New Website

I am so glad you found me here, but this is my old blog. I have updated my space to a new address and a new look.

Please visit me at:

LindaChontos.com


Photo by S. Etole, copyrighted All Rights Reserved. Used with special permission.

Whodunit?

In the seven years I've been blogging, I don't think I've ever mentioned the fact that I love mysteries.Perhaps I've felt a bit frivolous after reading the book lists, filled with deeply spiritual tomes, of other bloggers. I do read those books. Nevertheless, I confess. The only thing I like better than a good cozy mystery is a good cozy mystery series.

My shelves are filled with Dorothy Sayers, Agatha Christie, Katherine Hall Page, Alexander McCall Smith to name a few. Some of them are brand new hard covers and others are paperbacks whose pages have yellowed with age. All of them dear friends.

I love searching through used books stores for the old mysteries that have been relegated to the clearance tables or piled in corners to collect dust. One of my best finds was a full dozen Anne Morice mysteries. I nearly did cartwheels in the aisles. I love Anne Morice!

It isn't easy to find her books any more. She was born in 1918 and died in 1989. Her first mystery, "Death in the Grand Manor" was published in 1970. She went on to write twenty-two more Tessa Crichton mysteries. Did I mention the fact that I especially love British cozy mysteries? Anne Morice perfectly fits the bill.

The heroine/sleuth is a young actress named Tessa Chrichton. Tessa is married to Robin, a detective with the British C.I.D., which comes in very handy when you are forever tripping over dead bodies.

Tessa tells the stories in her own delightfully witty way. It isn't unusual to find yourself chuckling while reading about the death of the old Nannie. She has a definite way with words.

I just reread for the I don't know how many times "Nursery Tea and Poison." It loses none of its charm in the retelling.

On a visit to her godmother Serena Hargrave's home, Tessa finds herself in the middle of family upheaval. Pelham Hargrave, twin brother of Serena's late husband, has returned to England with a very young and rather neurotic bride. Has he some darker motive for returning after all these years than merely visiting the old estate?

Serena's ungainly daughter has harbored resentment for years over the loss of what she considered to be  her rightful inheritance. She is decidedly unhappy when the heir and his young wife return.

At the very center of all the trouble, ensconced in her nursery suite upstairs, is Nannie. She rules the household, has for three generations, and is the keeper of far too many secrets. She tries desperately to reveal the darkest of those secrets to Tessa with her dying breath.

Someone has poisoned poor, old Nannie, and before Tessa, with Robin's help, can unravel the mystery a member of the family is found shot to death.

Morice gives us plenty of cleverly placed clues and any number of suspects, but it's never easy to figure out whodunit.

If you're looking for a well written mystery series, I highly recommend this one. You may have to do a bit of detective work yourself to find them, but it is absolutely worth the effort.

Blessings,
Linda

Love Idol

Dear Lord,

Here we are at the beginning of the Lenten season again. Although it wasn't something I understood until just a few years ago, it has become a special time for me.

You've seen what Jennifer is doing. I read about it the other day, and it spoke to my heart. But it's a busy time for me, and I thought I would just read her book and let the others join the movement she's started.

You had other plans. I've come to know your plans are infinitely better than mine. Besides, it's just about impossible to ignore that still, small voice.

So here I am. I need to identify the love idol in my life and allow You to sweep it out of my heart. I don't need to spend a lot of time pondering and digging deep. I know what that idol is. After all, You have been working with me on this one for a very long time.

I believe I'm making progress, but just maybe this is the time to banish it once and for all.

It's time to stop:
  • worrying about what others think of me
  • comparing myself to others and always falling short
  • lying in bed at night rehashing every encounter and conversation
  • allowing discouragement to keep me from doing the things You've called me to do
  • trying to be all things to all people
  • feeling as though I am constantly letting You down
  • laboring under the weight of the shame and guilt of things past

It's time to stop trying so hard to win the "approval of others." It's time to know, deep down in my heart of hearts, that I am PREAPPROVED by You.

It's time to stop trying to be a good girl and know I am already perfect in Your eyes. You gave me that priceless gift when You gave Your Son to die for me.

I'm surrendering that idol, Father. I'm accepting Your grace and love. With it comes the freedom to trust You in all things and to be all You created me to be. And best of all, the knowledge that You approve of me. What could be better than that?

