Cheating

This really isn't a blog post. It is a link to someone else's blog post. But it is a profound and stirring entry from a good and wise friend of mine. Please, please, please read it!

http://michaelkelleyministries.wordpress.com/2009/10/19/leukemia-reflections-year-3/#comment-2134

Time Flies...

....when you're raising children, among other things. With the passage of years, Marc and I often comment that we cannot believe the kids are X years old, yet we can't even remember life without them. It seems like just yesterday, they looked like this...

and this....(or that we looked like this, for that matter....)

The older I am, the faster time moves and the more objectionable I find it. It is some kind of strange mathematical formula that could make a very interesting graph of some sort, I would think. But I know that I am not alone in these feelings. Parents are forever lamenting the relentless transitions of their babies on the path to independent adulthood. We are not planning to have any more children [note to self: edit this post should a third child make an unexpected entrance], so looking at baby pictures of Wesley and Catelynn does stir a certain amount of nostalgic longing. Any sadness, however, is trumped by my eager desire to know my children. I love the bits of behavior and conversation that allow me to peek into their personalities. I wonder about what qualities I will say, "You have always been that way. I remember when you were little you would..." It excites me to witness the formation of who they are becoming. As they grow, I feel less of a pull toward the stage they have completed and more anticipation as the next building block comes into view. The challenge in parenting (and life in general) is to remain present. To strike the perfect balance between retrospect and expectancy. Time will continue to fly. It behooves us to have fun.

09/29/2009

Thirty years of life seemed like a significant accomplishment. Thirty-one just seems like another year. Celebrating birthdays as an adult can be difficult. I'm not one to dread the prospect of aging. I rather like the idea. Yesterday I was listening to a friend of mine describe the comfort, confidence and wisdom that is acquired with the passing of years. I feel it....the steadily decreasing angst of dwelling in my own skin. It is nice.

But as each year brings another September 29th, there is expectation. The day has a lot to live up to. Will there be parties? culinary decadence? raucous tomfoolery? On Sunday, some wonderful friends surprised me with a dinner gathering. There was sweet fellowship, yummy food and drink, laughter, and kind sentiment. It was glorious. But Tuesday still begged for its share of recognition, insistent on greatness. Friends prompted me to do something fun, fabulous, self-indulgent, wild.

The alarm clock showed no appreciation for my special day. Nor did Wesley's empty Star Wars lunch box. Nor Catelynn's dirty diaper. As far as the universe was concerned, it was just a regular old Tuesday. And that is how the day played out. Regular. Routine.

And yet as I watch the last few minutes dwindle from today, I feel overwhelmingly blessed and loved. Maybe it was this message from Marc:

"You're the most interesting person I know, the best thing to come out of Florida EVER, and the only person I would ever let buy me clothes. You are solely responsible for making my all-time favorite sounds, smells and tastes. You are the only grown-up I've ever really wanted to hug, yours are the only eyes I've ever noticed to be "especially blue today," and you're the only person about which I've ever thought, "I can't wait to find out what she thinks about..."

You're the only person who's ever made me wish I liked to dance.

You're the person I'd pick Wesley and Catelynn to grow up to be just like.

You're the only earthly thing that I really couldn't do without.

I love you.

It's the 29th here. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Or this gift from Wesley that he hand picked on a special trip to Target with Sharon:

He decorated the gift bag with two stick people. The one labeled "me" has what Wesley calls a spit bubble declaring "I heart you" to the taller, mom-ish figure. He used a Target sticker for closure at the top. The treasures inside included a purse, chocolates, earrings and a random pink tumbler (not pictured as it is in the dishwasher in preparation for usage at breakfast tomorrow). When I showed up at his school today to have lunch with him, he noticed and complimented that I was wearing the earrings and carrying the purse.

Or maybe it was the phone call from my dad tonight to tell me how he was so proud of me and thought I had become such a wonderful woman. Or maybe the beautiful weather and my children's faces on our impromptu visit to the park. Or maybe countless other people who took 30 seconds or more to visit my Facebook wall, send a text, call by phone, or share pizza buffet for dinner. On further consideration, the day was neither regular nor routine. It was splendid. And though it ended five minutes ago, I know I will be just as blessed and loved when I wake up tomorrow.

