Showing posts with label Harborlilycreative. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harborlilycreative. Show all posts
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Fundraising Campaign for John Michael's Book Coming Soon
Stay tuned for more information about our upcoming fundraising campaign to publish John Michael's story. Please view this short video, SHARE IT with others and check this blog and facebook often for campaign dates and ways you can help. Thank you for your kindness and support.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
"Cleaning House" ... Literally and Spiritually (by Diane Gallagher)
It's Wednesday ... guest blogger day. :) Take it away Diane ...
***
Ahhh … the sweet smell of newly budding grass and flowers, a different array of birds at our feeder, glorious sunlight hours stretching longer into the day..Spring is here! The physical and spiritual worlds unite in a special way this time of the year. The dead of winter makes way for the new life of spring just as the death to self that occurs during Lent creates room for the new life of Easter that buds in our souls. This is a great time for some spring cleaning and what better way to start than with de-cluttering ... our homes and our souls! I know I always feel so much better after I have done a good purging in our house! A couple times a year, I like to get rid of as much unnecessary "stuff" as I can ... clothes, DVDs, games, toys.
We have all heard the rule of thumb that you should get rid of anything you have not used/opened/put on in a year. We might as well let someone else use it ... " your trash might be someone else's treasure." Take advantage of a neighborhood garage sale or even better ... donate the things to a charity that is hosting a garage sale. Our parish holds one every year, and we are happy to contribute annually as it is mutually beneficial!
Last Fall, I even held a mini-garage sale at my home ... but it was free for friends and family. I figured that people have been soooo generous to us through the years, that it only seemed right to share the bounty with others. Whatever works best for your style, spring is a great time to take advantage of the burst of sunshine and energy associated with the season while helping your family be freed from all the "stuff" that can bog them down.
As Spring is just beginning, we are now about halfway through the Church season of Lent. This is a perfect time to conduct some spiritual de-cluttering as well. Recommitting to our Lenten fasts might be a helpful step this week as your will power may start to wane. (It’s amazing how many feast days I can suddenly be compelled to celebrate as I look for excuses to break my fastsJ) You might also want to ask yourself what is cluttering your spiritual life and thus preventing you from having room for God. Busy schedules, email, facebook, errands and housework are not bad things, but if we do not keep our priorities and choices under God's watchful guidance, they can "clutter" our days and prevent us from living each day as He would have us. I love the image of our souls being like a vase. God's grace is the water that fills it. He can only fill as much as we give Him. If we are jamming as many flowers in the vase as physically possible, there will be less room for the water. While the flowers in and of themselves may be beautiful, they lose their attractiveness if they are smashed between many others.
This image begs two questions: How big of a vase do we give God? A bud vase with room for just one flower and little water (grace) -OR- a large container that can hold a big, beautiful bouquet and requires lots of water? Secondly, what are we filling it with? Carefully chosen flowers with room for movement or as many random flowers off the side of the road that we can stuff in? For the remainder of Lent, maybe we could try to fast from things that are cluttering our "vases" and be more selective in what we put in them so we have more room for the Creator and His Grace.
Happy Spring!
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Bags packed and ready to go!!...Are you sure?
A renowned wise old man needed help delivering an important package to a nearby village. A young man, eager to find favor with one so wise, readily offered his service. He was so excited to do the bidding of the wise man that he left with an empty backpack before giving the wise man a chance to pack it.
Realizing his error and fearful of being chastised for his haste, he decided to fill the pack with useful and beautiful items he found along his way. ""Perhaps he will praise my ingenuity and careful choices," he thought. First, he picked a bouquet of exquisite, delicate blossoms which bloomed high on a hillside. He reasoned their difficulty to posses gave them value sure to be appreciated. Next, he gathered nuts that had fallen from a tree onto a soft, shaded piece of land- certain their innards were fully intact and were therefore fresh and nutritious. Finally, he was ecstatic to find a perfect golden nugget tucked beneath a rock in the stream. Quite satisfied with his array of gifts and confident that the wise man would praise his finds, he hurried to the town to bestow his choice bounty upon the needy.
