the lighthouse

Surely, your Word searches me out when I am in troubled waters.
Your divine beacon shines through the fog of my disgrace
to give my spirit new hope, new joy, new life.

Your Word, Jesus Christ, is a strong and mighty tower,
a lighthouse that stands strong, steady, and sure amidst troubled waters.
Your voice floats over the waves of my being,
giving strength as it travels until in mighty crescendos
it cascades over the polluted shores of my sinful soul,
cleansing each sin in its wake,
and speaking peace and calm to a troubled sea of thoughts, angsts, and emotions.

I turn and walk towards the sunset leaving each empty shell of remorse
on His shore of forgetfulness.

___________________________________________

Photograph-the Oregon coastline 2001

_____________________________________________________________

lovin' my new lens

Thanks so much to MckMama and The Pioneer Woman for their posts on bokeh--(blurry background). And I bought the lens that MckMama recommended in her blurry background post. They both have photography sections that have very informative articles about this and myriad other questions you might have about good photography.

I told Noelle where to stand but I didn't tell her anything to do. She just loves the camera and the camera seems to love her.

happy birthday, precious first daughter

To see a birthday tribute to Kim, please go here.

Of course she is another year older. And I remember when it devastated her to turn 25. smile

summertime

Summertime

and

the living

is

Easy!

Warning: Overload of grandchildren pics this week. We are babysitting Noelle until Friday while her mom and older sister are at camp. Dree is really sad that Noelle is missing her so much. smile

Sunday Sing-a-long

AND THE BRIDE WORE WHITE!

The bride wore a paw claw-illusion veil secured by three delicate white roses.

She carried a bouquet of four white roses and seed pearls. Attached to the bouquet were streamers of white satin.



At one point she did give us a peek of her "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" garter that was concealed beneath her lavish gown.

The bride chose to wear satin ballet slippers adorned by one tiny rose and secured by an elasticized band--the better for dancing at the Teddy Bear's Picnic and Reception immediately following the ceremony.

And here she is in all her glory wearing a gown designed by Beara Wang. The gown featured an alencon bodice accentuated by cap sleeves trimmed in white satin. The dress was gathered in at the waist with a bow featuring roses and seed pearls. Cascading from the bow was an over-lay panel of illusion trimmed also in white satin.


The bride and groom will spend their "honey" moon at Grizzily Island in California.

Okay, I am just having a little fun--but there is no way I can think of a "bridal gown" and not think of this precious story I posted a while back starring the hubs. And by the way, she had a dozen red roses with one white orchid in their "honey"-moon suite when they arrived.

Here is the real dress. It really kinda looks like the one above, doesn't it? LOL This was my aunt's dress and I loved it. She is 5 months younger than I and was getting married about 5 months before me so she and I picked out the dress together. Of course, she paid for it. It cost $75 in 1965. I suppose that was a fortune then. My flowers for the wedding topped out at $48. My dad got the invitations free. My maid of honor, Mom and I washed 200 plates, cups and saucers the day of the wedding. I borrowed those and the punch bowl from the university I attended. I think my going-away dress was about $8.00. So I spent somewhere in the neighborhood of between $50 and $75 for my wedding.

Be sure and visit http://www.kellyskornerblog.com/ to see all the beautiful wedding dresses.

Wednesday's Word!

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in you.

Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.

Ps 143:88

Blog Hop

The ingredients

Cilantro Chicken Salad

1- 13 oz can chicken breast

1 or 2 (or to taste--I like a lot) chopped green onions --you may substitute purple onions but I don't think it is as good

1 stalk of chopped celery

1/4 to 1/3 cup of Hellman's mayo with olive oil

small handful of cilantro (measurement is before chopping and this ingredient is NOT optional)--chop this to your desired consistency--I like it left kinda big--

some people add a tablespoon or so of low sodium soy sauce--I may try some next time but love it without this ingredient--

2 T. or so of slivered almonds

salt and pepper to taste

Mix together and serve on your favorite whole grain bread. We like it in a tortilla wrap. I added hummus, green onions, celery, and strawberries on the side.

Click here to enter your link in the blog hop and view the entire list of entered links...

I am so sorry that the whole list didn't come up here but you can click on the "click here" red link above and go straight to it.

AMERICAN PIE!

Yesterday we drove to St. Mary 's Church in St. Vincent, Arkansas for a church supper, bazaar, bake sale, and bingo. It was a fun time. Which slice of this American Pie do you like the best?

Slice # 1-Barbecue Supper with all the trimmings--They fed hundreds. There was a long line from 4 until 8 p.m.

