New Home

I am thrilled to announce that A Quiet Chaos has a new home.  


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May you abound in the peace and love of our sweet Lord Jesus,
Elizabeth

Beautiful

Yesterday afternoon, I found God in a subway tunnel.
Randy and I took the Metro down to Arlington to his office so he could pick up some files he needed for the weekend.  When we arrived at the Courthouse station and began to exit the train to his office, Randy grabs my hand and says to me, "There is a guy we will pass in a few minutes - he plays his guitar and sings Jesus songs."  We ascended the stairs and swiped our cards at the turnstile. As we rounded the corner,  heading for the tunnel that runs under the street to his office building, I could hear the music.  Softly, quietly it drifted and swirled around me pulling me forward to the center of the tunnel where it splits off into different directions. His sweet voice carried simple words, but friend, they were such powerful words. 
"Jesus, I want to be in Your presence. 
Jesus, I want to know you. 
Jesus, I want you to fill me up with Your love." 

As we drew nearer to him, I could feel love and encouragement in my heart.  As the words he sang made my heart swell, I let the rest of everything fall away - the stress, the anxiety, the problems to big for me to handle, the meanness of the world, the fear that keeps me in idle much too often- I just let it go.  And for the few brief moments as we passed by him, I truly felt God whispering to my heart.
"Here I am.  I will take your problems because they are not to big for me.  I will take your stress and your anxiety, your worry and your fear.  I will take your doubt.  I will use it to build you up and never let you down.  Trust me."
As we continued to walk through the tunnel under the street, the music faded slowly away.  We emerged into the sunshine of late afternoon.  I felt grateful.  I felt peaceful.  Would it last? I did not know. 
When we re-entered the train station, retracing our steps, the music slowly, quietly began to drift through the tunnels to me once again.  God showed me how this man had placed himself strategically in the center of the station's tunnels where Jesus' name could be heard throughout.  I began to think about how God places us in a certain time and place for His specific purposes.  We may never know this side of Heaven who we affect with our actions - good or bad, but I believe if we are obedient to our calling and the ministry God has laid before us, then the outcome is change.  
Changed hearts.  
Changed minds.  
Changed lives. 
Changed for the good, not the bad.  Is that not enough for us to know?  Should we not, every one of us whatever our beliefs are, just try to be a source of encouragement to one another?  Should we not always try our very best to show kindness and love to another fellow human being?  Should we not care about another's burdens and show them what God can do with those burden's?

He can take them, crush them and make us whole. I think I will let Him take mine.  Will you?
When I passed by this man, each time I felt a holiness and reverence that had been missing in the rest of my day. I felt it because Jesus was with him.  It made me want to touch this man in the subway tunnel as if I might draw on his love for Jesus, might benefit somehow from his obedience, that somehow magically it could be transferred directly to me with just a mere touch. I wanted what he had in Jesus, but I did not have to touch him to get it.  Because Jesus was present and He made Himself available to me in the busiest of times to calm and refresh my heart, ease my worries and anxieties. He filled me up with His peace and love and all I had to do was exist in His presence.  It is the most beautiful thing to experience and I want to encourage you to seek Him out today.  Let Jesus love and spoil you with His perfectness and His beauty. Let it be today.

May you exist in a showering of His Peace and love, 

Elizabeth

The Beginnings of Faith and Trust

Be sober, be watchful. Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith. 
~ I Peter 5:8-9a

It is 2a.m.. Voluminous clouds ride the wind’s breath low across the treetops. Bare branches reach into the midnight sky.  There is a beauty in the surreality of these moments where I exist alone.  Shadows create a world of possibilities from the purview of my bedroom window as my mind wanders through a plethora of demands that weigh me down. A storm is approaching.  Lightening shatters the sky and seconds later the crushing sound of thunder shakes me with its forceful growl. To see the lightening rod salesman from Something Wicked This Way Comes, walking along the sidewalk below would seem quite fitting and not the least bit out of the ordinary.  Instead, drifting clouds lull me into stillness.  The stars shine hypnotically against an infinite blackness, so deep, so vast, I feel miniscule.  Part of a Nahum scripture asserts itself into my conscious: “The Lord has His way in the storm and the clouds are the dust of His feet.”  My mind creates an image of God on a mission of utmost importance. He marches in long strides with angels closely following.  The second troop of clouds march rapidly into view, then disappear over the trees.  Wispy remnants linger as the last of the clouds race by with a swish that swirls my thoughts and I want to reach out, call up to God, “Wait.  You are going too far.  You passed right by me.”  The wind whispers a husky goodbye as I drift into a curious mind’s restless slumber with the words, “What is so important?” on my lips. 

