Archives for July 2011

Rindercella: A Tairy Fale

Alternately titled: A bit of random this Friday morning.

As the tale goes, this is a story my grandfather used to tell my mom when she was a kid.  She, in turn, told it to me when I was little.  I heard it so many times that I had it memorized…but I still liked to hear her tell it.  And I am now telling it to my children.  If you’ve never told your children the story of Rindercella, I urge you to do so.  It’s magic.  But if you are going to do so, you must promise to do it with maximum animation.  Silly voices, funny faces.

Their giggles will delight you.

And now, without further ado…I give you Rindercella.


Once upon a time in a coreign fountry there lived a geautiful birl named Rindercella.  Rindercella lived with her mugly other and two sad bisters.  Also in the coreign fountry there lived a Pransome Hince.  Now this Pransome Hince wanted to have a bancy fall so he invited people from miles around, especially the pich reople.

Finally the bay of the dig bancy fall arrived but Rindercella could not go for she had nothing to wear but rirty dags.  Rindercella cat down and sried.  While she was citting there srying, sall of a udden there appeared before her, her Gairy Fodmother.

“Rindercella?” she asked.  “Why are you citting there srying?”

“Today is the bay of the dig bancy fall and I cannot go for I have nothing to wear but rirty dags.”  Rindercella hobbed her seart out.  So her Gairy Fodmother turned her rirty dags into a dreautiful bess and gave her hix site worses (six white horses) to go the the bancy fall in.

“But,” she warned her.  “You be back before nidmight or I’ll purn you into a tumpkin.”

When Rindercella arrived at the bancy fall, the Pransome Hince met her on the steps for he had been watching behind a widden hindow.  Rindercella and the Pransome Hince danced all night until nidmight and they lell in fove.

Suddenly the clig bock struck nidmight!  Rindercella dashed away and staced down the rairs.  And just as she reached the bottom, she slopped her dripper.

The next day, the Pransome Hince went all over the coreign fountry looking for the geautiful birl who had slopped her dripper.  He went to Rindercella’s house.  He tried it on one sad bister.

It fidn’t dit.

He tried it on the other sad bister.

It fidn’t dit her either.

Finally he tried it on Rindercella.  It fid dit! It was exactly the sight rize.

So, Rindercella and the Pransome Hince were married and they lived Appily Ever Hafter.

Now…the storal of this mory is: If you meet a Pransome Hince and you want him to lall in fove with you – don’t forget to slop your dripper!


Happy random Friday to you all.  May your weekend be full of giggles and magical moments.  If you need interpretation, just let me know.  🙂


We rolled into Florida today, my smokin’ hot minivan dragging a bit under the weight of all the life shoved inside.  It has been an emotional roller coaster, this trip into town.  Of course any move is fraught with emotion.  Change hurts.  It’s hard.  Tears must be shed in order to cleanse the soul of the fire that rages in your heart.

As we talked today on our second day of driving, we discussed the Why. Why did we make this move?  What purpose did God have in picking our family up out of everything comfortable and placing us smack dab in the middle of the unknown.  For all practical purposes, this is our wilderness.  Albeit a wilderness with a beach (the best kind), but nonetheless this is our journey.

Why are we here?

Suddenly the reasons for the move become clouded beneath the emotion.  Did we make the right choice?  Was this really the path we were supposed to take?  Did we somehow misread the signs?  Were we instead chasing our own desires, or own passions?


While at my in-laws this past weekend, we had the blessing of soaking in their wisdom for several days straight.  One thing my father-in-law (one of the three wisest men in my life, my dad and my husband rounding out the trio) said to us has really stuck with me.

“What makes you think,” he said in his thick Arkansas drawl, “that you had anything at all to do with this decision?  It was God who moved you in this direction.  Don’t forget that God is in full control.  When you are seeking Him, you’re not going to make a mistake.”

What freedom that gave us.  And what a wonderful lesson on which to dwell.  Who are we to question the will of God?  There were times when doubt caused us to wonder if, perhaps, we should scrap the plan all together – flee back to St. Louis.  It’s peaceful there, simple.  We know it.  We know what we can and need to do there to stay comfortable.

But then what?  Comfort is boring.  As we drove today, the Cyprus and Palm trees buzzing by our windows, I held a book in my lap.  “Reading the same page of a book over and over is boring,” I told Lee.  “You have to turn the page to see what’s going to happen next in the story.”