Open Letter to Good Friends

Dear Coffee and Sunshine~

You guys are the best. Oh, how I have missed you! (Well, just you Sunshine. Coffee is no fair-weather friend.) You have invigorated my sleepy body, and I shall henceforth go out and enjoy this splendid Monday. Stay sweet! (Well, just you Sunshine. Coffee, you stay bold and beautiful.)

Your friend,

MLA

Wii Are Family

Before Marc left, we purchased a Wii. I was hesitant to take the plunge, fearing the temptation of hours spent in front of the screen. Certainly, Wesley is eager to play at any opportunity, but such is the case with most activities children enjoy. He is very cooperative with our gaming regulations, and it has been a rather positive experience, all told! It confirms my theory that media is what you make of it. I would say that we are using it to our advantage.

Dance Forever

I want EVERYONE to see this!!! Marc doesn't know it yet, but we are SO doing this when we renew our vows. He owes me a dance.

Music is my Boyfriend

I love music. Love it. While I myself am not particularly musically inclined (aside from carrying a tune, maybe even a harmony from time to time), I consider myself a connoisseur of sorts. I have had the opportunity to enjoy multiple artists live and in person. Aside from seeing the Indigo Girls in concert more than 10 times, I have also rocked out to the following artists:

Sara Bareilles Natalie Merchant

Bela Fleck Counting Crows

Coldplay Ingrid Michaelson

Snow Patrol Ginny Owens

Sheryl Crow Amy Ray

Dave Matthews Band Rebecca St. James

Dixie Chicks KT Tunstall

NKOTB The Weepies

Jars of Clay John Mayer

Third Day Sarah McLachlan

Switchfoot Norah Jones

This list is by no means comprehensive. I'm sure there are some I have forgotten. What a privilege to be present and take in the talent of these artists. I always come away marveling and thankful for people who make this world a more beautiful place, aesthetically speaking.

Infestation Station

When we moved into our house two and a half years ago, Marc found a cute little field mouse in our garage. It was trapped in an empty trash can, and after showing it to Wesley and I, Marc let it go as we smiled and watched it scurry away. And that was just the beginning.....

Months later, I heard some strange noises while I was doing laundry--scratching...and chirping? After a few more loads, I was sure of it. Marc brought out the ladder and removed the beginnings of a nest from our dryer vent. Somehow, those bird brains had managed to fly in through the movable slats of the vent. And the were committed. Despite our initial delusions of victory, the scratching, flapping and chirping returned about a week later. Again Marc dragged the ladder to the entry point, but this time he found a completed nest with 5 eggs. Yet another science lesson before we made a trip to Home Depot for a new and improved (and bird-proof) grate for the vent.

If you have read my blog before, you may remember my encounter with a mouse in the house! I won't replay the details, more for the sake of my post traumatic stress than your boredom.

After Marc left, I rediscovered the mouse in the garage. Not the same one, perhaps, but just as terrifying. My aunt helped me set some traps and put out poison. Concurrently, I had tiny black ants around my sink and wasps in my attic. Although I was ready to throw in the towel, I pulled out the arsenal instead....

If this doesn't work, I may have to move.

Mother's Day

While I was in NYC, Sharon helped Wesley create this masterpiece, then took a video of him reading it to me (http://flickr.com/gp/sraines/p1vHo2 )! Great gift!

Press 1 for English, 2 to Lose Your Sanity

It was a simple task: mail a gift for a friend. One question: can I reuse an old diaper box? I have been saving them from the landfill for just such an occasion, but I wanted to be sure I had a USPS sanctioned vessel in order to avoid having it returned to me. (Which leads me to ask, if they can mail it back to me, why can't they just send it where it was supposed to go instead?) First, I tried to call my local post office using Google 411 (it is free! 1800-466-4411). For some reason, the post offices near me were not listed, and no one answered the number for the one I did find. I went to the USPS website, certain that this issue would make it into the FAQ (frequently asked questions). If it was in there, I couldn't find it. But I did find an 800 number for the USPS. I feel like this is a good time to insert the fact that my children were awake. Nap time had just ended, and we were getting ready to go out the door to run errands. They were playing raucously in the living room, as children so often do. Resuming the story, I dialed the toll free number and was not surprised to hear an automated system on the other end of the line. Naturally, none of the prompts applied to what I needed, but the computer kept picking up little squeals from my children, and directing me to its interpretation of what I had said. In the height of my frustration, I had Catelynn on the potty as I yelled into the phone "Representative! I just want to talk to a PERSON!" Cate was crying and repeatedly saying "Mommy!" with great concern in her voice, despite my not-so-gentle sshhh-ing. And the computer continued to repeat, "I'm sorry, I did not understand your response." A moment short of my head exploding, I sequestered myself in my silent room, FINALLY got to a live person, and found out that boxes with logos are not allowed unless they are all covered. The representative suggested turning the box inside out, which I thought was a genius idea and thanked her immensely. I unpacked my package, tore apart the box and taped it back together with the brown inside showing. All the while, I imagined the entire package spontaneously coming apart at the seams, and weighing the cost of the roll of tape I had just used, I wondered why I had not just purchased a box!