I wrestle with the sleep that comes to me. In the morning when I awaken, I feel forgotten.  Before I even open my eyes, I can feel the anxiety building.  Behind my closed eyes, a scroll unrolls a list of musts.  And I must get moving because I am behind, so woefully behind.  I feel frazzled, overwrought, exhausted.  I sit at the edge of the bed praying.  The disquiet of my mind, creates an anarchy that, like a boa constrictor clinches me, squeezing until I am in tears, gasping for air.  I breathe shallow breathes. My head feels enormous, strangely buoyant as if it is filled with helium.  I scour the room for an exit as the claustrophobia creeps up from my feet tying me to the floor.  I panic sure this time is the end.  This is the day that I really can’t take anymore. The fear confuses and disorientates me, debilitates me.  It turns me into a jumpy, edgy mess. The demons that haunt me and nip at my heels are good at what they do to me – a total derailment.  They isolate me and persecute me day after day as if they have permission to create as much upheaval as possible.  Turmoil churns and boils in our house creating a jungle of adversities and I want to slip away unnoticed for just a little while.

I have often thought about what my faith would be like if I had never experienced the trials that God has laid before me.  I think that my faith would be a shallow puddle of water incapable of surviving the heat of a summer afternoon.  It would just evaporate into the air and disappear. 

It would not make for a very good disciple, I fear. 

For me, the most difficult part of a spiritual battle is to know God is there, but being unable to exist in a state of patience to experience His presence.   I am still trying to control outcomes, trying to convince God that I do not deal with catastrophe well. I want Him to promise me that I will not lose anything more than I already have lost.  I want Him to fix the problems in my life without having a major lesson come out of it.  I know He is conditioning me, equipping and instructing me, qualifying me for the moment when He calls to me and says, “Okay.  It’s time.”

In the past I have struggled to understand why days, weeks, sometimes even months go by where I feel totally in synchronicity with God.  There is a contentment that fits perfectly in my life and peace reigns. Until that one morning, that one morning I wake up feeling unsettled and in an instant, I forget that He reigns.  I forget the One who with His very own hands fashioned me to be who I am, then He placed me on Earth in a perfectly selected place and time to do the work He gives me to do.  To fulfill my purpose here on Earth, it is necessary to under-go faith building.  God does not expect my faith to stay the size of a mustard seed.  Seeds were created to grow into beautiful, hearty plants; some which nourish our body, others which nourish our spirit.  Just as the seed waits for the warmth of the sunlight and the rain from the Heavens so they might grow in their time, so should I wait on God and follow Him wherever He leads me, no matter the trial, no matter how scared or anxious I am, because He is teaching me something so incredibly important.  He is teaching me to trust Him.

Christian maturity requires sacrifice, but God promises us that He is sufficient.

 Always.

Forever.

Infinitely.

This is all I need to know.

Peace, love and blessings  to you all,

Elizabeth

The Gift ~ part one

Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: “ Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”~ Luke 2:8-14 



 A Little Piece of Wisdom

When I was a senior in high school, three weeks before Christmas, God gave me a special and unique gift.  At the time, I underestimated the significance of the gift, I barely recognized it as such.  But through the years the memory of a moment, in a back alley, on a cold winter day, spurred a non-linear pondering that cultivated two things: passion and a little piece of imparted wisdom.

