Rainy Afternoon

The boys ate pizza in a living room fort on this rainy, Sunday afternoon. (And I got some time to myself.) Perfect!

More Weekend Pics

Frisbee, mowing, Easter egg hunt,

Checking blood pressure,

Reading!

Hey, those look cool...

Thanks Pop-o!

Happy To You

My Grandma Gail, parents, Andy, Luke & Em all came to celebrate the Easter weekend (and my birthday) with us. Not to mention the extra dog and cat in the house! It was so much fun.

Trey has been singing the birthday song since last weekend when his buddy Jack had a birthday party, so we tried to get him to sing it to me. He must have thought Jack's party was more fun.

My New Man-Crush

Hymn 72

Bless'd morning, whose young dawning rays
Beheld our rising God
That saw him triumph o'er the dust,
And leave his dark abode!

In the cold prison of a tomb
the dead Redeemer lay,
Till the revolving skies had brought
The third, th' appointed day.

Hell and the grave unite their force
To hold our God in vain;
The sleeping Conqueror arose,
And burst their feeble chain.

To thy great name, almighty Lord
These sacred hours we pay;
And loud hosannahs shall proclaim
The triumph of the day.

Salvation and immortal praise
To our victorious King;
Let heav'n, and earth, and rocks, and seas,
With glad hosannahs ring.

from The Psalms and Hymns of Isaac Watts

A Notable Failure

He never went abroad to broaden him
and though he learned to read, he did not write
anything worth saving. Once, at a whim,
he scribbled something they hadn't got right

in the sand and erased it. Few could know
whether to credit any of the vulgar rumors
surrounding his birth in a shed. There were
whispers and a gap of thirty years.

Then more rumors trickled through the countryside
about the artisan's son turned wonderworker:
probably a charlatan - blasphemer to be sure. Wide-
eyed, some claimed he raised the dead (and healed lepers!),
before the Romans nailed him - as they nailed all such-
and the neighbors sniffed, "He didn't come to much!"

by Robert Siegel from The Waters Under the Earth

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

(by Isaac Watts)

The Many Faces of Trey

Well, some of them.