR_zdgR/s640/IMG_5443.JPG" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosemary wearing Allison's baptism gown</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9SiyovSQzub_fjvMWWxv3bZKRM9XAo9uBBUxqjRsco5fVksD67CfuTnTIN97FH3FkgCzl41urm6F6lAsaDUeVlVm8d9Nbf7qwKbH0jjQNfaIcUFm32UeTDsZnvggW5332SLSWLjIy6OV/s1600/DSC_0040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9SiyovSQzub_fjvMWWxv3bZKRM9XAo9uBBUxqjRsco5fVksD67CfuTnTIN97FH3FkgCzl41urm6F6lAsaDUeVlVm8d9Nbf7qwKbH0jjQNfaIcUFm32UeTDsZnvggW5332SLSWLjIy6OV/s640/DSC_0040.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /><br />
Your children became my children and my children became your children... and we watched them grow by measuring them by the tiger mural at the zoo. We went from days sweating bullets at the lemur cage to driving our babies to their first day of kindergarten together... how did it happen so quickly?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwLvXWmfIzc7EmjmWbeKmGbbxNdhYnOItt9EutmA-NbPsvoGh9rkMAF46uVcYZiNqfCz3JpT32oszcedbAIeOjRQyAQ3mEM4AftElSp32C0LW50sOuzdSAnVKsm4o9ktXhmCFLq58Cizn/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwLvXWmfIzc7EmjmWbeKmGbbxNdhYnOItt9EutmA-NbPsvoGh9rkMAF46uVcYZiNqfCz3JpT32oszcedbAIeOjRQyAQ3mEM4AftElSp32C0LW50sOuzdSAnVKsm4o9ktXhmCFLq58Cizn/s640/DSC_0014.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too tiny. Impossible. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqd_MKnKG06xLoeBfwJ3ds2Am0pttQaVVl-CDw8nvoL6obv7AuejyFuoQmu3E9qpWHjdfLr2L_3bK8O_jO6N00i2MUlHyyt9dnyRW0iWoq7x1NHTyUJmBfJ54ywUMCzIFwz-sWd3QmWzt/s1600/IMG_4375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqd_MKnKG06xLoeBfwJ3ds2Am0pttQaVVl-CDw8nvoL6obv7AuejyFuoQmu3E9qpWHjdfLr2L_3bK8O_jO6N00i2MUlHyyt9dnyRW0iWoq7x1NHTyUJmBfJ54ywUMCzIFwz-sWd3QmWzt/s640/IMG_4375.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUauv9keeQzrxza_S24_-chWBWHAc5cTqt5c-b6XWIL5TC5N1tMTCAD-qUNPWBsE0uV3cACgbxWncwegWemRnVdVGFFGEAyWj2VwdwsP-MRr4Pe1oO5WwVt9aHeHP5SbhO3MyUmEUMtB2/s1600/DSC_0158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUauv9keeQzrxza_S24_-chWBWHAc5cTqt5c-b6XWIL5TC5N1tMTCAD-qUNPWBsE0uV3cACgbxWncwegWemRnVdVGFFGEAyWj2VwdwsP-MRr4Pe1oO5WwVt9aHeHP5SbhO3MyUmEUMtB2/s640/DSC_0158.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mamas in the mirror making my heart swell</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We sat in those pews together, Mississippi friends, and I learned to love church with you in a way I hadn't before. To long to be in those pews more than anywhere but heaven itself. We gave side glances and squeezed hands when I knew we were singing a song you had to choose to believe, when you had one of those weeks and your mouth had to plead your heart to heaven-- I pled with you. You pled with me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSzjUpEaoZde5IRI0fxULWqPQ0Yk2nXVtIfD4DSwuoiST-8SMkLoy2EOG1lH3N2jCWCOb3K5KBucRFT2KAg_4ux_okg1gMB-YRpmqaH15ffYwLqM_lmLr3b2PTmoat5afC_zXRtJS2oTh/s1600/IMG_6018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSzjUpEaoZde5IRI0fxULWqPQ0Yk2nXVtIfD4DSwuoiST-8SMkLoy2EOG1lH3N2jCWCOb3K5KBucRFT2KAg_4ux_okg1gMB-YRpmqaH15ffYwLqM_lmLr3b2PTmoat5afC_zXRtJS2oTh/s640/IMG_6018.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55QZkUz8CH0KU6HZl8GnuICz1OuKXtuH0BWzMX1Ix3qsC9BiQ8zdhyRJXPKTODn0lck8F7pIPkTG63ADK8CCucJETwyqHz34jal0IFCDQpQ5tiUP4g_qdkp11NK-M8kjhSsLuYJY7P20T/s1600/IMG_7663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55QZkUz8CH0KU6HZl8GnuICz1OuKXtuH0BWzMX1Ix3qsC9BiQ8zdhyRJXPKTODn0lck8F7pIPkTG63ADK8CCucJETwyqHz34jal0IFCDQpQ5tiUP4g_qdkp11NK-M8kjhSsLuYJY7P20T/s640/IMG_7663.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMk91o1aGquyrVY7u_ulBEyyiwbIzOQqUKYFLLF008Yfh9E11NcAi8GiX2llas8Vag8kIYnjKHSQO3_aPRP0qyUEeIaFJcMNIqXTUh5-qX653I2xpYXc8D3C134zCxLB2jm8EkmxCPP8XN/s1600/IMG_3386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMk91o1aGquyrVY7u_ulBEyyiwbIzOQqUKYFLLF008Yfh9E11NcAi8GiX2llas8Vag8kIYnjKHSQO3_aPRP0qyUEeIaFJcMNIqXTUh5-qX653I2xpYXc8D3C134zCxLB2jm8EkmxCPP8XN/s640/IMG_3386.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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You worked by our side in ministry, bringing the good news of hope to students on campus. You were those students that we loved dearly.... you came in our home and shared life with us and maybe you heard the true gospel for the first time there, maybe we had the incredible privilege of taking you by the hand and leading you to Jesus's throne of grace. You prayed for us and gave and gave and gave of yourself to put wind under our wings. Mississippi people will never let you do ministry alone--you made sure we knew you were with us.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX6ukolVbzYOSUg3BFObTaRrHFNIGvylm19mbL0-3HQmZcqAt7tOic8YCaV9hdfn-g0eDLLtwb_8iqyBoeuIJ7zokCORfWfCtXtafVUjHP_blvXFKj0bl-ARBATVm_AKCJQJmXu4GBVpR/s1600/IMG_8755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX6ukolVbzYOSUg3BFObTaRrHFNIGvylm19mbL0-3HQmZcqAt7tOic8YCaV9hdfn-g0eDLLtwb_8iqyBoeuIJ7zokCORfWfCtXtafVUjHP_blvXFKj0bl-ARBATVm_AKCJQJmXu4GBVpR/s640/IMG_8755.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jW4O-Xlt5jEn1Ynp7aM6Lb8h-T-lXOQFQ7iLLa6wCFIe99JHFwSgTtubkfxkujMvTYGFsNbpghETruQzZJMZbvbsgx6acKBcj_Z8KPLbi1EjMIOSwhiibu0UMRiu64IL-3qBpgRNLkph/s1600/IMG_1608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jW4O-Xlt5jEn1Ynp7aM6Lb8h-T-lXOQFQ7iLLa6wCFIe99JHFwSgTtubkfxkujMvTYGFsNbpghETruQzZJMZbvbsgx6acKBcj_Z8KPLbi1EjMIOSwhiibu0UMRiu64IL-3qBpgRNLkph/s640/IMG_1608.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgWmmKzish8NTIyzYQN11a-9Z7ZrAdRDuxvRkjj2MUhUG9-kR7qASb-ouHztB53sO2aakfGBXKUFWkHdAqfLiKukfzET0XDoarGzGBmV5crgKpqJxfQN9e2ZLok-TW9c3hDiqF0-d2q3H/s1600/IMG_2414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgWmmKzish8NTIyzYQN11a-9Z7ZrAdRDuxvRkjj2MUhUG9-kR7qASb-ouHztB53sO2aakfGBXKUFWkHdAqfLiKukfzET0XDoarGzGBmV5crgKpqJxfQN9e2ZLok-TW9c3hDiqF0-d2q3H/s640/IMG_2414.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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We started traditions together-- Trick or Treat in Innswood and Easter egg hunts in the Bentons' backyard. You came over on Christmas Day and we shot bottle rockets on 4th of July.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture always takes my breath I love it so so much.</td></tr>
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We rode up S 21st to have a coffee at T-Bones or veer off to Kamper Park to meet. We would stop and talk to our neighbors in their yard, or wave to Toby who walked his dog past our house every day and became the mayor the week after we left. Ordinary days, brimming with grace. We didn't have the eyes to see the holy grounds we were treading.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Car-pooled with these boys for nearly three years, lots of excitement on these rides including a knocked-out tooth!</td></tr>
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When you leave a place and people like this, you don't really leave. You wonder--despite all your good theology--if your shadow stretches back 400 miles because surely your life doesn't make sense outside of the borders of that world you left.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1ElMRxfXWjnj_E3fDK6csy_wrkxHTPYbx703TgZoioX_cAsT0ORV20p_TO7YZYnid6wGSEg2Bp02NkDIzbyXzhwKvBzJkxGxTwrGKZbwJpRe0_O5nXMpCtDXVnGCFHyQDi1jygY-rRg_/s1600/IMG_6511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1ElMRxfXWjnj_E3fDK6csy_wrkxHTPYbx703TgZoioX_cAsT0ORV20p_TO7YZYnid6wGSEg2Bp02NkDIzbyXzhwKvBzJkxGxTwrGKZbwJpRe0_O5nXMpCtDXVnGCFHyQDi1jygY-rRg_/s640/IMG_6511.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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Our heart aches and grieves even eight months later for home. And yet we know... we know that this short feast in Hattiesburg-- that truly felt like our whole lives-- was the most profound gift to us. The fact that it had a beginning and an end gives time a frame so that we can hold it in our hands. We can grasp it tightly to our chest and we can give thanks to a God who let us practice eternity there. </div>
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I will always be from Kentucky. But I think our family will always be from Mississippi... we were grown there. Breathed to life there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7M0o7dIWY-L0qeIFsMO7uV2B0H_naQxS6CmCToRMf7mo5vqWHx-7wr5gzMfE4LOjW2C1zLfU2eD3S-2uGWegEvwm8BmxeetaV8hGb1CgYLT1JGS2ugevCDxpkI56o2s-w9OkzdmrBx5M/s1600/1S6A9674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7M0o7dIWY-L0qeIFsMO7uV2B0H_naQxS6CmCToRMf7mo5vqWHx-7wr5gzMfE4LOjW2C1zLfU2eD3S-2uGWegEvwm8BmxeetaV8hGb1CgYLT1JGS2ugevCDxpkI56o2s-w9OkzdmrBx5M/s640/1S6A9674.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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Mississippi-- you are dearly loved, dearly missed, dearly appreciated for the ways that you made us into a family. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How we came</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How we left... sad to lose Samford and sad about W's face in this pic<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">Charlie asks to go back to his "City House" (what he calls our Hattie house for some reason) at least weekly... Wilson told us at Christmas that it didn't feel like Christmas because we weren't in Hattiesburg. It's hard to ache for a place but even harder to watch your children ache. It's made me wonder how our Heavenly Father looks into our weeping eyes... </span></div>
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On our last night at church we sang "On Jordan's Stormy Banks I Stand"--and through my tears, I think I understood. He must know that every longing in our heart is really us casting that wishful eye. I know He aches with us as we ache, but I also know He wants to teach our hearts to sing-- we are bound, we are bound, we are bound for the promised land! If our Mississippi home is but a shadow... what a promised land it must be.<br /><br /></div>
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A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-84560634630218061062017-03-27T05:24:00.001-07:002017-03-27T11:55:27.621-07:00Rosemary's Baptism<img id="id_f81f_e16_92f_b6c0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OsxStz1blCI/WNkEbu4rOnI/AAAAAAAAFmM/qFU4wedN_Sw/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"><div><br></div><div>Last Sunday night, Andrew had the opportunity to preach to our church. He took us to Psalm 120, the first of the songs of ascent.... the pilgrim songs. These songs were not meant to be sung alone, but as a chorus that mingled with the tromping of</div><div>feet that were traveling together. Voices that were, yes, raised to the heavens... but that also stayed earth-bound and weaved in and out of your friends' ears... anthems of truth that went before you and caught you up from behind. </div><div><br></div><div>It was a beautiful message that made me think of the significance of the morning... of Rosemary's baptism. Her sign that she is caught up in the singing. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_74a8_13e0_6e07_3a6e" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7LkSb5n96kw/WNkEbsvWhJI/AAAAAAAAFmE/YB2RBdsi4j0/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>On Sunday, her church told her that the gospel promises that we sing over her...to her...around her... those are promises for her, too, if she believes. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_7851_4e7_f35f_11d8" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QWPY1dpKduo/WNkEbl0FXoI/AAAAAAAAFmQ/5MBBSZ6yglg/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>As my best friend's husband poured water on her head to signify the washing of the Spirit... I thought that what he was really saying to her is that she is our fellow pilgrim; She is walking with us in this not-quite-our-world home. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_c6cc_5be7_ac57_c859" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VAoocCLfkJA/WNkEbtx3owI/AAAAAAAAFmI/vJJIZuYfoZk/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>And her baptism says she's a part of us. We haven't left her behind. She's being carried along in our arms, in the midst of the travel to a better land.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_8a22_b1ca_37_ecd7" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FJX9bAAPGG4/WNkEb6zUJCI/AAAAAAAAFmU/gAAnL0ObLNA/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>And I was thinking and hoping of that wonderful day when I can take the hand of my daughter who will also be my sister. When she's not just carried along but chooses to come along and her voice will join our chorus and encourage other weary hearts.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_4d40_59b_a5_10cf" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VxbJGYj_qIQ/WNktLOG3bPI/AAAAAAAAFmk/D5k6lhq2G-A/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>This just isn't the year for us to buy a baptism dress, so I asked one of my dearest friends if I could borrow. I was, admittedly, a little sad at first that she wouldn't have her own... but then I thought about the beauty of her wearing a dress that Allison wore as a baby. And all three of her girls. What a tangible reminder that our friends are her family, too. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_4a6b_95fe_eb8f_faa1" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-27hazG-Hj2Q/WNktLDqeiYI/AAAAAAAAFmo/HQivrdUq6mY/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div>We had a small little gathering for lunch after church as we feasted and celebrated the goodness of our Father.</div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_d425_784d_eed2_4a59" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-23M20PU96Bg/WNktLIKskkI/AAAAAAAAFms/xwkAq-RfdRQ/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_dab2_97b1_7a86_1f00" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c_FncWaE5Ss/WNktMUc0kPI/AAAAAAAAFnA/IcpVWIfQ_ls/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <br></div><div><br></div><div><i>Rosemary, </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Right now you don't have a choice but to be carried as a pilgrim. You live in a home and with a family who have their eyes fixed on a better country... We love this world created by our good Father, but we also know it's not the way it was supposed to be. And until then, we will be tent-pitchers, sewing seeds of beauty and goodness that are given to us by the one leading us, Jesus. He is slowly restoring this world back to its original beauty. </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><img id="id_d241_b0bd_e2da_f385" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-stSenjsghww/WNktLrHQzoI/AAAAAAAAFmw/EW0Q_Vss93Q/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>And not just the world around us... but the worlds inside of us. He can do the same work in your heart... He can make you who you ought to be, He can make you into the most beautiful version of yourself. On your baptism day, we gave you a sign to point you to that truth- that just as you could not apply the water from the baptism font to your head... you cannot apply the work of Jesus to your heart. It is a work of grace, not of merit.</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><img id="id_f089_d07a_f6c3_774a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nABECLCQ6B0/WNktL2JN1tI/AAAAAAAAFm0/3c7tMFNMDpY/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <i><br></i></div><div><br></div><div><i>And after the sign, the singing. In one of the more beautiful moments of my life... I cried through your first pilgrim song. </i></div><div><br></div><div><i>Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so...</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><img id="id_5895_acf7_8dac_1e6c" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dWrK-51B2z0/WNktMLiydcI/AAAAAAAAFm8/h-gHsY2yay0/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <i><br></i></div><div><br></div><div><i>Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong. </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so.</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><img id="id_9b3e_3588_4460_1aab" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2T4zb4FfQLI/WNktLyNZ3LI/AAAAAAAAFm4/wzJqL--7p9I/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 298px; height: auto;"> <i><br></i></div><div><br></div><div><i>There will be so many times in your life when you're going to need your fellow pilgrims to hold you up with songs of truth.. Times when you are so low and disoriented that you cannot hear the voice of your Father singing love songs over you. So on Sunday, we sang. Before you could even believe it, or doubt it... we sang truth to you. </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>And one day, you will need to sing it back to us. Your father and I are hoping and longing for the day when you and your brothers become our forever sister and brothers in Jesus. We love you, Rosie Baby! </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div>A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-6514735780121977042016-12-09T11:19:00.002-08:002017-02-05T12:29:03.971-08:00Rosemary, {almost} Three MonthsDarling, dreamy, doll-baby.<br />
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Andrew and I keep saying, we didn't know we could make babies like this. Of course we love our boys. I could have eaten them both up with a spoon at this age, too. But Rosemary just looks at us with this smile that says, "I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to weave peace and love and easy-goingness all through this family." Maybe she's a hippy. And even so, one day I'm going print out this blog as a thank you note and take it to my girl in her flowing dress with flowers in her hair... and say thank you, for just being so very, very kind to us.<br />
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I was reading Charlie's three month blog earlier today, and I mentioned how I was rocking him before naps. Hmmm... naps? I'm afraid she's so easy-going that she just kind of follows whatever the family is doing. Sometimes asleep, and sometimes awake...</div>
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She is still sleeping beside our bed and when people ask us if she's sleeping well at night, I don't know how to answer that because... Charlie. Charlie has not slept through the night once since we've brought Rosie home. He comes in our room at 3:00, or cries out from his at 2:00 or walks in ready to start the day at 4:00 (that trend lasted a solid three weeks and was the worst, worst, worst). A typical night right now is: Rosemary goes down at 10:00, Charlie comes in our room at 1:00... I cover his mouth (so he doesn't wake Rosemary) and lead him back to his room where I sleep in a twin bed with a line-backer of a two year old until 4:00... when Rosie is up ready to eat... Charlie comes in our room at 5:00 and LET'S GO. COFEE TIME. It's a season, it's a season, it's a season....</div>
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Did I mention that Rosie is a dream?<br />
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Charlie loves his baby sister. We've found him in front of her swing singing to her... and she's the first thing he wants to see when he wakes up from his nap (blessed, glorious nap!). Wilson is so very sweet with her, too. They are both all up in her face all the time and she LOVES it. She gives them the best grins and kicks and coos... and my heart is swelling with the hope of two big brothers lavishing love and protection over their baby sister for all her days. Step on back, future suitors!</div>
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She has rolls on rolls on rolls and I'm just so happy about a chubby baby, because both boys had dropped below average weight at this age. Rosemary weighs more than 86% of her peers and we are so okay with that. It's the by-product of her nursing so well, and because I know the woes of babies and weight-gain, I could really cry out of thankfulness about it.<br />
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She has little stork bites everywhere, and the most prominent one is on her left eye lid. It looks like she's wearing pink eyeshadow and I'll be sad when it fades...</div>
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We have had a packed three months! Rosemary was born and we were hurled headlong into holidays and travel. </div>
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We had Andrew's parents here with us, and then that whole side of the family came to celebrate and meet Rosemary. We laughed and ate good food and took our annual fuzzy hat picture. </div>
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Allie and Kody came somewhere in there and loved on us. And I guess I didn't take any pics! Newborn haze is real... did any of this actually happen? I wouldn't believe it without pictures to prove me wrong.</div>
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My mom came to celebrate Thanksgiving... it was simple and sweet. </div>
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Andrew's parents came back to spend Christmas with us. </div>
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Then my parents, sister and EJ came to open gifts and play and give hugs and kisses.</div>
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We took our first big trip with three to Atlanta/Auburn for a week. And just like I suspected... Rosemary made the trip with barely a peep. Who is this child??</div>
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And then we made our first trip to Kentucky for Rosemary to meet some of her great-grandparents. She also attended her first show... at the Ryman, no less... and was (no surprise) the best third-wheel we could ask for. </div>
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<i>Rosemary, on January 21 our phone alarms went off at 3:00 am alerting us of a tornado warning. We woke up your brothers and stuffed ourselves inside of the bottom of our linen closet. Your father hovered over the news in the living room while I held you in my lap and had a brother under each of my arms, like a (terrified) mother hen. The weatherman told us the tornado was barreling towards us. At one point, the audio went out in the news studio and they began to hold up paper signs to warn us where it was heading next... you sucked your paci and curled up into me. Charlie laid his head on your legs in my lap. Wilson asked me, "What's going to happen if the tornado hits our house?" And I hated that I couldn't tell him "It won't, we will be fine." So I stammered through--"We just hold onto eachother. Tight." I had such a helpless feeling, Rose... What if the winds tried to rip you from my arms? How could I hold onto all three of you at the same time? My faith was like an atom of a mustard seed. I pled out loud to Jesus to keep us all anchored- our feets anchored to the ground, our hearts anchored to Him, our arms anchored around each other. </i></div>
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<i>As providence would have it, the tornado missed our house by half a mile. And as reports came in to tell us of our town being shredded, wounded, lives taken... my eyes wouldn't leave your little faces. And I was reminded of my finiteness... how there is a limit to my protection over you. I cannot promise you safety this side of heaven, Rosemary. My heart fights against that, but it's true... </i></div>
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<i>We try to find safety in policies, in diets, in bank accounts. We look for it in the right school systems and neighborhoods and even in our own families. We think it must be in vacations or full nights of sleep or maybe the right wardrobe. We build up walls around ourselves so that people not like us can't threaten our comfort. I tried to find it in that linen closet... </i></div>
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<i>Our fear tells us what to run from, but it doesn't tell us what to run towards. So I'll tell you a secret, Rosemary, that so many don't believe. You cannot find safety here. Our King Jesus is the only safe place... and that's because He lives outside of time and space. And yet... He entered into time and space to be our safety, our sure hope. </i></div>
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<i>But life in Him means He will call you to live a life reflective of His Kingdom... and that's not always safe.</i></div>
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<i>You will be asked to love people not like you.</i></div>
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<i>He will ask you to lay down things that are precious to you to follow Him.</i></div>