With love,
Your Daughter

Please go here to read about the movement Jennifer has started. Perhaps there's something you know you need to let go of. Sometimes it's a little easier knowing you're in very good company.

A Trail of Glory

We celebrated her fifteenth birthday on Saturday. She is the fourth grandchild in a line of seven. Three older; three younger. And where have the years gone?

It has become such a common saying among those of my own generation. We look around and suddenly the teenagers we once worried and prayed over are worrying and praying over teenagers of their own. And truly, where have the years gone?

We are in the sunset of our lives. It looks as though it would linger long, a great golden orb hanging over the horizon. It colors the world in magnificent hues, and we think we have a while to watch. But blink and it is gone leaving only a trail of glory.

I don't long for more days than are written for me. I only long to live them well. To rest a while and notice the beauty, to work a while and give from my heart. To leave a trail of glory captured from the Son.

Joining my dear friend Laura:


Blessings,
Linda

The Burden

For as long as she could remember, even before she knew its name, the longing for approval resided in her heart. She tried her best to please everyone in her little world, chastising herself whenever she fell short.

Her longing did not go unnoticed. People named her "nice" and "kind." But it didn't fill that empty spot in her heart because she knew better. She knew there were dark places no one saw - things that would cause them to withdraw the approval she cherished if only they knew.

She confessed those things and understood they were forgiven, but her heart would not forget. She even began to correct people when they called her "nice" or "kind." Perhaps she thought the confessing would  be its own means to getting their approval.

Still, when she lay down in her bed at night, the silence and darkness closing in around her, she picked up those confessed things and felt crushed beneath the weight of guilt and shame.

She went on a Christian Retreat and packed the guilt and shame along with her Bible and notebook. She sat on the straight-backed chair in the large room and the lady began speaking. She had never seen her before, but she spoke as if she could see right straight into her heart.

When she finished speaking, she asked everyone to write down on a piece of paper the thing they thought could never be forgiven - the one they carried like a lead weight in a fragile heart. She took her little pencil and put the words on paper - the words that had kept her bound for so long.

"Now," the speaker said. "I'm going to collect all of the papers. Then, after you go back to your rooms tonight, I'm going to take every single one of them out to the big camp fire and throw them in. They will curl in the intense heat and burst into flame. They will be gone forever - powerless."

She could hardly see for the tears, as she walked into the night. But she walked lighter. Something inside had been released. A weight had lifted. In the darkness, she felt the light of His love and the warmth of His approval.

It had been there all along. She had only to open her hands to receive it.

"Let me not dwell so much within
My bounded heart, with anxious heed-
Where all my searches meet with sin,
And nothing satisfies my need-
It shuts me from the sound and sight
Of that pure world of life and light."
    Anna L. Waring

Joining Jennifer today. Please come visit. She has something very special to share.



Blessings,
Linda

They Sing

My favorite form of exercise is walking. It's the one thing I've been able to do consistently over the years. I confess, some days I feel too weary to put on my tennis shoes and walk out out the door, but once I get started I'm glad I made the effort.

Some days I walk with something streaming into my ears. Every once in a while I grab the camera on my way out the door. Most days my little stack of index cards comes along for the ride - my time to put the Word in my heart.

Every once in a while, I take my reading glasses off and step outside empty-handed. On those days I am much more aware of the sights and sounds around me. Especially the sounds.

There is the ever-resent sound of birds singing their uniquely beautiful songs. Even on the very gloomiest of days, their pure notes fill the air. A cardinal calls to his mate, and the answer comes back crystal clear and pure. A mockingbird perches on the wire above my head and proudly runs through his repertoire. The notes flow in and around one another. You can hear a majestic song of praise if you listen carefully.

I walk and wonder at their trusting nature. Don't they know the sunny day will be blown away by a cold front scheduled to arrive by late afternoon? Shouldn't they be flying around and doing something? Haven't they heard it will be a colder than usual winter? One would think they would make some sort of preparation.

Instead they seem to glory in the moment and leave the rest to a Father they somehow know is watching over them. "Why fret about the future?" they trill.

He has always taken care of them in the past. He is with them even now. He will be faithful tomorrow. Let's live this one moment and be thankful.

Joining my sweet friend Laura at Playdates With God.