One Sunday afternoon, I attended a matinee showing of “Driving Miss Daisy” at the Alliance Theater.  When the play was over and dusk eminent, I ambled alone, down the sidewalk, back to my car.  The city already reflected Christmas.  Wreaths and twinkle lights adorned many of the buildings and trees.  Distracted by thoughts of colleges I might attend and holiday party RSVPs and pretty Christmas lights all around me, I did not realize I had strayed in the opposite direction of my car.  The cold wind pierced my body even though I was dressed in a wool suit and long leather coat.  I burrowed deeper inside my scarf and shoved my gloved hands down into my pockets.  I scurried across the street, pausing to watch the sun as it drifted down, down, out of sight behind a hotel.  The sidewalks were deserted and quiet on the back streets.  My nose crinkled as it caught the smell of something burning.  I turned around and stared down the alley way.  A homeless woman sat on the frozen ground trying to light a small fire, but the fierce wind blew out each match she struck.  I could see the smoldering ashes of the last fire.  Beside her, a red milk crate held what appeared to be all her worldly possessions.  When she looked up, I could see the loneliness in her eyes.  I was overwhelmed and panicked.  She stared at me for a fleeting moment, but it seemed an eternity to me.  I stared at the torn clothes upon her emaciated body and beyond to the dumpster that partially concealed a torn cardboard appliance box.  I took a step closer and she feebly stood.  From her pocket, she pulled a dead dandelion, handed it to me, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

I walked away confused and feeling conflicted.  Should I take her home with me?  Should I buy her something to eat?  Should I give her my coat?  I do not remember my parents ever preparing me for this particular situation and I did not have a handbook to consult.  I know what I wanted to do. I wanted to take her to the nicest hotel, feed her a fancy meal, let her soak in a hot bath, but I did none of these things.  I just went home to a hot dinner waiting on me, a warm bed and soft pillows.  My dog slept across my feet that night as I dreamt of haunting eyes and eternal stares.  In my dream, I take her to the hotel and her smile sweeps away my hesitation to do what is right and good.

Over the years, I have often thought about this woman.  I try to imagine that someone helped her and she lived happily ever after.  I always wondered how I must have looked to her and why she wanted to give me something when it appeared I had so much and she had so little.  She did not boast or ask anything in return.  She was quiet and gentle in her words and in her actions.  It was a simple gift, one she must have treasured because the poor dandelion was like a much loved teddy bear, worn and twisted and held together by the bare threads of the stalk.  I gave her nothing but a smile and an enormous amount of pity.

In my life I have been, financially, in many different places.  There have been times when I worked more than one job to make ends meet.  I have taken a calculator to the store, carefully adding each item to make sure I had enough cash and stood stoic, heart pounding, sure I would have to put something back because I maybe added the tax wrong.  I have been at the opposite end where I could afford a little luxury – maybe not my own island – but maybe a dreamy, week long vacation in the Bahamas. I have been at every place in between. I have gleaned there will always be people with more, there will always be people with less.  And it is nothing to be ashamed of, not anything worthy of boasting.  Money is essential to existing in this world, but it will never buy you happiness or peace of mind.  Being financially wealthy does not make anyone more important than another in God’s eyes.

My Granddaddy always said that Christmas had become commercialized and it was a money making endeavor.  Sadly, I have to agree.  I must admit that I am as guilty as anyone to buy too many gifts.  It is all too easy to get caught up in all the hype and forget the real purpose of Christmas.  In the midst of all the shopping and checking names off lists as I fight the crowds at the mall, I forget the One who really deserves a gift.

I consider the charities and three sponsored families we support.  At church, a few weeks before Thanksgiving, items are gathered for gift baskets for families in need and Angel Tree tags hang from a fake fir tree.  I participate, then contemplate the rest of the year.  Jesus never said to love and serve only at Christmas.  He said to do it all the time.  Each and every day.  He never said it was the price of the gift that was important.  He never said spend equal amounts on everyone.  He never said, “go to the mall and buy bright shiny electronics.”

He said, “love one another.”  He said, “give to those in need.”  He said, “feed my sheep.”  And I do, but do I do it every day?  Am I drawing on my God-given talents?  Am I freely giving of my time?  Am I giving gifts from my heart?

Now all the pondering gives way to clarity and this is what I know. Gifts should never be given to impress and need not be expensive to have meaning. The lavishness of a gift should lie in the heart of the giver, not in the wallet.  It should only matter how big my heart is and that it stays big all year long.  The reason behind Christmas should be remembered always. It is about a gift that was given to me and to you.