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<i>You will need to seek the good of others before you seek it for yourself. </i></div>
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<i>And that is not always safe... and it is definitely never comfortable. But it's the way to know for sure that you have anchored your life down in the only One who <b>is</b> truly safe. </i></div>
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<i>Don't anchor your heart here, baby girl... Your father and I will do all that we can to help you throw your anchor towards heaven. We love you!</i></div>
A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-18710881007930202672016-11-20T15:03:00.000-08:002016-11-20T15:03:47.652-08:00RosemaryIn every way, Rosemary has taken our breath. She has been one surprise after another in the best sorts of ways and every bit of her life so far has shouted the love of a good, good God.<br />
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Knowing that we would probably be looking at moving this summer, Andrew and I decided that we wanted to try to have our (probably) last child here in Hattiesburg. We love this town, our church, our friends here... dearly... too much to which I can give the full amount of words it deserves here... and felt like it made the most sense to have all of this familiarity and care around us in the newborn stage. We gave ourselves a six month window to try (before we lost the window of our health insurance coverage) and we prayed for the grace to welcome a new life into our family. It didn't happen- and we were resolved to be okay with that. And then, it did. On the seventh month. And there was fear and anxiety (about timing and insurance and how will we get our house ready to sell with a newborn?)... but there was also so much rejoicing.<br />
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I cried at the "yes" and said, "Is this true? Can it really be true?" and felt God tenderly holding my face and saying, "Yes, let me love you in this way."<br />
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And then. Then on the way home from my home in Kentucky, after announcing to my family... complications started. And I cried in a Publix bathroom and told Andrew it was over when I got to the car. Seven long hours home of quiet. And grief. And anger. How was this love?<br />
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The next week I saw my doctor and she was also fairly certain I was losing the baby, and so she started a series of blood work. All of my results confirmed what we already had resigned to- that grief was ahead... waiting for us. And somehow this seemed harder than my first miscarriage because I knew what I was facing. I knew the Lord would be good and tender, but I also knew the pain I was being forced to walk towards. I wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere until it was all over.<br />
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And then I walked into my scheduled ultrasound to confirm a miscarriage and discuss next steps and the technician says, "Well, there's only one!" And I said, "Only one what??" And she says, "Only one baby, only one heartbeat." And my hands covered my mouth and I let every tear flow that had been hiding its hopeful self away in a corner of my heart. It couldn't be true, but it was true. I went straight to my doctor who wrapped her arms around me and said, "I don't have any answers, except that you must have had people praying." Oh, did we! We love our people. Praying this baby girl into existence.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMsXny7KZM_3T8m9Yxgw3VMgxaRuHWrXEbveh41ftkv1A_94bltoaeLxYj-5PjoQIqCEGCtQDk1z9ObxJ2GFglVc8w6DaYpDFZX20lKJalBo7sOObRU8nuoBXWI3N72zSCoIeR62-bOz8/s1600/IMG_2149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMsXny7KZM_3T8m9Yxgw3VMgxaRuHWrXEbveh41ftkv1A_94bltoaeLxYj-5PjoQIqCEGCtQDk1z9ObxJ2GFglVc8w6DaYpDFZX20lKJalBo7sOObRU8nuoBXWI3N72zSCoIeR62-bOz8/s640/IMG_2149.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Been through so much with this precious doctor of mine...</td></tr>
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And a girl. A girl?! What do we do with pink and bonnets? Andrew was convinced this was going to be another boy and I just wouldn't let myself cling onto a gender. Wilson begged for a girl because "boys are mean"... but everyone was full-faced smile when the ultra-sound technician gave us the pronoun SHE!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FgAnLggOdw8Gone1Da133dgjW3W9UEWTA5cz3D7_rvFCYX1yru5JAzwEroCy7qtaTLhILD4cvwAw1ac_EfNLKKP2zEFTvQ971WU7SJdbPKV5h0Mui-60lRbnR4bH2rYSywrd29UNQkf-/s1600/IMG_2136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FgAnLggOdw8Gone1Da133dgjW3W9UEWTA5cz3D7_rvFCYX1yru5JAzwEroCy7qtaTLhILD4cvwAw1ac_EfNLKKP2zEFTvQ971WU7SJdbPKV5h0Mui-60lRbnR4bH2rYSywrd29UNQkf-/s640/IMG_2136.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somehow I ended up with the same nurse I had with Charlie and she was the BEST. </td></tr>
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We had already decided on her name if she were a girl. Wilson wanted a Mary and when my sister was born I wanted to name her Rosie Rainbow. So a little Rosemary made both of our six year old dreams come true! Rosemary is also known as the herb of remembrance... and I know that every time I look at her face I will remember the love that God spoke over us when He breathed another life into our family. Her middle, Virginia, is after my grandmother and I hope she inherits every square inch of her character- including a towering stack of books by her reading chair.<br />
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Rosemary Virginia.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1o3tQTEjvOr6kqviBvBEN8OBNSuiblVbwSWgEnGCGiqX9WXSUlHyagnswGc2Xo5kDp8TWvw0AKdQldVSlIWy4FJdnzC7Y9iW1zesCSOZAZlbSV5vLQ0f5mZG02o9Seajvl_VGhdlius_/s1600/IMG_2134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1o3tQTEjvOr6kqviBvBEN8OBNSuiblVbwSWgEnGCGiqX9WXSUlHyagnswGc2Xo5kDp8TWvw0AKdQldVSlIWy4FJdnzC7Y9iW1zesCSOZAZlbSV5vLQ0f5mZG02o9Seajvl_VGhdlius_/s640/IMG_2134.JPG" width="640" /></a>We got to see her face for the first time on November 9, my dad's birthday. She came so quickly at 11:03 that my doctor barely got her gloves on in time to catch her.<br />
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Andrew prayed over her entrance into the world and I held on so tightly to this little one that I had thought was lost. She was beautiful in every way- in her tiny features, in the way she gripped my finger when I pulled her close, in just being... her very existence was beautiful.<br />
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Both Andrew and I had tears flowing over her coming and Andrew so much that my doctor asked him, "How in the world are you going to make it through her wedding?" Pshew, we can't even think about that yet!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bigs with his birthday buddy! Now Wilson and Rosemary both share a birthday with a grandfather and poor little Charlie is feeling left out about that. </td></tr>
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And two days later we walked her into the chaos that is our life with boys: of sickness and fevers and too many hospital visits and boys up way more in the night than she was. And grace upon grace that she has survived the germs (so far)... but she has also just been this anchor of peace in what seems to be the constant turbulence of our household. A treasure that her brothers just could.not.wait. to get their hands on. She is abundantly loved here!<br />
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<i>Rosemary, I'm looking at your little face now and thinking that you can't even know a corner of how much I adore you. How fiercely I would fight for you. I was the first to know you existed... and then I thought I was the first to know that you were leaving us. And I've grieved over my grieving... thinking that there were two weeks of your little life that I thought you were gone. And you were not gone. But the most beautifully wonderful (almost too much for my heart to handle) truth is that when no one else knew or believed you were there- God knew you. He didn't just breathe you into existence, Rosie, He SAW you. He watched you. He never took away His eyes or His hands or His devoted attention to your life. I know it's true because Psalm 139 tells me it's true. And my prayer for you will be that you would live out the meaning of your name, remembrance, and always call to mind these wonderful truths:</i><br />
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<b>My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. </b></div>
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<span class="verse-16" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><b>Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><i>I suppose this lie manifests itself in different ways in every generation, but right now social media is doing a good job in decieving us into thinking that our moments don't matter unless someone else sees them. What I want you to remember is this: there was a moment in your little life when we were all grieving your loss. But you weren't unknown in those moments.... your life, even then, had weight and meaning because you had a Father who was watching and weaving and writing the story of your life. And that will always be true of your life... when you make secret choices that honor Him and that breathe life into others, sometimes no one else will know or see. And sometimes it's better that way. God will. Some days you might feel invisible to people around you, but your existence is always a joyful shout in your Father's ear. You are seen and you are delighted in and your every moment carries the weight of eternity... Rosemary, the eyes of your loving Shepherd are always, always gazing upon you. And your always being seen means that you are always being loved. </i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #fafafa; color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5SIqJyk3IMW6v0T7cucbY5jk8zhL_cVJjH-vXceRE-N63qqYWCP2YnxlTijsVRLecOUuLeFpEjCxJWIlMUE2QCEEBX72BNkSMeoHi90jwmSfIT2FtehwboCJZw4D-g_3Y3jCl1FelNRm/s1600/IMG_2238.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5SIqJyk3IMW6v0T7cucbY5jk8zhL_cVJjH-vXceRE-N63qqYWCP2YnxlTijsVRLecOUuLeFpEjCxJWIlMUE2QCEEBX72BNkSMeoHi90jwmSfIT2FtehwboCJZw4D-g_3Y3jCl1FelNRm/s640/IMG_2238.JPG" width="640" /></a></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">We love you fiercely! Welcome home, Sister.</span></i><br />
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A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-11632382335842824372016-09-29T18:15:00.000-07:002016-09-29T18:15:34.120-07:00Wilson, Six Years OldJames Wilson, you are beyond my wildest dreams.<br />
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This morning when I dropped you off for school, you did this thing that I love. You kept looking back at me, quick side-glances, trying to stifle this grin that was threatening to take over your entire face. I knew what the grin was saying: "Look how big I am, Mom! I have my own backpack and I am walking into school all by myself!" But you were trying to swallow all of that because you also wanted to appear so casual about it... like you've been doing this for a month now, and it's not a big deal. But I really wanted to roll down my window and yell, "It IS a big deal! You are such a big boy and doing big, big things. And your tiny little frame walking into those big double doors just doesn't seem right to me... but you are ready for it!" But I didn't. You're welcome. And as you were swallowing your smile, I was swallowing my tears.<br />
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Every day I am looking at you wide-eyed, thinking how wonderfully you're made.<br />
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You starting Kindergarten this year was a huge thing in our family and you counted down the days for three months. I've never seen you so excited about something... It felt like exactly what you were made for: a structured environment with people all around you. A full day of social interaction and learning, your two favorite things. You are at this amazing school with an incredible teacher and grace and gospel frame your days. I get pretty teary thinking about how much goodness you are getting there... You can't even know, because it's all you know. You're in a class with Owen, who's been attached to your side (because your mamas have been attached to one another) for five of your six years of life... You really don't and can't remember life without him. Sometimes you fight like brothers, but I love that you have someone so familiar and dear with you while you're away from me.<br />
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You are still totally infatuated with all things biological. You've made a new friend on the playground at school who likes to find bugs and I was tickled to the point of tears thinking about these two little entomologists finding a kindred spirit in one another. Wilson, I think it makes me laugh because I am totally amazed by your mind... It is nothing like mine, and so at times I am completely baffled by you. I watched you and Charlie have a light saber fight today in the back yard and you stopped mid-swing because something was flying in front of your face and you were just too curious to let it keep going without you observing it first. Charlie jabbed you in the gut while you were distracted and we all laughed about how different you two are. I love it. Please, just be you.<br />
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Charlie moved into your room this month to make room for Baby Sister and you moved from a double bed to a twin. You didn't complain one time. I know there are times when Charlie is taking over your space and he actually bullies you three times as much as you pester him... but mostly you are so kind to him. When you're at school, Charlie will say, "I want Bubba. Go get Bubba?" And that's because you two are one another's best playmate. I know there must be harder times ahead for your relationship, but I hope it will circle back to this sweet friendship. I am really proud of you for laying such a solid foundation for you and your brother.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panda Express was your Birthday Eve dinner of choice</td></tr>
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We still have some struggles with anger that come out of your need to be in control. Don't we all just want to be in control? And all of these moments of fits and tears remind me that I really still have no idea what I'm doing in parenting you (I'm sorry)... and that I am so desperately in need of God to be our Shepherd. We have all failed each other in a lot of areas but sometimes your Daddy will kneel down with you in your time-out chair and will gently and firmly tell you, "I want what you want Wilson. I'm on your side. We just have to figure out how to get there calmly." and it makes me plead with Jesus that this will be the only thing you remember: That we, as a family, are all on the same team. That your sin is our sin and we are fighting it with you. What a beautiful gift we have in family! I'm so glad you are in ours.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PLaKd815xvWEN9wRpBvBjHH1eztSBU1h6g9yZBCYyGSsgwJpQgB2P4Fvb22iS9DwbrqCUCiuSOzJ4Eh_qR6-tGFXbs-1kGDjDNKSBVTdyqUrMWfczukZdU5T4y1ILwLDYJRi6dLngjrg/s1600/DSC_0143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PLaKd815xvWEN9wRpBvBjHH1eztSBU1h6g9yZBCYyGSsgwJpQgB2P4Fvb22iS9DwbrqCUCiuSOzJ4Eh_qR6-tGFXbs-1kGDjDNKSBVTdyqUrMWfczukZdU5T4y1ILwLDYJRi6dLngjrg/s640/DSC_0143.JPG" width="640" /></a>You're playing soccer again this fall and I just don't know that sports will ever be your thing. And guess what, Little Man? That is FINE. I love that you are learning the discipline of practice and what it means to be on a team. Even if your team has only scored one goal this entire season! This summer you took tennis lessons for a week and you wore a sweatband that said "Wilson," which might have been your favorite thing about the experience. The first day you loved every minute but by the end of the week you were begging not to go back. But it was summer in south Mississippi so that may not have a lot to say about your love or lack thereof for sports.<br />
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Star Wars is kind of a recurring topic of conversation in our house these days. We went through the entire seven episodes this summer and every time we were about to start one you would say something like, "I can't believe this is really happening. My heart is beating so fast!" Now you have your favorite fight scenes and you know the name of all of the ships and it's all lost on me... but I love that you love it. As I type, you are squinting in the darkness of your room to study all the characters in your Star Wars activity book while Charlie is in dreamland. That is some steady dedication, little Jedi.<br />
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You are doing so well in beginning to read. You brought home your first reader from school and sped through it with the biggest smile on your face. I keep thinking what an incredible world you are about to be unleashed to find. You just really can't know how many good things are ahead for you.<br />
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Those tears that I was swallowing back this morning were swelling with two different emotions. Yes, it's hard for me to be on this side of the door... watching you walk away from me. I do mourn for the days when we didn't know what it was like to be apart, when our relationship was less complicated and we didn't say things to each other that we regretted. When it was as easy (and as hard) as cheerios, Micky Mouse Club and a trip to the zoo to see your lemurs. But I was also joyfully teary. I was thinking how in God's kingdom, the best is always forward. Further up, and further in. That God's grace always propels us to run and to look ahead because there is <i>nothing</i> to fear when He is at the finish line. Wilson, your best days are coming. There was that moment when you decidedly stopped looking back at me with that stifled grin and just kept walking... but I was still watching. I inched along so that I could watch you until you disappeared into the chaos of other little people who were all tangled up in a criss-cross of their mothers' heart-strings. And when I couldn't see you anymore, God could. He sees. He knows. He is giving landing to your every little but significant step. We love you dearly, Little Man...<br />
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<br />A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-22910243847868865122016-07-28T19:23:00.000-07:002016-07-28T19:23:02.932-07:00Charlie is Two!Charles Henderson, you are God's kindness to us.<br />
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We didn't know how much our family needed every inch of your incredibly assertive personality. You are robust in every sense of the word: sturdy and solid in statue... resilient and hardwearing in character.<br />
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And yet, in the most beautiful way, you can yield your will to be tender towards others... especially your mama who still gets the best cheek-to-cheek hugs from you. You say "Hey, Mama!" when you come into a room and "Thank you, Mama" when I pour a glass of milk. And in all of these ways, I am reveling in the grace of a little boy who is showing love.<br />
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If I thought Brother's will was strong (and I did), boy could I not even fathom what was coming for us in you. You want to do everything on your own these days: walking in parking lots, buckling your carseat, climbing stairs, putting on your pants, calling someone on the phone. "No mama. Stop. I do it." is a favorite phrase of yours. You like to climb on tables and counters and bookcases and it's really the mercy of God that we have only just experienced our first ER visit (<span style="font-size: xx-small;">When you were trying to climb the back of a kitchen chair and said chair fell back right on top of you. Your bottom lip busted in half and you got one stitch without any numbing, brave boy. The stitch came out an hour later because you are a busy guy, and you will probably have a scar that will bear testament of your bravery.</span>)<br />
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One of the few ways that you are like your brother is that you want to be a part of every experience happening in the house. So if something is going on on the kitchen counter, you are pulling up a stool saying, "I see, Mama." If I'm cooking this is usually followed by, "I want some, Mama" which actually sounds like "Awesome, Mama" and makes us all laugh and reply back, "Awesome, Charlie!"<br />
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You love playing with Brother, and right now you two are great friends. You follow him around as he catches bugs outside and you help him classify them in the clubhouse. You two have come up with the silliest game that you call "Pop Up," and I still haven't quite figured out the rules. (It goes something like- Brother throws a book to you in your room and has to make it back to the kitchen before you can throw it through the kitchen door... and then reverse?) However it goes, it's always incredible to me that you both devised it on your own. And your giggles running up and down the hall are making this mother's heart swollen with joy.<br />
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You could probably use your first haircut, but those little wings in the back are starting to have the hints of a curl and I feel like it's too much of a risk to not see where they're going with that. So... I'm apologizing to your future teenage-self about all the mullets you'll see in pictures of yourself at two!<br />
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You have a great sleeping pattern right now- usually a two hour nap in the afternoon and sleeping from 7:00 - 7:00 at night... sometimes you want to get up before the sun and sometimes (blessed sometimes!) you sleep until 8:00. After I found out I was pregnant with Baby Sister, I got really sentimental about bedtime. I started to rock you again before naps and at night and now you won't let me skip it: "Rock, Mama." We have a medley of "Itsy Bitsy Spider," "Jesus Loves Me," "The Lord's Prayer," and "There's Just Something about that Name"... then I lay you in the bed and you want to make sure that Rabbit and Woof-Woof both have blankets before you do. I say "I...love...YOU" with a tickle-fest starting on the YOU and it's the highlight of your whole day- you always laugh so hard that you get the hiccups, which I'm sure makes falling to sleep hard for you... but you don't seem to mind. You ask for a high five for you and a high five for "Babbit and Woof-Woof" and out the door I go. Can it go on forever?</div>
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I know that it can't...<br />
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You're a terrible eater. Just terribly picky and stubborn. Mealtimes are equal parts frustrating and hysterical and maybe they are just hysterically frustrating. I'm not sure how you weigh more than 96% of your peers, because you refuse to eat anything. You dump your plate and laugh, rub applesauce in your hair, throw pork chop in Brother's face... And just when we are all cheering because the green beans made it to your mouth, they turn into spitballs aimed at Mommy. Maybe laughter is our coping mechanism, but we are all usually in stitches by the end.<br />
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I don't think I've recorded this on here, but at 18 months you were diagnosed with a tree-nut allergy. The allergist asked us to keep you away from all nuts for a year (WHAT?! NO MORE PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICHES??) and I about fell over in my chair because trying to figure out something else for lunch sounded like the biggest obstacle of my life at that point. I've definitely made some slip-ups and have not been as careful as I should be at avoiding them. (Last week I caught you digging a peanut butter cracker out of the trash can and eating it. Do you miss them that much?) You haven't had any crazy reactions in a year, so I'm hoping you have grown out of your allergy (because I have learned that I am a total fail at being a food-allergy mom!) But praise the Lord for the allergist, because she gave me tips on how to deal with your eczema which led to you sleeping THROUGH the night for the VERY first time at 18 months and I could have kissed. her. feet.<br />