We turned the page when we left St. Louis.  Not that staying there would have meant our story stagnated, but ignoring God’s call and being unwilling to face something new would have been extremely boring.  To live life wondering “what if we had?” would be a terrible burden to bear.  And even on our trip, the Lord gave us little signs that we are on the right path – we are continuing our story.

Lee was given the opportunity to fly up to Arkansas to be with his family and to help us drive down here.  An unexpected blessing and something we didn’t know we needed.  Lee got a very encouraging call from his manager.  It was unexpected and unprompted.  And the words spoken and messages exchanged were a balm to the soul.

As we lay in our frigid hotel room last night, everyone slowly drifting to sleep, Sloan hopped up out of bed and came over to Lee and I.  “I have something for you,” he said, the freckles on his nose dancing in the golden lamp light.  He pulled two silly bands off his arm.  They were shaped like palm trees.  “These are to help you remember that we used to live in St. Louis, but now we live in Florida.”

How did he know that was the exact thing tearing at our hearts?  We hadn’t spoken of our fears and heartache in front of him.

When we pulled out of the hotel parking lot this morning, the kids screeched and pointed at a beautiful rainbow painted across the gray sky.  God’s promises never fail.  He is still the same.  All of these signs worked together to provide a bit of comfort as we continued to haul our lives southward.  Nothing about this move has been easy.  A part of me feels a bit like a spoiled brat who’s finally been given what she wanted, but it’s not enough.

“I want it MY way.”  Foot stomp.

I want comfort and stability.  I want the perfect house.  I want it easy and fun.  I want friends.  I want, I want, I want…

The new goal is to take my eyes off of what I want.  Together Lee and I are changing our focus.  We’re turning the page.  We want to know what’s going to happen next.  And we want to know what part we get to play in it.  To His glory.  Arms stretched out wide, palms open, dancing in the rain.  What’s next?  And how do we keep our eyes pointed up?  Not looking backward and definately not staring inward.

Not about us.

What’s next to His glory?

This is really hard.  Really, really hard.  As my sister-in-law told us the other night – this is a threshing.  It’s a step into the Refiner’s Fire.  The selfishness that has pervaded our souls for a long time needs to be burned away.  There is nothing fun about that.  Nothing at all.  We are feeling vulnerable and the only refuge is God Himself.  To seek any other would be foolish.  There is no hiding – not even St. Louis could shelter us from the need to change these deepest parts.

Join us as we step forward in faith, our hearts open to what He wants and longs for us.  And we would like to join you in whatever journey you might be on.  What does a next step look like for you? Because we’re all on a different journey. How can we pray for you?  What would stepping out of comfort look like for you?  Who can you serve?  What can you do to step outside of what you know?  Or, if you’re already doing that, what are you learning?  If you would like to share or ask for prayer, please feel free to comment and we can all join together.  Or send me an email (kellistuart00 (at) hotmail (dot) com) and I will be happy to lift you up as you turn your face up.

Let’s dance in the rain together.


I fear just one thing

Sloan and Landon's seats

The bags are packed and have been strategically wedged into the car in what I can only describe as the worst game of Tetris ever.  We have everything but the kitchen sink and that’s because my in-laws wouldn’t let us take it.  We even gained a chest of drawers.  This was Tia’s birthday present from her grandparents and it’s the first time we’ve been able to pick it up.

We packed it before packing it.  Everyone has to carry their weight.

The floors are covered in bags, boxes and with last minute crap treasures we couldn’t bear to part with.  In short, we are hauling whatever bits of our lives that didn’t fit in the PODS beneath our feet.  For 16.5 hours.  Who’s having fun?

I’m not overly concerned about the trip, really.  Especially since Lee was able to fly up here and make the drive with us.  Not having to do that trip alone?  Priceless. Mastercard has nothin’ on that miracle.  I’m quite looking forward to the adventure of driving down to Florida.  I think it will be fun.  Stressful, but fun. important is it to see out the back window? On a scale of 1 to 10?


But I am worried about one tiny, little thing.  It’s really the only thing that I find myself thinking about pretty regularly with some anxiety.  And you would too – in fact, most of you will probably understand and identify with this thing I fear.  It’s quite frightening and is worth a bit of trepidation.  What’s the one thing I fear?

GAS. And not the kind you purchase at a station (although that has me a little anxious too.  Expensive much?)  No.  The gas I fear is the kind that you don’t want and comes with a price all its own.  The “cut the cheese” kind of gas…

Three kids.  One dog.  And a husband.