The Joys of Motherhood

Stealing kisses
Establishing traditions

S...L...I...D...I...N...G

A picnic...

...at the park
Rediscovering hopscotch

Sweet, sweet...

...faces

There's No Place Like Home

I would like to go on record now: I hate tornadoes. I grew up in Florida with the seasonal threat of hurricanes, but you almost always had fair warning for those storms. There were shelters, evacuation plans, the works. What do tornadoes get? Sirens, if you are lucky. I just emerged from the closet after almost an hour of taking cover with my aunt and two incredibly squirmy children. Wesley, of course, had a million questions and needed full detail of all possible tornado scenarios. For example, he wanted to know what a person would do if they were outside and far away from their home or their car. When I asked him how the person got there in the first place, he suggested by donkey, with great concern that a donkey could not run very fast. I wondered why he would think of donkey as a mode of transportation, and he said he was thinking about Jesus since today was "Great Friday."
I must say that this stint in the closet went considerably better than the last one, when all 3 of us had the flu. My glorious aunt kept Wesley occupied with a rousing game of Hangman (which, upon further consideration, is a difficult game to explain to a five-year-old..."why is it called hangman? what is that thing above his head?"). Catelynn kept herself busy trying on all the shoes in our closet. Although, I had to stop her when she started taking down clothes to put on. Also, there were snacks, which is always a big hit with my children!
In the end, I'm immensely thankful for the safety of my family and our home!

The D-word

Deployment. We knew it would happen eventually. Eventually is here. Marc left on Sunday for Pennsylvania, where he will train on the Blackhawk (helicopter) for approximately 6 weeks before meeting his unit in Oklahoma and heading to Iraq. He will be deployed for a year (give or take...it is the Army!) We are going to keep a separate blog for all deployment-related posts: http://www.hotnsandy.blogspot.com/. See you there. And thanks for praying!

Night and Day

Marc took these pictures from our back porch with our new camera.

Oh What Fun It Is To Ride...

Usually, I post this kind of thing on the kids' blogs, but since they are both in the video, I decided to post it here. Not a bad choice of indoor cold weather activities. :)

Code Red

Well, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. Perhaps I am lucky that this is the first time. Tonight, as I hastily prepared dinner and neglected to keep a watchful eye on my youngest toddler, tragedy struck. Okay, maybe not tragedy, but it ain't good. After an unusually quite period, Catelynn reappeared in the kitchen COVERED IN RED MARKER! Her hands were gloved in red, large streaks across her bare legs, and one blot in the middle of her forehead. I grabbed a washcloth and started scrubbing her when it hit me: if there was this much red marker on her, where else was it? I headed upstairs to the bonus room and found red scribbled on both the couch and the futon, as well as some clothing and throw pillows. I grabbed the writing utensil in question and was relieve to see it said "washable." Washable my tokhes! If by washable they mean, "you had better start saving for a new sofa," then yes, it is washable. Most of the color came out of the clothes, and after a good bath or two, Cate will be back to her normal color, but the furniture is another story. I guess for the time being, we will turn the pillows over and call it a day. Just a little collateral damage in the childrearing process.

Job Description

I'm in the process of applying for a new job, and I had to sign this form the other day. It is an interesting little peak into my career as a nurse... (sorry so small!)