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At this age, your Brother's love for animals was starting to bloom and so I've been watching for where your love is settling. You definitely mimic your brother, so you get excited over fish and bugs and animals too... but can one use the word athlete at this age? You seem very comfortable with kicking soccer balls and running and bouncing a basketball. "He is never still" seems like a cliche thing to say about a little boy, but we really mean it. Never. While you run, you shout "We-oh, we-oh, we-oh" and none of us know where you got that from. You can catch a ball from across a room without batting an eye, and frankly you can throw one with greater force than either of your parents! It's just another sweet reminder that you are your own person... and that there are all of these little pieces of yourself (that we, as your parents, really have nothing to do with) that are starting to surface. It's my favorite part of being a parent... watching beautifully designed personalities blossom and give glory to their Creator. You are glorious, Chachi.<br />
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Chachi is another thing. Is it your name now? I feel like we use "Charlie" and "Chachi" about 50/50 but when you talk about yourself you say "Chachi do it" and "Chachi's balloon" so I'm afraid we've tipped the scale. In any case, I don't think there's a more appropriate name for such a firey ball of energy.<br />
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Charlie, you honestly take me to the very end of myself these days. You are high-demand, and high-energy, and highly disobedient... but thankfully, because of Jesus, at the end of myself I still have the capacity for love. You scream at me because you do NOT want to change out of your monster pajamas that you've been in for 24 hours and I lay on the floor with my hands over my face.... and then I breathe, and pull you close to me. And in response to every "No, Mama," you get ten kisses on your cheek and suddenly we are both laughing so hard that we forget, for just a minute, that we are in an argument at all. I don't do a lot of things right, in fact I'm fairly certain I do most things wrong, but I am praying that these are the moments that are finding ways to grip onto your heart. That you will remember that lavish love and grace are the foundations of our relationship... and that God would take my poor, weak, failing attempts at this to give you a picture of His relationship with you.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Ydb7HwKNoQwhbfDpkjYVSiMPD1qRj0ttsNazSxpk08beYJiF_FlRQapldA4E3FFhD9FEipT6I4XJCDFRPUFs0hjtLbZXjqpmrHWXr051ZTjIdJvPxLgWLyQjgnKMRVsyRvBHbp0kp-ma/s1600/DSC_0742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Ydb7HwKNoQwhbfDpkjYVSiMPD1qRj0ttsNazSxpk08beYJiF_FlRQapldA4E3FFhD9FEipT6I4XJCDFRPUFs0hjtLbZXjqpmrHWXr051ZTjIdJvPxLgWLyQjgnKMRVsyRvBHbp0kp-ma/s640/DSC_0742.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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You are so very loved in our family. Your Daddy's face lights up in ways I've never seen when he walks in the door and sees you. Your brother misses you so much more than he misses us when he's staying the night away. And your scrunched-nose smile does things to my heart that nothing else in this world can; You are adored. You are a delight to your King Jesus and He is smiling back over you... Hide that truth deep away in your heart: You. are. loved.<br />
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Happy Two, Chachi!!!</div>
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A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-57315683659258181892016-07-13T09:07:00.002-07:002016-07-13T09:07:30.686-07:00When A Chapter Ends<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5boy4c865rgPqRuY5mcOi6eXj2WnspDbrm4e_nR6iuVAE0s6TvC-yd-D0QSeZ5IqM8AzZXKrBmjmLY5sUBP3SHXOIQXV1tJV9WcWitq9KBjWanbURh6QKk8jzuWhIG1ojSgBr37XdnPo/s1600/IMG_8059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a>
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We have had one of those rare jobs where work and life are weaved together. Where does one end and the other begin?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49dCsLhchmt_QL8MZfG4c5Tq0JBwp49XJ30durnPKraJcDR36d2eiHpRfqnmlHQO6qHHsjOIPDuh0-RU5XJd3vE_rUSw1tlDCmy0DwUUN97D085amRhz7uRe5mcRhLR5rppxomnRYNUXu/s1600/IMG_5337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49dCsLhchmt_QL8MZfG4c5Tq0JBwp49XJ30durnPKraJcDR36d2eiHpRfqnmlHQO6qHHsjOIPDuh0-RU5XJd3vE_rUSw1tlDCmy0DwUUN97D085amRhz7uRe5mcRhLR5rppxomnRYNUXu/s640/IMG_5337.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fourth summer leading a project in Jackson Hole, Wyoming</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellowstone trip with students</td></tr>
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Maybe that's what is making the leave from college ministry feel so surreal, because a whole new way of life is ahead of us. It's a rebirth.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYz8ivnVzXxAxoz0jWiJTYjYHG4gVQX4ftFsG1vT4dPbkmbswffWgaagp2-sxr3uCiKbymAlofZ8jifbdf0ET5CwcORO5Yr3eOOo-SxNleTyy5DNcoYigiNhqdF7Y6DpmCjusbw-ilSmq3/s1600/IMG_4893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYz8ivnVzXxAxoz0jWiJTYjYHG4gVQX4ftFsG1vT4dPbkmbswffWgaagp2-sxr3uCiKbymAlofZ8jifbdf0ET5CwcORO5Yr3eOOo-SxNleTyy5DNcoYigiNhqdF7Y6DpmCjusbw-ilSmq3/s640/IMG_4893.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Southern Miss staff team 2012</td></tr>
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Andrew and I don't know marriage without it. We don't know parenthood without it. I barely know what work life is outside of it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fall Retreat at Dauphin Island</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGfHaLWk5xDirCiqv3BmWponataDwQ4qLlIExlQDgvqRR2TnLPeT-eVf5W39qu77dlLKF4Up7oLcEWDeSMcdOta1_QpfnQdXyozngPYPWA3sGH2hLBNqkGja-9cpHXjPKE00rNBm7tK4X/s1600/P1263282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGfHaLWk5xDirCiqv3BmWponataDwQ4qLlIExlQDgvqRR2TnLPeT-eVf5W39qu77dlLKF4Up7oLcEWDeSMcdOta1_QpfnQdXyozngPYPWA3sGH2hLBNqkGja-9cpHXjPKE00rNBm7tK4X/s640/P1263282.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Precious students at Auburn in 2008, all of them graduating and being a part of some ministry</td></tr>
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People keep asking us how we feel about leaving and I'll tell you what I'm feeling right now... grateful.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsvDzhLYf3emz4dFip0cJiMfi79dOhcyclWNknGmIX87y17_oPVc3O02VsYxIGrZhH87xCNGehsAICD2ECyzJ1R3RrhQuF2ouFayTqKcwoiYAaA_MjogadgzAMOPCFuBw60ov2U0LKJIu/s1600/IMG_8730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsvDzhLYf3emz4dFip0cJiMfi79dOhcyclWNknGmIX87y17_oPVc3O02VsYxIGrZhH87xCNGehsAICD2ECyzJ1R3RrhQuF2ouFayTqKcwoiYAaA_MjogadgzAMOPCFuBw60ov2U0LKJIu/s640/IMG_8730.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Met with these girls all of their four years at Auburn, now some of my dearest friends</td></tr>
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I'm grateful that for our whole nine years of marriage, Andrew and I have quite literally worked side by side. We've gone to staff meetings together, shared office space, grieved over students, rejoiced in gospel transformation, held one another's hands as we walked into a greek house to bring good news. For our first four years of marriage, we had the privilege of sitting under Bill Boldt, our campus director at Auburn, who cared about our marriage and our relationship with Jesus more than our ministry... and who can really say that about their boss? We are indebted to him.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Cru's biannual staff conference in Fort Collins, CO</td></tr>
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I'm grateful for the 21 people we have been on staff with over the course of Auburn and Southern Miss. It's almost not enough to say, "We worked together," because we <i>lived </i>together. We wept together and rejoiced together and prayed together and dreamed together. We laughed over failures and celebrated in our homes. We were at each other's weddings and birthdays and in the hospital when babies were born. And when, inevitably, we have had to part ways... real tears and heart break. We all joke about starting a church together, but in the end it is not a joke. We long for our lives to be put back together again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7E8g_4RzuK9xTP74hkej_eR4N7g_Hk4_k2hj8MOSqKlcp1CujeN8-g04whJ1O0sKf7OyXreSgpk7Bevkw69G_j_MZrpZLv-AiTST8AR6pXaCCsv65tsOtPEr984yY0kVF_pDmx6lNwwC/s1600/DSC_0131%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM7E8g_4RzuK9xTP74hkej_eR4N7g_Hk4_k2hj8MOSqKlcp1CujeN8-g04whJ1O0sKf7OyXreSgpk7Bevkw69G_j_MZrpZLv-AiTST8AR6pXaCCsv65tsOtPEr984yY0kVF_pDmx6lNwwC/s640/DSC_0131%255B1%255D.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auburn staff team 2009</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cunninghams are one of the biggest gifts Crusade has given to us. Love them so.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Precious staff friends, Nathan was with Andrew in East Asia and Kim was on our team in Auburn</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Met with Claire as a student in Auburn and then she joined our staff team in Hattiesburg!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna, one of the friends I would move our whole life around for if we could just live in the same city again</td></tr>
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I'm grateful for the opportunities we've had to take the gospel near and far. For the time I was walking around a lily pad pond on an East Asian campus, sharing about the hope of Jesus with a girl who called herself Luna. She told me that she had been checking the Bible out of her library and had been waiting for someone to explain it... wide-eyed at the wonder of Jesus' providences, I got to be a Philip to her.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer Project in East Asia, 2008</td></tr>
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Grateful for sitting on a campus in South Africa with one of our American students, across the table from two South African girls who heard the <i>real </i>gospel for the first time. They both grasped with white knuckles onto the hope of a Jesus who fulfilled the law for them... one with tears rolling down her face saying, "I had a dream last night that someone would come tell me of spiritual freedom like this." God always working and preparing the roads before us.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summer Project in South Africa, 2009</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working at an AIDS hospice in South Africa was one of the most humbling experiences of my entire life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLJ0-yL6l3kHZbbYo9_06JYJieAdmuSJSCRo2BVjw9nuZ5PI3xN178s2LEESwMUgk74k-WRprQSCajcJWBIWEI288flLqS2dP-QStobcwYnJSvUA_-895LWKIECaX_0qCBsgWLpG8Hxnr/s1600/andrew.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLJ0-yL6l3kHZbbYo9_06JYJieAdmuSJSCRo2BVjw9nuZ5PI3xN178s2LEESwMUgk74k-WRprQSCajcJWBIWEI288flLqS2dP-QStobcwYnJSvUA_-895LWKIECaX_0qCBsgWLpG8Hxnr/s640/andrew.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /><br />
Grateful for the thousands of times Andrew has brought fraternity guys into our home, rough and weary from their world on campus. Andrew looking them square in the eye and telling them that eternity matters, and that right now matters for eternity. For the times he has left our house early to walk into the doors of those dark houses, to pray with and for the men who live there... to beseech our God on their behalf to remove the veil and give them hope. I'm grateful for the fruit of those prayers and that God allowed us to watch behind the curtain of his saving mercies-- for all the phone calls Andrew has gotten, some in the middle of the night, of fraternity guys... y'all, FRATERNITY GUYS... sharing the gospel with their brothers. So many new mercies every day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_4ARL-qN9_xep_faYTprAvdhLLCOvLCX2q96m2d8uipqZDr-cUyjzEMO5XUCUrBNqlFtFgkQ6a_mAbqynUV6rdRGahBQXfLk0SPCoo3SGWq51tJngJDrLi9CzFTaL8nOHKP1UVfeNbKl/s1600/IMG_2414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_4ARL-qN9_xep_faYTprAvdhLLCOvLCX2q96m2d8uipqZDr-cUyjzEMO5XUCUrBNqlFtFgkQ6a_mAbqynUV6rdRGahBQXfLk0SPCoo3SGWq51tJngJDrLi9CzFTaL8nOHKP1UVfeNbKl/s640/IMG_2414.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After Andrew and I led a Relationship Panel in a sorority chapter room</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ministry planning with students is always a highlight</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Annual Cru Christmas party at our house</td></tr>
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For being able to take students to Chicago, Boston, New York, and across the oceans to show them a God who lives outside of their known worlds. Who is working and moving in so many ways and for the grace He offers us that we get to be a part of His great works of redemption.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring Break to NYC, 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring Break trip to Boston, 2010</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_CUA6SDY-3FNvzPGvv2r1VNf89UYro49AhoB891ZWN_-Jgqo3xlJwJHs8Q6yGre3zZ7hv4fGZcLuhUrIrV5BjOl3tH77uaxffa7ZgIB58XGhOTqNYCRZtKIdt97cT3avCNMGgDc-bQNm/s1600/DSC_0121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_CUA6SDY-3FNvzPGvv2r1VNf89UYro49AhoB891ZWN_-Jgqo3xlJwJHs8Q6yGre3zZ7hv4fGZcLuhUrIrV5BjOl3tH77uaxffa7ZgIB58XGhOTqNYCRZtKIdt97cT3avCNMGgDc-bQNm/s640/DSC_0121.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Students in South Africa</td></tr>
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I'm grateful for all the times we've had the greatest privilege of teaching the Word to others. For Ephesians over coffee in a bagel shop in Auburn. For Psalms on our couches. For James being taught by Andrew in our big group weekly meeting. For Genesis with a girl who is struggling to believe in a God who is trustworthy.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Will, one of the first students Andrew met with at Auburn</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auburn students in Jackson Hole, 2010</td></tr>
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Grateful for this season of our life when our boys can come alongside of us in ministry. For students who love on our children like family, who have become stand-in aunts and uncles when theirs are far-away. Wilson calls them all his "big friends." Although I don't think we've ever taken a true "just-us" family vacation since we've had children-- the boys have been on many a cross-country trip to our summer assignment in Wyoming, to conferences in Atlanta and Orlando. What an incredible gift for them! I remember being very pregnant with Wilson, standing at the back of a weekly meeting at Auburn, singing "How He loves us" with a chorus of a hundred students... and I was thinking, "Wilson, you cannot even fathom how He loves you. What love to grow up with His gospel being proclaimed in front of you and behind, on every side."</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fall Retreat in Gulf Shoes, 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam packing Charlie for me in Jackson Hole!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Students in Jackson Hole, 2013</td></tr>
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I'm grateful that our home can be a refuge, imperfect though it may be. For seeing students sigh a relief when they walk in the door to sit on couches and eat dessert and be in the midst of a family who is looking to Jesus. They've seen us fail and I'm hopeful that they've seen us run to Jesus when we do- but I'm grateful that our job has caused us to open up the doors of our lives and let young adults be a part of the real workings of the gospel in a family's life.</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Grateful to watch our students get married and start families and to know that their lives of following Jesus in college will have ripple effects throughout eternity. That our time investing in them in two, three, four short years will bear fruit in their children's and grandchildren's lives. It's simply incredible. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching Emily get married was one of the best moments of my life</td></tr>
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And are we ever grateful for our ministry partners! For those who have seen eternal significance in bringing the hope of Jesus to college students. For the ones who have provided the means for us to wake up every day to work zealously to get light into dark places. For the ones who have not only been financial support, but emotional support--calling us to encourage us. Who have provided books to give to our students. Who have sent us notes of affirmation and love. Who have hosted dinners and desserts for students in their homes. Who have sincerely asked how to pray for us and have done great battle for us at the throne of God. We are humbly grateful for such loyal friends, holding the rope on our behalf.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew's parents came to almost every Fall Retreat to help us with meals, so grateful for them!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A precious friend from church hosted a senior dinner in her home for the past three years</td></tr>
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And we are grateful for the hard. For the times when our bank account hovered at zero, and we had to trust in a God who knows all of our needs. For being weary of the constant packing of bags and being on the road... and being reminded that we are indeed travelers in this world, and there is coming an eternal rest. For all the heart-breaking goodbyes every six months as students and staff transition, for hearts that were knit together to be pulled in so many directions. For conflict and really hard conversations, for our sin to before us and the grace to grieve and repent. For the times we wept with students over broken relationships, broken hearts, broken families. All of it is good. All of it has been used for our good.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew has spent eight of his nine birthdays in Atlanta for Christmas Conference</td></tr>
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When I said yes to Andrew's marriage proposal, I knew I was saying "yes" to college ministry and it was all really foreign to me. I remember telling him that I felt like Abraham, when God called him to leave his home and he obeyed, not knowing where he was going. I couldn't fathom the land of milk and honey waiting for us.<br />
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And here we are again... only this time we are staring into a year of full-time seminary, a season of education and growth. And in May, after graduation, there is another great unknown. We are in the process of being assessed for church-planting with the PCA, but even that carries so much fog. Where will we be in a year? In what capacity will the Lord be using us to bring His gospel to dark places? We don't know, but we know that we are following a Good Shepherd who has led us to green pastures and will not forsake the sheep of His pasture.<br />
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<br />A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-88087786303071646592015-11-10T20:22:00.001-08:002015-11-10T20:22:32.235-08:00Charlie, 15 months<div>
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Andrew is the second of two boys in his family and his mom once told me, "I thought Patrick had so much energy... And then I had Andrew." Did she accidently prophesy over me when she said that?<br />
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We all just feel like we kind of got whiplashed in our house. Suddenly our happy, content, easy baby is a ball of fire.<br />
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An adorably affectionate ball of fire.<br />
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A couple of months ago, Andrew started to call him "Chachi," and now none of us can stop. Because Chachi loves to cha-cha and it's just so appropriate. (Look at that Bumble-bottom!!)<br />
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Chachi spends most of his awake time emptying out every drawer in the house. He refuses to stay in any room for longer than a few minutes at a time and he runs (stomps) even faster when you tell him to stop... leaving cups and veggie straws and bowls like little bread crumbs. :)<br />
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His favorite destination is the hall bath where he likes to grab his toothbrush and climb the stool. And wait for the water. I've learned that turning the water on always, always means that we are asking for a full-out tantrum unless we want to keep the water on for the rest of our everlasting lives. He would spend his entire day at the faucet if I let him! (Also a note that Instagram-filters are the best bathroom cleaning tool I've found... wink, wink.)<br />
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He loves his pacifier and calls it "pappy"...mostly I pop it in his mouth because he looks SO cute with it bobbing up and down in the middle of his squirrely-cheeks. I really don't ever want the pappy stage to be over.<br />
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The only time I really want to take it out is to hear his sweet little words. My favorite word that he is<br />
saying right now is "Melmo"...as in Elmo... and I know I should not be encouraging TV-watching at his age but sometimes I turn it on just to see him flap his arms and point and say, "Melmo! Melmo!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvksR56neex8eWEqS0fVvc8NrHtjst7x-Em-5tM2A97ZTywbJddhsNxG3182CBTZj70tXXpiLD7pMiAAjnQrMcxozUBNoz1nobn0O-aqEqscAkNaWuK8alZDTUBuXfm-vkF_k6FUZ3O7b/s640/blogger-image--215619670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvksR56neex8eWEqS0fVvc8NrHtjst7x-Em-5tM2A97ZTywbJddhsNxG3182CBTZj70tXXpiLD7pMiAAjnQrMcxozUBNoz1nobn0O-aqEqscAkNaWuK8alZDTUBuXfm-vkF_k6FUZ3O7b/s640/blogger-image--215619670.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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He likes books but he is sooooo specific about what books he wants to hear. I put him in my lap and then begins the petitions to my Lap King: This one? (pushes away) This one? (pushes away and sighs) This one? (pushes away and shakes his head at his foolish servant) This one? (Pushes his back into my chest to push me back to signify he is ready to kick back and listen.) For about a month the only book that would satisfy his taste was Baby Beluga, which is actually a song book. He sang with me "Baaaay-beee Baaaay-beee" and it.was.precious. As anyone would from hearing a song five times a day for a month, he grew tired of it and now we have landed on The Happy Birthday Book and The Happy Man and his Dump Truck.<br />
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We found out this past month, after a scary reaction to a Lara Bar, that he has an allergy to cashews. He has a lot of food sensitivity issues, so I really think he has more allergies than just this but so far we have only done a blood test for the ingredients of the bar. I'm praying these are things he grows out of and not the beginning of a life of label-reading that sounds so exhausting to me. But of course I will do anything, however exhausting, for this Littlest Man of mine. Who squeezes his arms around my knees and looks up with the puppiest-blue eyes to say, "Mama?"<br />
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He's mostly a Mommy's boy (What luck for Daddy in the middle and beginning and end of <i>every </i>night but the THREE nights that he's slept his entire 15 1/2 months and I won't complain about that any more outside of this parenthetical statement but since this parentheses is not over yet OH MY WORD I really miss sleep so much), but he yells "Dada!" at the end of every day when Andrew is home from campus and the door opens. He also cries just about every morning when he leaves. And wrestling time with Daddy and Brother on the living room floor is just about his favorite. He backs up to the TV stand for a running start, yells "EEEE, EEE, OOOO!! (One, two, three?)" and stampedes with his head down like a bull right at Andrew's head. It throws us all into fits of laughter.<br />