I don’t stand a chance.

You coop that many people up in a box for two days straight eating food out of a bag or a fast food joint and the smell is bound to err on the side of ruthless.  Add to it my extremely motion sick first born and his tendency to get barfy in the car and you’re looking at a good time right there.

Good. Time.

So there you have.  I am afraid.  I’m woman enough to admit it.  I’m scared of gas.  Because it’s hot outside so cracking the windows just stirs around hot air, which only makes everyone sticky and sweaty.  It doesn’t help.

Tia and Sadie's seats

We covet your prayers – for safety, for enjoyment, for excitement and for provision.  But if you think about it, and you feel so inclined, feel free to say an extra prayer for me.  Because I’m about to be trapped for 16.5 hours in a metal box and I kind of have a sensitive sense of smell.  Smells get trapped up in my nose and don’t come out.  It is a curse.

Good times.  Good. Times.

Tell me your favorite, and funniest, car trip story.  It will give me something to do while I try to survive the box.

The In-Between

He didn’t want to try it. Fear prevented him from true joy, from enjoying to the fullest that which stood before him. The vibrant blue waters of the pool were enticing and he tasted the joy when he stepped into the water.

But fear held him back.

He couldn’t bring himself to put his face in the water. The fear of the unknown was too much and so he simply watched in longing. Every once in awhile he put his chin beneath the surface, delighted to feel the cool water – such a contrast to the blazing heat of the sun. If, by accident, water splashed into his eyes he cried and dashed for a towel, wiping it away before realizing how refreshing it could actually be.

I wondered if he would ever overcome this fear. I wondered if he would ever experience the miracle and joy that comes with taking the plunge and diving beneath the surface. I wondered if he would ever realize that conquering fear leads to freedom.

And then one day he did it. He stepped off the edge and took a leap of faith. Faith that he wouldn’t sink, but would indeed return to the surface as promised. Faith that fun awaited if he just took a chance. And do you know what happened?

Photo courtesy of my sister-in-law, Becke'

Inexplicable Joy.  Freedom. And he hasn’t looked back.

We’re stuck in the in-between right now.  We’re in Arkansas for a week visiting family, which simply feels like any other vacation.  I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that we won’t be going back to St. Louis from here.

We head to Clearwater to stay in my parent’s condo until we either find a house or decide to rent.  That, too, will feel like a familiar vacation, which in the past has always ended in us returning home.  But Florida is home now.  It doesn’t feel that way yet, but that’s what it is.

Mark Twain once wrote, “Change is the handmaiden Nature requires to do her miracles with.” I so hope for miracles as we make this move.  What does a miracle look like?  I don’t know.  Maybe it will be something big and measurable.  Maybe it will be something that can’t be seen but only felt…realized only upon looking backward after time has propelled us past this unsure moment.

Maybe the miracle is our willingness to take the plunge – to face our fear of change and dip our head beneath the cool waters of the unknown.  We would have been fine splashing in the waters of familiarity, but then we might have missed out on the joy and freedom that comes from taking a plunge beneath the surface.

Maybe the miracle will be my children suddenly waking up each morning with smiles on their faces and nothing but kindness on their lips.  Maybe the miracle will be my children sleeping past 6:30 every morning!

I can dream can’t I?

Change leaves your heart and spirit in a vulnerable place.  When you’re cut off from the passivity of the familiar, suddenly a whole new world of options are opened before you.  There are no schedules to keep up with, no obligations to meet.  Those will likely develop quickly, of course, but in the beginning, when life has finally, mercifully, slowed down the prospects of a clean slate leave me excited.  What will we finally do that we’ve been dreaming of but lacked the time?  What lies in wait for our fragile hearts?

It’s terrifying and exciting and wonderful.  A tightly woven ball of “What if?”  What if we had the time to finally do that?  What if we were closer to finally participate in this?  What if we finally set aside the resources to accomplish that dream?  What if we watched in grand expectation and looked for the miracles?

While the in-between has given me a touch of vertigo, unsure of which way to turn, it’s also left me excited.  I love what ifs.  I love to see miracles happen and for the first time in a long time, I’m finally watching for them.

“Change is the handmaiden Nature uses to do her miracles with.”

Have you seen any miracles lately?  Let’s share and all join in the excitement!