Blessings,
Linda

Five Minute Friday - Small

The word for this Five Minute Friday is:

Small

start:

I am drawn to small things. Bouquets of tiny wild flowers are more apt to find their way onto the old kitchen table than a more flamboyant mix of larger blooms. Tiny tea sets make their way onto the shelves of the old hutch my father crafted. I hunt for little salt cellars in antique shops and flea markets. I cannot resist diminutive china animals and birds.

How is then I find it so difficult to find the beauty in being small myself. Oh, not my physical size to be sure. The me that resides inside. The self that prays to become less yet fights this longing for "bigness." The size that says I matter to you and your opinion of me is of utmost importance.

He, who is larger than anything I can possibly imagine, looks at this "bigness" stuffed inside the small and gently reminds me that I am perfect in His sight. Just the right size - even in my smallness.

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I'm hopping over to Lisa-Jo's to add my small post to the others. Won't you join us?



Blessings,
Linda

More Thoughts On Aging

There are many things we know, or perhaps think we know. It isn't until we find ourselves right in the middle of them that we realize we didn't know after all. We didn't know in the "living it out" sort of way. We merely gave it an intellectual nod.

I knew some day the picture would change. I would no longer be the child - loved, protected and cared for.  I didn't really understand the depth of such love - not until I held my own children in my arms. Then I knew. 

I knew the picture couldn't stay the same. It would grow and change as the years rolled by more quickly than I could ever have imagined.

I knew, because everyone said so, some day the roles would slowly shift. But I didn't know. A part of me thought this season of life, with its empty nest and unscheduled days would be one of rest and ease.

The little girl couldn't imagine the Dad who had effortlessly swung her up on his strong shoulders falling and needing rescuing of his own. She couldn't know the sadness of watching the slow slide downward, the heart-pounding calls late at night, a father weeping at the kitchen table, holding a distraught mother in her arms, the loss of so much that was once taken for granted.

There are blessings to be sure. The family gatherings, the stories great-grandchildren never mind hearing over and over again, the beautiful legacy of faith they continue to live out. I now know I must  cherish the moments.

Joining Jennifer today:

 

Blessings,
Linda

He Sees

The streets and sidewalks of this great city were quiet on the morning we took this walk, gasping for breath as we climbed one hill after another.

It was a different scene on the day we arrived, a busy, bustling saturday afternoon. The beautiful weather had drawn everyone outdoors, and it was hard to walk against the press of people all around us.

The air was filled with the harmony of different languages blended together into one lovely melody. The different races and nationalities formed a colorful human rainbow. We took a seat to watch them all walk by - so many of them - and I thought about the Father who knows each one by name.

You'll find me, and the rest of this devotional, at Laced With Grace today. Please come visit.

Blessings,
Linda

a repost from 2009

Five Minute Friday: Garden

Today's Five Minute Friday word is:

Garden

start:

The garden, the one I nurtured, watered and fed, has died. The blooms are gone and the foliage faded to brown.

There is little sign of life in this once flourishing patch of ground. But past experience gives hope. I have learned that appearances can be deceiving.

Although there is no outward sign of life or beauty, except an occasional weed, something is going on beneath the surface. The garden isn't dead. It is simply waiting - resting in the knowledge that soon the dead branches will be cut away and new life will emerge.

With time and patience it waits for the Master Gardener to send the sun and rain. Then life will burst out of roots which have been nurtured and cared for all through the freezing rains and dark, cold nights.

So too, my heart. In seasons when all seems lost, the Father is working. At just the right time, a new season will begin, a  season filled with life and beauty.

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Please visit Lisa-Jo's blog. There is something very special beginning there today. A way to bring more passion into your life.



Blessings,
Linda

Focused on Him

The gentle warmth of the morning sun slowly turned icy patches into puddles. She pulled on a light jacket and headed out for a walk. The wind carried the memory of yesterday's freezing temperatures. She tugged her sleeves down over her cold hands. 

She had gone only a short distance down the little country road when it happened. 

Her sock began to work its way down inside her tennis shoe. She hated it when that happened but tried to ignore the increasing discomfort. Now it crumpled around her toe and became painful. Mumbling under her breath, she reached down and pulled the offending sock up. 

She hadn't gone 100 feet before it had worked its way right down to her arch again. She considered taking it off altogether but thought better of it. Gritting her teeth she continued her painful walk.

She forgot her discomfort for a moment when she saw her shaggy friend Julie standing by the fence. 