Small World After All

At church last week, I was sitting near a guy I recognized, but I wasn't sure why. Wondering if he might be a colleague, I asked him if he was a resident. He laughed and said he wished that were true. When he told me his name, it sounded very familiar. About 2 seconds later, I realized why I knew him. He is often in my list of "friend suggestions" on Facebook! Several of my friends are friends of his, so I have seen his name and face occasionally. We had never actually met in person before. Not one to shy away from embarrassment, I informed him of the situation, and we both had a good laugh. What a crazy world of technology we live in.

The evolution of hair

I ran into a new friend the other day, and she told me she didn't recognize me because my hair was different. Ha! Apparently, that is kind of my thing. Our conversation prompted me to look back over the last 5 years, and here is what I came up with....

Long hair when Wesley was born
The great chop

Just a little shorter

The faux-hawk

(I don't really have any good pictures of this one)

Spikey and blond
Back to my natural color (pregnant with Cate)

With bangs (and Smeby) Red and funky blond highlights
RED!
Darkening up again

I have an appointment with Courtney, my genius hair girl, next week. We will see what happens!

My mecca

I am a HUGE Indigo Girls fan. Some of you are thinking, "Really, you don't say?" But for others, it may not have come up in conversation yet. Go ahead. Ask me about them. But be ready.

In short, they are an acoustic folk rock duo, known for amazing harmonies and social activism. I was originally introduced to them in high school, then really started listening to everything of theirs in college. Since then, I have seen them perform 10-11 times in at least 5 different states. One of the highlights of our fan-band relationship was when I found this picture on their website. Yep ,that is me (with long hair :)), getting a coaster signed by Amy Saliers, half of the Indigo Girls duo. When I discovered it on the website, I was working nights in an ICU in Indiana, and I screamed out loud. Probably not the best thing to do in an ICU at night.

In October, I got a chance to catch Amy Ray in a solo show. She is touring to support her new solo album, while continuing to tour and make music with the Indigo Girls. It was my first concert at 3rd and Lindsley in Nashville, so I wasn't sure what to expect. The show was phenomenal. It was general admission, and I ended up with a seat right on the stage at a table with Rick and Lynn, two middle aged fans who I befriended because they had 2 seats left at their table. Good people.

Those are my puppies parked on the stage. Seriously!

My friend Erin joined me for the experience, and we just rocked out! It was their first show on the tour, so the band was pretty pumped up and the crowd was wild. After the show, I gushed to the band about how much I loved the show, as any uber fan would, and the drummer actually hugged me! The guitar player said she saw us on the front row, and we were their favorites! Unbelievable.

Guitar player, Kaia Wilson, getting set up

The set list

Amy Ray and the band: Melissa York, percussion, Julie Wolf, keys

(absolutely NO zoom!)

Halloween!

The kids were Winnie the Pooh and Tigger for Halloween '08! We have been reading The Complete Tale of Winnie the Pooh, and My Friends Tigger and Pooh is one of Wesley's favorite shows on the Disney Channel. I thought Wesley and Cate's size difference would be PERFECT for Tigger and Pooh costumes. Imagine my delight when I found both costumes at the consignment store, each in their correct sizes. Cate's Pooh costume was even marked down on sale! I purchased both costumes for less than $12, including the tax! It's a Halloween miracle. :)

(With our friends' Steve and Katie Jo's little girl, Sophie, aka: Little Bear!)

Come, Ye Souls By Sin Afflicted

Come, ye souls by sin afflicted
Bowed with fruitless sorrow down;
By the broken law convicted,
Through the cross behold the crown;
Look to Jesus;
Mercy flows through Him alone.

Take His easy yoke and wear it;
Love will make obedience sweet;
Christ will give you strength to bear it,
While His wisdom guides your feet
Safe to glory,
Where his ransomed captives meet.

Blessed are the eyes that see Him,
Blest the ears that hear His voice;
Blessed are the souls that trust Him,
And in Him alone rejoice;
His commandments
Then become their happy choice.

Sweet as home to pilgrims weary,
Light to newly opened eyes,
Or full springs in deserts dreary
Is the rest the cross supplies;
All who taste it
Shall to rest immortal rise.

Dog Days of Summer

We have been soaking up the Nashville sun this summer! Here are a few pictures to sum up the festivities.... In the kiddie pool

Taking in the birthday party action (check out Wesley in the background)


Playing tee ball in the backyard

Summer cutie, posing on the steps

Pirate pool at Joshua's birthday


With BFF, Christopher

Fourth of July fireworks

Patriotic Baby!

