John and I took the kids to the zoo yesterday. It was an amazingly beautiful day, and we had a great time. It has been since my own childhood that I have been, so I think I enjoyed it just as much as they did.
Cooper walked almost the entire time. John carried him on his shoulders for a little ways, but we got him a little Mt. Dew (caffeine), and he was good to go the rest of the way:)
Lena was just happy to be there. She sat up in her stroller and smiled most of the time. Her favorite part of the trip was a another baby that we sat next too on our bus ride to the "Africa" part of the zoo. This little girl, Morgan, was 5 months old, and Lena spent the entire ride smiling and cooing at her. She kept leaning in and trying to pull her towards her, and I am not sure if she wanted to kiss her or what, but it was really cute. I suppose that is her first really close encounter with another baby, and she loved it! I am just glad that I decided to sit right next to the baby and her grandmother. Usually, you would not sit so close to strangers, but for some reason, I just did, and it made for one of the best parts of my day:)
Cooper also made friends. He met an adorable 3 year old little girl, Payton Elizabeth Hill, who promptly made his aquaintance and introduced herself with her whole name, as noted. They were having quite the time together, and I think that John and I could have sat there and watched them play all day. Unfortunately, we met Payton and her Mom close to the end of our trip, so we had to part ways. I will post a pic of Cooper and Payton with some of the zoo pics I plan to post soon.
The river otters were Cooper's favorite attraction (mine too). They were so cute. The kids were standing up against the glass where the otters were swimming, and they would swim back and forth right up against the glass, and when the rest of the kids had left, Cooper was still standing there, and the otters would swim right there where Cooper was. They seemed really playful and friendly, which was fun. I got some pics, although they don't do the experience justice, I will post them too.
We ended our day with a stop in Lexington for some BBQ. We just picked the first place that we came too, and it was pretty good. Eating out can be an adventure with little ones. Lena, with her strong affinity for food, in her haste, will sometimes try and reach out and grab food from our plates. She kept doing this during our meal, and John and I warned her several times with a strong "No", but she kept testing us. Finally, John swatted her hand, and she just stopped and looked at him, and went back to reach for the plate again, and he swatted a little harder this time. Well, this brought a flood of tears and VERY LOUD wailing. This went on for about 7 or 8 minutes straight. It was really embarrassing, and some mother's would have scooped her up and tried to console her, but I didn't. I let her sit in the highchair and cry until it was over. I have a feeling that we havn't even seen temper tantrums with Cooper the way that we are going to see them with her. For those of you who know how highly intense Cooper's emotions can be at times, then you can be afraid (as we are) of what I am forshadowing in Lena's case. After that was over, a couple across from us ordered a banana split, and they got a banana split big enough for 10 people to eat. Cooper leaned over and admired it. He then asked them if they were going to eat the cherry on top. They said that yes, they would probably have a fight over it. They, then, started to talk to him about his trip to the zoo, and he enthusiastically told them about his day and his encounters, all the while, keeping his eyes on that cherry. It was really funny. When we left, he waved and told them goodbye, and as we were walking out the door, he said "Ya'll have fun eating that cherry," as he shook his finger at them. That was worth the price of admission:)
Friday, October 3, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
I'm not better, I'm just better off!
OK, so I stole that line from my preacher, but I thought it was the best way to start out this post. I thought about sharing my testimony in the "About Me" section of this blog because it is hard for me to talk about myself without talking about what Christ has done for me in my life; however, I thought it would be better to have it's own page, plus, I think it was too long anyway:)
I grew up going to church, but I did not accept Christ as my personal Savior until I was 23 years old. I thought, growing up, that being a Christian meant that you had to live your life a certain way. I thought that you had to be "good" and do Christian "things" to be a Christian. The older I got, the more I realized that there was no way I would ever be "good" enough to be a Christian. So, I started to put that part of my life aside. I was glad that I worked on Sundays throughout college, so I didn't have to go to church. When I did go to church, I just felt uncomfortable, and "fake."
Time passed, and ocasionally, my best friend, Lorie, and I would have conversations about God and the Bible. I would usually get very defensive because I just could not believe in something that there was no proof of, and I certainly didn't agree with some of the things the Bible said (although I knew very little of it). She, on the other hand, had this amazing faith, and deep down, I was very jealous. I wanted to have the same faith and surety of mind that she had, but it seemed so far away from me and who I was.
The only thing I knew to do was to pray. Now, this is where I am thankful for being brought up in church, and for grandparents who cared about my soul. I can still remember praying with my Memaw as a little girl. That was a precious gift she gave me, and I am sure that it was because of that, that praying was always the natural thing for me to do in times of trouble. It is probably that way for most people. Praying comes naturally when we need something from God. I would pray for signs. I would ask God to please send me a sign, if He was really there. I needed proof!
He never sent any signs, only misery. As time passed, I was more and more miserable inside. I felt as if I was being pushed into a corner, and I was going to have to make a decision. Do I believe in God and the Bible, or not? I really wanted to believe, but how could I believe in something that I could not see? I remember the subject of "God" coming up one night when I was visiting my Grandparents, and I told my Memaw and Pa that I wasn't sure if I believed in God. I still can't believe I said that to them. All of those years they took me to church and tried to bring me up to be a Christian, and now I was telling them that I wasn't sure I believed in God. That, in itself, is a testimony of how miserable I was inside. My Memaw simply said that she would pray for me, and that really frustrated me. Here, I had just told her that I was not sure if I believed in God, and her response was to pray for me.
Finally, one night, I lay in bed praying before I went to sleep, and I just could not take it anymore. I had to make a decision. That night, I believed. I ended the fight that was going on inside of me, and I accepted that Jesus Christ died on the cross at Calvary for MY sins, and then I fell asleep.