Slice # 2--Sit around and visit with all generations!

Slice #3--Homemade jellies and jams at the little country store

Slice # 4-A Silent Auction-This is Vicki. We just met her today. She was a hoot. My hubs kept telling us all the reasons why we should not bid on certain items and she just kept telling us that we needed to lose him. LOL

Slice # 5-Bingo

Slice # 6-The Petit Jean Stand-If you've never eaten any of their meat, you are missing a treat. Step right up, pay 50 cents for a paddle with a number, we spin the dial, you win! There's a winner every time! Even wins sausage, odd wins bacon. Boomama would have loved this.

"Sure, I'll take your money."

Slice #7--A gathering wouldn't be the same without a Cubs' fan. I grew up listening to Harry Cary and the St. Louie Cardinals but when my dad was in his eighties, he switched to the Cubs and me along with him. This guy's ringtone on his cell was Harry singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame."

Slice #8-A picturesque old church

and an old Lion Oil sign--

<

and winter's sustenance--

all three make great scenery along the way!

And this is the whole pie for me--crossing the Arkansas River bridge and catching that ever-breathtaking view of my beloved, Pinnacle Mountain.

P.S. I gotta tell you this--My dad was in the army during WWII with a guy from Hattieville, AR so for several years after they returned home, we would drive up to their little town to visit. St. Vincent is not very far from Hattieville, so my desire yesterday was to talk to someone who knew this family. I love to interview older folks and did talk to a couple, asking them what their favorite toy was when they were growing up. One little lady said hers was a corn husk doll that her mama made (she was really up in years). And the only other person that I talked to said his was an old Prince Albert can that he put wheels on and made a little truck out of. When I finally thought to ask him if he knew this certain family, he said, "I was just with Jerry about an hour ago." That was the guys's son that I played with when we went to Hattieville. Small, small world in Arkansas. I like that!

How Great Thou Art

O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.


Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!


When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.


Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!


And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.


Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!


When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation,
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,
And then proclaim: "My God, how great Thou art!"


Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

I really struggled with whether to entitle this post "And George made millions off of Gracie" or "I am married to Walter Matthau!"

My mother was nobody's fool but sometimes she could do and say some really "ditzy" things. My dad used to just shake his head and say, "And George made millions off of Gracie." Those shenanigans will take several posts so that will come at a later date. However, I am beginning to see how I might could turn this spouse reversal syndrome thing into some real revenue--something like the Dianne Burns and Larry Allen show or something like that.

Take a few nights ago--I was doing the "Goldilocks" thingie and sleeping in the front bedroom (oh, it's a long story--creaky old joints and a master bedroom bed that is too hard for them). Anyhow, in the middle of the night I hear the loudest crack, boom and pop of thunder that I have ever heard in my life--I kid you not--and it was accompanied by the brightest lightning you have ever seen--they were simultaneous so you know what that means.

To be honest with you, I thought our house had been struck. I jumped out of bed as if I didn't even have creaky old bones and hit the light switch. The electricity was out. I listened to see if I could hear my husband getting up in the other bedroom. I heard not one sound. I stealthily made my way down the hall past two other bedrooms thinking all the while--"he is dead--either my husband has died in his sleep or the lightning got him." My heart was in my throat.

When I got to the master bedroom, it was dark and once again everything was quiet on the western front. I yelled at him (not real loud--just a soft yell) cause I wanted to know if he was dead or alive before I walked over to wake him up. He mumbled something under his breath and I said, "Did you hear that thunder and see the lightning? It was the loudest I have ever heard in my life?"

His grumpy old man reply--"It must not have been very loud--it didn't wake me up."

What could I say to that? He just didn't get it.

arkansas' child

ARKANSAS’ CHILD

A mid-twentieth century story of life and love in Arkansas

Mother told me some things I didn’t remember—the rest are like

stars in a night sky on the dark, sable palette of my memory—they sparkle

there, some brighter than others, each with its own special place.

Etched in my very first memory are images of a small, white frame

house, a front porch latticed on one end, morning glories and

mother.

Just as there were no heralding trumpets to announce the grand

openings of the morning glories, so were the quiet, good deeds of my

mother. Each morning she marveled at their lavender-blue beauty and I

was just as awed by hers.

Mother told me that I got a birthday card from China on my first

birthday and she saved it for me. My father, who was in the army during

World War II, had never seen his first daughter—me—half-way around

the world in Arkansas.