His arrival was greeted by a bent over, old woman whose gap-toothed smile expressed her excitement and anticipation of the package he was to deliver. The young man triumphantly held up his backpack with an air of importance and began to withdraw the items one by one. The woman's smile faded to a look of confusion and mistrust. "Are you sure this was sent by the wise man from the next town over?" she hesitantly asked. The young man adamantly pointed to the flowers and described the sheer height he ad been conquered to pick them. He gestured to the fine array of nuts that had been gathered and vowed they were of the finest quality for miles around. His final attempt to convince this seemingly ungrateful woman was to display the golden nugget in such a way as to let the sun glint off the precious mineral and dazzle the woman into being impressed. Surely messages of admiration and immense gratitude would filter back to the wise man and thereby reveal his own cleverness.
By now, the woman's smile had been replaced by an air of disappointment, but she nonetheless motioned for the young man to follow her so that he could deliver the package to the townsman for whom it had been intended. Slowly following the woman's hobbled gait he finally reached the door of a pitifully small, decrepit dwelling. His chest puffed with pride as he envisioned the gratitude from these poor people. He fully intended to let the wise man have all credit believing his own reward would be the sage's praise for representing him with such beauty and riches. The woman opened the door, revealing a dank and dark single room with a bed in the center. As the young man's eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed the form a frail man lying in the bed lifting a withered hand to beckon his visitor closer. "Sir," the old woman addressed the young man, "please bend to my husband's ear for he is blind and can not see." Then she spoke loudly to her husband to describe the blossoms his eyes would never see, the nuts that his long ago lost teeth would never crunch as he could only take in liquid these days. She held the gold that had excited the young man with it's promise of status and wealth against her husband's gnarled fingers while she feebly described it as a yellow rock hoping her husband would find some joy or understanding in these odd gifts selected by the wise man. The dying old man drew in, what was evidently, one of his last few breaths in order to acknowledge the gifts his wife had valiantly tried to describe with enthusiasm.
The old woman bid their guest goodbye with a sad smile as her husband labored to breathe behind her.
The young man journeyed home and his thoughts were a jumble of confusion. Feeling he had failed his mission miserably he sought the wise man upon his return. "Please," he implored the wise man, "tell me what you would have sent to this man who could neither see nor eat. What could have made a difference to this couple? Was the package supposed to be medicine or perhaps money for a new house? Why were they disappointed with what I provided? Please, I must know." The wise man slowly reached into his pocket and held out a simple piece of paper upon which these words were written:
"Peace is coming- don't lose hope. You shall be in Paradise soon. You shall have no more tears, no more pain. You are not alone and you are loved very much."
The young man thought back to his time with the dying man and his crippled wife and was flooded with embarrassment as he realized how utterly useless his choice of gifts had been. He was saddened to think he had robbed this needy couple of the comfort they surely desired and would have found is those wise words during their most difficult hour.
At a loss for words of his own, the young man, who had sought to impress the wise man with his own brand of wisdom, realized his folly... he had chosen gifts to be given in another's name based on his own perspective and priorities.
Lord, help us to seek You in the beginning of each new day so that we can receive all You have intended for this day's journey (GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD). May we humbly seek Your wisdom so we may honestly offer Your gifts instead of our beliefs of what is needed. Dear Creator, You made all- You know all! Help us to trust Your choice of people we encounter, hardships we are to endure, gifts we are to share. Thank you for allowing us to be your hands and feet. Give us courage and strength for our daily journey~ to go where You know souls await hope. ~Amen+
Realizing his error and fearful of being chastised for his haste, he decided to fill the pack with useful and beautiful items he found along his way. ""Perhaps he will praise my ingenuity and careful choices," he thought. First, he picked a bouquet of exquisite, delicate blossoms which bloomed high on a hillside. He reasoned their difficulty to posses gave them value sure to be appreciated. Next, he gathered nuts that had fallen from a tree onto a soft, shaded piece of land- certain their innards were fully intact and were therefore fresh and nutritious. Finally, he was ecstatic to find a perfect golden nugget tucked beneath a rock in the stream. Quite satisfied with his array of gifts and confident that the wise man would praise his finds, he hurried to the town to bestow his choice bounty upon the needy.
His arrival was greeted by a bent over, old woman whose gap-toothed smile expressed her excitement and anticipation of the package he was to deliver. The young man triumphantly held up his backpack with an air of importance and began to withdraw the items one by one. The woman's smile faded to a look of confusion and mistrust. "Are you sure this was sent by the wise man from the next town over?" she hesitantly asked. The young man adamantly pointed to the flowers and described the sheer height he ad been conquered to pick them. He gestured to the fine array of nuts that had been gathered and vowed they were of the finest quality for miles around. His final attempt to convince this seemingly ungrateful woman was to display the golden nugget in such a way as to let the sun glint off the precious mineral and dazzle the woman into being impressed. Surely messages of admiration and immense gratitude would filter back to the wise man and thereby reveal his own cleverness.