The little llama often stopped grazing long enough to amble over to the fence to gaze at the funny people walking by. Hard to resist those elegantly lashed eyes.

Now her walk took her around the corner, the silly sock a constant annoyance. She looked up. Not a cloud in the brilliant blue sky. The sound of the ocean reached her - little sandpipers calling to each other. They skittered across the dormant grass as though they were back on coastal beaches. 

Up a little incline, around the curve and there they were. 

Coaxed out of their pen by the sunshine, the peacocks were strutting their stuff. They hunted and pecked, oblivious of their magnificence. She stopped. Impossible to simply walk past such beauty. No painters' pallet ever contained colors exactly like these. 

"Oh Lord," she whispered. "Your creation is absolutely amazing."

She continued her walk - down another street and then toward home. She had almost reached the corner when she realized she had completely forgotten her sock-induced pain.

"It's true," now she spoke out loud. "Whatever you focus on increases."

She made the turn into her driveway. "Keep me focused on You, Lord."

Blessings,
Linda

You can click on the pictures to enlarge them :)

If I Could Give

The time has come for giving gifts from the heart. We think of those we love and imagine the perfect gift. The one that will bring joy and say, without words, how very dear they are to us. We long to wrap love with pretty ribbons.

If I could give such a gift it would be:

• love that never fails

• peace in the midst of the storms that would overwhelm you

• hope when everything looks darkest

• joy birthed in sorrow

• healing for the sickness that knows no cure

• mending for broken hearts

• mercy undeserved

• forgiveness - no matter what

• freedom from the failures of the past

• a slate wiped clean of guilt and shame

• grace and strength for all of your moments

• faith to vanquish all your fears

• the breaking of chains that bind you

• rest from the battle

• songs to lift your spirit

• marriages made whole and families restored

• help in time of trouble

• words that are living and true

• promised never broken

• eternity settled

In and of myself I cannot give such a gift as this. I can only give what I have already been given. All of these and more are wrapped in the person of Jesus. He is your love gift. Given with love.

Blessings,
Linda

Seeking

Once upon a time, there was a son who had a longing in his heart for a special something. He searched for it close to home but couldn't find just what it was he was looking for. Disappointed, he began to look farther away. He looked at pictures and made telephone calls. At last he thought he had found just what he was looking for.

There were many miles between his home and the place he needed to go, so he asked his Dad to go along with him. He trusted his father's wisdom and experience. Besides, having company would make the miles pass more quickly.

After hours of driving they reached their destination. Alas, the reality bore little resemblance to the pictures and the fancy words. They turned around, discouraged, and drove the long miles back home.

Not one to stay down for long, the son found another picture of his heart's desire. This time they would have to journey even further from home, but they gamely got back into the car and set off. Unfortunately, this too turned out to be an exercise in futility.

By now the son had decided to set the dream aside for a while. However, another picture popped up. It was almost too good to be true - the exact image of what he had long hoped for. The journey this time would be more than twice the distance of the last one. Would the Dad be willing to go? Of course. They packed a few things and set out, the prayers of we who waited following them.

This time … this time the dream came true. It was all he had hoped it would be. He paid the price and brought it home. We all rejoiced.

This little story is a true one. So is the one it reminds me of.

Once upon a long ago time, a Father and Son had a dream. The dream - the wonderful, marvelous dream - was you and me. They loved us that much. The Son made the journey, but His Father was always with Him.

"For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost."
 Luke 19:10

He stopped at nothing to find us. He paid an incalcuable price. And oh how He rejoices when we are found.

"In the same way, there is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven’t strayed away!"
 Luke 15:7 

Blessings,
Linda

The Landscaper

Long before we cleared our land and long before the dream of a new home became a reality, there was Jo and Josie's home. Right across the street. Every time we drove by, I looked at the lovely culmination of years of care and hard work and longed for the day I could begin my own landscaping.

It was a lofty dream for someone who manages to kill every plant unfortunate enough to fall into her hands. But alongside that dream was another; one in which I sat at Joe's feet and learned the secrets that bloomed in glorious color all over his property.

The second dream never became reality. Joe passed away a year ago. Not long afterward, Josie went to live in an assisted living home - no longer able to live alone. The adult sons came and went - one staying occasional weekends. Neither with the time to cultivate and care the way the father had.

