Monday, July 16, 2018

Headed for a grocery shop

Today I found myself grumbling as I headed out the door to do my every-two-week big grocery shop.  But then...Ashley's post came to mind and I decided to change my attitude and remember my service to my family is service to my Savior.  And also...that I am so lucky to have a family to serve.

Then two hours later, I was finally home, and in full swing putting away groceries and feeding lunch to my little boys.  It seemed to drag on forever...another request for a drink, food on the ground, a quick break to change two poopy bums, a request to play..."I am tired!" I thought.

I get the baby down for a nap.  I put a show on for Ollie.  I take some time to rest for a second, and then after finishing my daily Pilates at an attempt to get my body back, I remembered the stressful time it was on Sunday entertaining both boys alone in our pew.  I remembered a few things I'd found on Amazon that will hopefully be exciting for a while, then also remembered something I'd pinned and am hopeful once I pry out some of my non-crafty efforts, that that too will be helpful during church.  While on that webiste...I stumbled across this post and this quote.

One hundred years ago F.W. Boreham made this observation,  “A century ago [in 1809] men were following, with bated breath, the march of Napoleon, and waiting with feverish impatience for the latest news of the wars. And all the while, in their own homes, babies were being born. But who could think about babies? Everybody was thinking about battles. . . .

In one year between Trafalgar and Waterloo, there stole into the world a host of heroes! Gladstone was born at Liverpool; Alfred Tennyson was born at the Somersby rectory . . . Oliver Wendell Holmes made his first appearance at Massachusetts . . . and Abraham Lincoln drew his first breath at Old Kentucky. Music was enriched by the advent of Frederic Chopin at Warsaw, and of Felix Mendelssohn at Hamburg. 

But nobody thought of babies. Everybody was thinking of battles. Yet which of the battles of 1809 mattered more than the babies of 1809? We fancy that God can only manage His world by big battalions when all the while He is doing it by beautiful babies. When a wrong wants righting, or a work wants doing, or a truth wants preaching, or a continent wants opening, God sends a baby into the world to do it.” (F. W. Boreham, Mountains in the Mist: Some Australian Reveries [1919], 166-67, 170)

Being a woman is

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