By now, the woman's smile had been replaced by an air of disappointment, but she nonetheless motioned for the young man to follow her so that he could deliver the package to the townsman for whom it had been intended. Slowly following the woman's hobbled gait he finally reached the door of a pitifully small, decrepit dwelling. His chest puffed with pride as he envisioned the gratitude from these poor people. He fully intended to let the wise man have all credit believing his own reward would be the sage's praise for representing him with such beauty and riches. The woman opened the door, revealing a dank and dark single room with a bed in the center. As the young man's eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed the form a frail man lying in the bed lifting a withered hand to beckon his visitor closer. "Sir," the old woman addressed the young man, "please bend to my husband's ear for he is blind and can not see." Then she spoke loudly to her husband to describe the blossoms his eyes would never see, the nuts that his long ago lost teeth would never crunch as he could only take in liquid these days. She held the gold that had excited the young man with it's promise of status and wealth against her husband's gnarled fingers while she feebly described it as a yellow rock hoping her husband would find some joy or understanding in these odd gifts selected by the wise man. The dying old man drew in, what was evidently, one of his last few breaths in order to acknowledge the gifts his wife had valiantly tried to describe with enthusiasm.
The old woman bid their guest goodbye with a sad smile as her husband labored to breathe behind her.
The young man journeyed home and his thoughts were a jumble of confusion. Feeling he had failed his mission miserably he sought the wise man upon his return. "Please," he implored the wise man, "tell me what you would have sent to this man who could neither see nor eat. What could have made a difference to this couple? Was the package supposed to be medicine or perhaps money for a new house? Why were they disappointed with what I provided? Please, I must know." The wise man slowly reached into his pocket and held out a simple piece of paper upon which these words were written:
"Peace is coming- don't lose hope. You shall be in Paradise soon. You shall have no more tears, no more pain. You are not alone and you are loved very much."
The young man thought back to his time with the dying man and his crippled wife and was flooded with embarrassment as he realized how utterly useless his choice of gifts had been. He was saddened to think he had robbed this needy couple of the comfort they surely desired and would have found is those wise words during their most difficult hour.
At a loss for words of his own, the young man, who had sought to impress the wise man with his own brand of wisdom, realized his folly... he had chosen gifts to be given in another's name based on his own perspective and priorities.
Lord, help us to seek You in the beginning of each new day so that we can receive all You have intended for this day's journey (GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD). May we humbly seek Your wisdom so we may honestly offer Your gifts instead of our beliefs of what is needed. Dear Creator, You made all- You know all! Help us to trust Your choice of people we encounter, hardships we are to endure, gifts we are to share. Thank you for allowing us to be your hands and feet. Give us courage and strength for our daily journey~ to go where You know souls await hope. ~Amen+
Monday, January 30, 2012
Fresh Start!!
Monday...some people think bleah... Today, I am thinking~ fresh start to implementing all those brilliant ideas that I thought I might put into practice days, weeks, months ago. I am digging out my to do lists of days gone by and crossing off the things I HAVE DONE (yahoo...congrats to me) and not giving up on those items left undone: Thank you letters, prayers to offer up, making my bed-perhaps this one is debatable, pictures to paint... just a few itemized priorites to have slipped through the cracks.
My main objective is not to beat myself up over lost time, but to remember these things were important enough to make special note of and perhaps give them a second look.
For starters: it is never too late to say, "Thank you." It may be too late to send the card you have already addressed and set aside unstamped for three years. But "presto-change-o!," wave of the magic wand, and placement of original card in a bigger card or folded letter stating, "I came across this "thank you," and remembered how special that meal/party/kind word made me feel and thought the orignal sentiments were worth sending."- and you have a valid piece of mail STILL worth sending; simply magic. I suppose the same is true of a memory we come across. A kind gesture that went without a thank you... pull out a paper write down our memory and a thank you. I suppose it would help to actually put the stamp on the addressed envelope and walk it to the mailbox before the next three years go by. POINT IS...I always love getting sweet or kind notes in the mail (heck, anything that isn't a bill- even a shampoo sample can brighten my day :),) and perhaps others would too. A shared memory of someone's kindness is always a good thing, and is not a bill.