I clung to the lofty dream - researching, planting and praying. On pleasant days I worked in my little flower garden and looked across the road at the once flourishing landscape. The grass grew tall and wild, threatening to choke out the smaller flowering plants. Fruit withered and died on the branches. The inevitable weeds crowded around the feet of flowering trees.

The spirit of the home, the heart and hands that had nurtured beauty and life, was gone. Neglect had done its destructive work.

It has become a visual lesson for this heart that is prone to wander. Without the Spirit, all the potential for real beauty and fruitfulness eventually withers away. But when the true Landscaper is in residence, all is well. He is working, with great care and tender love.

Blessings,
Linda

Five Minute Friday: Visit

This week our Five Minute Friday word is Visit.

start:

The front doorbell rang. There they were. Just like that. Come for a Sunday afternoon visit. They brought gifts - lovely gifts - these friends from their Sunday School class. But the very best gift they brought was their time - the visit itself.

For two hours they sat, sharing stories and laughter. It was my Mom's idea of the perfect gift. A visit.

She has the gift of hospitality. Our home was the one where friends gathered, where missionaries occupied the guest bedroom whenever there was a need, where friends were entertained and meetings were held.

When we kids grew up and moved away, it was the place we returned - calling it "going home." Our children loved going to Grandma's house, and now their children find the same welcoming warmth. For it isn't about the house at all. That has changed over the years. It is her heart that draws us.

Ninety years of living have taken their toll. Hospitality comes with increasing difficulty, but it hasn't dimmed the joy she finds in a simple visit.

I go as often as I can. It is always a coming home. The welcoming smile; the open arms; the kiss on the cheek; the listening heart.

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I'm linking up with the community that finds its way to Lisa Jo's welcoming place. Please join us.



Blessings,
Linda

Yarn Along

I'm joining Ginny today for Yarn Along.

A sweet young friend is having a baby - a long prayed for precious miracle. I'm knitting a little sweater for him or her. They've decided to be surprised. I love that.

So white seemed like a good choice. I've made several of these little sweaters over the years and love the pattern. The last one I made was for my Granddaughter - the one who will be graduating from college this spring. Oh my - how time flies.

I've also turned to a familiar friend in my reading. I've lost track of how many times I've read Jane Austen's books. This time I'm rereading "Persuasion." I do love Ann.

If you're working on something and would like to share, come join us. Or just come admire the handwork or get an idea for a good read. Ginny's blog is a welcoming place.

Blessings,
Linda

Moment By Ordinary Moment

Yesterday was an ordinary Monday. We got up a little late (we retired folks seem to have a hard time getting up early and might be a little resentful if we have an early appointment that requires rising before 8:00 a.m.). I stripped the sheets off the bed, and we got ready to face the day.

Monday is grocery shopping day. I think I may have mentioned a time or two that grocery shopping is not my favorite chore. But I digress. The thing that makes it bearable is Abel's - the teeny, tiny restaurant with the water stains on the ceiling and worn linoleum. It is also the one with delicious home-cooked meals. If you're not an early riser, it's a given you'll have to wait for a table - bunched into a little group of other lazy (I mean more relaxed) people in the little space by the door. It's always worth the wait.

Fortified, we proceeded to the grocery store. When we returned home, we unloaded the groceries and went for a walk. It was a beautiful spring-like day. Not a cloud in the sky. Our little llama friend Julie watched as we passed her little piece of land. I often wonder what's going on behind those big, long-lashed eyes. She, in turn, may wonder why two perfectly normal looking people walk past her four times - never really getting anywhere.

I called my Mom while I walked, and we chatted. These are moments I cherish, knowing the immeasurable blessing of still having my parents with us.

After lunch it was laundry, ironing and fresh sheets on the bed. I know I'm a bit odd, but there is something so sweet about clean clothes, pressing out wrinkles and knowing we'll be pulling crisp, fresh-smelling sheets up to our chins at bedtime.

Our evenings are usually quiet affairs. We turned the television on, and I picked up the baby sweater I'm knitting for a dear young friend. I find it hard to sit without something in my hands. A few chapters in "Persuasion" (I dearly love spending time with Jane Austen even though we've had the same "conversations" many times in the past) and time for bed.