“For I know the plans I have for.  Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you a hope and a future.”  Jeremiah 29:11

For more pictures by my awesome sister-in-law, visit her blog.  We’re having some wonderful, sweet cousin time.

Dispelling the myth

On our drive from St. Louis to Arkansas yesterday (where we are staying with family for a week), we had the privilege of stopping in Branson for swimming and hot dogs with a sweet college friend.  It was the perfect midday break in our drive and gave all of us a chance to stretch our legs a bit.

While the kids swam, Rachel and I discussed all things mommy and blogging.  She said something that I hadn’t necessarily thought through before.  “I think blogging can sometimes give Moms a false picture of motherhood,” she said, her voice all sugary.  Seriously, you’ll be hard pressed to meet anyone sweeter.  “We only get to see a small glimpse of someone’s life online and from that we make assumptions.”

How right she is.  Blogging can easily set us Moms up for frustration.  This Mom plans a rocking birthday party, that Mom does amazing crafts with her kids, the Mom over there manages to work full time from home and the Mom in that corner is teaching her kids Latin.

I’m exhausted.

As I’ve thought about it, I’ve wondered what kind of glimpse I am giving people into my life.  Because I share a lot here – but I don’t share everything.  Some of life isn’t meant to be shared.  As the kids get older, I will share less about them because really, how many of us would have died a horrible death if we knew our mothers were broadcasting our every awkward tween move for all the world to read?!


I’m not a perfect mother.  I don’t cook organic – heck, I don’t really cook much at all.  I’m what you could call a “thrower together.”  I throw together meals, often beginning them around 5:00.  It’s kind of pathetic.  I am, however, a good baker and I’m passing that love on to my children.  I consider that a score because how awesome that my daughter will know how to make a killer scone when she’s fully grown?

I hereby apologize to my future grandchildren for the innumerable scones and petit fors they will likely consume instead of meat and potatoes.

I don’t throw killer birthday parties, but I throw decent ones.  I’m all about simple.  Make it look elaborate, but keep it simple.  That’s how I roll.

I don’t read to my kids every day.  And my kids don’t love to read.  I’m hoping to change that this year.  It has been a failure on my part.  My kids just don’t love the written word and I hope to show them the magic of a good book.  But it will take work and, dare I say, training.  Something I don’t excel at.

I don’t shower every day, nor to I wear make up most days.  I look better with make up and I smell better when I shower, but those things take time and effort that I simply don’t have many days.  I do, however, wash my face two or three times a day and apply my magic lotions.  Because, as I’ve said, I’m a face product addict.

I don’t always enjoy having my kids friends over and I get increasingly annoyed when I feel my kids are encroaching upon my personal space.  I am selfish and easily frustrated and have been known to raise my voice, none of which make me in the least bit proud.

I am terrified of homeschooling my kids, but I feel like it’s something I need to do.  I don’t do it because I think I can teach them better than someone else.  I don’t do it because I have some kind of beef with the public schools.  The opposite, in fact.  I think that our schools and teachers deserve much more respect and support than they’re given, especially from the Christian community.  Is the public school system flawed?  Yes.  Without a doubt.  Is it an evil place to send our children?  No.  Without question.

I am homeschooling my children this year because the Lord has made it obvious that’s what I’m supposed to do.  I do so with plenty of nerves, but also a bit of excitement.  I won’t be perfect at it.  I might even be really bad at it.  But I won’t know unless I try.  So I’m trying.  And part of the reason I feel I need to try is linked to what I mentioned above.  My kids don’t love to learn.  And I want to teach them how exciting learning can be.  Only I can do that.

I’m not a perfect mother and this isn’t a perfect blog.  I don’t promote it as much as I could and I don’t work as hard on it as maybe I should.  But I love this little space that I’ve created.  I want it to be a fun place, both for me and for you.  I want you to be encouraged as you read here, not the opposite.

And now I will take my greasy, non-showered, non make-upped face back to my in-laws house where I left my children in their care so I could escape for a little while get a little work done.

Sometimes being not perfect has benefits, she says as she sips her Iced Chai while listening to Frank Sinatra croon in the background.

On the horizon

It’s late and I am weary.  I have said my goodbyes and I have cried my tears.  A few weeks ago, I thought that this final night in the town that has long been my home would be filled with emotion and anxiety, but right now I feel neither of those things.  I think I am done.  I don’t have any more goodbyes left and my eyes are, for the moment, dry.  My throat isn’t burning and my stomach has finally settled.  I’m ready to move forward.