As for prayers to offer up...hmmm..."Dear Father of us all, as each moment presents itself, may we grasp the opportunity to spread Your Love and Kindness. May we also remember to thank You for each ray of hope You send, article of clothing we own, morsel we eat which are, in and of themselves, a sign of Your Love for us. Thank You, God, for the fresh start that comes with every day...well, every minute. We love You. Help us to know You as You really are- not who we think You are. Help us to love ourselves as You love us...not the broken way we try and love ourselves... Amen."
Next on the list...I think I will go paint a picture of me making my bed.
My main objective is not to beat myself up over lost time, but to remember these things were important enough to make special note of and perhaps give them a second look.
For starters: it is never too late to say, "Thank you." It may be too late to send the card you have already addressed and set aside unstamped for three years. But "presto-change-o!," wave of the magic wand, and placement of original card in a bigger card or folded letter stating, "I came across this "thank you," and remembered how special that meal/party/kind word made me feel and thought the orignal sentiments were worth sending."- and you have a valid piece of mail STILL worth sending; simply magic. I suppose the same is true of a memory we come across. A kind gesture that went without a thank you... pull out a paper write down our memory and a thank you. I suppose it would help to actually put the stamp on the addressed envelope and walk it to the mailbox before the next three years go by. POINT IS...I always love getting sweet or kind notes in the mail (heck, anything that isn't a bill- even a shampoo sample can brighten my day :),) and perhaps others would too. A shared memory of someone's kindness is always a good thing, and is not a bill.
As for prayers to offer up...hmmm..."Dear Father of us all, as each moment presents itself, may we grasp the opportunity to spread Your Love and Kindness. May we also remember to thank You for each ray of hope You send, article of clothing we own, morsel we eat which are, in and of themselves, a sign of Your Love for us. Thank You, God, for the fresh start that comes with every day...well, every minute. We love You. Help us to know You as You really are- not who we think You are. Help us to love ourselves as You love us...not the broken way we try and love ourselves... Amen."
Next on the list...I think I will go paint a picture of me making my bed.
Friday, December 9, 2011
"Pace Yourself"
Recently, I thanked a friend for her support during my painfully slow progress with posting~ I'm working on getting more regular (just don't go back and review post dates...). She responded with more encouragement. She reminded me that we are all busy during this holiday season. "Sus," she said, "celebrate what you have accomplished and pace yourself- you'll get there." It was nice to have a voice of reason soothing my temptation to beat myself up and offering encouragement to keep plodding along.
I began to apply this logic to where I was in this very holy season. I had launched myself and household into garlands and twinkle lights at supersonic warp speed. It proved to be a "warped" speed because I had led a frenzied pace to decorate the entire house, familiarize myself with most Christmas tunes, and urge the kids toward being on the "NICE" list all before December 1st. Indeed, this was a first for me. I grew up in a home where the Church's Advent calendar led the season. We lit the advent candles and did a daily spiritual reflection at dinner time. My Mom was adamant in having us wait until the very eve of Christmas to decorate the tree. I'm sure there is a happy medium in all of this timing. But I will say that my childhood tradition of "waiting" certainly built the anticipation to a near fevered pitch for us kids. We were also building a true understanding of Christmas and the Reason we were celebrating. I began to realize the wisdom in the advice to Pace Myself. True, Christ had already been born 2011 years ago. This wasn't a true birthday celebration. Advent is technically about helping us ready ourselves in preparation for the second coming of Christ. It was not a bad thing to place baby Jesus in the manger early in the season~ it was a nice reminder of how He came as a vulnerable child. Yet, my preoccupation with "festivities" had felt a little hollow without remembering to work "on the inside" alongside decorating the outward appearances. In doing so, I had nearly reached burnout prematurely and allowed the secular jingling bells to drown out the Silent Night.
I found healing and restoration in remembering the importance on pacing oneself...this season is a journey...Mary and Joseph certainly didn't reach Bethlehem on the donkey overnight. It was with one step at a time.
Perhaps cliche, but always true, life is often about what happens while journeying that makes the destination hold significance. Perhaps, this was true for St. Joseph. Maybe it was in the quiet unseen parts of the journey on foot that he gave his greatest sacrifices- sharing his portion of food with the donkey so it could have the strength to continue carrying it's precious cargo. Walking on foot so Mary could ride with a little more comfort. Either way, it wasn't the speed with which they reached Bethlehem, that impresses us in stories to this day...it was the tremendous distance they traveled burdened as they were. They reached Bethlehem and still found hardship in "No room at the Inn." It was essential then as it is now... this concept of pacing oneself... we will get there...this life is not our home forever.