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<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NNJbALyyi9ERIjWzvNCCe7XcgS11akfHyLh4MQX6RHAplDzjxN_jl2PPv1xT5J4nRkCHoKvQ5uRYXwkgwoz2mO_w-v2hi_Nl7ZKVdPPMSXbUmw4Jzq8hZEAwiWwtA-5mj072FJ4urufk/s640/blogger-image-1174238721.jpg" width="640" /><br />
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There's actually not much that he does that doesn't make us laugh. It took us at least three years to convince Wilson to use a fork at meals and Charlie demands one at every meal and used it perfectly the first time he ever put his hands on one. He's so independent and such an entertainer and I don't know what in the world we ever did without him.<br />
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<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTiileEBFhDfXAomjXEbSahyP7V_8EsrBTlJnGcL5NrTeHRP_tPIUxolmgh0TfXmngovewpZCXvkC2UnsIHAWOALrpVAssQNiDxoiaUB8gvd8fYhAMFPbyQN2hu46kbdk-HoC54bHLYBGX/s640/blogger-image--1847007590.jpg" width="640" /><br />
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As brothers, Wilson and Charlie are in an okay stage right now. It seems like it's hard to hit the sweet spot of them both wanting to play together at the same time. Sometimes Charlie wants to play and Wilson shuts him out of his room, and sometimes (a lot of times) Wilson wants to hug on Charlie and Charlie just doesn't like to be touched by Brother. But when we hit the sweet spot, man is it sweet!<br />
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<img border="0" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-q6woVSThRoYtza_rUHjTarCMFm5P1D73m4sZfVnb9Xyz9EiJNUnSyG399V_RFWHhC6n0xZvWDDw2_e7fPkZmlPj_tfez2Olb-UB2_eDFKzDFOj1Cqog4r9Y6sGmgdWPNi3ASYotG7Cfe/s640/blogger-image-1196045448.jpg" width="640" />Chachi is more stubborn that Wilson ever was, telling us "no" and asserting his will in just about every situation. This takes place mostly on the diaper changing table as he <i>hates </i>a diaper change, but I've found I can mostly distract him by pretending his hand stinks (?) which catapults him into the cutest giggles you've likely heard.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI5q4BM-ne70no8NOzcWBLShRmzEe6fy8Jl_MPKNBG23le9qKNRnD1HttJWVZ69o8RIsKG69WuuiliQtng-ZmLKfypLRV_hEJOg5Mb-drqzpRJXSkPOSlAJetnZwUUjEAS5oW2n788v2yB/s640/blogger-image--1391843083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI5q4BM-ne70no8NOzcWBLShRmzEe6fy8Jl_MPKNBG23le9qKNRnD1HttJWVZ69o8RIsKG69WuuiliQtng-ZmLKfypLRV_hEJOg5Mb-drqzpRJXSkPOSlAJetnZwUUjEAS5oW2n788v2yB/s640/blogger-image--1391843083.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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He likes apples "bapple" and bananas "ba-lalalalala" and he likes to hold the banana up to his ear and say "Hey!" just like Daddy taught him. In fact, he also likes to wave and say "Hey!" at perfect strangers at grocery stores and driving in the car and one of my more embarrassing moments happened at a Chick-fila when just Charlie and I were having lunch--and he kept inserting himself into the (very serious, very emotionally-driven) conversation between a guy and a girl sitting at the booth next to us... Whilst I failed miserably at turning him around and ended up all but sinking under the table. Going to go ahead and predict that he's an extrovert just like the other two boys in my house. :)<br />
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I'm certainly the luckiest girl to have three Harwell boys loving on and taking care of me.<br />
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<i>Charlie, at fifteen months, I want you to know that you are making a mess out of our lives. You are emptying cabinets and drawers and the trash can... and all the while, you are emptying out our hearts and laying everything bare. And you are showing me how I love sleep and comfort and a full bank-account more than I love living a life of sacrifice. You are digging around and finding how I have a bent towards laziness. You are leaving the bread-crumbs of my jealousy and bitterness and entitlement all down the hallway. And Charlie, I love you for that. Seeing ugly things and flaws in my character all over the floor is hard-but I want them out. And what better hands to pull them out than your precious little pudgy things, because I know even though you see the very worst in me... you would move mountains to get into my arms. Last night, I was rocking you somewhere in that time which we aren't sure to call night or morning... and you pulled something else out of my heart. Peace. My lips on your fuzzy head, your cheek pressed against my skin, your knees curled into my stomach and so close to spilling out of my lap completely... and there was this peace that all mamas know. A comfort separate from circumstances. That you are mine and I am yours and there is joy in just being, and rocking, and breathing. And that's a joy that you and I have with Jesus, Charlie... and (can it be?) even more heavenly than that moment we had last night. We practice it on the Sabbath Day, we can feel it in our moments of prayer when we respond to The Word with what He says in His Word, but someday those moments will be our forever. I love tasting it with you now and I will love feasting on it with you someday in heaven. I pray that when you see your messes and my messes that you wouldn't be discouraged, but that you would be moved to look for the One who makes sense out the mess. Who truly works all things for good for those who believe. Believe, Little One. We love you so. </i></div>
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A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-31647526061560544272015-10-07T19:29:00.000-07:002015-10-07T19:35:05.044-07:00Wilson & Charlie's Fish Party<br />
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Wilson and Charlie are doing this new thing where they hold hands walking down the hall. They're also doing this new thing where they fight over toys and growl at each other, too... but I guess that's just the beauty of a sibling. Someone who will always be "home" to you. Even after your snarliest growls.</div>
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I don't know how long I'll be able to pull off this great gimmick, but this year these two shared a family birthday party in July- about a month after Charlie's birthday and a few days before Wilson's.</div>
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Well, these two and Grandan (Andrew's dad) who shares an actual birthday with Wilson. He was so kind to agree to an Oceanography theme and to drive all the way to Mississippi to spend yet another birthday with us.</div>
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When everyone gathered on at our house on Friday night, we had dinner together and then started the festivities with an Oceanographer Quiz. I gathered up 20 questions from Wilson's fish book library and can you even believe he won (by a landslide) with 16 out of 20 right.<br />
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If you really know him, I bet you could guess that. Actually, if you are the cashier at Target, I bet you could guess that, too. :)<br />
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On Saturday morning we had a yard-sale (What? I don't know either. Sometimes we do crazy things like that.) and then had everyone over for presents and pizza.</div>
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Wilson was so happy that one of his great-grandmothers, Mamu, could make the trip. She came bearing good things like remote-controlled cars and Wilson is all about the RC cars these days. </div>
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The grandmothers must have had this hilarious scheme planned, because they each got Charlie the nosiest noise makers, starting with a piano from my parents.</div>
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My little musician fell head over heels for his new instrument and it didn't take long before he went all Jerry Lee Lewis and got his feet in on the action.</div>
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Andrew's parents made their contribution with the popper. Charlie LOVES this thing. I'm pretty sure he thinks he's vacuuming when he pushes it around the living room, so how could I ever be mad at my little helper.</div>
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Fish toys and books were just in abundance. Oceans and oceans of fish things.<br />
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Sometimes it's hard living so far from both sides of the family. Our parents and grandparents and siblings all live in six different cities and none of them close enough to comfortably visit two in one trip. Every special event or holiday means we are traveling or being put in the humble position of asking people to travel... it's physically and emotionally exhausting to always be thinking about getting on the road or asking others to come to us. We have been so blessed by family on both sides who give us LOTS of grace to understand when we just can't pack another bag. And who don't even ask questions when we ask if they would pack theirs. We love you, family. Really, so very very grateful.<br />
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I know they love us, too. This party told us so.<br />
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My parents got Wilson a pop-up tent and somehow everything is more fun in a tent.<br />
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And Charlie is ten times more hilarious. But he's hilarious anyway, so man that's some serious hilariousness.<br />
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Aunt Allie (Ah-la-la-la as now both of my boys have called her) was sweet to make the trip too and it's so hard for me to believe there was a time when she didn't have Eliza Jane, but here she is... just a couple weeks (or days?) before she was a Mama.<br />
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After presents, we had pizza and cake- because that's my 5-year-old's dream menu! Wilson and Grandan blew out their candles...</div>
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...but whoops! We forgot about little Charlie, so we re-lit and let him blow.<br />
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We had some happy boys.<br />
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After lunch, it was time for some outdoor activities and this is totally Baba's niche. Wilson said the word "volcano" and she was on it- with baking soda in one hand and a bottle of vinegar in the other.<br />
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Then time for some stomp rockets and bean bag tosses and lawn chair sitting and a bunch of nothings that meant everything to my two littlest men.<br />
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One and five are two really big numbers and celebrating them with people that we love so dearly and that so dearly love us was just what we needed.<br />
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Happy birthday, my precious darling sons. I hope you forever find reasons to celebrate with each other and with us and may home always be your favorite place to be.</div>
<br />A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-83365106867986453132015-09-05T20:10:00.001-07:002015-09-05T20:10:10.251-07:00Wilson, Five years old<br />
"Mama, can I tell you something?"<br />
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"Sure!"</div>
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"When you put gas in the car, it doesn't stay in the side of the car. There's a pipe that takes it all the way to the engine."</div>
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Wilson's information-dumping is one of my favorite things about him. But this moment was even sweeter tonight because I was laying down with him in his bed, right before he drifted off to sleep, nose-to-nose, and I got that <i>feeling</i>.... not the thought, but the <i>feeling </i>of "I can't believe he's mine."</div>
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There have been days... recent days... when I look at his now-freckled face and think, "When did you turn into a boy?" I don't mean that he's changed genders, of course, but suddenly he feels so <i>other </i>to me. He's brushing his teeth by himself and getting a cup of water by himself and choosing what to wear by himself and I am feeling less and less apart of him.<br />
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And absolutely that's how it's supposed to be. And absolutely that's how I <i>want </i>it to be. (Can I get a hallelujah from all the moms who know the joy of littles buckling their own carseat?) But it feels like such uncharted territory to me and I can't help but feel a little fearful of what full independence from one another will feel like.<br />
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Because I love this little man.<br />
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And truth be told, I think I need him.<br />
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Is he <i>really </i>mine?</div>
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At five, Wilson is a learner. Somehow this word feels inadequate to describe what's going on... he is a walking (incomplete) Encylopedia, looking to fill in every gap in his knowledge. The trend has been for him to choose an area to obsess over, which usually lasts around six months, and then move onto something else. Right now he is on a kick with ocean creatures (and some freshwater fish) and this feels a little more serious than anything he's been into before. </div>
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He tells everyone (friends, family, students, doctors, cashiers, random people in the grocery store): "Hey, did you know I'm an oceanographer?" And because of this one time when a man questioned the timeline of his title, he now always follows this up with, "I'm not <i>going to be </i>an oceanographer. I already am one."<br />
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And actually, I think that's pretty accurate. Andrew and I have started to just take his word on anything aquatic, because we are both pretty certain he knows more than we do now. My little Jacques Cousteau. </div>
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And so we check out every fish book in the library and get all sorts of marine biology encyclopedias for his birthday because I'll attack <i>any </i>venue that gives way to us reading a book together. </div>
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He thrives on shared experiences. This means quality time is his number one love tank-filler and all day we hear, "Want to do this with me?"<br />
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As a brother, well, he is just incredible. Of course there are moments when he doesn't want to share cars or throws something at Charlie out of anger, but <i>mostly </i>he is the best with him. He knows what books Charlie likes to read, what toys make him happy, how to make Charlie giggle so hard he gets the hiccups (Every time. Just like Wilson.). Once, out of eyesight, I heard Wilson scream "No!" and then a crying Charlie. I ran in yelling at Wilson, "What did you do to make him cry??" and calmly, without any tone of defense, he said, "He had a rock in his mouth and I scooped it out so he wouldn't choke." Well, okay. Thank you Jesus and Wilson.<br />
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He also has friends that he adores. Is there anything sweeter than little friendships? They make my heart about burst. Owen is still a best and I'm kicking myself for not videoing them seeing each other for the first time when we returned home this summer. Both on either end of a hall in the church... running, yelling each others' names and colliding in a hug.<br />
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He shared a birthday party with another sweet friend, Benji, this year and I couldn't believe how cool about that he was. Race car cakes and tumbling at a gymnastics arena... two boys taught the Cha Cha slide and we all about died watching them. It was great.<br />
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He processes everything verbally. A few days ago, while driving, we passed a car with a dent in the side and he took at least 15 minutes to talk through every possible scenario of how that dent came to be. There are sometimes when this can drive us a little bit batty (see example above), but his need to talk has been a blessing in our struggles through anger. I don't know how to explain the heartache that comes with phrases like, "I don't want to do this bad thing, but my body realllly wants to do this bad thing." This is usually said in tears. And with a red face. Sometimes while flailing on the floor. And his fists usually end up colliding with someone in the house. To hear him verbalize that he really doesn't want to hit me... but this anger wave is crashing over him and he's losing control... it's enough to bring you onto your knees. We have had a lot of progress in this area over the past couple of weeks, and his ability to communicate has played a major role in that. And we are thankful.</div>
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His favorite toy is still legos and nothing can make him lose his mind like threatening to take (or actually taking) them away as a punishment. He can build and build by himself, but he loves building with Daddy the most. He woke up a few days after his birthday telling us that he had planned out how to build an entire lego city in his room. Complete with clouds hanging from the ceiling. Today he drew up some blueprints and asked if we could make it into a book for his reference. This kid.</div>
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He is still 100% extrovert and having people over to our house is his best day ever. (Sometimes he tells me "This is the best day ever" and he doesn't even know how much that makes me feel like it's my best day ever, too.) </div>
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Sometimes I try to sit back and observe him with his friends to figure out what exactly is going to be his role in a group setting. He seems to be the story-teller, the teacher, the clown, but also mostly a follower. Or maybe he's just five and I'm trying too hard to figure all of this out.</div>
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Thanks to Grandan and Daddy, he begs to watch The Three Stooges about a hundred times a day and his giggles over their slapstick humor are pretty contagious. He did tell me he wishes they weren't all "gray" because he wants to see them better.<br />
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<i>Wilson, </i></div>
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<i>I could write books on everything I love about you. Oceans and oceans of books. You are incredibly smart, but what I love more than that is how much you enjoy sharing what you know with others. Your praise of something, as C.S. Lewis puts it, completes your joy. I am praying you will always be a seeker of truth and that your joy in knowledge would be made complete as you share truth with others. There are moments when I feel such an urgent and overwhelming responsibility when I think about how much I want to teach you. There are days when I feel like I have failed you so.much. in being lazy in not fighting for your heart. Days when I care more about your behavior than your feeling loved and known. My prayer is that you lay your head down at night in complete confidence and safety of parents who adore you. But even if I fail.... utterly and terribly fail at being your mother... you are still completely known and completely loved and completely pursued for rescue by Your Creator. Wilson, the Maker of all of the fish and the seas-- He spoke them into life. He can speak incredible things to life in your heart too, Little Man. Oceans of wonder. And I'll always be your biggest fan.</i></div>
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A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-49700380603708256012015-07-29T19:38:00.000-07:002015-07-29T19:38:02.670-07:00Charlie is One!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Did we really exist as a family before you were here, Charlie? It's hard to believe that's true. It seems like you must have been there when Wilson took his first steps or when we took a trip to New York City. How were you not in the background of Wilson's bug birthday party? Could you really have been absent during our first Christmas in this house? You feel so much apart of us that it's hard to imagine you had a beginning.<br />
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But one year ago (Has it only been a year? And yet, has a whole year really passed?), you woke me up at 4 am, on your due date, and let me know it was your day. Daddy took a picture of your morning's sunrise and prayed over your entrance into this world.<br />
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Another Tuesday baby... All four of us are Tuesday's-babies-full-of-grace, Charlie, and isn't that perfect? We have surely experienced a fullness of grace.<br />
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I hugged you tight and tears streamed down. My Charlie Darling. We would have loved you empty-handed but you brought gifts of joy and laughter that our family was so thirsty for and didn't even know.<br />
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At one year old, you are the<i> happiest </i>little pumpkin. You love smiling and doing silly things to make all of us smile... it's a rare meal when you don't have Brother doubled over in laughing hysterics. Lately, your silly trick is putting your pacifier in sideways. I'm not sure why it makes us all laugh so hard, but you eat up the position of Clown in our family.<br />
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You love playing with balls, and mostly what I find you doing is throwing and chasing them around the house. Sometimes you sit in front of the fireplace and bounce one against the brick so it comes right back to you. What a smart fellow you are, Littlest Man.<br />
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<i>Ball</i> is a word you are saying, well, all the time. Your first word (I think?) was <i>dog </i>but now you call dogs <i>ball, </i>too. Some other words you are saying are: <i>Mama, Dada, Bruh (</i>for Brother<i>), fish </i>(This is your clearest word. I can't believe how well you can say it! But what are we to expect with Brother the oceanographer living in our house?), <i>more, book </i>(sounds more like "buh"), <i>uh-oh, bye-bye</i>. Some other words you are making some consistent sounds on, but I feel like I can't really call them words yet: bath, bottle, milk, bear. When we ask you what a cow says you say "ballllllll", no matter how many times we say "moo"--and it's hilarious. You can say "woof woof" when we prompt you and also make something like a roar when we ask what a dino says. But mostly you just babble all the time and Mommy can't wait for the day when you and Brother sit in deep conversation over which is the largest fish in the coral reef.<br />
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You do a lot of standing on your own. Pulling up on things and then letting go with the biggest, proudest grin. You've taken a step or two a few times. Your first time was when Brother was sitting in my lap, <i>your place</i>, and you would move mountains to claim it.<br />
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But this standing up business is getting you into a lot more trouble lately. You are very into this whole independence thing.<br />
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Charlie, you give the best, tightest, hugs in the whole world. Mostly unprompted, you crawl straight towards me, pull up on my shoulders, two arms wrapped around our neck and the sweetest squeeze. You usually add some open-mouth kisses for your mama and I just love them so much. I'm storing them away deep inside my heart.<br />
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You love to love on things, and if there is a stuffed animal in sight you are squeezing its neck and giving it kisses. You are mostly drawn towards teddy bears and you have a miniature version of Brother's Baby Bear (that we call Little Bear) whom you adore. Just adore. You have so much love in your sweet little heart, Charlie!<br />