Top 10 "PROS" to my husband being unemployed

10. Less laundry.

9. Finally getting back some of that money the government takes out of my pay check every week.

8. More time for home improvement projects.

7. Running errands during naptime.

6. Dinner on the table when I get home from work...Marc is a great cook!

5. Family outings during the week when things are less busy.

4. The economy is doing GREAT, so I'm sure he will have a better job in no time.

3. Saving money spent on gas for commuting.

2. Endless opportunity for me to work....what a blessing. :)

1. He is not in Alabama any more!

I think God may be spying on me

Over the last few months, God has really gotten my attention. The latest incident was last Sunday while I was exchanging pleasantries with my Pastor, Scott. Before the service started, he walked over and asked me how I was doing. Man, that is a rough question. I'm not fond of being fake or lying, and honestly, life has been overflowing with challenges. So, I vaguely hinted that I'm muddling through, just trying to figure out when I will be able to finally relax and breathe. He responded, "Actually, my sermon today is kind of about that. Remember that I wrote it before we had this conversation." He proceeded to preach a sermon titled "Bitter Hardship and the Glory of God" from Exodus 1:1-14, 2:23-25. The following five points were outlined in the bulletin:

• There is no place in this world that is not affected by sin.
• There are times when following God leads us into hard places.
• There is a place to turn in all hardships.
• The Lord knows His people in every hard place.
• For the believer, every bitter hardship leads to experiencing God's glory.

Seriously? If you would like, you can hear it for yourself (click on the MP3 to download).

Now, mind you, this is not the first time this has happened. Earlier that same week, I was filled with [in my opinion] righteous anger, and I picked up one of my Bible studies that I had neglected for a number of weeks to read this " This week we study patience....mercy drives this patience." The themes of the chapter, which focused on Job--Job, people, come on! Talk about trumping whatever I'm going through--were hope and endurance. My heart was completely transformed in 20 minutes. Wait, there's more! During a time of mental struggle with sin, I read a chapter in a separate book about taking thoughts captive in Christ. In Living Beyond Yourself, the study I mentioned earlier by Beth Moore, I studied sporadically for weeks on the subject of peace: Christ had perfect peace in aloneness, in provision, in the storm, in the wait, in tears, in God's plan, and in his own death. In some small (or sometimes large) way, I have recently dealt with ALL of these. Each time, I would open that book (and my Bible) at the exact moment I needed to hear those very specific lessons.

I am overwhelmed and humbled by God speaking so specifically into my life. Job 23:10 says, "But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold." As it turns out, life is hard, and it may not get much easier. But at least for today, I'm not discouraged. My hope is in the glory!

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

While I was growing up in Florida, the county provided blue bins for recycling for pick-up at the curb each week. Very progressive. Very ahead of their time. Very green. Recently, I found out that Metro Nashville also has a recycling program, but we are outside of the covered area. Then, on my way to the library, I saw a sign for drop off recycling at the Wal-Mart Fresh Market. Initially, I shied away from such a commitment. Not only did I need to sort and separate the trash, but I would have to put it in my car and drop it off myself. After a few more weeks of realizing how many things I throw away that could be recycled, I decided it was worth the headache. It is official....the Actons are going green!

Remembering the life of Pearce Donald Curtis, grandfather extraordinaire

I was born on his birthday. September 29, 1978. He was 48 years old and had already suffered 2 major heart attacks. But for God's grace, I may have never even had the good fortune to meet my Grandpa. For the first 12 years of my life, my grandparents lived in Alabama, where my grandmother, Vernette, is from. Grandpa was from Newfoundland, Canada. What a pair!

I have fond memories of frequent vacations to see them in AL or meet them somewhere in Tennessee or Georgia. Also, they came fairly frequently to visit us in Florida. Grandpa was an excellent letter writer. They always sent cards for birthdays and special occasions, but he also wrote me letters with silly little stories, asking how I was, just saying "I love you." Great letters. I saved a lot of them. He had the most identifiable scrawl. I just took a card down off of the refrigerator from Catelynn's first birthday, and I realized it was the last thing he wrote to me. I suppose the years ahead will be littered with those kinds or realizations. I'm turning 30 this year, but this birthday will carry some added significance because it will be my first one not shared with him. He used to send me pictures in those letters. He would write things on the back to say when and where they were taken. On the back of this one he wrote, "See the big smile on Beth's face. Sep 29, 1987-Our birthday, Michelle." Beth was pouting because she wanted to hold the cake with us, and my mom wouldn't let her.

