Home from England!

Lynzie and I in front of the Assembly Rooms in Bath where Jane Austen and her characters danced the night away! Lynzie unexpectedly received an invitation to the Regency Ball while we were there and was able to attend with friends. Such a blessing. This is us preparing to join the Grand Regency Costumed Promenade.

I'm home from England---a wonderful trip with my daughter! Here are just a few highlights from the first part of our trip, in Bath---I'll try to do some more detailed stuff later. For now---sleep! Ha!

Saturday morning, we were up at dawn, walking the still quiet streets of Bath.

Lynzie's first glimpse of Bath Abbey. We attended church there Sunday morning and evening---a wonderful experience!

We took a walk near the famed Pultney Bridge. If you've read Northanger Abbey, you may be familiar with her describing this part of town.

Lynzie made some friends at the Roman Baths!

In which I prepare to sneak up and scare the pants off Jane Austen...

Thanks for linking up with the {Not Just} Homemaking Party!

Capture the Moment- Or Live in It? -- Guest Post

Lynzie and I are gone to England so my friends are running the show! I'm so excited to welcome my friend Shirley as a guest blogger today! Shirley is an excellent photographer who inspires many in our community to get out and enjoy nature and the beautiful things in life.

I take pictures. Lots of pictures. OK, I admit I have a problem. Not only do I love getting that shot (right as I squeeze the shutter release sometimes), but I am so happy organizing, editing, and making things like photobooks and gifts from my photos.

My subjects, before I became a parent, included anything and everything I found pleasing. 

But did that change when my first child was born! I took hundreds of shots (THANK YOU, DIGITAL CAMERA DEVELOPERS!), edited each of the best 20 different ways, filled photo albums and my walls and my focus with images of my daughter. 

Since then I have slackened somewhat, especially on the editing and definitely on the printing, and these days I do get quite a few non-offspring pictures. 

But did I mention I have a problem? I have this sense that if I do not capture that moment, I will lose it somehow. I will forget it happened, the richness and joy will fade, something. My memory is not strong (many of my memories before age 18 are in snapshot form rather than video form, if that makes sense). There is a fear in my heart that many moments will fade to nothingness if not "immortalized" in a photograph. OK, so take the pictures, right? 

But it began to dawn on me as I captured birthdays, explorations, t-ball games and dance recitals that I might be missing the richness of the experience, of being wholly IN the moment, by choosing to be behind a camera. I feel incomplete without some method of capturing the moment, but perhaps I don't need 50 shots of a 45 minute dance class? 

Right now, this is my compromise, along with asking someone else to grab a few shots: get a few photos, take one when it really grabs me, then let the camera hang on its strap, at the ready, relax, and LIVE in the moment. I don't know which way is best, honestly. What is the future use of these thousands upon thousands of pictures I have taken of my daughter? Beyond the occasional photobook, enlargement, gift, memory-booster, what use are so very many minute captured details of a child's life? I don't really know the answer, but I do know that I can't cut back much more without fear whispering in my ear, "What if you forget this moment? What about THIS one? You don't want to chance THIS one disappearing into your history forever..." So I grab a shot. Or two. Or 25. 

Church: What Not to Wear ~ Guest Post

Lynzie and I are gone to England so my friends are running the show! I'm so excited to welcome my friend Cherri as a guest blogger today! Make sure to check out her blog, Bingalong.

It had been years since I'd stepped foot in a church. God and I had developed an understanding; He could have my heart, but His congregation was just not for me. Too many judging eyes. Too many whispering opinions. Too much heart break.

But here I was one Sunday morning, newly dating this super cute guy. God had his heart, and he was quickly winning mine.

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Go to church with him? I wished I could say no, but I couldn't pass up ANY opportunity to see him. He played guitar with the worship team. I'll go just to watch, I would think. I'll keep my head down and try to blend in.

But blend in, I did not. Walking in to church that morning, heels too high and dress too short, thoughts of insecurity began to creep in. What am I doing here? What kind of church is this anyway? Assembly of God? Never heard of it. I was raised Baptist. Oh, my gosh. What if this is the kind of church where all the women wear long skirts all the time and never cut their hair? I glanced down at the sorry excuse for a skirt covering the smallest portion of my upper thigh —suddenly convinced I was going to hell.

Inner monologue running wild, I grasped tightly to Adrian's hand as we began walking down the empty hallway. We were early for the service so he could practice with the band. Suddenly worried that I'd cause him embarrassment, I leaned toward his ear and whispered, "I think my dress is too short." Before he could respond, a woman suddenly turned the corner in the hallway ahead of us. She reached out her hand to touch my shoulder and without the slightest hesitation she told me, "Sweetie, you look beautiful. Just be yourself."

Wow. WOW! That's all I needed. I will come back here, I thought to myself.

Now, more than two years later, we attend as a family. God still has my heart, and His church is now my home. In fact, after we got married, we moved thirty minutes north, just to be closer to it. The church drew us in. Not with programs or preaching, (though we enjoy both) but with a gentle touch, and a few kind words of unabashed acceptance from a stranger.

I still don't know who that woman was. Chances are good that I see her every week, but I can't recall her face. In case she's reading this, I want her to know what an impact she had on my first back-to-church experience. Not only did she welcome me, but she challenged me to welcome others in the same way. I try not to walk by an unfamiliar face without offering a smile, a gentle touch, and a few kind words; for I know what such a simple thing can do. 

"Let us not love with words or good intentions but by our actions and in truth." —1 John 3:18