More than two thousand years ago, God gave every person an equal opportunity gift.  It was not just for the rich or the poor, the best or the worst, the most or the least. Under a starlit sky, in a stable, God gave us the best He could offer.  He gave us Jesus. There was no parade, no fireworks.  He came quietly.  He came gently. He came to us all in the middle of the night; while shepherds kept watch over their flocks, kings sat on their thrones, gifts traveled from afar.  It was a night like no other.  It was a perfect night where angels sang to shepherds and Kings bowed down to an infant. It was a night that should leave me awe struck and bring me to my knees in reverence of a child that was sent to die so that I could live.  He gave all of Himself for me and I struggle to give even a little.

Many will tell you that signs and miracles and wonders must come to us in a grand way, but Jesus didn’t come that way at all.  He came to us on an ordinary day.  God sent His best to us and never boasted about. In return, can I say that I give my best to Him?  Can I say that every gift I give was given from my heart?  Can I say it contained even a little bit of Jesus?  I do not know that I have ever given away something I truly treasured above all else.

I want to believe my heart is bigger than the bad things that have happened in my life.  I want to believe I am not selfish and self-serving.  I want to believe that I walk in humility. I want to believe that Jesus shines through me every day. I want to say that I give the very best of me that I have to offer, that somewhere inside of me is something that makes me worthy enough to be loved by Jesus.  The truth is I am not, even in my best and most extraordinary moment, worthy enough to stand before God without Jesus to wash away my sins. And believe me, there sure is a lot of washing to do.

When I was seventeen, I stood still and watched a woman who seemed to have nothing, give me a gift.  In that gift, I found God.  I did not see Him at first, but over time, as I’ve grown, He revealed Himself to me.  I see Him in the wrinkles on her face.  I felt Him as her hand graced mine.  I heard Him as she spoke to me.  I have held the memory of her in my heart.  I accepted her gift and gave her nothing in return. Jesus has given me life, and I have given nothing to Him that would ever compare to what He has given to me and the humbling truth is, I will never come close.

Please watch this before you leave:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpHiAmL8-b0

Peace and Love, Elizabeth

A Little Extra Love

The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. ~ Zephaniah 3:17
God loved on me a little extra last week.  It was one of those weeks that was filled with surprises and excitement, happiness and joy, peace and love.

In Indianapolis November 14th for the Colts game.

And a birthday.  Last Thursday, it turns out, I have spent 40 years on this earth.  Twenty years ago, I would have thought it would surely be the death of me to turn such a old and ugly age, but I have found that with each decade that passes, things truly get better with age.  Personally all my "decade" birthdays have been excellent years, but just between me and you, I don't remember my tenth year perfectly, but I am certain that it was good.


I don't know when the change began, but I have noticed in the past month that I have become comfortable being me.  I have always considered myself a middle of the road kind of person.  Nothing really special or great and nothing really terrible or bad.  Just average.  Being myself has not always been an easy task.  I have never had a very high opinion of myself.  I have always thought I was somewhat like a chameleon- ever changing to blend into my surroundings.  I was happy to float under the radar.  I enjoy attention (I mean who doesn't?), but I never know what to do when I get too much.  I feel awkward.  This past week though I was showered with attention and love and gifts.  I am going to share some of them with you.  Some may leave you scratching your head thinking - what is the big deal about that? The point, I believe you will find, is that they were all God inspired and He left His fingerprints everywhere.  It made me feel as if I was the only one He was paying attention to this week.  I felt special and, not for a moment, awkward.  This week, for the first time ever, I found God in my birthday.


