Some keep the Sabbath going to church;I keep it by staying at home,With a bobolink for a chorister,And an orchard for a dome.Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;I just wear my wings,And instead of tolling the bell for church,Our little sexton sings.God preaches, - a noted clergyman,-And the sermon is never long;So instead of getting to heaven at last,I'm going all along!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
"Some of us are quiet, others LOUD! Some of us like to move fast, and others take their time. I think it's fun that God made us all bears but all special too."
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
I just wrote about my own January Freak Out below. I thought I'd try out a link up. Anyone game? Just write your own post and link it up here! If you don't have a blog...leave a comment! I can cut and paste them into a fresh post and link that up at the end of our link time.
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Friday, January 21, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
- The Lazarus Life by Stephen W. Smith
- Healing Life's Hurts Through Theophostic Prayer
- Codependent No More by Melody Beattie
- Home to Holly Springs by Jan Karon
- The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer
- Pigs in the Parlor by Frank Hammond
- Relentless Generational Blessings by Arthur Burk
- The Heavenly Man by Brother Yun
- Dumbing Us Down by John Gatto
- Power Thoughts by Joyce Meyers
- Craving God e-book by Lysa TerKeurst (free on kindle.)
Saturday, January 15, 2011
It was quite a bit more work than your average 'quick bread' as I made the curd from scratch, squeezed the meyer lemons and had to do some quick thinking because I didn't have my mise-en-place.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
4 When I heard these things, I sat down and wept. For some days I mourned and fasted and prayed before the God of heaven.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Not in Vain by Amy Carmichael- missionary to India.
Not in vain, the tedious toil, On an unresponsive soil,
Travail, tears in secret shed, Over hopes that lay as dead.
All in vain, thy faint heart cries. Not in vain, thy Lord replies:
Nothing is to good to be; Then believe, believe to see.
Did thy labor turn to dust? Suff’ring – did it eat like rust
Till the blade that once was keen, As a blunted tool is seen?
Dust and rust thy life’s reward? Slay the thought; believe thy Lord!
When thy soul is in distress, Think upon His faithfulness.
Though there be not fig nor vine, In thy stall there be no kine,
Flock be cut off from the fold, Not a single lamb be told,
And thy olive berry fall Yielding no sweet oil at all,
Pulse-seed wither in the pod – Still do thou rejoice in God.
But consider, was it vain, All the travail on the plain?
For the bud is on the bough; It is green where thou didst plow.
Listen, tramp of little feet, Call of little lambs that bleat;
Hearken to it. Verily, Nothing is too good to be.