It’s still hard.  If I think too long about the people we are leaving behind, the emotion wells up again so I am choosing to not focus on that.  What’s the point?  It’s time to move forward and you know what?

I’m excited.

It took me a little while to feel comfortable admitting that.  To do so somehow felt like a betrayal to the city and the people I love so dearly.  But I also dearly love the state of Florida and I am thrilled to be able to call it my home.  I’ve always wanted to be a true Floridian (I was born there so somehow I think it’s in my blood).  I can’t wait to be close to my family.  And the beach.  In that order, of course.  I’m excited to meet new people and make new friends but, of course, keep the old – I hear that one’s silver and the other gold.

I’m nervous, too.

I wish we had a house to go to.  That’s been a bit of a struggle.  God has been so faithful in this entire process and every single detail has worked out smoothly and easily and perfectly.  Until we began house hunting and then suddenly the flow came to a screeching halt.  But one thing I know – He hasn’t forgotten that tiny little detail.  And the right house is out there waiting for us.

I’m trying to be patient as I wait for it.

So tomorrow we hit the road.  And it’s going to be an adventure.  We’ll go to Arkansas first to stay with family for a week.  From there we’ll head to the Sunshine State.  Just me, three kids and the dog.  Alone.  I can’t decide who will need to be sedated more – them or me.

I kid.


You’ll never know and I’ll never tell.

St. Louis will always be home.  I have duel citizenship.  I consider that a blessing.  We have been blessed abundantly beyond anything I could have ever asked or imagined in this town.  I never in my wildest dreams thought I would so enjoy coming back here after Lee and I had lived in Dallas for two years.  We didn’t want to leave Texas either.

Funny how things work out, isn’t it?

Yes, I’m excited to see what comes next.  We’re going to be alright.  This process, more than any other, has shown me the value of clinging to one another.  We have each other.  It’s really all we need.

Friends are nice too, though.

I am saying see ya to most of my friends.  I value friendship deeply and I am not one to move on and not look back.  The people in my past have shaped who I am today.  And I value loyalty.  To me, friendships are not dispensable.  I’ve never fully understood how they could be such to others.  And so I look forward to continuing to grow and love the people God has placed in my life, both past and present.  I cling to those relationships.

It makes me grateful for Facebook.  The value of the internet is also very real to me now.

I do covet your prayers as we travel.  Safety, Sanity and other such necessities.  And we long to establish ourselves quickly into a new community.  A new church family to serve and be blessed by.  A new house to make our home and neighbors with whom to create memories.  Will you pray for us?  And every once in awhile shoot us an email if you’re so inclined.  It would bless us greatly to hear from you.

And now I’m off to sleep. Tomorrow a new chapter begins.


July, 2000Lee and I tie the knot

July, 2001 – We go to the Bahamas for our first anniversary

July, 2002 – We move from Dallas, Texas to St. Louis, Missouri

July, 2003We have our first child. And move into our first house.  All in the same week

July, 2005 – We find out we’re pregnant with baby number two

July, 2007 – I am finally able to come off of bed rest after a month due to almost losing child number three


July, 2010Lee and I celebrate ten years of marriage

July, 2011We move from St. Louis, Missouri to Tampa, Florida


Apparently big things happen to us in July

You’re Welcome

May all of you enjoy life as much as these folks.  This has hands down made my weekend.

The Ribbons and the Ribbon Maker: A Repost

It’s only been a year since I first posted this, but I wanted to post it again.  We are headed into a hard week.  It’s time to say our official goodbyes.  On top of that, we did not find a house while we were in Florida and we’re discouraged.  It’s just going to be an emotional few days and as I think about the people who have been so tightly woven into our lives here in St. Louis, my heart breaks and my stomach twists.  I am the ribbon being tugged away this time, preparing to be placed alone in a new town and await the beauty that comes from being rewoven.

We covet your prayers these next few days.  And I pray that you can identify those who are woven into the fabric of your own life with deep gratitude and thanks.


Six ribbons, each a different length, a different size and all quite unique.  The Ribbon Maker looked at His ribbons and decided that they would be better if woven together so He carefully and skillfully began braiding them.  One over another with careful precision He wound the ribbons until they were a cord.