At bedtime, after we welcomed him home from overseas, I would

listen for a while to my parents’ muted whispers from the next room, then

get up and walk on tippy-toe to them. After Daddy carried me back to bed,

mother would heat an old cast iron, wrap it in thick towels and place it

gently to my icy feet. Encased in a downy, quilted cocoon of love and

security, a canopy of warm sleep slowly descended upon me on those cold,

wintry nights in Arkansas.

Every Easter Sunday my family joined a longstanding custom of the

community. In order that everyone feel welcome to come and celebrate the

resurrection of our Lord, my mom and I wore flour-sack dresses to church

as did all the other women and girls. The men and boys donned their

everyday overalls. There were no excuses for not having anything new to

wear on Easter Sunday morning on those pastel, early spring days in

Arkansas.

In the summertime my family would drive the sliver of highway

across eastern Arkansas amidst endless acres of snow-white cotton

plantations. My father would pull over to the side of the highway to let us

examine the bolls of cotton. Their soft coarseness was not unlike the

touch of his leathered hand upon mine.

My father delighted in the many “Burma Shave” advertisements

along the rodeway and read them aloud to us. I longed for the day that I

would be able to read those small, funny signs.

We eventually crossed the mighty Mississippi River on our way to

visit our grandparents in Tennessee. At this point, Daddy would break

into soulful renditions of “Ole Man River" and "Mississippi Mud."

We did simple things in Arkansas. We would sit for hours in the

dark greenish-gray dirt of Murfreesboro and look for diamonds at the

only diamond mine in the United States.*

On the way home from the diamond mine, we would stop in Hot

Springs and fill bottle after bottle with the cool, pure water that bubbled

from the ground. Some of the springs were the source of very hot, steamy

water. People came from everywhere to take curative hot-water treatments

on Bath House Row.

On other lazy summer days in Arkansas, we would drive far into the

country to visit the old sorghum mills where mules still supplied the power

for the grinding rollers that squeezed the dark juice from the sorghum

cane.

It was fun to watch the mules but the real treat came the next

morning when we ate fresh-churned butter and sorghum syrup over

cornbread left from the night before.

Daddy loved to drive. Many times we drove by the old Acme Brick

Company and everytime we did, my father told the story about the man

who took a brick home in his lunch box every day for thirty years.

“Finally,” Daddy said, “He had enough bricks to build a house.”

I believed that story until I was almost ten years old. And then one

day, I noticed the glint in my father’s eyes as he repeated it for the

umpteenth time.

Every fifth Sunday of the month when I was child, our little country

church would join four other small fellowships and have church all day.

Unlike the cooler months, about the only movement in the church

were the funeral home fans and the buzzing of flies. After all the jugs of

water had been drained dry toward mid-

afternoon, I can still recollect the parched roughness of my throat on

those hot, sultry summer days in Arkansas.

Those were the days of dinner-on-the-ground. The women brought

red-checkered tablecloths, spread them on the grass, and laid out a feast.

Fried chicken, green beans, oven-roasted potatoes, sliced tomatoes,

steamed squash, pinto beans, homemade breads, pies, and cobblers were

the fare of the day.

While the men swapped old news, the young girls took care of the

little ones and the boys played marbles. They drew circles in the dirt and

made up their own rules. They played until their thumbs got blisters.

About a half-mile behind our church lay one big beautiful upside-

down crater named Pinnacle Mountain. It was almost as if God had saved

this crowning jewel just for us folk in central Arkansas.

Up the road a few hours drive was a cascade of mountains

known as the Ozarks. From a distance their jewel-like colors ranged from

deep sapphire to aquamarine blue to emerald green. And all of this hung

against a canvas of opalescent sky.

Pinnacle Mountain would have been a diamond among many

diamonds there. But resting here almost sadly alone, its facets seemed to

invite younsters with nothing better to do than climb, and so it was that we

spent many a Sunday afternoon sitting atop that ancient, inverted gem.

As children in Arkansas, moments seemed like hours and months

like years. From one Christmas to the next seemed like an eternity and we

thought life as we knew it in Arkansas would never end.

Somehow in my mind, though, I knew there would be a finale. As

far-fetched as it seemed, I knew that one day my youth would be a faint

sparkle on the horizon of my mind. But I also knew that for me, no matter

where life took me, the roads of my memory would always lead back home

. . . . . .to Arkansas . . . . .where I could always be a child.

Copyright 1992-Dianne Hogue

All Rights Reserved

* As of 1996 there is an operational diamond mine in Colorado.

WEDNESDAY'S WORD!

"No eye has seen,

no ear has heard,

no mind has conceived

what God has prepared for those who love him"—

but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit.

1 Cor 2:9-10