An ordinary day, filled with ordinary moments. There are times when I feel a sense of not doing enough for Him . My Monday certainly didn't change the world in the slightest, but I am trying to stop keeping a list of the "doing." Instead, I gave Him the day in the morning, and know He walked with me - helping me with those things that "so easily beset," and orchestrating my day according to His plan. Could it be that smiles, clean laundry, a telephone call or simple chores were pleasing in His sight? 

Blessings,

Linda

"And He Who Searches Hearts…"

My heart holds a secret. It is one we have tried to unlock, the cardiologist and I, but it holds tightly to the mystery.

It has been subjected to all manner of interrogation methods. Strange machines, looking for all the world like something from a Sci-Fi movie, have examined it from every possible angle. Electrodes have monitored its every beat. I believe if someone were to turn out the lights on a dark night, I would positively glow.

We have politely, if relentlessly, asked why it occasionally increases its tempo. It steadfastly refuses to answer. So we are left to wonder. There is nothing to be done.

I am in the process of memorizing Romans 1, 8 and 12. I didn't manage to get it all done last year. I'm still on chapter 8. There are five little words in tucked into the 27th verse that captivate me every time I whisper them:

"And He who searches hearts…"

The Lord, it seems, is in the business of plumbing the depths of our hearts. He doesn't need machines or monitors or electrodes. He simply sees. And nothing is hidden from Him. There is no secret, no matter how well we think we've concealed it, that escapes His notice.

However, there is no need to be ashamed or fearful. He looks with eyes of mercy and grace. The black blot we try so desperately to bury out of sight can only be cleansed when it is brought out into the light. There is freedom in the revealing.

He is the Great Physician. He prepared the 'Cure" for our scarred and wounded hearts long before we ever drew a single breath. Peace comes to us when there is nothing hidden, when all is clear between our hearts and His.

Blessings,
Linda

On Dreams and Words

I haven't written many words here in recent days, but I have been writing words. Over 68,000 of them to be exact. Well, I didn't write all those words this week. It's been a work in progress for over a year. In fits and starts I've been writing a little book. This week I finally tapped out the last words. It is the fulfillment of a dream birthed in my heart many years ago.

I hesitate to share this, because the dream is only that - a wish, a hope. There is only a rough draft - nothing more. I share it because I believe, somewhere deep inside, the Lord gave me this dream.

At first I doubted that. After all, a mystery isn't a deeply spiritual tome. It is a simple story. The Lord gently asked me to get my big self out of the way and offer it open-handed back to Him. I don't know what will become of it. He may leave it sitting somewhere in the depths of cyberspace. There was a time that would not have been okay with me. It is now.

I am thankful the Father gives us dreams. I am thankful He cares about our dreams. I am thankful He doesn't put limits on our dreams or measure them by human standards. I am thankful He knows exactly what to do with those dreams.

Whatever it is. It will be good.

Blessings,
Linda

My "Resolution"

I am not good at keeping resolutions - no matter what the season. The very thought seems to set me on a collision course with failure. I have long lamented my lack of self-control. It is an on-going matter of prayer - and confession - and prayer.

I've been reading all the wonderful posts about choosing words for the year (I've done that too.), setting goals for healthful dieting, beginning exercise programs and so much more. Really good things.

And yet…even as I read them, I get this sinking feeling right in the pit of my stomach - discouraged before I even begin. I'm weary of the trying.

Over the past several months the Lord has been gently impressing something on my heart. Instead of the trying, suppose I pray without ceasing - an on-going conversation with Him. Moment by moment listening for His voice and then walking in obedience.

How do I spend this one moment Lord?

When the nest is empty, and there is "we two" together all the time, it is difficult to (for me anyway) to adhere to a schedule. It seems the children anchored my days - shaping them into a consistent pattern. These days - the hours fill with unexpected things - and I am never sure from one day to the next what the schedule will be.

So…moment by moment keeps resentment at bay. When my plans are scuttled because an elderly parent needs help, I can listen for His voice and know that it is good. When doctor appointments fill the calendar squares, I can rest in Him and know the things I long to do will wait. When the walk gets postponed time and time again, I know there will be other days.

I know this "plan" may seem rather unambitious and a bit lazy and perhaps it is. As with so many other things I've "declared," I may be back in a few months to say, "You know that moment by moment thing?" I hope not. My prayer is that my moments will be used wisely, that I will truly listen to His voice and do what He says.

Blessings,
Linda