It was a strong cord and the weaving made each ribbon stronger.  Until one day one of the ribbons felt a tug.  She looked up and watched as the Ribbon Maker began pulling her away.  She looked at the other ribbons in the cord.  “I think the Ribbon Maker is calling me away,” she said.  The ribbons looked up and saw that it was so.  Though it saddened them to see a piece of the cord leave, they were thrilled when the Ribbon Maker left behind a thread – a splash of the ribbon He was taking away.

“I’m going to make a new cord using this beuatiful ribbon as my starting point,” the Ribbon Maker said as He lovingly carried away his ribbon.

Then there were five ribbons.  They were still strong and with time they grew tighter and tighter as a unit.  Until one day one of the ribbons looked up.  She felt a tug and noticed that the Ribbon Maker was looking at her.  “I think the Ribbon Maker wants to take me away,” she said to the group.  The other ribbons were sad.  How could they remain a strong cord if another ribbon was pulled away?

Once again, as the Ribbon Maker carefully unwove His ribbon from the rest, he left behind a thin cord.  Next to the other four ribbons, the two cords left behind revealed a lovely pattern.  “Don’t worry,” He told his ribbons.  “I’m going to take her someplace new and begin a new cord.  And you all will be stronger for it.”  And with that He carried the ribbon away.

For some time, the four ribbons remained and just as the Ribbon Maker promised, they grew stronger and tighter.  The threads of those who were carried away remained a strong presence in their unit and they each grew strong individually as well.  But one day the Ribbon Maker looked at His cord and decided it needed a new ribbon.  So, as only the Ribbon Maker can, He brought in a new, vibrant ribbon to weave into His cord.  It took a bit of work to fit her in just right, but with time He had her woven in such a way that it was as if she had always been there.  And the cord was strong.


One of the ribbons looked up.  She felt the tug and knew it was time.  All of the ribbons began to wonder why the Ribbon Maker continued to pull them away when they were so strong together.

“Trust me,” said the Ribbon Maker.  “I need her to start a new cord, but her presence will always remain within this cord.”

And He carefully pulled out a thread and left it behind.  The cord was beautiful and strong, though the ribbons left behind felt sad as they looked around and saw how many had been tugged away.  What began as six ribbons had become five, then four, then five again and now four.  Four ribbons with three vibrant threads woven in.  What was the Ribbon Maker up to?

“I am weaving you together to make you strong,” He told them gently.  “I need you strong so that I can use you to start new cords, strengthening my other ribbons.  If I leave you all together too long what use is that to the ribbons who have no one to join with them?  Don’t you know that there are threads of each of you left behind in different cords?  Don’t you remember how I’ve tugged you away and used you to start new cords?  My ribbons are each created with a unique beauty and that beauty is only enhanced when they are woven amongst one another.  But I can’t leave my ribbons in one place for too long or they get tired, comfortable, and they lose a bit of their shine.  You are a beautiful cord and you have grown into strong ribbons.  I am using you to weave a beautiful tapestry.  Trust Me.”

“If one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him.  A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart.”  Eccelesiastes 4:12

To the women who have been woven into my heart by the Ribbon Maker over the last year and a half, I love you.  I am stronger because of you.  I am grateful for you.  The threads of those who have gone on (or are preparing to move on) are still visible and we continue to pray for you as you begin braiding a new cord of ribbons.  You are being delicately woven in Costa Rica, in Dallas and, soon, in Cleveland.  And for those who remain, I’m hanging on for ride because it appears to me that the Ribbon Maker has a grand plan for our braided little group.

House Hunting

It’s not nearly as fun as it looks on HGTV.  But we’re encouraged.  That’s what we’re up to this week!  We’ve found several houses that we like that could be strong potentials for our family, but it’s a very daunting thing to try and pick a house in a town you don’t know with only a three day window.  We may take some time.  Or we may buy a house…we found several we liked today.  We’ll see them again tomorrow.

We want to make the right decision for our children, for ourselves.  It’s different down here – different in a good way and in a bad way.  It’s just hard.

Hard to say, really.  We don’t know what we’re doing.  This is part of the adventure.  The best part of all of this, though, is that we KNOW God is in control.  We have no doubt and we are excited about  that…if not intimidated.  And nervous.  And grateful.  And in awe.  We’ve been praying the He establish us in the area that He needs us most.  I trust fully that we will see the answer to that prayer in time.

We’re also dreading the goodbyes to come.

So that’s what we’re doing this week.  What are you up to?