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And what a dancer you are. You do this little shimmy with your shoulders and I die every time you do it like it's the first time I've seen it. Every time. Where did you get those awesome moves from? I think you were born with music in your heart. I can't practice piano around you anymore because you cry, scream even, until I put you in my lap and let you play. My little musician. Oh, I love you so!<br />
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You are doing this cute thing right now where you cross your feet when you are sitting. Really, could you be any cuter? It's like you're not even trying!<br />
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Another silly thing you do is ask for flips. You get on all fours and tuck your head under, bounce on your tippy toes and squeal until someone helps you flip over. Then you laugh and laugh and start over again.<br />
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You are eating all solids now and your favorite, and I mean<i> favorite </i>thing to eat is blueberries. Maybe because they are little balls? If you don't have them on your plate at a meal you point to the fridge and say "More? More? More?" until they appear!<br />
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You love anything with water... baths, pools, the lake. And when I say it's time for a bath you start jumping up and down and saying "Ba! Ba! Ba!!" What a little fish you are.<br />
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Oh, how you love Brother. And right now, he adores you too. You copy every little move he makes and one of your favorite times of your day is wrestling with him on the living room floor. It makes this mama heart so nervous to see you two tumbling about but you <i>love love love </i>it. I'm guessing this is only the beginning of trusting the Lord with the two of you.<br />
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Charlie-Boy, you have such a purpose in our family and it's hard to imagine us without you. This year has been seasoned with delight and sweetness and the Lord has used you in so many ways to deliver goodness to our days. Your bear hugs make our hearts swell and the scrunch of your nose makes laughter spill out. So many late nights/early mornings, stumbling into your room to answer your cries, have given me the sweetest moments of your head on my chest. Your fingers grasping around my hair like a security blanket. And we are all tasting the sweetness of a little one who finds home in our arms. I know these days are fleeting, Little Man, so my heart aches as they slip out of my hands. But I also know that I am wide-eyed and finding so much joy in watching you grow. I can't wait to watch the life that God has marked out for you. I'm sure there are hard days ahead. There will be victories and failures and laughter and a lot of tears. But your Daddy, Wilson and I are so glad to be in the audience of it all. On the front lines. We are your biggest fans and we love you so.<br />
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We are praying that you would know how wide and long and far and deep Jesus' love is for you. If you grasp that, Littlest Man, even a corner of that truth, you can live in the beauty of your name: Charles, Free Man. You can run wild and free in His love and you have a Daddy and a Mommy who will keep reminding you of the treasures awaiting you in Him.</div>
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<br />A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-66721501294198245912015-06-28T10:52:00.001-07:002015-06-28T10:52:06.289-07:00Jackson Hole, 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The summer after my freshman year of college I worked at a little camp called Marannook. It was there that I learned how to really study the Bible, how to confront sin in my life, how to pray, how to receive grace. That summer changed the total trajectory of my life... And I think mostly because I was at that unique season of life where we start making choices that really shape who we are.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyx1wUKKzSRDWJvoyYsuhnO-dwxZ0-U0hLMI3WtJQS_97_VqQLCKFqRQNU04-QjHiT-XT1Z6L3jE6Irl3DlizGKp2gDRGhfVC2vXBmGWOa0BlA_5b8QfkL_K5VqFGsDlvIUs7Ewhh8YsAC/s640/blogger-image--592089304.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyx1wUKKzSRDWJvoyYsuhnO-dwxZ0-U0hLMI3WtJQS_97_VqQLCKFqRQNU04-QjHiT-XT1Z6L3jE6Irl3DlizGKp2gDRGhfVC2vXBmGWOa0BlA_5b8QfkL_K5VqFGsDlvIUs7Ewhh8YsAC/s640/blogger-image--592089304.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTj7d-MkqHXcpnU8usKh6n_Mfoyx-yY05IlOVhhKmGxKXD2XKm-XA2gB_0k0gs3g8Fhb88O50Wlf7DVjSbvoYVDsZ3uUk_K5zXKavfLEk3OnBv5vBzC8_XujD4zcA3_WvX5lU0C7WUJZs/s640/blogger-image-257603956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTj7d-MkqHXcpnU8usKh6n_Mfoyx-yY05IlOVhhKmGxKXD2XKm-XA2gB_0k0gs3g8Fhb88O50Wlf7DVjSbvoYVDsZ3uUk_K5zXKavfLEk3OnBv5vBzC8_XujD4zcA3_WvX5lU0C7WUJZs/s640/blogger-image-257603956.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So no surprise that one of my favorite parts of working with a college ministry is entering into students' summers at summer projects. This was our fourth summer at Jackson Hole, Andrew's second time to be the director. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMwRU-tLuz-lDtn0Dbw3dgYVu_DOHscjd_dkiIHBUlwoTW-Q_ZG_dYvBt1AcEOPKj8xlzoAmhs8DYaB-kASKrSo9EngTDsQ0fNAfeQ6cHEF54HethW76wuAQBEmPEzg3A6TWZq04rlv-q/s640/blogger-image--764498049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMwRU-tLuz-lDtn0Dbw3dgYVu_DOHscjd_dkiIHBUlwoTW-Q_ZG_dYvBt1AcEOPKj8xlzoAmhs8DYaB-kASKrSo9EngTDsQ0fNAfeQ6cHEF54HethW76wuAQBEmPEzg3A6TWZq04rlv-q/s640/blogger-image--764498049.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Here we received 26 students from all over the states to daily shepherd. In the mornings the staff gave talks on prayer, righteousness, the kingdom of God, how to share the gospel, how to lead a small group...and on and on. In the afternoons we went on hikes or another activity like horse back riding or white water rafting. We ate all of our meals together, becoming a little family. At night we had small groups or men's/women's time or reflection... The gospel being laid out in front of the students every day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0jo20YQaWDmq1J4xAY9I8seqEiVPfFt22WTdbUZlvXWaGbrzUy4XTi5kCqdx8ut7vJ2s1diUbE0RbqdbJiS8kMsZ3mWeWUSmUNoREUlh7Bnas_k8IbKrTHm9qvXTDhODnkLjJnLS-2if/s640/blogger-image--1985290014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0jo20YQaWDmq1J4xAY9I8seqEiVPfFt22WTdbUZlvXWaGbrzUy4XTi5kCqdx8ut7vJ2s1diUbE0RbqdbJiS8kMsZ3mWeWUSmUNoREUlh7Bnas_k8IbKrTHm9qvXTDhODnkLjJnLS-2if/s640/blogger-image--1985290014.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We go into the summers knowing that God will work somehow... Knowing that His Word doesn't return without doing its work. But we never know how all that will play out and God's surprises of His kingdom coming here and there are like little gifts all throughout the summer!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKCBPoORJXhBdHp9TaCyFKwQ5v_XhVYAeYGxrvFM8DEqR3gRTtxy_rahE6adooEeROvgYtGYB9YYTmW1Y9dMqm0idYdXMpMar5_yG1ITNiR41U-bN40cpPqEeVQdQqc39KTXG7qd_35YT/s640/blogger-image--1271494484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKCBPoORJXhBdHp9TaCyFKwQ5v_XhVYAeYGxrvFM8DEqR3gRTtxy_rahE6adooEeROvgYtGYB9YYTmW1Y9dMqm0idYdXMpMar5_yG1ITNiR41U-bN40cpPqEeVQdQqc39KTXG7qd_35YT/s640/blogger-image--1271494484.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtETG2pxeLWMiIB5GtKD-P3mvM3rLmCtdCruvfvexY_dfTCTj40-rUaX4HeZU0HVGi77dtqh3aguReAr3auieKXxG22o8Ueq1XSBzh6jxqhLBW8E3tfxiEz778sOufKx52qs8tpU1zZjZ/s640/blogger-image--1486518879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtETG2pxeLWMiIB5GtKD-P3mvM3rLmCtdCruvfvexY_dfTCTj40-rUaX4HeZU0HVGi77dtqh3aguReAr3auieKXxG22o8Ueq1XSBzh6jxqhLBW8E3tfxiEz778sOufKx52qs8tpU1zZjZ/s640/blogger-image--1486518879.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We saw one sweet girl decide to follow Jesus after wrestling with the thoughts of His goodness, His truthfulness. The night after she trusted Him we studied the Passover passage in our small group and it was the most beautiful moment to all fall on our knees together and thank God for a real and tangible Passover in her life... That Jesus was her Lamb and His blood was now painted over her doorpost.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQo7tAUQD1SZoK8hmsbTWb0fs78kaOopp88Je-TPDOpvyt8toC9AIl_7gyXSX3roXk9Am6O2TdqN7UJ971pNon6Mpl1GtwyDlRtfbomf2pSDNb0bv2cdOXhbAWES8vIWTmu_W4j4uQU-U/s640/blogger-image--1269024948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQo7tAUQD1SZoK8hmsbTWb0fs78kaOopp88Je-TPDOpvyt8toC9AIl_7gyXSX3roXk9Am6O2TdqN7UJ971pNon6Mpl1GtwyDlRtfbomf2pSDNb0bv2cdOXhbAWES8vIWTmu_W4j4uQU-U/s640/blogger-image--1269024948.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I had another precious student (now a dear friend) who told me I was the first to ever open up the Bible with her. It made me teary for a lot of reasons, but mostly for the hope of what's to come in her life... A new season of seeking His Word as food for her life and the promises she can cling to there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_RNQ6gTHVVOOK4P_GqelifyolvyBQxVKNbAmTVNCmN3QgrVIC0EUQHbFJ1aPSP7VbCxVbob1SaaSJIiOeG3UgiPSibRif2p0dPN0IF5FgDKtTEqYrSvHOZwxTQmZaZgbI9jYh7vsYAQw/s640/blogger-image-91885733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_RNQ6gTHVVOOK4P_GqelifyolvyBQxVKNbAmTVNCmN3QgrVIC0EUQHbFJ1aPSP7VbCxVbob1SaaSJIiOeG3UgiPSibRif2p0dPN0IF5FgDKtTEqYrSvHOZwxTQmZaZgbI9jYh7vsYAQw/s640/blogger-image-91885733.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5s1M0MiwYQht3Ieo9fNReCI6MduitpllhDgcVk9s4rpesxzu6y7y50DN6gWpTb3VyIhmg1knZVCZUGyZNP9RJ-vCFTays1agyf89r_U7YNt3iC33haGe7x7jLMHTA1-TGlgKnrSbzqJ9m/s640/blogger-image--509225104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5s1M0MiwYQht3Ieo9fNReCI6MduitpllhDgcVk9s4rpesxzu6y7y50DN6gWpTb3VyIhmg1knZVCZUGyZNP9RJ-vCFTays1agyf89r_U7YNt3iC33haGe7x7jLMHTA1-TGlgKnrSbzqJ9m/s640/blogger-image--509225104.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We saw students confess sin that they had never brought into the light before... Now clinging to the truth that they are not enslaved to those things and because of Jesus they can live abundant lives full of good things. There were some who started to pray and think about full time ministry after college. Some who were starting to pray and dream about how they could start Bible studies in their apartments or Greek houses. It's so fun to think about the ripple effects of the summer that we may never even see!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW6tpvASHdBQKWYKdwUQGDtJC9jVXbOeScvz-Y6HG5O5G_7GnNSjucEtBtHZE-XiXeNpcoL_Vq6pTSkybI4zFh-Ble03XOb50SIWnrZl83_0y6vkh57O-3arfg9e8EkJSqdBJ_xwIqnsIR/s640/blogger-image--928266414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW6tpvASHdBQKWYKdwUQGDtJC9jVXbOeScvz-Y6HG5O5G_7GnNSjucEtBtHZE-XiXeNpcoL_Vq6pTSkybI4zFh-Ble03XOb50SIWnrZl83_0y6vkh57O-3arfg9e8EkJSqdBJ_xwIqnsIR/s640/blogger-image--928266414.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">For us, it was honestly the hardest summer we've had. Andrew was working 12 hour days with only a break from 1-6 on Sundays. I was working about half of that and we had two little boys who don't (and shouldn't) know to give us breaks. And also no babysitter. (But super sweet staff and students who stepped in to hold babies and play with Wilson and give us grace upon grace.) The littlest of my littles only slept through the night once the whole summer and my other little boy realllllyyy struggled with anger and aggression all summer. So we struggled with it too. :)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5IdWb01gIzoKW_oY8AawkhbV02-50Q7mQHxq3gi7z3giToOVi3kg4JYG369yXyKewCjfrbFHQ7aZQ70ngJZQkTPHxzp3jPlSiqFae7Ny28P9WHz54FFcOngM4h6J3u7MJTsyWiwudfxf/s640/blogger-image--427384798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5IdWb01gIzoKW_oY8AawkhbV02-50Q7mQHxq3gi7z3giToOVi3kg4JYG369yXyKewCjfrbFHQ7aZQ70ngJZQkTPHxzp3jPlSiqFae7Ny28P9WHz54FFcOngM4h6J3u7MJTsyWiwudfxf/s640/blogger-image--427384798.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5fxIXK3OyVoJ-HoBrol4buNwEDDUz3jf5LHHhDSb6sOL-KEbgAVmqcaCzP7B02_Vr-Jh3RgtUrLVmDN978XhK1QKlEnMKghr-TUG5FKwmG21tWXzGCEdPmlaOr4ALOJ4UHBZQ9jckJJD/s640/blogger-image--462398225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5fxIXK3OyVoJ-HoBrol4buNwEDDUz3jf5LHHhDSb6sOL-KEbgAVmqcaCzP7B02_Vr-Jh3RgtUrLVmDN978XhK1QKlEnMKghr-TUG5FKwmG21tWXzGCEdPmlaOr4ALOJ4UHBZQ9jckJJD/s640/blogger-image--462398225.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I would like to say I'm not complaining (because, hello, a summer in Jackson Hole??) but I kind of am complaining. It was exhausting. But here's what it did... Man, did it bring us to the end of ourselves and to Jesus. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5hOvmuZN-ffXUw_creS66VQaH6taK6SYVZDOSrQWo36DH7d-5iIfIcEY9M28cqB9HZhmXwQ9j9Gx1bQZxmDCzzzHf6-O3orRe7YvGx3hPUGhe_Kpm2UzOb6ygXeXY-OuO1lKYDA-MHLg/s640/blogger-image--1461979060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5hOvmuZN-ffXUw_creS66VQaH6taK6SYVZDOSrQWo36DH7d-5iIfIcEY9M28cqB9HZhmXwQ9j9Gx1bQZxmDCzzzHf6-O3orRe7YvGx3hPUGhe_Kpm2UzOb6ygXeXY-OuO1lKYDA-MHLg/s640/blogger-image--1461979060.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcqM6iEWxJCR16J66d-qpYPIg8TV8gHOLbWyKhHhSQOe180aWTv08nHE-5byttnlfPxCzwKmz2NfzwZZIQ50pZPoKdrefdGFrbQ4QUhwmkWE-GuJm7K9bqmxir83ZS5fMlBSg93Y9orcG/s640/blogger-image--1277096899.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcqM6iEWxJCR16J66d-qpYPIg8TV8gHOLbWyKhHhSQOe180aWTv08nHE-5byttnlfPxCzwKmz2NfzwZZIQ50pZPoKdrefdGFrbQ4QUhwmkWE-GuJm7K9bqmxir83ZS5fMlBSg93Y9orcG/s640/blogger-image--1277096899.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKlFFZ7OVLYSf8yW7FkaSbDIbfkTto8d1aT3dn9AtiuXPrngjh88CW5ncGaieJ6rJWVtFtGbuQrbnxNUG13MCH5nsrE7nORsLNohMi0URr8-vapFSt_2ByCRaJ0ITG6r9-DqAB2kqMum_/s640/blogger-image-47837011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKlFFZ7OVLYSf8yW7FkaSbDIbfkTto8d1aT3dn9AtiuXPrngjh88CW5ncGaieJ6rJWVtFtGbuQrbnxNUG13MCH5nsrE7nORsLNohMi0URr8-vapFSt_2ByCRaJ0ITG6r9-DqAB2kqMum_/s640/blogger-image-47837011.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One of the highlights of the summer was sharing a house with the Walker family. Brooke's spiritual gift has to be encouragement because she spoke life into me every day. She let me cry about Wilson. She led us into a time of prayer in the mini van on just about every drive from our house to the lodge. She was the new mercy I woke up to every morning and I'm 100% sure I would not have crossed the finish line of the summer without her!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvSj32M3F-Ttjd0l7m2Ihamuv4LkSkivPeuNdISvtlDCaoyOXOaBUoE9WDY9CtZ_l0H3BJ0LwikSICuTyh15XFGdLcHyfrVS-G80vFjQR1mpoPdyU_iZ5jpgq_fw84COAyDVbNmc-qcvs/s640/blogger-image-1367994269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvSj32M3F-Ttjd0l7m2Ihamuv4LkSkivPeuNdISvtlDCaoyOXOaBUoE9WDY9CtZ_l0H3BJ0LwikSICuTyh15XFGdLcHyfrVS-G80vFjQR1mpoPdyU_iZ5jpgq_fw84COAyDVbNmc-qcvs/s640/blogger-image-1367994269.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0gZGUrpeCfXCZOfshcpmAQGSdd9FlyoJmKlfpaDkAk8oZ66wUw58vGgsk37s7QYS-qHpTEeyAnrL1T8yGCjoW1og38_40fAB0HJsZrw5WrIdRZNW0_tsf3nUf6DX-IQ0Q2thjFNfMSJT/s640/blogger-image--2093399434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0gZGUrpeCfXCZOfshcpmAQGSdd9FlyoJmKlfpaDkAk8oZ66wUw58vGgsk37s7QYS-qHpTEeyAnrL1T8yGCjoW1og38_40fAB0HJsZrw5WrIdRZNW0_tsf3nUf6DX-IQ0Q2thjFNfMSJT/s640/blogger-image--2093399434.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We are so thankful for how The Lord worked through our weaknesses. There were so many times that I felt faint and fragile, but when I opened up the Word with students His eternal promises felt so strong and sure. These were beautiful moments where I was reminded that He is the only constantly good and true thing. And because we felt so empty apart from Him, it was easy to point away from ourselves and move others' gaze to Jesus and say, "Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world!" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0hGobeKWd0iy0jAugoPGla4T9-PVtIzHkjCQCmt3c70y-BJfxefqZhQ7HwNQNEcBniiwNaIuOhDQyrgQmuG54gYHyAkeRYf7u9QfJlCajFT_c7LwQdtPZqdSdhZPiJAHV_HrTBgw49Ci/s640/blogger-image--944142766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0hGobeKWd0iy0jAugoPGla4T9-PVtIzHkjCQCmt3c70y-BJfxefqZhQ7HwNQNEcBniiwNaIuOhDQyrgQmuG54gYHyAkeRYf7u9QfJlCajFT_c7LwQdtPZqdSdhZPiJAHV_HrTBgw49Ci/s640/blogger-image--944142766.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJtUzWyLUU4VrbEvwcmq2ccLxLYuZO3hyOOEWZk2XmqDQmVS9RbGPA8_DqEyHZFm2uoykWSOes8-E3OvswAE86e4PSqufpj6MobhbrH5_gC_tcaa-yRcfgN54S-UnTWQ3W9WH-TpZAZdu/s640/blogger-image-1446724560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJtUzWyLUU4VrbEvwcmq2ccLxLYuZO3hyOOEWZk2XmqDQmVS9RbGPA8_DqEyHZFm2uoykWSOes8-E3OvswAE86e4PSqufpj6MobhbrH5_gC_tcaa-yRcfgN54S-UnTWQ3W9WH-TpZAZdu/s640/blogger-image-1446724560.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Not me. Not Andrew. Not a program. Not a campus ministry. Jesus. He is the good thing!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTfRhW6QEomNqzBysFw7rXc1VD06ZIWIRevDB5fSj_a4_XjHbb4FmyJuoo3SAEjBD66uSlW6WlMGwRQoXos8q4zBE_A_U425lduH7NKGNtRd7qTYH2V2tE9JpRPSz4QFihyphenhyphengnhM5H3JQz3/s640/blogger-image--1980512974.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTfRhW6QEomNqzBysFw7rXc1VD06ZIWIRevDB5fSj_a4_XjHbb4FmyJuoo3SAEjBD66uSlW6WlMGwRQoXos8q4zBE_A_U425lduH7NKGNtRd7qTYH2V2tE9JpRPSz4QFihyphenhyphengnhM5H3JQz3/s640/blogger-image--1980512974.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So thankful for all of you who sent us off with prayers and finances. We hope it's clear that your investment was not in us but in a God who is faithful to do His work... We really believe that lives and generations to come were changed this summer because of students who encountered a Jesus who redeems. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhzUMYeG7gbKn73Fy8RxZJXCtGFaq7ZmqnMUtqgW4P2Ibs4yJ9wl-xFMgLoif7rnzUgBZQ9ipBskdIKWmTAd95_R2E43fMqdZAg03jJXhMdPnz2IzgeiKI6HrHQ9I2vWBUPFtj2vsNm7tg/s640/blogger-image-457807785.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhzUMYeG7gbKn73Fy8RxZJXCtGFaq7ZmqnMUtqgW4P2Ibs4yJ9wl-xFMgLoif7rnzUgBZQ9ipBskdIKWmTAd95_R2E43fMqdZAg03jJXhMdPnz2IzgeiKI6HrHQ9I2vWBUPFtj2vsNm7tg/s640/blogger-image-457807785.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Amen and let it be so!</div></div></div></div></div></div>A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-5037284644560771412015-06-18T09:38:00.001-07:002015-06-20T09:55:41.512-07:00Charlie, ten monthsOh Charlie-Boy... How I've gotten behind in recording the wonders of your growing life. I really don't like the "second child" excuse, because really I've just been lazy with my writing. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8AE49cokoAzXpn7n9ooJB04KdRA43GGwnGVjwNyx0ddu5TNjWpOuFDm5Gpu4CDc9HfAQpK70FAGAet6ElP7KjH9aqfPLgCIJzP1Q5yiSxwfN3RmP5O9N77snYq9tRyY6I_LBouCz4c8I/s640/blogger-image--2140784087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8AE49cokoAzXpn7n9ooJB04KdRA43GGwnGVjwNyx0ddu5TNjWpOuFDm5Gpu4CDc9HfAQpK70FAGAet6ElP7KjH9aqfPLgCIJzP1Q5yiSxwfN3RmP5O9N77snYq9tRyY6I_LBouCz4c8I/s640/blogger-image--2140784087.jpg"></a></div><br><div><br></div><div>Watching Wilson grow was an incredible experience for me because everything was so new and amazing. But with you, there is such a depth to the newness. I couldn't have known with Wilson how I would miss his baby smiles or the feel of his little hand scratching my back when he was hip-riding. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyxrvpEWjbUCzFOVJi7IqWPCg-3SfWUEI6K0KqvPtr9sQfbZZcwlyDhIZXCyMwGzQJI7DzNq-myJ47E8Zwn-AwxSBqxYnCUa-_3T6__zFfknn2weakWLE51FdjQlli2IOsoXEkhhCRSCJ/s640/blogger-image-1388974823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyxrvpEWjbUCzFOVJi7IqWPCg-3SfWUEI6K0KqvPtr9sQfbZZcwlyDhIZXCyMwGzQJI7DzNq-myJ47E8Zwn-AwxSBqxYnCUa-_3T6__zFfknn2weakWLE51FdjQlli2IOsoXEkhhCRSCJ/s640/blogger-image-1388974823.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>So with you, Charlie-Barlie (Wilson's nick name for you that has just stuck), these moments are being seared in my heart and I smother you with kisses about a million times a day and unashamedly tell everyone who will listen what a sweet and awesome baby you are. Because it's the truth. You're incredible.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLl6stnBNbAC-kKY3UtyYAU3hlgshaZP_TJ6IAMUPgizibxrq2MUSJ83XU5RTvRXlonhQ1xcSqOXoYz8KdsJW-h50OAGj2hfI-StBwwcnLrApPUfqzar0K7r-3cXjMfOswvLf7H_YGqgQ/s640/blogger-image-1562317716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLl6stnBNbAC-kKY3UtyYAU3hlgshaZP_TJ6IAMUPgizibxrq2MUSJ83XU5RTvRXlonhQ1xcSqOXoYz8KdsJW-h50OAGj2hfI-StBwwcnLrApPUfqzar0K7r-3cXjMfOswvLf7H_YGqgQ/s640/blogger-image-1562317716.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div>At ten months you are not sleeping. Let's just get the bad stuff out of the way... You've had weeks here and there of going eight or nine hours (never ever more than that), but mostly you like visiting with me one or ten times a night and here on summer project it has been the easiest solution to just bring you back into the bed with us. This means lots of pats on our back and yanking of hair and feet in the stomach but when you crawl on top of me and lie stomach to stomach with your little head snuggled under my chin I try to convince myself that I would always choose this up and down shared rythym of breathing over sleep.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSJvbwJv4UGsiumwMWVwhl4uEJc4ZX-YFuYCUpwhtfV4fwHnRGj2OTjw4FwGFopPbfvEgpLwLQyz6O6mES3oHIm1OUe27viAl3dH_S3dAQpGmSwOoKPPcjnRG6wkYzJheWOrhH6krGwg5/s640/blogger-image--344810783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSJvbwJv4UGsiumwMWVwhl4uEJc4ZX-YFuYCUpwhtfV4fwHnRGj2OTjw4FwGFopPbfvEgpLwLQyz6O6mES3oHIm1OUe27viAl3dH_S3dAQpGmSwOoKPPcjnRG6wkYzJheWOrhH6krGwg5/s640/blogger-image--344810783.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Here are the two things that are said to and about you at least once a day: "Look at those blue eyes!" and "You are the happiest baby!" Yes. To both. You are the happiest! You smile all the live long day and I can't help but smile back or die from the cuteness when you scrunch up your nose in the process. If someone is recording best smiles of all times, you've had to made the list. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SQUjzwsd_ANYxF1n-3QWpb-zTUwd3PW8HS_xGGgrsHlPr8SQhmdyQb1lJZ2ckQzoLQzqG9iNqrk-z8mrsYe1bvOw8zfUeQBJ6EAlTGYtUbNt-m0Mc8YcwaX_x7pnZR1GxYBVxrN5SVHT/s640/blogger-image-1870077150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SQUjzwsd_ANYxF1n-3QWpb-zTUwd3PW8HS_xGGgrsHlPr8SQhmdyQb1lJZ2ckQzoLQzqG9iNqrk-z8mrsYe1bvOw8zfUeQBJ6EAlTGYtUbNt-m0Mc8YcwaX_x7pnZR1GxYBVxrN5SVHT/s640/blogger-image-1870077150.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div>You love to wave... Of course it's that cute backwards wave (please don't ever stop that!). You wave when we say "hey!" to someone and you wave when we say bye, and you wave when we are coming up on a group of people because you are so hospitable like that. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdzektA7nC_k_cfjvCbgC4G6eQWz-7vvbFDfEwChKhrCWNmXe6P7ygVjDrjGbp-Gmfx_kIildTRE5qPLnqSAJFfjei869RyXqCHXGneiiBwnERuoLFbqnGXWSBPgOs6QnrO81gYAYIldM/s640/blogger-image--1599440586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdzektA7nC_k_cfjvCbgC4G6eQWz-7vvbFDfEwChKhrCWNmXe6P7ygVjDrjGbp-Gmfx_kIildTRE5qPLnqSAJFfjei869RyXqCHXGneiiBwnERuoLFbqnGXWSBPgOs6QnrO81gYAYIldM/s640/blogger-image--1599440586.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You also love to point. You point at people, animals, in books, at things you want to get closer to. You point at people you love and give them a big grin. Sometimes I open the van door to find you already pointing at me. </span></div><div><br></div><div>I think your first word was "Bruh" for Brother a few months ago, but you said it for a lot of things so I'm not really sure. I am sure that you are saying "dog" now and it is said with the absolute best southern drawl. There are other words that I think you are saying like "ba" for bottle, "mo" for more, "da" for Daddy and "mum" for Mama and/or your favorite snack: mum-mums. A few times when I've told you no, you've told me "nah" back and I'm not sure if I should laugh or dread what this all means!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLHVu-NYCrvyAMUuOTqUk7vG9vjCDbhLUsgvhgIiz1JnSVOLRNL-ve4_Tu3UaonX-ZfeUMJu5ijxUE_gN5FHKB2ZmFzFgxWQ17ISQi8IFGQGtn6TGyMF4fTBmIxptaaJQx7exqskXeXbN/s640/blogger-image-595838175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYLHVu-NYCrvyAMUuOTqUk7vG9vjCDbhLUsgvhgIiz1JnSVOLRNL-ve4_Tu3UaonX-ZfeUMJu5ijxUE_gN5FHKB2ZmFzFgxWQ17ISQi8IFGQGtn6TGyMF4fTBmIxptaaJQx7exqskXeXbN/s640/blogger-image-595838175.