It all began on Friday the 3rd.  I woke up with my husband's cold and was unable to attend my journaling group's monthly meeting.  However, it didn't stop everyone else from celebrating.  A friend dropped by afterward and brought my gifts.  Everyone had given me 40 of something - mostly chocolate - (yeah!).  I even got 40 pencils so I have no excuse not to write everyday.  Then came the weekend.  I spent the weekend nursing a cold while my husband did all kinds of things for me.  He even fixed a cracked toilet seat.  For me, this was a great start to my birthday week.  In this household, I usually do these things.  Randy is a financial whiz, but construction and repairs of any kind - we will just say, I usually enjoy those projects a little more than he does.  On Tuesday, gifts poured down like rain from a summer thunderstorm.   They were little things - Logan and I went to the post office and Chick-fil-a is right next door.  Now I have been craving a chicken biscuit for weeks and my rear-end has threatened me if I so much as think about going to get one...but my craving won and I still fit into my jeans.  Of course, we were running late, it was almost 11am and I was sure there were no biscuits left from breakfast. There never are.  But on Wonderful, Glorious Tuesday, there was one.  One. So Logan graciously gave it up for a sandwich instead.  I know - little things make me happy, but it tasted soooo good.  In my change, I received a 1967 half dollar.  I have not received a half dollar in change since I can't even remember when. When I was little, my Papa used to fill little outstretched grandkid hands with these magical coins.  I still have one in my jewelry box with a $2 bill my Granny gave to me.  It brought back all those memories of climbing around in the attic of their old house and Papa climbing up there with us to tell us ghost stories.  The dust would swirl in the light at the edges of dark corners as we listened to stories about creaking bones and footfalls on the stairs. I remembered Papa's dog, Tiny, who would "sit like a human" right next to him on the sofa while they watched the television and Granny's nut roll at Christmas and the perfect dressing she always made when she roasted a chicken.  She used the broth and added all those wonderful bits of moist, tender chicken.  My mouth is starting to water right now and I am thinking that soup may not satisfy me for dinner tonight.  That old worn out coin in my hand brought back childhood memories and it began a pattern of thinking about how of these little things form a shroud around me.  Each year is another layer added and my shape changes. I have accumulated scars, opinions, attitudes, knowledge and wisdom - among other things.  It all melts together and each new year of my life transforms me into this person I sometimes fail to recognize.  In the mirror, I look so different. In my stomach, I used to feel this panic.  No.  Not forty.  Not yet.  Rewind the clock.  Stop the clock.  Just stop it for a little while and let me catch up to where the year tells me I am, but my head tells me that it is still running the numbers and not to panic just yet because we must have added or subtracted something wrong.  So very wrong.  But I remember the three "wisdom" hairs I found a few months ago and my heart whispers that there has been no mistake.  I can't see them now, but by the summer the perfect dye job will fade in the sun and the heat while I garden.  I am certain those three will have company come July.

On Tuesday, I also received my first Christmas gift of the year.  Before Logan and I left, he was standing outside drinking his coffee and I stepped out to tell him something.  Right next to the door was this beautiful table with a dragonfly on it.  Back in September, I met a new friend and she is an artist.  She lives across the street.  While I was working on my rock wall and garden, she would come over and we would chat.  The table is so beautiful and fits perfectly in my writing room next to my chair.  Wednesday brought the decorating of the Christmas tree.  Normally, we would do this on my birthday. It has always been tradition every since I can remember.  I really wanted to wake up to the tree decorated on my birthday so we did it the evening before this year.  I had already decided on my gift.  I had originally wanted to have a big, fancy party with all my friends and lots of cake.  I opted for something else.  I asked for something I really want...and need.


A handyman.  


Laugh all you want, but I will direct you to the above paragraph where it states very plainly that I do the construction and repairs in this house.  This is the best gift I could have been given because our house is older than I am and it needs a little extra love.  Well - love may not do it.  I have a million and one projects that need to be finished.  My husband has given me the gift of time so can write.  That tells me he believes in me, he believes in my dream, he wants me to succeed.  So on Thursday night, while Logan hung out with friends, we rang in my new year, my fortieth year, at our favorite restaurant - The Blue Iguana - and it was the best date we have had in a long time.  I felt as if I were 21 and had my whole life in front of me.  It gave me time to dream about what I would do with another 40 years.  It made me think about being 80 and all the wisdom hairs I will have then.  It made me miss my Granddaddy and Grandma.  It made me miss listening to Granddaddy reading his Bible to us and teaching us about the Roman Road to Salvation.  It made me think about the only real wisdom I have, but can not even claim as my own. Now I will share it with you.....


My grandma always said this, "Be grateful for every year you are alive and the moment you wake up dead, be grateful you were right with the Lord."