It wasn't until sometime the next day that I noticed things were different. It felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders, and when I thought about God, a very peaceful and comfortable feeling had replaced the turmoil that had been there. I was saved. It was that simple, and it was wonderful. It didn't have anything to do with being in church, walking the aisle, getting baptized, being "good," etc. . . It simply was a matter of trust and belief. First, realizing that you are lost and in need of a Savior, which is where the conviction and misery come into play. Now, looking back, the conviction is so clear, but when I was going through it, I had no idea that God was chasing me. Then, believing that if you were the only person on earth, He would still have died for you. He has provided a sacrifice for your unrightiousness, and all He wants is for you to accept it. It is a free gift, and the most precious one of all.
When I accepted Christ, a new man was created in me. This new man wants to live for Christ and submit to his perfect will for my life, but the flesh and the old man is still there. I constantly stumble and fall, but Christ pulls me right back up. I am no better than the next person, and bad things happen to me just like anyone else, but I am better off because I have Him with me. I have His strength and His grace, and that makes all of the difference in the world.
Looking back, there is something especially ironic to me. Every night, I would pray for a sign so that I could believe, but after I finally gave in and believed, the change inside of me could not have been more real if Jesus Christ had been standing there Himself. I finally had my sign, but only after I had faith.
This is my story. This is the most precious story I have. I have lots of stories I love to tell:) I have stories about my childhood (crazy and funny at times); I have birth stories (equally as exciting); I have stories about my kids; This story, however, my testimony of how Christ came into my life, is my best and the one that I love to tell the most.
Perhaps you can identify. If you read this post and would like to share your testimony, I would love to hear your story. If you read this post, and you don't have a testimony, I pray that God will back you in a corner, and that you will realize your need of a Savior, and trust in him.
That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. Romans 10:9
I grew up going to church, but I did not accept Christ as my personal Savior until I was 23 years old. I thought, growing up, that being a Christian meant that you had to live your life a certain way. I thought that you had to be "good" and do Christian "things" to be a Christian. The older I got, the more I realized that there was no way I would ever be "good" enough to be a Christian. So, I started to put that part of my life aside. I was glad that I worked on Sundays throughout college, so I didn't have to go to church. When I did go to church, I just felt uncomfortable, and "fake."
Time passed, and ocasionally, my best friend, Lorie, and I would have conversations about God and the Bible. I would usually get very defensive because I just could not believe in something that there was no proof of, and I certainly didn't agree with some of the things the Bible said (although I knew very little of it). She, on the other hand, had this amazing faith, and deep down, I was very jealous. I wanted to have the same faith and surety of mind that she had, but it seemed so far away from me and who I was.
The only thing I knew to do was to pray. Now, this is where I am thankful for being brought up in church, and for grandparents who cared about my soul. I can still remember praying with my Memaw as a little girl. That was a precious gift she gave me, and I am sure that it was because of that, that praying was always the natural thing for me to do in times of trouble. It is probably that way for most people. Praying comes naturally when we need something from God. I would pray for signs. I would ask God to please send me a sign, if He was really there. I needed proof!
He never sent any signs, only misery. As time passed, I was more and more miserable inside. I felt as if I was being pushed into a corner, and I was going to have to make a decision. Do I believe in God and the Bible, or not? I really wanted to believe, but how could I believe in something that I could not see? I remember the subject of "God" coming up one night when I was visiting my Grandparents, and I told my Memaw and Pa that I wasn't sure if I believed in God. I still can't believe I said that to them. All of those years they took me to church and tried to bring me up to be a Christian, and now I was telling them that I wasn't sure I believed in God. That, in itself, is a testimony of how miserable I was inside. My Memaw simply said that she would pray for me, and that really frustrated me. Here, I had just told her that I was not sure if I believed in God, and her response was to pray for me.
Finally, one night, I lay in bed praying before I went to sleep, and I just could not take it anymore. I had to make a decision. That night, I believed. I ended the fight that was going on inside of me, and I accepted that Jesus Christ died on the cross at Calvary for MY sins, and then I fell asleep.
It wasn't until sometime the next day that I noticed things were different. It felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders, and when I thought about God, a very peaceful and comfortable feeling had replaced the turmoil that had been there. I was saved. It was that simple, and it was wonderful. It didn't have anything to do with being in church, walking the aisle, getting baptized, being "good," etc. . . It simply was a matter of trust and belief. First, realizing that you are lost and in need of a Savior, which is where the conviction and misery come into play. Now, looking back, the conviction is so clear, but when I was going through it, I had no idea that God was chasing me. Then, believing that if you were the only person on earth, He would still have died for you. He has provided a sacrifice for your unrightiousness, and all He wants is for you to accept it. It is a free gift, and the most precious one of all.
When I accepted Christ, a new man was created in me. This new man wants to live for Christ and submit to his perfect will for my life, but the flesh and the old man is still there. I constantly stumble and fall, but Christ pulls me right back up. I am no better than the next person, and bad things happen to me just like anyone else, but I am better off because I have Him with me. I have His strength and His grace, and that makes all of the difference in the world.
Looking back, there is something especially ironic to me. Every night, I would pray for a sign so that I could believe, but after I finally gave in and believed, the change inside of me could not have been more real if Jesus Christ had been standing there Himself. I finally had my sign, but only after I had faith.
This is my story. This is the most precious story I have. I have lots of stories I love to tell:) I have stories about my childhood (crazy and funny at times); I have birth stories (equally as exciting); I have stories about my kids; This story, however, my testimony of how Christ came into my life, is my best and the one that I love to tell the most.
Perhaps you can identify. If you read this post and would like to share your testimony, I would love to hear your story. If you read this post, and you don't have a testimony, I pray that God will back you in a corner, and that you will realize your need of a Savior, and trust in him.
That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. Romans 10:9
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