I began to apply this logic to where I was in this very holy season. I had launched myself and household into garlands and twinkle lights at supersonic warp speed. It proved to be a "warped" speed because I had led a frenzied pace to decorate the entire house, familiarize myself with most Christmas tunes, and urge the kids toward being on the "NICE" list all before December 1st. Indeed, this was a first for me. I grew up in a home where the Church's Advent calendar led the season. We lit the advent candles and did a daily spiritual reflection at dinner time. My Mom was adamant in having us wait until the very eve of Christmas to decorate the tree. I'm sure there is a happy medium in all of this timing. But I will say that my childhood tradition of "waiting" certainly built the anticipation to a near fevered pitch for us kids. We were also building a true understanding of Christmas and the Reason we were celebrating. I began to realize the wisdom in the advice to Pace Myself. True, Christ had already been born 2011 years ago. This wasn't a true birthday celebration. Advent is technically about helping us ready ourselves in preparation for the second coming of Christ. It was not a bad thing to place baby Jesus in the manger early in the season~ it was a nice reminder of how He came as a vulnerable child. Yet, my preoccupation with "festivities" had felt a little hollow without remembering to work "on the inside" alongside decorating the outward appearances. In doing so, I had nearly reached burnout prematurely and allowed the secular jingling bells to drown out the Silent Night.
I found healing and restoration in remembering the importance on pacing oneself...this season is a journey...Mary and Joseph certainly didn't reach Bethlehem on the donkey overnight. It was with one step at a time.
Perhaps cliche, but always true, life is often about what happens while journeying that makes the destination hold significance. Perhaps, this was true for St. Joseph. Maybe it was in the quiet unseen parts of the journey on foot that he gave his greatest sacrifices- sharing his portion of food with the donkey so it could have the strength to continue carrying it's precious cargo. Walking on foot so Mary could ride with a little more comfort. Either way, it wasn't the speed with which they reached Bethlehem, that impresses us in stories to this day...it was the tremendous distance they traveled burdened as they were. They reached Bethlehem and still found hardship in "No room at the Inn." It was essential then as it is now... this concept of pacing oneself... we will get there...this life is not our home forever.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Eyes Opened...
A man and his children were riding the public bus home one evening. The man appeared oblivious to his children's "over the top" misbehavior. A nearby passenger began clearing her throat to bring attention to his children as they ran wildly through the aisles. Her indignant sniffs became louder as they hollered and jumped over the seats. She was shocked and displeased with his lack of applied discipline to this unruly crew. Still, the man stared into nothing seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Finally,her patience worn thin she demanded, "won't you please get your children under control?" The man seemed to snap back to the reality of his surroundings. He quickly apologized for his children disturbing this woman. "You see," he tried explaining, "they are probably trying to get a little energy out. We've been at the hospital all day where their mother has just died. I will have them quiet down."
** I had heard this story (I believe true) years ago and have repeated it several times. The shock value comes in at the end when the justified irritation and self righteous anger at an apparent lack of parenting suddenly transforms into a horrible lack of compassion and passing judgement.
Just this past Friday my own children were exhibiting a lack of control as they fought among themselves. My eldest, a teenager, was working himself into a fury as he physically threatened his younger brother, told his sisters to "shut up," and even hurled insults my way. My response was just as shameful as I vented my utter frustration at him in the form of name calling and grounded him for a week...or maybe it was a month...(I was pretty upset). I was beside myself as I ordered everyone in and buckled. I slammed van doors while loudly reprimanding the lot of them especially my teen son. Once I was in the drivers seat , and backing up, I braked and demanded to know who's door was open... the lights were still on. A few seconds later I uttered, "oh." and sheepishly walked around to shut the rear doors I forgot I had opened while venting. I chose to ignore my children's giggling commentary filtering around me "then mom yelled who left the doors open... and then she was like, oh."