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Anytime you hear music, you stop whatever you're doing and dance your little heart out. Charlie, joy and happiness really just ooze out of you.</div><div><br></div><div>Your favorite song is "Wheels on the Bus" and you can do the motions to "round and round," "swish, swish, swish" (you love getting your little pointy finger into this), and "open and shut." </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTYoEA8IlyUQzANhyphenhyphenWXGTVUKChdN9ngzX4-NrlokNqfOMLtWufGID-hb2MfNE1MOo0Wt82c2N1Y3VH6M82NjxHMrzgkbm5laq3BwMYf8PcSQwfsX2bF-Vz6gs0moFCYXQBIwiihMDeH3X/s640/blogger-image--1059244663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTYoEA8IlyUQzANhyphenhyphenWXGTVUKChdN9ngzX4-NrlokNqfOMLtWufGID-hb2MfNE1MOo0Wt82c2N1Y3VH6M82NjxHMrzgkbm5laq3BwMYf8PcSQwfsX2bF-Vz6gs0moFCYXQBIwiihMDeH3X/s640/blogger-image--1059244663.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Your favorite new trick is throwing things, like blocks or toy cars or mama's phone... You put both hands way up in the air and then launch whatever it is off like a catapult. It's absolutely hysterical and your face is always so serious about it all. </div><div><br></div><div>Even though you are a wiggle worm, you always have time for cuddles with me and when you give me hugs and open mouth kisses you melt this mama heart into a puddle. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJqUMIA5tgRhTVLgKnKQaUJEQR-zgnMDBDraYx4M782QvL8ML2kEe09PoH8YM3r4k134_BhfmlMRy3S9m_ZkUUlOqSD0eg8XEadFGKHyRnyavcVdotlM2MAxbIRNVkWL7edV1Q4g7r0fG/s640/blogger-image-1939452016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJqUMIA5tgRhTVLgKnKQaUJEQR-zgnMDBDraYx4M782QvL8ML2kEe09PoH8YM3r4k134_BhfmlMRy3S9m_ZkUUlOqSD0eg8XEadFGKHyRnyavcVdotlM2MAxbIRNVkWL7edV1Q4g7r0fG/s640/blogger-image-1939452016.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Just like Brother was, you are a speed-crawler and you are pulling up and scooting around. You've stood on your own a few times but only by accident and there's no <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">steps yet. </span></div><div><br></div><div>When you are on my hip and I'm trucking through life... Getting bottles ready, picking up toys, sending a text message... Sometimes you swing your sweet little face around in front of mine and give the cutest toothy grin and giggle, like "Hey Mama-- let's remember this moment!" And Littlest One, my darling Charlie Boy, I will never never forget. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUcksM4YkIx_p8x4MHEtye4iovqCD4slKMrCSV1ScaWAjAS-JW6bXlHajjK5Z8kI_JgS2uQoisdFIR4mYKRYhfhnQF9qmgR-gSMhzTi_AcKRFdnJ_5LLlW9ukExqcIcN4fQx8R-Zm3T4Z/s640/blogger-image-1683259633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUcksM4YkIx_p8x4MHEtye4iovqCD4slKMrCSV1ScaWAjAS-JW6bXlHajjK5Z8kI_JgS2uQoisdFIR4mYKRYhfhnQF9qmgR-gSMhzTi_AcKRFdnJ_5LLlW9ukExqcIcN4fQx8R-Zm3T4Z/s640/blogger-image-1683259633.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div></div>A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-91983439457534247552015-05-31T23:57:00.001-07:002015-06-15T09:15:28.658-07:00Road Trip Diaries, Chapter Four<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Our last leg of this crazy cross-country mayhem was from Rapid City, SD to Missoula, MT for two nights... And then off to Jackson, Wyoming.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The boys woke up with the sun at 5:30 and were graciously willing to jump in the car for our longest day- ten hours of driving that turned into a 12 hour day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDrPZydjeFWaJBFn7N60NIxWxJVHLbprr9RysNgIhDLu2msBUV9JkQJG_Kdr8vJNByjA33ShdnruX5NLoEtwvdhctJXIshadWpc_x5MeoxHZ0kCYJUApcbbc18YjYCKAXJUkRmrxXtAgE/s640/blogger-image--1574589232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDrPZydjeFWaJBFn7N60NIxWxJVHLbprr9RysNgIhDLu2msBUV9JkQJG_Kdr8vJNByjA33ShdnruX5NLoEtwvdhctJXIshadWpc_x5MeoxHZ0kCYJUApcbbc18YjYCKAXJUkRmrxXtAgE/s640/blogger-image--1574589232.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We had to pull over twice in the first ten minutes of driving for some grace and truth moments with Wilson. Like... It's true that it's a bad idea to take off your shoe and launch it at your mother's head. It's grace that we don't make you walk the rest of the way to Montana.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thankfully, we stumbled upon the most incredible rest stop with a great playground for our daily picnic lunch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjev-VFlDy6CQo74aa6uS0Pt6xfUiKxXorABoA6ijeGvche91SA7y-n3fKnHhfPCkc0RR35Ygj-Ix42Dx0uN7zfAStxMZ2NDAORbHvoJwK2ZQrWNVgn-SrxfwVloj3fihrQtI-ObRQNzShJ/s640/blogger-image--134317435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjev-VFlDy6CQo74aa6uS0Pt6xfUiKxXorABoA6ijeGvche91SA7y-n3fKnHhfPCkc0RR35Ygj-Ix42Dx0uN7zfAStxMZ2NDAORbHvoJwK2ZQrWNVgn-SrxfwVloj3fihrQtI-ObRQNzShJ/s640/blogger-image--134317435.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Wilson said, "I love Charlie more than you love him." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwedUM0cjbqxvZJkus5IoXSQKWmf1KkIGfmXdFi-4kbxsRZ9-XII4Xwy9SX2LcTzHWKmBNcREBRxw836I-wAPBBFGvqouTNN9K6-3TkQTd3tXxQZ6JD_1K7yIpNONbyo773jy-YaKRYCgW/s640/blogger-image-2033535788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwedUM0cjbqxvZJkus5IoXSQKWmf1KkIGfmXdFi-4kbxsRZ9-XII4Xwy9SX2LcTzHWKmBNcREBRxw836I-wAPBBFGvqouTNN9K6-3TkQTd3tXxQZ6JD_1K7yIpNONbyo773jy-YaKRYCgW/s640/blogger-image-2033535788.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He's an awesome brother. And Andrew and I were realizing that Wilson just needed to run and play and not be strapped up in a car seat and who can blame him?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-Y3aQ8v6RomIqQw-Nfg7DXFhXFmaKsBr-bDPuyoM2YWNEU7kw3ygSiEj8rq2H2j6N2v7_p565IZtZxm4Mf1wsufoe0HkkUQJGRGKb04uLFgzADHBTP7JY42BvkqvnxWpvaxutZs2ifhi/s640/blogger-image--268343083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-Y3aQ8v6RomIqQw-Nfg7DXFhXFmaKsBr-bDPuyoM2YWNEU7kw3ygSiEj8rq2H2j6N2v7_p565IZtZxm4Mf1wsufoe0HkkUQJGRGKb04uLFgzADHBTP7JY42BvkqvnxWpvaxutZs2ifhi/s640/blogger-image--268343083.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Charlie had his daily blowout, which caused us to verify everyone's Mississippi stereotypes by carrying him around a gas station in a diaper only. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We made it to Missoula just in time to grab dinner with my college roommate and her husband. It was the absolute best two days catching up with Jen and exploring her beautiful town.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">While she and her hubs were at work, we got to play.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkrCgjCRs5unlVe1q9zgEDyDnMuvRpHbibn46qMCgC5c_lG8bfYwpFcINssAzJsQ6qNsBqmIIuzRXCnUv8XmfOgYyUchQjF3318RFREhQGxkn4jn2zhxtkxwbq2t3Sd66Xk8EqIdbLdrOH/s640/blogger-image-182590496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkrCgjCRs5unlVe1q9zgEDyDnMuvRpHbibn46qMCgC5c_lG8bfYwpFcINssAzJsQ6qNsBqmIIuzRXCnUv8XmfOgYyUchQjF3318RFREhQGxkn4jn2zhxtkxwbq2t3Sd66Xk8EqIdbLdrOH/s640/blogger-image-182590496.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Wilson enjoyed the Elk Museum. I'm pretty sure it's called something different but we will go with that...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj37h5hm6f4rr5ojEv_OELVnii35yfEWO4OrA94QKWaqwveMqcinwrbDeplOlmJAECWKrzdeR4xNk7X-DGbRWAg6XipV8NfT6DihDz1XqZe2851VYZgeyZgvoCaxo7bY-m1oHeZMpmZwiWG/s640/blogger-image--660509424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj37h5hm6f4rr5ojEv_OELVnii35yfEWO4OrA94QKWaqwveMqcinwrbDeplOlmJAECWKrzdeR4xNk7X-DGbRWAg6XipV8NfT6DihDz1XqZe2851VYZgeyZgvoCaxo7bY-m1oHeZMpmZwiWG/s640/blogger-image--660509424.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Missoula had the coolest park by the river with a huge playground and even a carousel. We were happy... All of us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpLzy-K4ORhy_xD11FRy2X4RT9LV4uxnU_ZMV235g_8xHY54UUBlXaj1elRo1dO-taLUuMh05c4xyGrKXcdpkwPxIhLCofMwrGj6c4WjpNw6peiAQ8nhDD_-evA8oIRsSfNuW3qq1KTXE/s640/blogger-image--797958952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpLzy-K4ORhy_xD11FRy2X4RT9LV4uxnU_ZMV235g_8xHY54UUBlXaj1elRo1dO-taLUuMh05c4xyGrKXcdpkwPxIhLCofMwrGj6c4WjpNw6peiAQ8nhDD_-evA8oIRsSfNuW3qq1KTXE/s640/blogger-image--797958952.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil53IMIw9KvLATZL-Tj4wWEbdHl0X13pzhN8ezppQMIZMJA6wsvIySWh_k3g5QXqvx6MOH0JH_JwszjK41uLJ1-39efUMdLxaql5f1aiwlVkelGEtgSAYZVTMeLiTsu8muDE-vX0EBOBQB/s640/blogger-image--374534524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil53IMIw9KvLATZL-Tj4wWEbdHl0X13pzhN8ezppQMIZMJA6wsvIySWh_k3g5QXqvx6MOH0JH_JwszjK41uLJ1-39efUMdLxaql5f1aiwlVkelGEtgSAYZVTMeLiTsu8muDE-vX0EBOBQB/s640/blogger-image--374534524.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbD0Ou_lO83ib4l4qaLNlM-O2mgjlE18fC61Jj01UJMGqXhcO0sgQM5LfGkLb0ysKSbBbc72j5O5hNv8saCDvrOy8E6wmyxDCyD_K6xAZqvTzejW-0fwbKG492HS0-hfuq7Bu7Ftbqq2T0/s640/blogger-image-175389350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbD0Ou_lO83ib4l4qaLNlM-O2mgjlE18fC61Jj01UJMGqXhcO0sgQM5LfGkLb0ysKSbBbc72j5O5hNv8saCDvrOy8E6wmyxDCyD_K6xAZqvTzejW-0fwbKG492HS0-hfuq7Bu7Ftbqq2T0/s640/blogger-image-175389350.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Ho_65f6hDC8z27dsBMEk-PQv1vNSU9L8FKg9AurRgCsKep3tAk05BpMDr-6qUQzUy4PLCvx7mcKs1B72L0801xtxe8_defmVJcijzlC7pBCWzB6g3f6ifXTSHTJvddtzkB8Oenwg9UE1/s640/blogger-image--1751385218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Ho_65f6hDC8z27dsBMEk-PQv1vNSU9L8FKg9AurRgCsKep3tAk05BpMDr-6qUQzUy4PLCvx7mcKs1B72L0801xtxe8_defmVJcijzlC7pBCWzB6g3f6ifXTSHTJvddtzkB8Oenwg9UE1/s640/blogger-image--1751385218.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just by the park was a Children's Museum so we spent some time there, too. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0Fuk1dDyXSSUt2yDG873FW5BIv0IN1W2LamFgQnh0-zBue1O05kO07PriVzWlyJPiEQA2dFqvRnCXJ5Qv_s0gDzocEhUDgSR66vyPeEO8GrTcBxABMvZJUKi9bMFmyBb-DAEsjEXUU82/s640/blogger-image-1466916408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0Fuk1dDyXSSUt2yDG873FW5BIv0IN1W2LamFgQnh0-zBue1O05kO07PriVzWlyJPiEQA2dFqvRnCXJ5Qv_s0gDzocEhUDgSR66vyPeEO8GrTcBxABMvZJUKi9bMFmyBb-DAEsjEXUU82/s640/blogger-image-1466916408.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMqg15aqy3uePvfLKDvWHnK9bIWKDXjxbL7-KmYPoGlFmXAyG6OPwAjPq2n0Al5rT9oUSi1v7GW4wgyRQC-keBhuDS_sfIqHpO1DfJXGSzMEC1LVEANolrsyIBceeDi7k81FW0pkNLrgU/s640/blogger-image-2039264965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMqg15aqy3uePvfLKDvWHnK9bIWKDXjxbL7-KmYPoGlFmXAyG6OPwAjPq2n0Al5rT9oUSi1v7GW4wgyRQC-keBhuDS_sfIqHpO1DfJXGSzMEC1LVEANolrsyIBceeDi7k81FW0pkNLrgU/s640/blogger-image-2039264965.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We played some darts, enjoyed a dinner out and then put the boys down so Jen and I could go grab ice cream together.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwq3933A6y9lDgWheNx2ikJwHrerK1YsOjE6PFRU9rlBTM4dl39FIHY4U5SN6wcZ_ODGZ_qEq5TthFETWpC6JCsDRkp1PJlAXtGxCzX-hq4_DUF9fNhnV5fym-RonS66U3kPKUAChO4YDh/s640/blogger-image--554827611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwq3933A6y9lDgWheNx2ikJwHrerK1YsOjE6PFRU9rlBTM4dl39FIHY4U5SN6wcZ_ODGZ_qEq5TthFETWpC6JCsDRkp1PJlAXtGxCzX-hq4_DUF9fNhnV5fym-RonS66U3kPKUAChO4YDh/s640/blogger-image--554827611.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There really is nothing like a friendship where you lived on top of eachother for three years in a tiny dorm room. I honestly can't believe she still loves me. Jen has sharpened me in so many ways because she lives such a fearless life... Pursuing things she loves and dreaming big. She also sends me a homemade birthday card every year still... Who does that?? Jendawg does.<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwq3933A6y9lDgWheNx2ikJwHrerK1YsOjE6PFRU9rlBTM4dl39FIHY4U5SN6wcZ_ODGZ_qEq5TthFETWpC6JCsDRkp1PJlAXtGxCzX-hq4_DUF9fNhnV5fym-RonS66U3kPKUAChO4YDh/s640/blogger-image--554827611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCulp7H9p2_8ju-PP3LQbkgEdFhRoCyJQhaeer2jNVL-F7aHbtG4i5ympQ1gmDEmNBtL9AAgS1aY8sz0Znzygy5LRt7CJqdZkVKZBiuK5u9v14OQXeJNOwEHDVrJdWoK069ZzLp_MB5iu/s640/blogger-image--951899581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCulp7H9p2_8ju-PP3LQbkgEdFhRoCyJQhaeer2jNVL-F7aHbtG4i5ympQ1gmDEmNBtL9AAgS1aY8sz0Znzygy5LRt7CJqdZkVKZBiuK5u9v14OQXeJNOwEHDVrJdWoK069ZzLp_MB5iu/s640/blogger-image--951899581.jpg"></a></div></div><br></div>We said our goodbyes on Thursday morning and loaded up for our final leg to Jackson, Wyoming. The drive was unbelievably beautiful which made up for all the crying happening in the car. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Pulling into Jackson Hole was such a relief for lots of reasons (no more diaper changes in the back seat), but mainly because of the familiarity and the hopes of what Jesus would do in the lives of students who would arrive in a few days. Because that is the whole reason we endured that trip... To be vessels of his truth and grace. More to come on that.</div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-70945146328716884482015-05-25T19:25:00.001-07:002015-05-25T19:25:58.039-07:00Road Trip Diaries, Chapter Three<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Well by some miracle (I told you God's grace was new every morning) we mostly slept through the night and were loaded up and ready by 7:19 this morning. These kids are troopers. Would you just look at these precious children who just go along with their parents' whim to drive across the country. Look at these faces that have no idea we could have taken an airplane and been to Wyoming in five hours.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXO9VD6QjDiIyeFSz9C5pxSLQueWiMvKQ9pBeyxDH4rTCHPwlScK_U_y6-_3GJgq7Q8qZkxzh8KcthqEx1G61PCACcLU5mrZql4PlVvJyRKTn8zOSH1sO_e0Ns_qBLJu6qBXS18mFyWIs/s640/blogger-image--349305283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXO9VD6QjDiIyeFSz9C5pxSLQueWiMvKQ9pBeyxDH4rTCHPwlScK_U_y6-_3GJgq7Q8qZkxzh8KcthqEx1G61PCACcLU5mrZql4PlVvJyRKTn8zOSH1sO_e0Ns_qBLJu6qBXS18mFyWIs/s640/blogger-image--349305283.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's just really better not to know, little ones.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Charlie did pretty well today except for those ten minutes that he screamed bloody murder. I was thinking he must have a stomach pain or splitting headache or something fatal so I asked Andrew to pull over the car so we could take his temperature. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuFj6z8ZjLneGEcwxQkSajXXHg7Co39Z9vx8weuoeWBBzHIelGsLOvYXQ2gkQqKAtVUpsbybxCncGIagqvWooVS_qYKvJHOZfTFRIUmr0dKxfg9M_0ni6utFkZ9ZdBbMUUDklozUCaeOb/s640/blogger-image--591594487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuFj6z8ZjLneGEcwxQkSajXXHg7Co39Z9vx8weuoeWBBzHIelGsLOvYXQ2gkQqKAtVUpsbybxCncGIagqvWooVS_qYKvJHOZfTFRIUmr0dKxfg9M_0ni6utFkZ9ZdBbMUUDklozUCaeOb/s640/blogger-image--591594487.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just an orange. He was actually sitting on top of an orange that somehow made its way under his little bottom at the last rest stop. Charlie, <i>orange </i>you glad it wasn't a banana? :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We took our lunch break at Wall Drug Store, which is basically a big tourist trap. We had been a few years ago and found ourselves kind of loving the silliness of it all. The boys certainly loved getting out of the car for a stroll and some peanut butter crackers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1G9Ic6Wwh9Pqi37iyw83lNJBCaZv1GiNdwkioN0LfjQv95tPleJOQVnH0VTo5MdwENCjv-J6HHRUTeYDk_yn5h50OM4fkFSKB9EMr5JsiDoQmYs_asl2iChA040mm2WM-NZXPlFKnFG1/s640/blogger-image-341281267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1G9Ic6Wwh9Pqi37iyw83lNJBCaZv1GiNdwkioN0LfjQv95tPleJOQVnH0VTo5MdwENCjv-J6HHRUTeYDk_yn5h50OM4fkFSKB9EMr5JsiDoQmYs_asl2iChA040mm2WM-NZXPlFKnFG1/s640/blogger-image-341281267.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpjdmtxzmzKtvjTPyKR0WSELq1ndY6h0Kcr5zTaY55FMWRy0YyneOOJ1_V8vU414gikeg1ZcUQjxWq2tS45Oq_F3has-4mCFrOa7bIYFKqYxWcfNbV-gvTfivs7GSf1WANZGAvdycdchu/s640/blogger-image-786515297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpjdmtxzmzKtvjTPyKR0WSELq1ndY6h0Kcr5zTaY55FMWRy0YyneOOJ1_V8vU414gikeg1ZcUQjxWq2tS45Oq_F3has-4mCFrOa7bIYFKqYxWcfNbV-gvTfivs7GSf1WANZGAvdycdchu/s640/blogger-image-786515297.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxMnDcRGHl6Y-s7xeyWOeGWdAxF_R2TN7ocEG7GXEP7_A01UQ8cywqOsfKRw4Ob9YpbfkpWiHa1fUvXQWYDVigz8Gl_tb_inflTR9GyZ77iJgJVVx8huixmMGTYbVDPK3ZjehyY1Ao1iw/s640/blogger-image-1179786938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxMnDcRGHl6Y-s7xeyWOeGWdAxF_R2TN7ocEG7GXEP7_A01UQ8cywqOsfKRw4Ob9YpbfkpWiHa1fUvXQWYDVigz8Gl_tb_inflTR9GyZ77iJgJVVx8huixmMGTYbVDPK3ZjehyY1Ao1iw/s640/blogger-image-1179786938.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5QZy9uny3Md4nXBWgXLdPK_JPTeXZ8yIfMunAsaRumo1W2EmiXwLjrZyXRBNhxU3F2bbwRLX06KcvdYJwmjrSrXh0Rt7NobsR-ZxBWkpEy6OC0OHuIO2OY5m6r5dMMZqcyAB3F8yxSzBm/s640/blogger-image--1994388153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5QZy9uny3Md4nXBWgXLdPK_JPTeXZ8yIfMunAsaRumo1W2EmiXwLjrZyXRBNhxU3F2bbwRLX06KcvdYJwmjrSrXh0Rt7NobsR-ZxBWkpEy6OC0OHuIO2OY5m6r5dMMZqcyAB3F8yxSzBm/s640/blogger-image--1994388153.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And Wilson left with 83 cents worth of geodes, so he was a happy camper!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEF7tKCRX16pryiAJgV68nswzw8fVQbrDc9vSxWKIfbhAfZK6NjaqiMxVbZKqoCosZjGD36OWMk-Y3uIEXSYsYq7xbMUtLBJ819acm4xfFPF0WtltCVStvx650LGz9Zt0vsUQnj2DnYHYB/s640/blogger-image-212597208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEF7tKCRX16pryiAJgV68nswzw8fVQbrDc9vSxWKIfbhAfZK6NjaqiMxVbZKqoCosZjGD36OWMk-Y3uIEXSYsYq7xbMUtLBJ819acm4xfFPF0WtltCVStvx650LGz9Zt0vsUQnj2DnYHYB/s640/blogger-image-212597208.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Next, we made our way through Badlands National Park. This is another repeat stop for us but it's just beautiful and is one of those places that takes your breath away.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezygoOzqStmjZPJzt6WWtlKcZQuPSpcb_KhcXdituK3Ah7jOFjiCJKfwOx18_NIiFo2PoKQJkE6saCcQfMwPkDnf_kEDMS42EZCawZbdquDKyw7moaQc37UR7zArhrjaNgUtpieG21R5F/s640/blogger-image--1530566512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezygoOzqStmjZPJzt6WWtlKcZQuPSpcb_KhcXdituK3Ah7jOFjiCJKfwOx18_NIiFo2PoKQJkE6saCcQfMwPkDnf_kEDMS42EZCawZbdquDKyw7moaQc37UR7zArhrjaNgUtpieG21R5F/s640/blogger-image--1530566512.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I was imaginging the pioneers who passed through many years ago on their journies west. How I'm sure many of them paused here with prayers for protection or thanksgiving or hope. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Gpnqgfb7iLiLoEJG-I8wm3nqVtu3t_YxAbU4zxU1x9xKvk79y0ZrXEXwXwUn-r3UBJnRLCBRS7Wwujf3ctApyjiIIT5lRFmJWnUp-JAfKSTV7BCda0_UPy3QmlzYBlBKSK2vkFdxYCSV/s640/blogger-image--2111768365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Gpnqgfb7iLiLoEJG-I8wm3nqVtu3t_YxAbU4zxU1x9xKvk79y0ZrXEXwXwUn-r3UBJnRLCBRS7Wwujf3ctApyjiIIT5lRFmJWnUp-JAfKSTV7BCda0_UPy3QmlzYBlBKSK2vkFdxYCSV/s640/blogger-image--2111768365.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There's just something so secure in the thought that the same God's eyes and ears have been on this place since the beginning of time. I know that's true for all places, but seeing nature (for the most part) untouched gives that truth more anchor for me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3CNuSiYRlqeXYAeI4RCTH0vreZFp2RQW2GrJ4QwMuZV_S5vVRAgSV6_tN-Th27ZT0fdI3YxLF8UiScBMy05hyphenhyphenFSUuEbdKbNqi6nZNJznz9s9ukpq0iwEtOB1M62nPFKF7SJZeR3J0_yz/s640/blogger-image--508439749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3CNuSiYRlqeXYAeI4RCTH0vreZFp2RQW2GrJ4QwMuZV_S5vVRAgSV6_tN-Th27ZT0fdI3YxLF8UiScBMy05hyphenhyphenFSUuEbdKbNqi6nZNJznz9s9ukpq0iwEtOB1M62nPFKF7SJZeR3J0_yz/s640/blogger-image--508439749.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And then we had our Chinese tourist encounter. It all started when this lady pictured below asked Andrew to take her picture. Andrew spoke a little Chinese with her and suddenly we became her personal photographer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Of course we didn't mind. At one photo op, I cut off her feet and she let me know she wasn't happy about that (or at least that's how Andrew's translation and her sign language went). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Then she took mine and the boys' picture, while Andrew photographed her photographing us...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEACtNp43mtc6yutT4Km7rCyNOUlqab6JKEqYKhsnin-9Pg1oh_JKBAg2nnFRxtFscEP15Txndxblr7v2rBzvZiAOt_fmbBMk2HQyHESbw92e75bMR89CTYnNlTOXSrti1JPe89YSQyJv_/s640/blogger-image-1064343988.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEACtNp43mtc6yutT4Km7rCyNOUlqab6JKEqYKhsnin-9Pg1oh_JKBAg2nnFRxtFscEP15Txndxblr7v2rBzvZiAOt_fmbBMk2HQyHESbw92e75bMR89CTYnNlTOXSrti1JPe89YSQyJv_/s640/blogger-image-1064343988.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And then she asked to take a picture with Charlie. I know this is what she asked because she grabbed Charlie from me and handed me her camera. Andrew was giggling and taking pictures with his phone. What you can't see is me all but clinging onto her elbow and telling her to be careful (Um hello, that is a cliff behind you.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2MRTh4_VxvOM4J43p7lF9cUUzRf1MyudvYHEL25c-4bLFLAEeE8IFqRQXdOI6ibkqmmnTH5qfyBsbK7NIkc8riuL3wzfa9cXTDSsQPVvQlGRq2TzQ3-tMwMVBoWN7DeWUvy6ORwDSZfG/s640/blogger-image-1219648461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2MRTh4_VxvOM4J43p7lF9cUUzRf1MyudvYHEL25c-4bLFLAEeE8IFqRQXdOI6ibkqmmnTH5qfyBsbK7NIkc8riuL3wzfa9cXTDSsQPVvQlGRq2TzQ3-tMwMVBoWN7DeWUvy6ORwDSZfG/s640/blogger-image-1219648461.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In this picture she is telling me to back up, because I'm cropping her feet out again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBYirU9It4YWejM-wy1ilVf0oEVMGHczdRWQN2AzHzmn-x_cdsDv15JyRkOMxaOBwka24yABvJxm0f6JklniWVvGF_BrCzyBl6syALHdiLeqfs_e52YR2szESjpDGE_FrhlM4OnkN7_fus/s640/blogger-image-1150121353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBYirU9It4YWejM-wy1ilVf0oEVMGHczdRWQN2AzHzmn-x_cdsDv15JyRkOMxaOBwka24yABvJxm0f6JklniWVvGF_BrCzyBl6syALHdiLeqfs_e52YR2szESjpDGE_FrhlM4OnkN7_fus/s640/blogger-image-1150121353.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">To which I replied, "Game over, give me back my bebe. "</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Somehow after all of that, Charlie became the mascot of this Chinese tour bus on its way to NYC. And I clamped on tight when they all passed by and held out their hands to him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIEpRFs33R7qt0rIDDReVI4Z-0UkkCGoKpUrP51Xgk2eN9aSoh5MmmufyLQ1RejwR8s_Spdz7Pk38BXaJNUOU1NrFsHGwZGFNbPn7SDI_ziwq_v1ZGio1uznzDVa5Nlgy-QDpmG4t8uCd/s640/blogger-image-1877108877.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIIEpRFs33R7qt0rIDDReVI4Z-0UkkCGoKpUrP51Xgk2eN9aSoh5MmmufyLQ1RejwR8s_Spdz7Pk38BXaJNUOU1NrFsHGwZGFNbPn7SDI_ziwq_v1ZGio1uznzDVa5Nlgy-QDpmG4t8uCd/s640/blogger-image-1877108877.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's no secret we love the Chinese people, but I was pretty relieved to get away from our new "friend" and keep driving through. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAxzpY3KKKJyMCxgE_gXJZTRlnE2yfowO9PUVi4CNMy6EXKhGutrTdImMlcRYkRw0TZuWL_6AETuBEdjHAt_ZAqoodv4syYrJ7JqaIEPIiLhpP-SKE55qUKpQvepKclihHe6OHhO1HPKJG/s640/blogger-image-764240485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAxzpY3KKKJyMCxgE_gXJZTRlnE2yfowO9PUVi4CNMy6EXKhGutrTdImMlcRYkRw0TZuWL_6AETuBEdjHAt_ZAqoodv4syYrJ7JqaIEPIiLhpP-SKE55qUKpQvepKclihHe6OHhO1HPKJG/s640/blogger-image-764240485.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One of our last stops was a prairie with the cutest little prairie dogs popping in and out of holes. Calling out to one another, "Here comes a little boy with a mischievous grin! May Day May Day! Back in the holes!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgNV3vU9xfNX7hS-qGFx_LejFf3HlV9KVeNFb0LSrCJNXzb8npeVNLIGKw8AaprdvyS_EzIRz55Ydw3IWh7SpN4xqnxngMLCE_B1XcGpTdi4AoyUzQldPniC4hnYvmYP4oacdfYzO_Moy/s640/blogger-image--59226413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgNV3vU9xfNX7hS-qGFx_LejFf3HlV9KVeNFb0LSrCJNXzb8npeVNLIGKw8AaprdvyS_EzIRz55Ydw3IWh7SpN4xqnxngMLCE_B1XcGpTdi4AoyUzQldPniC4hnYvmYP4oacdfYzO_Moy/s640/blogger-image--59226413.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We made it to our destination, Rapid City, SD, around 3:00. We had plans to go to Mt. Rushmore but it was raining pretty hard and honestly we've been there before and weren't dying to go back. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We opted for the hotel pool instead. Dinner out and back for Legos and another early bedtime. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAV5JQnSQp-BrbLxZ6HsIzYIE6c5Ensj8tOuOt-jiX_EIOjbnTqSZpDBm3uOEk7PPdTFPJ-d9EG_ur-dlr2w7qxf6SSiLQhs3I6CQFbQLolsWU-NuONol2vsdsvyMoukBZI_iA0yMJrqEF/s640/blogger-image--224309291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAV5JQnSQp-BrbLxZ6HsIzYIE6c5Ensj8tOuOt-jiX_EIOjbnTqSZpDBm3uOEk7PPdTFPJ-d9EG_ur-dlr2w7qxf6SSiLQhs3I6CQFbQLolsWU-NuONol2vsdsvyMoukBZI_iA0yMJrqEF/s640/blogger-image--224309291.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div>It's been a full day. One more destination and then off to our summer home!</div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-41802625229715629532015-05-24T19:16:00.001-07:002015-05-24T19:20:47.135-07:00Road Trip Diaries, Chapter Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">On Saturday we drove from Kentucky to Kansas City with a stop for lunch in St.Louis with our dear friends, Katherine and Robert. They will be moving next week so I'm so thankful we caught them just in time! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When we drove through two years ago, we made it in time to see a two day old Annie (whom Wilson roared at... Because, that's an appropriate response to a baby, right?). And now she's the cutest almost two year old. Wilson said, "Wow, she can walk and talk now."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNPF8leapC4rF38JvOdCaG1xvnif4_IiisvP6NePrLvzryC52iI6EjqW7z45L2zN64SRrv_YNusPmRUQo9jGyf9LykKNDM0qBk4N35sGkiLr0F4IeWYTe8Zi755BGO8s_c_nu2aXGUXxa/s640/blogger-image-584863013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnNPF8leapC4rF38JvOdCaG1xvnif4_IiisvP6NePrLvzryC52iI6EjqW7z45L2zN64SRrv_YNusPmRUQo9jGyf9LykKNDM0qBk4N35sGkiLr0F4IeWYTe8Zi755BGO8s_c_nu2aXGUXxa/s640/blogger-image-584863013.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> She called him "Wheeelson" and I almost melted into a puddle. While they park bench chatted, we parents chatted and I was wishing we had a whole week together. So much to say and ask in so little time. We've been through so many seasons of life together and well, we just love that family... What else can I say. Except why can't everyone just live in one place?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Charlie was not loving the car at this point.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-AW-Dng-NUY6NBtMaLOIa6kH6Vht7P116ecgYKELkJkSk52xXcS9fASVcE3ygxXukqfW-CRRvduBwWnMhjzfa26r8PsAfT9P5yxX-B-4GvpPfAHjNu1uVUFw5U2HJ80ue1awy6lFdsvIH/s640/blogger-image-807544266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-AW-Dng-NUY6NBtMaLOIa6kH6Vht7P116ecgYKELkJkSk52xXcS9fASVcE3ygxXukqfW-CRRvduBwWnMhjzfa26r8PsAfT9P5yxX-B-4GvpPfAHjNu1uVUFw5U2HJ80ue1awy6lFdsvIH/s640/blogger-image-807544266.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We drove to Kansas City that night and had dinner in a fun part of town but it started raining and we were all exhausted and all four of us in a hotel room was kind of a recipe for explosion of tempers. Just keeping it real, here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This morning we loaded up and listened to a sermon while Charlie napped and Wilson watched a movie. We used gas fill-ups for crawling/exploring time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXoaW8um9aiZQFeh0Xt-UY0PzZXT_N-d3SwGyTjPtRDEo9zFSCropJIyly8f-nkffsXvFluoyov0u5CHhhV-SL8SahCPYi9TU7j5umAMy70Cn5Bs8uHcX7YJOFeAsYSq3EQcYeEdwztT_L/s640/blogger-image-436100116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXoaW8um9aiZQFeh0Xt-UY0PzZXT_N-d3SwGyTjPtRDEo9zFSCropJIyly8f-nkffsXvFluoyov0u5CHhhV-SL8SahCPYi9TU7j5umAMy70Cn5Bs8uHcX7YJOFeAsYSq3EQcYeEdwztT_L/s640/blogger-image-436100116.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">(By the way, if anyone needs to pack a Town & Country for a trip with a ten month old and four year old, I have a system down pat. Andrew calls me the stewardess.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We ate al fresco somewhere in Iowa, our seventh state, before crossing the border into our eighth: South Dakota.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHR7xAcIeV38e0qPP1xo1acA3KO217QestNIKXEPo_lc_waTKIuZ60vDnSTdeOwBPB0PzRvTYOdTb1I2xF-E36YPEWOlFxYRE2zX4gvr30ggQFiOfgP4enF78Nyh3n1rP4FsEKNnYAs-h/s640/blogger-image-1629352939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHR7xAcIeV38e0qPP1xo1acA3KO217QestNIKXEPo_lc_waTKIuZ60vDnSTdeOwBPB0PzRvTYOdTb1I2xF-E36YPEWOlFxYRE2zX4gvr30ggQFiOfgP4enF78Nyh3n1rP4FsEKNnYAs-h/s640/blogger-image-1629352939.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sioux Falls was the destination for today and we rolled in around 1:30, which gave us time for exploring. I had a list from my best friend, Trip Advisor, ready to go and the Marine Cove & Butterfly House was first on deck.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6Rh32r_v_PEoq6u3QCdpd6CQ8HxPElihCHuMsL970BU-3n8UV_HvhTUjTCD-HLjSG7-qx1Vb-_kroGfVJg87iivWycElAjhjNscVOsRJl-WId3haxCJIjtNg6eTYadV1VjYkZloLazoC/s640/blogger-image--1930162482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6Rh32r_v_PEoq6u3QCdpd6CQ8HxPElihCHuMsL970BU-3n8UV_HvhTUjTCD-HLjSG7-qx1Vb-_kroGfVJg87iivWycElAjhjNscVOsRJl-WId3haxCJIjtNg6eTYadV1VjYkZloLazoC/s640/blogger-image--1930162482.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Wilson has a fairly new obsession with sea creatures so this was a fun surprise for him. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eyWglz6HbV6kMzZqE_Yi6aFikHDZexCaAK2BPdRGJbKqJq-njyWMU9AGzwTp7_HqFhWkHih6SmEcxbg1VubCqUVdXzPyway9k40ejlkfkjpOEQ5Y7dI7SDQsg62GFDMC_lB26YGMRHP5/s640/blogger-image-1236526722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eyWglz6HbV6kMzZqE_Yi6aFikHDZexCaAK2BPdRGJbKqJq-njyWMU9AGzwTp7_HqFhWkHih6SmEcxbg1VubCqUVdXzPyway9k40ejlkfkjpOEQ5Y7dI7SDQsg62GFDMC_lB26YGMRHP5/s640/blogger-image-1236526722.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The volunteers there were wearing snorkels and walking around telling facts about the fish and Wilson was doing the same exact thing minus the snorkel. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CjxcCCZeApV02gUx5bMm3BUToG0yTcrNjFErNZKKbpQOYRuI98orNBz7ys5bvl0FLaN5kjO4m3n0wIY58sRAW-5Bt6MJRycspbcT8YKk7lU56lXisqigAWbowZyKLJ830FeLRSc4kC7-/s640/blogger-image-1820224201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CjxcCCZeApV02gUx5bMm3BUToG0yTcrNjFErNZKKbpQOYRuI98orNBz7ys5bvl0FLaN5kjO4m3n0wIY58sRAW-5Bt6MJRycspbcT8YKk7lU56lXisqigAWbowZyKLJ830FeLRSc4kC7-/s640/blogger-image-1820224201.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Butterfly House was a bigger hit for him than I imagined, and would you believe he also had a thing or twenty to tell us about butterflies?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfiZ8iTGnQD4Z8-WBf-jTIcAUoRgxUoZlGv9ngblgC6grn0edpcHatm63a_BnNj_YOnVKBRdRP8phQgQm9UPaSMBfz2cdh86Ezct_gN21xSGvmKmih1w_RFj4vZpK-DryuINxrfO9IpqT0/s640/blogger-image--708476139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfiZ8iTGnQD4Z8-WBf-jTIcAUoRgxUoZlGv9ngblgC6grn0edpcHatm63a_BnNj_YOnVKBRdRP8phQgQm9UPaSMBfz2cdh86Ezct_gN21xSGvmKmih1w_RFj4vZpK-DryuINxrfO9IpqT0/s640/blogger-image--708476139.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxokKKX9tVso2anW8kiODlYklGHXo_a-FhFZL1_j9TE1sMJ5cYufrWZfEkOS8pjpyZ6K3k7fozBF1lE8A2b8LH_HY9IdqW78-L1GQS0cI8YZprLr7O3p3sJl6IdUa_IqE-FWpQwmMET1Z/s640/blogger-image-349469984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxokKKX9tVso2anW8kiODlYklGHXo_a-FhFZL1_j9TE1sMJ5cYufrWZfEkOS8pjpyZ6K3k7fozBF1lE8A2b8LH_HY9IdqW78-L1GQS0cI8YZprLr7O3p3sJl6IdUa_IqE-FWpQwmMET1Z/s640/blogger-image-349469984.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyFbG9SZZkKFSU6Bgv5A_OK9A2dSbr_aVGz7m7quVpWqR_K6mW8ZRZtGUux2fxj_LqT-Vyb6olgEA459-FJ5y4Y29zEiRYMnZO1tILVSrPt1175uyxrhMQ1LvokrAiblbXRiGL3sYwCn7/s640/blogger-image--1981118407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyFbG9SZZkKFSU6Bgv5A_OK9A2dSbr_aVGz7m7quVpWqR_K6mW8ZRZtGUux2fxj_LqT-Vyb6olgEA459-FJ5y4Y29zEiRYMnZO1tILVSrPt1175uyxrhMQ1LvokrAiblbXRiGL3sYwCn7/s640/blogger-image--1981118407.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He said he did this so no one else would get in our picture. What am I going to do with this kid?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">From there we went to Falls Park to see the city's namesake. It was rainy and cold but so worth it! Absolutely incredible natural beauty.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqkwtio-CXSJIRspFbIXFiRlYHMUDcs-fNZPOEmCE-WLjY67PSLUEAqVr7_r1jpOLgoW4pthbNz6iymNNvDR-7HfYAueCfWaGjuMuIPDtYpUEip2u6FkX1h78x03EBqMeuiflv97s2sN45/s640/blogger-image-708290075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqkwtio-CXSJIRspFbIXFiRlYHMUDcs-fNZPOEmCE-WLjY67PSLUEAqVr7_r1jpOLgoW4pthbNz6iymNNvDR-7HfYAueCfWaGjuMuIPDtYpUEip2u6FkX1h78x03EBqMeuiflv97s2sN45/s640/blogger-image-708290075.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtHpKaE2m-U_cJMWsIJFEr8vW8hVatEh3TiTzWQW1ixl8OEQl6SUBTHq0L_pjDs_gDTkLBk08I6rAKLQWrVC_JO_fHA5T05qQ1gIGassVH27K8NtWcsHTWyT1sq8tgCKBTrf0_WXAV7pc2/s640/blogger-image--536428019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtHpKaE2m-U_cJMWsIJFEr8vW8hVatEh3TiTzWQW1ixl8OEQl6SUBTHq0L_pjDs_gDTkLBk08I6rAKLQWrVC_JO_fHA5T05qQ1gIGassVH27K8NtWcsHTWyT1sq8tgCKBTrf0_WXAV7pc2/s640/blogger-image--536428019.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7ea5nqasfrY-YB3x0hsVqAV0D7sKgATBlxn7MXuF1o6d2jWmAo2FRcg_j1GMk75UCq8-fi6m46vl4cWrknts0knkyKP0TUKLfQ-6jv8UU85EmhNQMXvcwk5_rcZ6hKQDemx3aB29uxQx/s640/blogger-image--1882911384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7ea5nqasfrY-YB3x0hsVqAV0D7sKgATBlxn7MXuF1o6d2jWmAo2FRcg_j1GMk75UCq8-fi6m46vl4cWrknts0knkyKP0TUKLfQ-6jv8UU85EmhNQMXvcwk5_rcZ6hKQDemx3aB29uxQx/s640/blogger-image--1882911384.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb3C1XDR2NkHCFexn_ixUgmFqQJsTtUxsAXHa7uIadOBoUYSIr9Kfn36g3J8Dg_foCeGi1UAX5TlZhIKD88Nyk9KLoHN6BAYlXM4k_KYSZmSU5F0klyJjCYTpp1CW4DkeekjJ2i8rFuiZ0/s640/blogger-image--980983029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb3C1XDR2NkHCFexn_ixUgmFqQJsTtUxsAXHa7uIadOBoUYSIr9Kfn36g3J8Dg_foCeGi1UAX5TlZhIKD88Nyk9KLoHN6BAYlXM4k_KYSZmSU5F0klyJjCYTpp1CW4DkeekjJ2i8rFuiZ0/s640/blogger-image--980983029.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>And then because it was rainy and we ate a light lunch, we got our geriatrics on and ate a 4:00 dinner at the cutest little diner downtown.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEeUDVDOYrpcFFNOf2NgZFBTS10oErP_gN_-90-udfABK9-BaB021gXbwpfkCAS6JfGrcHv8wIrTcjEqFThMNUnNUI-2HOBg59nTySRPz6G2e3CheIxnimZkUIXa7Frwi4s-Zbkxantqw3/s640/blogger-image--584985380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEeUDVDOYrpcFFNOf2NgZFBTS10oErP_gN_-90-udfABK9-BaB021gXbwpfkCAS6JfGrcHv8wIrTcjEqFThMNUnNUI-2HOBg59nTySRPz6G2e3CheIxnimZkUIXa7Frwi4s-Zbkxantqw3/s640/blogger-image--584985380.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A S'mores milkshake put the cherry on top.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclAKRocMl7Mjos3jcfPJfaL2D4wTrU0FquHOZU5qnUcUIrNmj-Jklq8_tN3My57S-P_yAQZRUENPChURSx7QVeeg8L_C5UT1xI5rFMxJUzsRuUcyMFcvSovQEpgmQywvaGL_Xz3ZQ_VW1/s640/blogger-image--1026946003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclAKRocMl7Mjos3jcfPJfaL2D4wTrU0FquHOZU5qnUcUIrNmj-Jklq8_tN3My57S-P_yAQZRUENPChURSx7QVeeg8L_C5UT1xI5rFMxJUzsRuUcyMFcvSovQEpgmQywvaGL_Xz3ZQ_VW1/s640/blogger-image--1026946003.jpg"></a></div><br></div>And then back to the hotel for swimming and tantrums and tears and fighting and "was this all a mistake?!" and early bedtimes... Thankful for melatonin and that God's grace is new every morning. </div></div></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-56987533639764680002015-05-24T18:25:00.001-07:002015-05-24T18:25:00.600-07:00Road Trip Diaries, Chapter One<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Life on staff with Cru brings many abnormalities, but one of the most abnormal aspects of our lives is packing up our family every summer and leaving home to lead students and other staff at a summer project. While leaving home gets harder every time, the destination of Jackson Hole, Wyoming makes the bitter taste sweet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And call us crazy (because as I'm writing this, I've decided that we are), but we love a good road trip and have chosen to drive cross-country for our fifth summer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPxQhAJBKhjInaO7U59AY81lxYFFmLnWnHdsYOrvUxfUChM5MRTyugYZz2W4n6KicCoXfDDzmq4A9fBjtcWl7ixFfeAKO72MTFd4vFKhh1FqvNRuX2qlEu_HASMWRX4-JHoCUc2NB6Q6O/s640/blogger-image--2143447695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPxQhAJBKhjInaO7U59AY81lxYFFmLnWnHdsYOrvUxfUChM5MRTyugYZz2W4n6KicCoXfDDzmq4A9fBjtcWl7ixFfeAKO72MTFd4vFKhh1FqvNRuX2qlEu_HASMWRX4-JHoCUc2NB6Q6O/s640/blogger-image--2143447695.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Andrew says I started packing in April, and he may be right, but who can blame me when I live with little ones who challenge my one step forward with two back.</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bXxueJtvE8u_IF5HeTZkuP3bVJtg8lwTqL43s2MUdAIh1F8I5TPVlWu_ACIdE2uItXiepc9Vep5GW8L_O3n4AK-lD4KDV9T-f4Ww9srE-5XvsFjYPfX4sfmPj7a0iBjdrFAQ2KZFZqHc/s640/blogger-image-508303180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bXxueJtvE8u_IF5HeTZkuP3bVJtg8lwTqL43s2MUdAIh1F8I5TPVlWu_ACIdE2uItXiepc9Vep5GW8L_O3n4AK-lD4KDV9T-f4Ww9srE-5XvsFjYPfX4sfmPj7a0iBjdrFAQ2KZFZqHc/s640/blogger-image-508303180.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We are no strangers to the road, and this westward journey really is a favorite for us. Counting the trips back, we are on our eleventh cross-country trip... But our first with two children. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Our first leg was from Mississippi to my hometown in Kentucky, with a pitstop in Florence, Alabama to visit with Andrew's grandparents. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Wilson got carsick for the second time in his life. Thankfully I looked back (because he stopped talking... Which is a good cue that something is wrong) and saw a pale face in time to grab a bag. We also had to make a couple stops for some roadside discipline because W is very into trying to be in charge these days.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Y8DzXbSUwc6ktRLV9u5D7L_ivg_oAdN6xUJDy_HlQHKTfbxZSlr7xP4515tmOdD_8SDfH6UoF85mZKr_wMlZ2fVLqwl8VxO_Z5HLXWz7uMUZE0oK-R6ER-hr1dp2wBhH_8NU0PdSRVsK/s640/blogger-image--476972013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Y8DzXbSUwc6ktRLV9u5D7L_ivg_oAdN6xUJDy_HlQHKTfbxZSlr7xP4515tmOdD_8SDfH6UoF85mZKr_wMlZ2fVLqwl8VxO_Z5HLXWz7uMUZE0oK-R6ER-hr1dp2wBhH_8NU0PdSRVsK/s640/blogger-image--476972013.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Charlie is mostly a rockstar except his car naps have been very, very short.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8j4uR0MbkFKcrPUQZ7oy1D62JjxeStkv-kkQPzwepKoTTjkPfViy9DIMgh-nR3uFW-NHFCZjOP2VTHgXpTb0lttUfEcX3mTpcBGKnYFYCaoxkqfO-rJDfJEiBFhph6McMbLlVOmt4dgFX/s640/blogger-image--389700082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8j4uR0MbkFKcrPUQZ7oy1D62JjxeStkv-kkQPzwepKoTTjkPfViy9DIMgh-nR3uFW-NHFCZjOP2VTHgXpTb0lttUfEcX3mTpcBGKnYFYCaoxkqfO-rJDfJEiBFhph6McMbLlVOmt4dgFX/s640/blogger-image--389700082.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Stopping in Florence was so worth it. Grandaddy Al and Granny bring us so much joy and they are two of the the many reasons I'm so glad I married into Andrew's family. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEispESbCATpLXWdEgpsxr9hAXmQmSoTN2hz5sbMyYXP0HeZHIFyXH-AU-P3IXW9eX5qoHPGWj9eaTYOdMT4-iAj_9Q039jMziONapshpj7va0HqLaBQFGwnwf0jwAEZ8uDSX_r0y3UKTsVF/s640/blogger-image--1914777049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEispESbCATpLXWdEgpsxr9hAXmQmSoTN2hz5sbMyYXP0HeZHIFyXH-AU-P3IXW9eX5qoHPGWj9eaTYOdMT4-iAj_9Q039jMziONapshpj7va0HqLaBQFGwnwf0jwAEZ8uDSX_r0y3UKTsVF/s640/blogger-image--1914777049.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOI2nqSbURqMtdLBjM5zu5Qu5bZhpASoW1J2_HfubkwGHFUIQD0jvz2e4IX2l7KOkborCHxYUKQEr0uktaHX_luy4T2N9j20_ryHHwDsJYPZ0AdhULhz2aEFD9srT5RcaEhMCpuD9jrGF/s640/blogger-image-1707515770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpOI2nqSbURqMtdLBjM5zu5Qu5bZhpASoW1J2_HfubkwGHFUIQD0jvz2e4IX2l7KOkborCHxYUKQEr0uktaHX_luy4T2N9j20_ryHHwDsJYPZ0AdhULhz2aEFD9srT5RcaEhMCpuD9jrGF/s640/blogger-image-1707515770.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">From there we drove to our first destination- Murray, Kentucky! We were greeted by a chorus of cicadas and I'm sure you can imagine how Wilson felt about a yard full of new bugs to catch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKh0bgeLNWS59owVtLTYGXn_8UUTsCkK5HHamOnyAsyt81cdq_kBP0op8j_x8YvvbsEnibQG4hhfE6lm05LOA6XipDiQIZrjpaoOXV0grdJmPXZlI9kvHqu1RyisBJ-UjRcb93a-oxMPlc/s640/blogger-image-1940578567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKh0bgeLNWS59owVtLTYGXn_8UUTsCkK5HHamOnyAsyt81cdq_kBP0op8j_x8YvvbsEnibQG4hhfE6lm05LOA6XipDiQIZrjpaoOXV0grdJmPXZlI9kvHqu1RyisBJ-UjRcb93a-oxMPlc/s640/blogger-image-1940578567.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We stayed for two nights, so we had all day on Friday to swing and visit and grill hamburgers and front porch sit and walk to get sno-cones...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu73mcuESe1sMWatj76Ri2NdNcJia5hAfrlCt8jIHMAjtY1s2MgkYj9XSos8C8ZysPmtw2nYgM66An2ZJfkzIdHfUV6HkDNikIYyXaE7E-A43sXJEC01BsqiZ4Cbw0L5sO1SZNTY8NiTvX/s640/blogger-image--1501782928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu73mcuESe1sMWatj76Ri2NdNcJia5hAfrlCt8jIHMAjtY1s2MgkYj9XSos8C8ZysPmtw2nYgM66An2ZJfkzIdHfUV6HkDNikIYyXaE7E-A43sXJEC01BsqiZ4Cbw0L5sO1SZNTY8NiTvX/s640/blogger-image--1501782928.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMpt8n_p8KMpRKTpjHrNIGyCc041knf6MFWnHNbmUMvN8P2p9AQ8DAShQqMEHodk7K89xEmbXlOW75boZwWdsQoQTIQhoSRj8gOsi7c8yrjLxor1MyFOwaZ9wueW7uzlePLfqaeP40CNS/s640/blogger-image-1763683900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMpt8n_p8KMpRKTpjHrNIGyCc041knf6MFWnHNbmUMvN8P2p9AQ8DAShQqMEHodk7K89xEmbXlOW75boZwWdsQoQTIQhoSRj8gOsi7c8yrjLxor1MyFOwaZ9wueW7uzlePLfqaeP40CNS/s640/blogger-image-1763683900.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zhm2FNxZC84mHoHCk0Nh8wa6rRqs4kuPPma9bq9QHcoek8D42naslDc3YIbvrP1BpztB42qAUWk-N1-hWDEDBltp3IzNcOREsERpXtio7M_5yK-o31Ity3LEV4XnRh0i6iFFbIZyiOjG/s640/blogger-image-221569350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3zhm2FNxZC84mHoHCk0Nh8wa6rRqs4kuPPma9bq9QHcoek8D42naslDc3YIbvrP1BpztB42qAUWk-N1-hWDEDBltp3IzNcOREsERpXtio7M_5yK-o31Ity3LEV4XnRh0i6iFFbIZyiOjG/s640/blogger-image-221569350.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Both of my grandmothers came for a visit (sadly both grandfathers were feeling under the weather), and they showered us and the boys with love and kisses. It's hard to live far from home for so many reasons, but these two precious grandmothers are at the top of that list.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge1XZFWMhoerqUB1VsthYbQ40pRbhiUS4pVgEl2NW0HHRfY8kk0X2Le9pNA2lt8CkjNM-TJvGSwzmdThDsF7bQDUaBYYOK4C7yrJ0LF1pJ9Y7vzSfOxPr1uOVuv5OfD_r6r2WFZYImbPRS/s640/blogger-image--431982087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge1XZFWMhoerqUB1VsthYbQ40pRbhiUS4pVgEl2NW0HHRfY8kk0X2Le9pNA2lt8CkjNM-TJvGSwzmdThDsF7bQDUaBYYOK4C7yrJ0LF1pJ9Y7vzSfOxPr1uOVuv5OfD_r6r2WFZYImbPRS/s640/blogger-image--431982087.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggrsdmyH38qF3E3JUO0dYBJ8djLRxnLPjsOEX2CMESH6DlC1bkpXxDgh62MZhOnX2oHrMxdkSAr0qiF81OtjIwEy3uarxlHZzZ_p303ClP56riZ4FABoPp31A5hvQVHO5UrWrkq0uGqbgg/s640/blogger-image--1386090285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggrsdmyH38qF3E3JUO0dYBJ8djLRxnLPjsOEX2CMESH6DlC1bkpXxDgh62MZhOnX2oHrMxdkSAr0qiF81OtjIwEy3uarxlHZzZ_p303ClP56riZ4FABoPp31A5hvQVHO5UrWrkq0uGqbgg/s640/blogger-image--1386090285.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Some fresh air and Kentucky bluegrass under our feet were just what we needed to give us launch for the rest of the trip.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQC70DAg5mdpm5bY1Q6vo5hvVUUdlziWbm4jKo32eoObjK8CjnvIQ2rjLWZ77WerlAjyAXstq6mZR202qr14dfguMBwkJ6pt7WZcMulryK9JtmS12tvhqV2l_m4fJV0FdXUybfAMv8GWzq/s640/blogger-image--2093968938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQC70DAg5mdpm5bY1Q6vo5hvVUUdlziWbm4jKo32eoObjK8CjnvIQ2rjLWZ77WerlAjyAXstq6mZR202qr14dfguMBwkJ6pt7WZcMulryK9JtmS12tvhqV2l_m4fJV0FdXUybfAMv8GWzq/s640/blogger-image--2093968938.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaL4WNHAVzyhwZ0klwx-mgNw1OFkPtfu2os5rRJnasuc-VVI23899liXfk1DkXiTj3hlziTIg0JDAP-zS_HWa_v7lR7sM4gH5s5V_-NeceWKmrpb453EaLaSfRACCENLwGLFT1gT-NS85H/s640/blogger-image--1124584554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaL4WNHAVzyhwZ0klwx-mgNw1OFkPtfu2os5rRJnasuc-VVI23899liXfk1DkXiTj3hlziTIg0JDAP-zS_HWa_v7lR7sM4gH5s5V_-NeceWKmrpb453EaLaSfRACCENLwGLFT1gT-NS85H/s640/blogger-image--1124584554.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Also, I'm hopeful that the next time I see my sister she'll be holding her baby! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGWOdytYb10YpHv-BUdnf_hmr3HuvMujKg-1hdGBN4L-8AwOGBJTGHIl4Iu16lXyoxhnmvkiZsKU00UfhJgI3EDDFsbbSid8qoqGqqNR5dwXqZnTSOrog-Ft-gQvPtAByvmLCyHi75cS4/s640/blogger-image-571831361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGWOdytYb10YpHv-BUdnf_hmr3HuvMujKg-1hdGBN4L-8AwOGBJTGHIl4Iu16lXyoxhnmvkiZsKU00UfhJgI3EDDFsbbSid8qoqGqqNR5dwXqZnTSOrog-Ft-gQvPtAByvmLCyHi75cS4/s640/blogger-image-571831361.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiok-TdF0ri8uqu9HcotmiO_CIcOo0BAuf-rY95_e_cGgg1xCGA_CmX2_7Cbk9oHmMod0weDREd5-87OXwLNU5oohqsdDPOnMgxOPaW6bQc0nzJswE5YGzG8i2RWYE6njpuJo7dyX9-fSTW/s640/blogger-image-331335681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiok-TdF0ri8uqu9HcotmiO_CIcOo0BAuf-rY95_e_cGgg1xCGA_CmX2_7Cbk9oHmMod0weDREd5-87OXwLNU5oohqsdDPOnMgxOPaW6bQc0nzJswE5YGzG8i2RWYE6njpuJo7dyX9-fSTW/s640/blogger-image-331335681.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Thanks, family, for loving us so well and sending us on our way west!</div></div></div></div></div>A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-26659856976119208072015-05-19T11:15:00.000-07:002015-05-19T11:15:11.654-07:00Easter, 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Somewhere around Easter, Wilson asked me "Is God in heaven because He died?"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVg6g6qHG9vSJysm2CU02ddlVxqTSe71PzWPNCslvWydhVI1RsEaF-c3X1nkb5qhOwQhaKzBzr6suh1LGypD2hj6foua5o53UCjHoAzRde8rRpOQnOF9D7urJQJlltewNqwyY3qyyrMnG/s1600/DSC_0004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVg6g6qHG9vSJysm2CU02ddlVxqTSe71PzWPNCslvWydhVI1RsEaF-c3X1nkb5qhOwQhaKzBzr6suh1LGypD2hj6foua5o53UCjHoAzRde8rRpOQnOF9D7urJQJlltewNqwyY3qyyrMnG/s640/DSC_0004.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I laughed... and then something stifled my laugh and I had to choke back some tears. Because no, Little Man, He is not in Heaven because He died. He is the <i>maker</i> of Heaven and Earth. He spoke it into existence.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmo25QodxoOu4QjN1V31bvtAjiOga2H9DecjEPS2N2bLbxH9iV3bYkx-AA2tm0qhAgQ41bPFJPstX-tR3o2GaAlQ8lJmz5IoJJFn8xpkK73nm2B1OUHvGpt2TSpQRhQUvhWkLmPD5X7ma/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmo25QodxoOu4QjN1V31bvtAjiOga2H9DecjEPS2N2bLbxH9iV3bYkx-AA2tm0qhAgQ41bPFJPstX-tR3o2GaAlQ8lJmz5IoJJFn8xpkK73nm2B1OUHvGpt2TSpQRhQUvhWkLmPD5X7ma/s640/DSC_0025.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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But He did die. Jesus, Son of God, united with God the Father, came to rescue this broken world and broken people by being broken Himself. A perfect life, an atoning death... for you, for me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ozz51DZ53T3Djdeu6uMBnaLS24vzSNw05isftuMGkNIAK8gQIYueTvzVIhZXF2Dg0lcKs2mo9xXvvX7ybtx6RHWm1yEilaCEDK_jMNzVXyTg5MSe1L1XIpAVR0v-rK9J851Q53Kp7exb/s1600/DSC_0275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ozz51DZ53T3Djdeu6uMBnaLS24vzSNw05isftuMGkNIAK8gQIYueTvzVIhZXF2Dg0lcKs2mo9xXvvX7ybtx6RHWm1yEilaCEDK_jMNzVXyTg5MSe1L1XIpAVR0v-rK9J851Q53Kp7exb/s640/DSC_0275.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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But Jesus did not enter Heaven as a resting place like we will someday, He was the Word that caused it to be. He was there at its "In the beginning...". No, Jesus is not dead. He conquered death and cleared the path to get us Home safely, too.</div>
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<i>Death in vain forbids His rise. Allelulia! Christ has opened Paradise. Allelulia!</i></div>
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We had a few Easter egg hunts this year, but one of our favorites is always the one a family from our church puts on for all of the children. So generous and so.much.fun.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love how my boys are squinting the exact same way in this pic.</td></tr>
