The Chance

A hopeful chance of adopting a precious baby girl was given to Rusty and Cariann in April.  They took it readily.  A baby!  Natalie. This could be their chance to expand their little family.  Of course this was right.  Who wouldn't jump at the chance?

The father had 30 days to contest.  They heard from him at 28 days, and yes, he disapproved.  Dark  clouds began to form as they had to put their growing love for her on the back burner and come to the realization that they could lose her, by law.  They cherished the days with no vibrations of threat.  But deep inside. . . . well, no one could ever know their hearts; deep inside.  In every direction, loved ones that knew Natalie, loved her, and birthed her, were pulling for Carianne and Rusty to be given the chance to keep her forever . . . except the father.

Saturday, was the day agreed to take her back to the birth mother.  At least she would love her, compared to the fathers questionable lifestyle.  No one can imagine the pain Carianne and Rusty must have felt, and are still feeling in the aftershocks.   Torture seems like a weak word to describe what they have been through.  But remembering the eyes of that sweet, pink, baby that needed them so much is where it hurts the worst. 

They have paid their dues in the turmoil department.  To see them get up, and attempt to carry on, despite the weight on their shoulders makes me cry.  With lumps in their throats, they carry on, knowing  they can heal, even with the weakest knees.

Don't think for a minute that prayers weren't heard.  Natalie was given Christlike love from their little Christlike family.  Heavenly Father knows and loves each one.  They have proven themselves beyond measure.  We are firstly spiritual beings, trying to live earthly.  He won't let us fall without helping us up, not even Natalie.

I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand;
Upheld by My righteous, omnipotent hand.  

Dear Help Line

Dear Help Line

This is the phantom green photographer again.
I am embarrassed to say that the photos I took on my last fun filled visit to play with my grand children are still on my camera.  I'll be honest here, I originally focused my inquiry to my eldest daughter, who has been very patient with me.  When she was here last (April) she wrote up yet another  "never fail" check list to get the job done; but here I am again . . . stuck.  Part of my problem is that I can't intelligently describe my request.  Would this be downloading? uploading? side loading? transloading?

Here is the checklist:

From camera to computer -------
Click Computer
Turn ON camera (you'll be proud of me for figuring out that one by myself.  It only took me 34 min.)
Double click Canon power shot
    "           "   Removable storage
    "           "   DCIM

Now that I'm this far, and since I don't understand the terminology, I can't describe my problem, except to say that I just want to be able to put the photos in my 2014 file to be labeled - before it gets to be 2015!
If you have any idea what I'm talking about, would you please reply from your primer book on "Backwards Computer Grandmothers"?  .

Thank you, overloadingly!

The Race

Yesterday at church, Danny White spoke to us.  He is the High Counselor over our singles ward.  He is also a past ASU and professional football player for the Dallas Cowboys, and is still employed by the Cowboys as a spokesman/ commentator.  He has lots of stories about his football career, but happens to be a great speaker about life and testimony also.

I learned a lot from him and soaked in every word.  At the end of his talk he recited a lengthy, but meaningful poem.  I was impressed that he had it memorized; like it had been a part of his life for a long time.   I made a note to look up the poem when I got home: 

The Race
 
“Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten!” they shout at me and plead,
“There’s just too much against you now, this time you can’t succeed.”
And as I started to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene.
For just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; now I remember well.
Excitement, sure, but also fear; it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope. Each thought to win the race
Or tie for first, if not that, at least take second place.
And fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son,
And each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they sped, as if they were on fire
To win, to be the hero there, was each boy’s desire.
And one boy in particular, his dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought, “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field, across the shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arm flew out to brace,
And ‘mid the laughter of the crowd, he fell flat on his face.
So, down he fell, and with him, hope. He couldn’t win it now.
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished he’d disappear somehow.
But, as he fell, his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win the race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit, that’s all.
And ran with all his mind and might to make up for the fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
His mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But, in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face.
That steady look that said again, “Get up and win the race!”
So, he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last;
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight or ten,
But trying so hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running more. Three strikes, I’m out…why try?”
The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away.
So far behind, so error-prone, a loser all the way.
“I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought, “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But, then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “Get up and take your place.
You weren’t meant for failure here; get up and win the race.”
With borrowed will, “Get up,” it said, “You haven’t lost at all,
For winning is no more than this–to rise each time you fall.”
So up he rose to win once more. And with a new commit,
He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been.
Still, he gave it all he had, and ran as though to win.
Three times he fallen, stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered the winning runner, as he crossed the line, first place,
Head high and proud and happy; no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen crossed the finish line, last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last, with head bowed low, unproud,
You would have thought he won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad, he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me you won,” his father said, “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy helps me in my race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
“Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten!” They still shout in my face,
But another voice within me says, “Get up and win the race!”

by D. H. Groberg








 

This is Heaven

Priceless.

One day older than*&^%$

 

This spoke to me this morning.

 I have them . . .

 and I am a good candidate for one, I'm sure!

Finally!

2/12/2014 . . . 

3/10/14 . . .

 

 . . . and the winner is . . .

4/18/20

Stay tuned.  This is only the beginning!

April 16, 2014

Let's get this party started!