It is the only real wisdom I possess.  I want to believe I have lived long enough to always be right, but I know that the Lord has so many more things to teach me.  I am excited to look ahead to my future.  I feel at peace with who I am.  I look forward to a whole year of being 40.  On Friday, my friend and I went to The Pink Bicycle for tea to celebrate my 40 years.  Another gift - really good Christian friends. Friends you don't have to explain anything to because they just know you that well. Snow flurries whirled around in the wind and the clouds were thick and gray.  But it didn't bother me a bit.  Those were the first snow flakes of the season and they floated down to earth on a perfect December day- a final little birthday gift from above, a reminder that happiness is found in the simplest of things.  Last week, I found God in every day.  I found Him in half-dollars and memories.  I found Him in my husband and my son, my birthday e-mails, cards, Facebook messages and texts.  I found Him in friends, old and new.  I found Him in my Christmas tree. I found Him in a perfect white snowflake that landed on my nose.

15th wedding anniversary dinner at Oceanaire in Indianapolis

Today, I look in the mirror and I find Him in me.  I look past the crow's feet and the dyed wisdom hairs, the scars and the rear-end that reminds me it could be just a little bit smaller.  I look past the shroud that covers and visually defines me to others at a glance.  I look deeper.  I look at my spirit and I see a soft glow that one day I hope will be a bright light.  I look forward to meeting Jesus one day.  I look forward to telling God face to face that I am so very grateful for the life he gave me.  And I hope that when he looks at me, He will be pleased with the way I lived my life, that He will be proud and count me as worthy enough.

I am sick with the flu.  It started Sunday night and has gotten worse ever since.  Hopefully, the weekend will bring rest and relief. Please keep me in your prayers.


Peace and Love 
Blessings and joy,
Elizabeth

A Little Note

A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver ~ Proverbs 25:11


I wanted to let you know that I have not abandoned my blog or you.  I love that you have hung in here with me even though I have been distracted.  I have been so overwhelmed by what the publishing world tells us writers to do that I have done very little writing of late.  I am lost in the tech world and I pout because all I really want to do is write.  Creating websites, learning how to market myself, and feeling like a deer caught in headlights because I am told publishers want writers who are also excellent speakers have kept me occupied along with all of the daily duties we all face.  I run from appointment to errand to housework and have cut out everything I truly enjoy for the sake of time constraints.  I have tried to force myself into a schedule that doesn't fit who I am, all for the sake of bettering myself, only to find out that it has backfired on me.  I have felt drained and exhausted and need a time of renewal to get back to my passion for writing and studying about God.  I love writing my blog and I love that you read and comment and share it with your friends and family.  I don't ever want it to feel forced because it is really all about God and living in harmony with Him and allowing the Holy Spirit to guide my words.  Most of my problem is I have starved myself of my quiet time with God.  Glynnis Whitwer with Proverbs 31 made it clear during a class that I can't feed you if I don't feed myself.


I haven't been feeding myself and my blog has suffered for it.  For that I am truly sorry.


First and Foremost, I want to be obedient to what God has called me to do.  He has called to write.  I am working on a blog entry that will post early next week and I pray and hope that you will find it was worth waiting on.  Maybe one day He will call me to speak or market myself in a certain way.  But for now, I am going to wait on Him.  God can be very tenacious when He wants me to do something His way and for that, I am grateful.  I don't serve a God that is quick to give up on me, but that will nurture me so that hopefully you find nourishment when you stop by.  I have set a goal for myself to write two blogs a week for now.  The rest of the time will be spent writing my book.  Unless the Boss gives me different instructions, and if that happens, I will be writing about it so you will be the first to know.  He has placed people in my life that are especially important to my writing.  I am a horrible speller and my grammar could use some work.  Sometimes I tend to cram too much information into a sentence and my reader gets terribly confused.  The friends that God has placed in my life are helping me to be successful to His calling in my life.  So I have an grammar checker and I have a real live spell checker.  I have encouragement specialists and I have prayer warriors.  God has set me up for success so the only way I can fail is to not be obedient to Him.


So be patient with me as I finish up my new posting and hopefully the words will be like apples of gold in settings of silver.......


as always,
May you find peace and love, happiness and joy in our ever present God,
Elizabeth




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