I drove in silence until I realized my eldest, in the passenger seat beside me, was still was not buckled. We were no longer yelling...or talking. "Please put your seat belt on." A minute later I repeated, "please put your seat belt on." I touched his arm and asked "what is going on with you?" Silence with a glare. I looked over at him and fearing the worst I asked, "why are your eyes all red and glossy?!?," allowing the accusation to seep into my voice. "Because I was crying Mom." What?!? That was unexpected. "Why?" "Because my friend just died an hour and a half ago!" Tears began to stream down his cheeks. I was in shock. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen my big boy cry. Slowly he filled me in on his classmate who had been life flighted after being overcome by Carbon Monoxide. I gasped when I recognized this as the boy I had been following on the news. A true tragedy.
I began to think back to the hug my son had tried to give me as I was hustling everyone out the door and barking orders. I reached over and squeezed his arm and told him, "I am so very sorry." It became clear to me that I was the self righteous woman on the bus...judging my son harshly (easy to do with a teen temper). Wrapped up in his horrible show of anger I became oblivious as to WHY he was so angry.
Compassion is a lesson that comes in a difficult tutorial... It takes giving up a sense of comfort to discover the source of what appears unappealing. Applying the balm of compassion may be as simple as cutting someone a little slack or even just listening. Either way, this is probably a lesson that will be repeated throughout life. I'm certain I have BEEN the occasional TEST for lifes' unsuspecting traveler as well...
** I had heard this story (I believe true) years ago and have repeated it several times. The shock value comes in at the end when the justified irritation and self righteous anger at an apparent lack of parenting suddenly transforms into a horrible lack of compassion and passing judgement.
Just this past Friday my own children were exhibiting a lack of control as they fought among themselves. My eldest, a teenager, was working himself into a fury as he physically threatened his younger brother, told his sisters to "shut up," and even hurled insults my way. My response was just as shameful as I vented my utter frustration at him in the form of name calling and grounded him for a week...or maybe it was a month...(I was pretty upset). I was beside myself as I ordered everyone in and buckled. I slammed van doors while loudly reprimanding the lot of them especially my teen son. Once I was in the drivers seat , and backing up, I braked and demanded to know who's door was open... the lights were still on. A few seconds later I uttered, "oh." and sheepishly walked around to shut the rear doors I forgot I had opened while venting. I chose to ignore my children's giggling commentary filtering around me "then mom yelled who left the doors open... and then she was like, oh."
I drove in silence until I realized my eldest, in the passenger seat beside me, was still was not buckled. We were no longer yelling...or talking. "Please put your seat belt on." A minute later I repeated, "please put your seat belt on." I touched his arm and asked "what is going on with you?" Silence with a glare. I looked over at him and fearing the worst I asked, "why are your eyes all red and glossy?!?," allowing the accusation to seep into my voice. "Because I was crying Mom." What?!? That was unexpected. "Why?" "Because my friend just died an hour and a half ago!" Tears began to stream down his cheeks. I was in shock. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen my big boy cry. Slowly he filled me in on his classmate who had been life flighted after being overcome by Carbon Monoxide. I gasped when I recognized this as the boy I had been following on the news. A true tragedy.
I began to think back to the hug my son had tried to give me as I was hustling everyone out the door and barking orders. I reached over and squeezed his arm and told him, "I am so very sorry." It became clear to me that I was the self righteous woman on the bus...judging my son harshly (easy to do with a teen temper). Wrapped up in his horrible show of anger I became oblivious as to WHY he was so angry.
Compassion is a lesson that comes in a difficult tutorial... It takes giving up a sense of comfort to discover the source of what appears unappealing. Applying the balm of compassion may be as simple as cutting someone a little slack or even just listening. Either way, this is probably a lesson that will be repeated throughout life. I'm certain I have BEEN the occasional TEST for lifes' unsuspecting traveler as well...
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Who am I?
Here goes... I love God. I love my husband and children. I love the creative spark that God instilled in my soul. It is this spark that has consistently brought this very endeavor of a website to mind... and I mean to the point that if I knew where to file harassment charges for these persistent ideas~ I just might do it. Yet, persistence paid off and here I am... opening my life before the world in the hopes that God might touch a soul through something read here. A person just might be moved enough to really look closely at the gifts and talents they've been given (and possibly hidden), and follow the inspiration to actually use them!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Welcome World! Here it is...the very first (ever) blog launched by Harborlily Creative! I couldn't be any more excited to begin this journey with you!
And just like any new "parent" this birthing process has tired me out... and so I bid you a good night (or morning, depending on where you live). Can't wait to see what new adventures await us together!
Peace and Joy,
Susan
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