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We decided to take a day trip to the Mississippi coast after church on Easter Sunday, so I loaded up the boys' Easter baskets with some needed beach accessories (Happy Easter, Charlie, here is some sunscreen! Ha!) <i>and </i>our favorite kids' CDs: Randall Goodman's Slugs and Bugs. We love all of them but right now we are <i>really</i> <i>loving </i>"Sing the Bible"...several of the songs have brought me to tears.</div>
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Wilson was pretty excited about a Spider Man egg filled with candy.</div>
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Charlie said, "You got me grass?! Thank you thank you!"<br />
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We got all dolled up and took some pictures before church... good thing, because Charlie had a blow-out all over this outfit once we arrived.<br />
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The beach was cold and windy and Charlie tried to eat sand the whole time BUT Wilson thought it was the best day ever, and I'm pretty sure that's what matters.</div>
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<br />A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-59094058912962400182015-03-13T22:16:00.000-07:002015-03-13T22:16:33.914-07:00What to do with those who grieveI have a lump in my throat as I write this... mostly because I have terribly, irrevocably failed at this with people that I love dearly. I usually run from grief in my life and in the lives of others, but in these last couple of years the Lord has kindly blocked the way and gently pushed my shoulders down to sit with others as they have grieved. It's been through this process (mostly through my missteps and failures) that I've learned a little bit about how to walk with someone through grief. I've also learned, from being an audience to their life, about how we as a culture (remember-- I'm the chief of sinners) just do not know how to interact with those in sorrow. So with that I humbly give you -- what to do with those who grieve...<br />
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<b><i>Mourn with them</i></b><br />
At the beginning, those who are grieving a loss are sitting on the sidelines of a <i>very </i>loud marching band. The clanging grief and trumpeting loneliness and rat-a-tat-tatting of questions is drowning out <i>every.single.</i> word of advice you are trying to give them. It's really best just to sit down beside of them, listen to the noise, and mourn with them. We don't mourn because we don't feel and we don't feel because we don't stop talking and just linger. Sit down with them and taste the sadness. Ask them how they are feeling. This absolutely means laying down your life and your schedule and your comfort-zone, but isn't that what love is?<br />
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<i><b>Don't tell them why you think this happened to them</b></i><br />
Oh, I know this is so hard because we so badly want to give things rhyme and reason.<br />
"Maybe you didn't get that job because there is something else better for you." <br />"You'll get pregnant again soon with the baby that you are supposed to have." <br />"Sometimes when we make an idol out of things, God has to take them away."<br />Can we all just agree that we are not God and therefore really have <i>no </i>clue about the intricate, wise and good web that He is weaving? Sure, we might have a guess sometimes at the whats and whys of His good plans, but it's a sting to the heart of the griever that you would have more of an inside scoop about their lives than they do. </div>
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<b><i>Let them ask hard questions</i></b><br />
If you are walking with a Christian through grief, you may be taken aback by some really hard questions they are asking: <i>Is God really good? Why do the evil not suffer like me? Is there really any meaning in life? Is there a God?</i> The easiest and most popular way out of engaging these questions is to say something like, "You don't <i>really </i>mean that!" I think we don't like to allow people to ask these hard questions because we don't want to admit that we've asked them too. And we don't want to admit that we've asked them too because we don't believe that Christians could <i>possibly </i>even entertain these hard questions. But let me tell you something- the askers of these questions do really mean them. And you do, too, when you ask. The Psalms alone do a good job at debunking the myth that Christians can't ask hard questions because they are chock-full of them. And if the Psalms teach us how to pray then what God is telling us is to bring our hard questions to Him.... He is big enough and safe enough for us to grasp around for answers. In fact, it is much safer and more productive to ask these questions in prayer than to hide them in our hearts and let them fester. Don't discourage the griever from asking these questions, dialogue with them about it (this is always good for my faith, as they are asking questions that I might have been too prideful to ask), and ultimately encourage them to ask them in prayer. </div>
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<b><i>Pray with and for them</i></b><br />
This seems trite and expected, but do you know the weight of prayer? A chance to come before the Healer and Redeemer on behalf of your hurting friend. Here, because of Jesus and the torn veil, we have access to ask for comfort, restoration, healing, things that seem <i>unable </i>to happen to the One who is able to do far more abundantly than all we could ask or think. As much and as often as you can, pray with them. Sometimes they will feel so feeble and disoriented with their relationship with God that you will have the privilege of literally taking their hand and leading them into the presence of a God who cares about them. Too often, I try to be their only counselor when their true need is to be led to the Mighty Counselor... in whose hands I can trust them more than my own.<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Stay with them for the long-haul</i><br />If you have been through grief of any kind, and we all have, then you know that there is a period of time in which your grief is almost glamorous to be a part of. In the beginning you will have more text messages and flowers and visitors and casseroles than you know what to do with. And then, one day, people stop asking how you are doing. One day, people avoid eye contact with you because they don't have the time to talk. One day, people <i>just forget </i>about this grief and loss that still follows you around like a shadow every day. We can love those who are grieving well by walking slowly with them, in the day to day, as others spring in and out of their lives. This doesn't mean a fanfare of casseroles every week but it does mean that letting them talk about their pain, yes even a <i>year </i>later, doesn't have a time limit.<br />
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<b><i>Speak truth and point to Jesus</i></b><br />
Speaking truth is last on the list for a reason. If a starving child came to you asking for food, would you first talk to him about how good God is and how God wants to take care of his needs? You would of course, I presume, first <i>feed </i>the child and meet his immediate physical needs before giving a sermon on the God who provides. In the same way, those who are grieving have legitimate needs to be heard, known, comforted, loved before they even have the ability to hear truth. Of course, all of the above should be seasoned with the gospel. We can mourn with others because we have an Elder Brother who is a Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief. We don't try to tell them the whys because we know Jesus is the Author and perfecter of their faith, not us. We let them ask hard questions because Jesus asked the hardest question, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" and because of His momentary abandonment we can <i>never </i>be abandoned. We can pray with them because we have a mediator in Jesus who is standing at the right hand of the Father pleading with Him on our behalf. We can have the strength to stay with them for the long-haul because we have a Jesus who never grows weary of our troubles.<br /><br />I want to be better at loving my sisters and brothers in their grief. Would you join me?</div>
A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-54358306794752484102015-03-01T19:33:00.000-08:002015-03-01T19:33:50.564-08:00January<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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At the beginning of 2014, I would tell people "I think this is going to be a sabbatical year for us." 2012 and 2013 were full of really heavy, really hard things for our family and something in me just wanted to believe that God would give us a year of rest. </div>
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And I think He did. Certainly no space and time on earth is without heartache or toil since the Garden of Eden... But I think we experienced more feast than famine this year and for that we are thankful. God is good in both, you know. </div>
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Hello, January! Hello, 2015!</div>
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We slumbered into 2015 in a hotel in Destin at our Christmas Conference with Crusade. Charlie woke me up at 11:55 to eat. I turned on the TV, watched the ball drop, and nudged Andrew awake to get my first kiss of the new year. It felt like a very appropriate first line of 2015... All of us sleepy-eyed and away from home but very happily together.</div>
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My baby is six months old now. Half a year of no sleep but honey-dripping sweetness. I am Charlie-obsessed. </div>
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All the tricks came out this month-- more rolling and sitting up and grabbing our face with both of his hands for a slobbery open-mouthed kiss when we ask. Well, when me or Wilson ask. He is not a fan of Andrew's stubble and does a fake out, turning his head away right before his lips touch Daddy's face. He's kind of hysterical. </div>
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He is super-attached to mama and I am loving it. Wilson would reach out for anyone to hold him, so when Charlie is in someone else's arms reaching out for me with a quivering lip you better believe I grab that boy and <i>totally </i>encourage all of this separation anxiety. I have it too, Littlest Man.</div>
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Last night he slept from 10-2 and can you gauge where we are with sleep if I tell you that that was amazing? Four hours of uninterrupted sleep and it's a good night. That's not sarcasm... I mean, really, it was a <i>good </i>night<i>.</i></div>
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The boys love each other dearly and I'm trying to soak all of that in before the inevitable day they start fighting over toys. Sometimes Wilson puts on headphones when Charlie cries, but mostly they are eachothers' biggest fan.</div>
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Andrew went out of town for a conference this month and I spent four days alone with the two boys for the first time. There was a lot of Netflix and not <strike>many </strike> any baths, but we clearly survived and my bond with the boys is stronger because of it. </div>
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Also, don't ever leave us again Andrew. </div>
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But really, he's the best. His Christmas present to me this year was weekly piano lessons, which I started this month. It was the most thoughtful gift and I am loving having a creative outlet in my life. </div>
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Actually everyone is benefiting from me having a hobby because when Mommy is happy...</div>
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Charlie is eating some purées now. His first was green beans... followed by blueberries, apples, and sweet potatoes. No picky eater yet. Hot, cold, veggies, fruits... just get it in my mouth, Mama!</div>
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We had several pretty significant events this month starting with Charlie's baptism...</div>
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And then we traveled to Mobile to surprise Andrew's dad who received the Lifetime Achievement Award for his work in the horticulture industry. It was so special to see him so rightfully honored. I'm thankful to be in his family and <i>very </i>thankful that he raised such a hardworking son who carries on this legacy of excellence and integrity. </div>
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From Mobile we traveled north to Florence and got to introduce Charlie to his great grandparents (Andrew's maternal grandparents). We love time with Granny and Grandaddy Al and they are always such precious hosts to us. </div>
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And northward we continued to Kentucky... to shower my sister who is going to be a MOM!! I can't even believe it, but then again I can, because she is absolutely the mother of the two of us. She and Kody are adopting our little sack of sugary sweetness and are just waiting to be matched. My heart is about to burst with love for this little one and I can't wait to watch Allie hold her own baby... and then quickly snatch him/her out of her arms to bathe them in kisses (because she has totally done that to me with my little ones... we are all about baby snatching in this family).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrogIPo1Z8uXFnX7gze4WR2Ns7MfiDQXZ1BgdUHT0OZNvM_Iudm3Ng8spw-ecCjqdsRcWa-48LNM-His-w94TdyX6nXb1T71lHn9qmE34OVWX4uVEzyFCl1pEYXaywgA-ZejdSr2d7YA3/s640/blogger-image-763354770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrogIPo1Z8uXFnX7gze4WR2Ns7MfiDQXZ1BgdUHT0OZNvM_Iudm3Ng8spw-ecCjqdsRcWa-48LNM-His-w94TdyX6nXb1T71lHn9qmE34OVWX4uVEzyFCl1pEYXaywgA-ZejdSr2d7YA3/s640/blogger-image-763354770.jpg" /></a></div>
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January, your days are marked and numbered as ones that shout of a loving Father. Hallelujah, Amen.A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4152609091793341605.post-29541495633982487292015-01-26T11:55:00.001-08:002015-01-26T12:32:45.638-08:00Charlie's baptism<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJeafWcpFy3mVWFmgrbFZtYzIbt6GdaJjasurWNKPOmc9Zj452Aleq0K24UbUbs7M_yGoebvC17mz_0agqR2pcYB57NON6QIniHWB2rjHz9CLM45oQ_tHPhDmkc94uttaM9akYSkaHl9LV/s640/blogger-image-1598204380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJeafWcpFy3mVWFmgrbFZtYzIbt6GdaJjasurWNKPOmc9Zj452Aleq0K24UbUbs7M_yGoebvC17mz_0agqR2pcYB57NON6QIniHWB2rjHz9CLM45oQ_tHPhDmkc94uttaM9akYSkaHl9LV/s640/blogger-image-1598204380.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Charlie, when I was younger, I knew a man who would not sing Jesus Loves Me to his children... Because they weren't yet converted and how was anyone to know if Jesus loved them? Because, said he, they needed to know first that they were God's enemy before they could understand a need for Jesus. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It broke my heart then and it still does today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp4OwBi3hculQ7cXmefyTwk1oLUiGygdc3FK9P1uwW3LWObZzr3kwpgkrO3Yn2Bz-a3-y1pmFaD-Xp5hydfBnRSbjNsQMMN485mOMKmo8AZ7rXXOsRprBOb8uxv2-auXycTZ2bQ2GiBkWk/s640/blogger-image--1793836085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp4OwBi3hculQ7cXmefyTwk1oLUiGygdc3FK9P1uwW3LWObZzr3kwpgkrO3Yn2Bz-a3-y1pmFaD-Xp5hydfBnRSbjNsQMMN485mOMKmo8AZ7rXXOsRprBOb8uxv2-auXycTZ2bQ2GiBkWk/s640/blogger-image--1793836085.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Charlie, this is what I want you to know. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> Your Mommy and Daddy were once like sheep who had gone astray. We thought we could find our own good fields of grass. We trusted ourselves to find our own fresh water. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjQ_rF1fL8i2_zfB6Y93v_qVuulIxT4GhMv8jxIM8Z0xBj_OHEsxs1YFne2d7VoHdP1CzQBIi_nWFU2530J3UbC7v1vDQyFimIbMDWNZxPoQXpdxHZ_W2u_sWY79BhGt-rpN4xTbiQUXh/s640/blogger-image-1341224270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjQ_rF1fL8i2_zfB6Y93v_qVuulIxT4GhMv8jxIM8Z0xBj_OHEsxs1YFne2d7VoHdP1CzQBIi_nWFU2530J3UbC7v1vDQyFimIbMDWNZxPoQXpdxHZ_W2u_sWY79BhGt-rpN4xTbiQUXh/s640/blogger-image-1341224270.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">But Charlie, sheep are silly animals, and we are like them. We pick grass that makes us sick and water that leaves us thirsty. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmFMaiqSYHrxS13lnHbLES2GaLTCCwOq5dcuxxfm3ys3t7eAXwsx-bM9_ovk9CXVww9BbegrzbGO2g5AzPsrtKMFbVxz5F08DhxP9aGvBUN4oE9flKONA0wx9Zjw-0E19pEascd9kZkEU/s640/blogger-image--1909446369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmFMaiqSYHrxS13lnHbLES2GaLTCCwOq5dcuxxfm3ys3t7eAXwsx-bM9_ovk9CXVww9BbegrzbGO2g5AzPsrtKMFbVxz5F08DhxP9aGvBUN4oE9flKONA0wx9Zjw-0E19pEascd9kZkEU/s640/blogger-image--1909446369.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">We were, indeed, enemies of God. But one day, the Good Shepherd called us by name into his fold. He made a way for us to move from enemies to friends; orphans to sons and daughters. And here we have been ever since--eating the good grass and drinking the good water and being cared for by Jesus himself... Who knows the longings of our hearts even before we can give them words.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jFgSvXsQTXUTOM0HDzbv8LK4o_Tw0ufyZkzxrm0wxqKVvZt867F-fAcnI6f3Xyp0zT6iIGhx9NCqwIjmPETbFpA6oQfLJyG662F9XJrTaVI3DXP-62BjwpnvJEUWqX9vK6cAJhkdrVLg/s640/blogger-image--184276790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jFgSvXsQTXUTOM0HDzbv8LK4o_Tw0ufyZkzxrm0wxqKVvZt867F-fAcnI6f3Xyp0zT6iIGhx9NCqwIjmPETbFpA6oQfLJyG662F9XJrTaVI3DXP-62BjwpnvJEUWqX9vK6cAJhkdrVLg/s640/blogger-image--184276790.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">And because we are here, you and your brother are here too. Sometimes your Daddy and I still make the mistake of eating the grass that leaves us wanting and the water that births thirst... But now, in this pasture, we don't have to. And this grace upon grace that The Good Shepherd offers us-- we get to bring it home to you.</span></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYe7BSOe1t6YkfeCLvh9xv85DQIKrxsBjBllspyCgqy1rCzcPpqk_qB5oqrrUveSncUEpar_laQYgmk_H1S0p4KPXzS0xF6_PeTldCV2PsttCjZbYlXun2WMFcEN2S-6ZnVmaFhhBXApk/s640/blogger-image-85241916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYe7BSOe1t6YkfeCLvh9xv85DQIKrxsBjBllspyCgqy1rCzcPpqk_qB5oqrrUveSncUEpar_laQYgmk_H1S0p4KPXzS0xF6_PeTldCV2PsttCjZbYlXun2WMFcEN2S-6ZnVmaFhhBXApk/s640/blogger-image-85241916.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Oh, Charlie, what mercy and grace that you get to grow up in the good pasture! You may not know Jesus by name yet, but He walks among us daily. He is taking care of our family.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM-eDsne7DEbeuQHej-i0acHJ4cuO0SD1qCwjSGtG0mrJ4sUocehQsI_vNynJuBDJs7M_5duNS6jZ0THynh8tEqofWgBc9_GtW-t10lLqtaae57RL1oqVkAQp0mGi-GgspZf25X5HGAomG/s640/blogger-image-76816059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM-eDsne7DEbeuQHej-i0acHJ4cuO0SD1qCwjSGtG0mrJ4sUocehQsI_vNynJuBDJs7M_5duNS6jZ0THynh8tEqofWgBc9_GtW-t10lLqtaae57RL1oqVkAQp0mGi-GgspZf25X5HGAomG/s640/blogger-image-76816059.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">One day you will make a decision. You might decide to wander outside of the gates and look for nourishment elsewhere, but I hope you don't ever have to feel what life is like without a Shepherd. What we are praying is that this pasture and this Good Shepherd will be so beautiful to you that you won't even remember making a decision to stay. You will stay because it's good. And you won't even remember when the Shepherd stopped being just your parents' Shepherd and became your own. He will walk beside you, call out your name to follow-- and I pray you drop everything to run to His feet.</span></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv20iKJaiunnt9zXQdGVuVaEOWdAXUcRZouPobcEz1506IqlzXK5kcMUJOyVH1ZSEZ3hoKSHGCNFkmVdR1xyaX7Q2XbZSxMaNzBw_xRWX2Lu76vcdxwBo4url4PIEp-7reiY_XuqTj0QWW/s640/blogger-image-162421397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv20iKJaiunnt9zXQdGVuVaEOWdAXUcRZouPobcEz1506IqlzXK5kcMUJOyVH1ZSEZ3hoKSHGCNFkmVdR1xyaX7Q2XbZSxMaNzBw_xRWX2Lu76vcdxwBo4url4PIEp-7reiY_XuqTj0QWW/s640/blogger-image-162421397.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Because He is good, Charlie.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgaZ5aO73CurrroUMDAkoO_82iQdzhZhhvhhrStfK7TIU5LZVGpwXqIuhXKK1zTkT3DMYNcj36JHuWZQ-8GNGFy5HGK2NJJ-vRvDii6qy2HfGefDAFn6DIuBcP8HWMd9mVjm3EmqU5cEr/s640/blogger-image--991015036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgaZ5aO73CurrroUMDAkoO_82iQdzhZhhvhhrStfK7TIU5LZVGpwXqIuhXKK1zTkT3DMYNcj36JHuWZQ-8GNGFy5HGK2NJJ-vRvDii6qy2HfGefDAFn6DIuBcP8HWMd9mVjm3EmqU5cEr/s640/blogger-image--991015036.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Right now, by your very nature, you believe the lies that you can take care of yourself better than the Good Shepherd can. But we are praying, even as you are still able to sit on my lap, that your eyes and heart will know Truth. That death is life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMOG7i3CcjI_a-yz53dC_8iEpr_jCxV23YCCdZoTsnO3g3JLfKBhoqgR4CENyJ3Vsa2RtrNhQWR7ZHOovv9aWwdgRvYErQzzNWH4905ud6d7T8xqIdNXi9IvCETiiQ15GeDYRLVXVE-1dJ/s640/blogger-image--504841717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMOG7i3CcjI_a-yz53dC_8iEpr_jCxV23YCCdZoTsnO3g3JLfKBhoqgR4CENyJ3Vsa2RtrNhQWR7ZHOovv9aWwdgRvYErQzzNWH4905ud6d7T8xqIdNXi9IvCETiiQ15GeDYRLVXVE-1dJ/s640/blogger-image--504841717.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Charlie, long ago there was a commandment for boys and men to be marked to show that they and their households served the true God. Blood was shed. But now Jesus has shed all of the blood, and He just asks us to let Him wash us. Baptism is a marker that we belong to God and a sign that points to Jesus-- the one who makes us clean. On Sunday you were baptized. Telling the world around us that you live in a household that serves the One True God. And telling you that you are not an outsider. We will never push you outside the gate and tell you find your way in... Charlie dear, sit in our laps and listen to us tell love stories about the Good Shepherd and know that His love and promises are for you, too, if you believe.</div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5CtpFfnqiYdwljtUOJhyzTYSx_PDNcJ2Ubz78UHWpiNZ_DQfKtYJeYrZXIrbtZ1yBAG_oAi6hlXHybfeByd9PiPxZZz0ejfIwBCLCodlysBuqJkE9Qz_zYfDjHuAC8uxXohfa37w9tm0/s640/blogger-image-584876741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5CtpFfnqiYdwljtUOJhyzTYSx_PDNcJ2Ubz78UHWpiNZ_DQfKtYJeYrZXIrbtZ1yBAG_oAi6hlXHybfeByd9PiPxZZz0ejfIwBCLCodlysBuqJkE9Qz_zYfDjHuAC8uxXohfa37w9tm0/s640/blogger-image-584876741.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">As the baptism ended, our pastor carried you down the aisles as the whole church lullabied you with "Jesus Loves Me." I fought back tears because I believe it, Little One. I will sing it to you every day. To Him you belong. We are weak, but He is strong.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5ycUDa82oLv14_XYkpE6HuXLwKiQ5LW7x0FN3tQ8RmlNVBl8YgQSW3DH7uoEEB0zfgjaN74J4cZa92zcCETLbTUEHSv1DkiW6ZSGX-285BxJpxUot2cxWIXPzs2H27kAR_Dps0-BZlOg/s640/blogger-image-1513933645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX5ycUDa82oLv14_XYkpE6HuXLwKiQ5LW7x0FN3tQ8RmlNVBl8YgQSW3DH7uoEEB0zfgjaN74J4cZa92zcCETLbTUEHSv1DkiW6ZSGX-285BxJpxUot2cxWIXPzs2H27kAR_Dps0-BZlOg/s640/blogger-image-1513933645.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span id="en-NKJV-18737" class="text Isa-54-13" style="box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; position: absolute; vertical-align: top; top: 0px; font-weight: bold; display: block; left: -4.4em;">13 </span><i>All your children shall be taught by the <span class="small-caps" style="box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>,</i></span><i><br style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="text Isa-54-13" style="box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; position: relative;">And great shall be the peace of your children.</span></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><i>Isaiah 54:13</i><br></span><div><br></div></div></div>A & E Harwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16947321985158690676noreply@blogger.com0