His two heart attacks left him "disabled." He lived the second half of his years with severely compromised heart function, and doctors told him he would never live to be 60. He was 77 when he died. He said it was because he had "Newfie" blood and grew up eating moose meat. When I was in 8th grade, they moved to FL. Once I started driving, I would go over to their house often. I had many long conversations with him, filled with laughter and stories of his Newfoundland childhood and years in the Canadian Army. He was a warmly affectionate man, and he wasn't afraid to tell you and show you that he loved you. He always kissed me square on the lips, and I never minded it. On this picture he wrote, "Christmas 1997. Some 'old fart' holding the gal he loves." The feelings were mutual.

Here are a few random things to know about him: His name was Pearce, but everyone called him Curt (except his family who called him Pearcy). Speaking of his family, they are awesome. There were 11 children in his family. He didn't have a knee cap (I think it was on the left knee) because he injured it in a HUMVEE accident while he was in the Army. He always sang these ridiculous songs to us, and we swore they were made up, but I don't think they really were. He had an amazing sense of humor. He had an invisible horse name King tied to his fig tree in AL. Wesley's middle name is Curtis after him (and my Grandma). He was really proud of that and liked to call him Curt, which confused Wesley a little bit. :) He loved to dance. I hope they allow that kind of thing in heaven, because I'll bet he can really cut a rug in that new body he's got now.

The Rain Is Gone...

...but I'm still a little afraid to put away my umbrella. It feels like I'm emerging from one of the most difficult seasons in my life. August 14th, Marc left for Ft. Rucker, AL for four months of flight training. Over eight months later, May 2nd, he is back home. At first, it was hard to manage the daily tasks without him here. Though I was used to days at home by myself while he was working, I didn't realize how much help he was at dinner time, bedtime, and weekends. Cooking meals, nursing an infant, giving baths, reading bedtime stories, cleaning up dinner dishes...the end of the day was intense! After a few months, I had conquered the challenge. I had a routine. I adapted. But loneliness set in. A married woman is not meant to be lonely. I stayed busy with as many self-generated social activities as possible. We even made friends at Target and Publix. My friends and church community came and supported me. But with no end in sight, Marc being laid off his civilian job here in Nashville, and financial stress, it seemed more than I could handle. I still don't understand why God heaped so much on our plate at the same time. Maybe I'm still too close to see 20/20. But a few weeks ago, the sky broke open, and the blessings began to pour down. Marc was able to finish training, money started to appear in the bank account, I was able to take a trip to Florida to be with family. The multitude of blessings is humbling. I know I did nothing to deserve them. I doubt God is in heaven having a conversation with Satan about how blameless and upright I am, like the much-afflicted Job. However, I did grow. I may have struggled to find hope and joy in the midst of trials, but I was looking in the right place! Maybe one day, God will be able to say, "Have you considered my servant, Michelle?" I just hope all my cattle don't die. :)

Spring Is In The Air

I don't care what the groundhog said, spring is here! Or at least it is trying to be. Between random cold snaps and rainy days (what is that they say about April showers?), we have enjoyed some BEAUTIFUL days in Nashvegas. As Sheryl would say, "I wanna soak up the sun; I got my 45 on so I can rock on..."

Mistaken Identity: Laura Van Ryn and Whitney Cerak

I first heard this story two years ago when it originally happened. Before it was on the cover of People or on national news or Dateline or the Today Show or Oprah. I lived in Indiana in the area where the accident happened for seven years. The university I attended was very near Taylor University, where both Laura and Whitney were students. I did nursing clinicals in the hospital where the victims were taken. I still have friends in the area that have even closer ties to this tragedy. Watching the coverage this week on the news was amazing. For me, the most amazing part is the honor and glory that is being given to God....right in the middle of the Today Show and Dateline and Oprah. Together, the two families have written a book: "Mistaken Identity: Two Families, One Survivor, Unwavering Hope," detailing their terrible ordeal. Together, they are telling their stories to the press, showing tremendous strength and faith. And together, they are praising the Lord for all the world to witness. These are amazing people, and they serve an even more AMAZING God!