Posts
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
The Little Blue Eggs
Sierra called me on the phone to come quick and see the little blue eggs in the nest.
They were both excited, but Sierra expresses it with everything she has. Her eyes were big and her little hands were trying to show me the exact size of the eggs as we hurried over to the garden.
"Look MawMaw" she said in a whisper so as not to disturb the eggs, "right there, but you can`t touch them MawMaw, ok?"
They were both excited, but Sierra expresses it with everything she has. Her eyes were big and her little hands were trying to show me the exact size of the eggs as we hurried over to the garden.
"Look MawMaw" she said in a whisper so as not to disturb the eggs, "right there, but you can`t touch them MawMaw, ok?"
Sunday, May 31, 2009
If you are craving smores and you can`t go camping then
start the backyard bonfire, toast the marshmallows, grab the
Hershey bars (it`s gotta be Hershey) and graham crackers
put them together and take a bite, YES!!!! "LIFE IS GOOD"
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Chuck E. Cheese Day
Emma enjoys the ride
Chuck E. Cheese Pizza and Soda 
Sierra meets a new friend, Emmaloves the slide and Layton likes being
on his own.
Getting pictures taken.
Em and Si hope to get lots of ticketsTuesday, April 7, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Christmas 2008
I am taking pictures for Christmas gifts
for some friends and the girls were in a silly mood. They just kept posing like models and I just kept snapping pictures. I must have taken 20 pictures. I thought they turned out pretty good.
Above is the Schools Christmas Program. Pre-K 3 were Chickens. I have no idea why, but for some reason in my mind Chickens and Angels just don`t go together.
The last of the pictures are again taken for Christmas pictures for friends. Sierra insisted on holding the red-haired doll. We tried to stuff Christian in a Stocking, but he was too big. lol
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Catching Up on Blogging
I am so excited about my new blog makeover by, "Designs by Danielle", and am hoping it will give me the incentive to post on a regular basis. I am trying now to catch up from Christmas and to make some layouts instead of posting individual pictures which would take me forever. Hope you enjoy.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Monday, October 13, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Matt`s Letter to Elias
Monday, September 15, 2008
hope (another letter to my son)
Dear Elias,
You turned two months old last Friday. Already, you’re wide-eyed and curious about the world around you. I’m convinced you notice and become wowed by things that I don’t see. Or perhaps I’ve just become too busy or jaded to find beauty and wander in simple things. But you haven’t.
For instance, I have no idea why you spend so much time gazing up at the ceiling fan. I’d love to know what you find so interesting about five brown panels whirling around in circular motion. Do you just like the way it moves? Are you frightened by it? Or do you see the power of God spinning round and round above you in our living room?
Your mother loves taking pictures of you. That’s one of the ways I know she loves you so much; nothing brings her more joy than when she’s busy capturing and documenting every one of your facial expressions. And I think you might have a million of them! Of course, I don’t recognize all of them like your mother does. Sometimes she’ll say to me, “I just love when he puts his lips together like this,” and then she’ll do her very best impression of the shape of your mouth. That usually causes us to break out into laughter, and then both of us sit and watch you, waiting, hoping, and doing our best to coax you to do that face again. (Though this time your mother is looking at you through the lens of her camera, determined to catch in picture when you make your lips look like a duckbilled platypus’s.)
Sadly, you’re not very cooperative. But you make up for your non-cooperation by doing an entirely new facial expression that is just as interesting to us. I could stare at you for hours, Elias. Sometimes I do. You and I get to spend Thursdays and Fridays together. You make it difficult to get any work done. That’s not because you’re overly demanding, but because I find so much hope when I look at you. And even more when you look at me with your big brown eyes. When your eyes follow me around the living room, I feel like superman. But my favorite is when you fall asleep on my chest. There are few things that make me happier than when your heartbeat is resting against mine. I experience so much hope in those moments.
Hope is an odd thing, Elias. It’s hard to explain most of the time. You’ll learn about this eventually. But sometimes hope is just a feeling or a thought or a moment that comes to you in a flash. It can feel like a burst of energy or a strange peace or a long comforting hug from a dear friend. It doesn’t always remedy all of the pain or questions or fear that might be grieving you in the present, but it often gives you the ability to push through the hard parts of life. That’s what you do for me. Looking at you makes me feel like I can conquer almost anything, though I’m very human and broken. Your face reminds me that God is with me. You don’t answer all of my questions or calm all of my fears or make the pain I’m feeling in a given moment go away, but you do offer me energy, peace, and hugs to help me walk through those tough moments. Thank you for that. Hopefully someday I can return the favor.
Love,
Daddy (I’m the one who uses the bottles to feed you.)
hope (another letter to my son)
Dear Elias,
You turned two months old last Friday. Already, you’re wide-eyed and curious about the world around you. I’m convinced you notice and become wowed by things that I don’t see. Or perhaps I’ve just become too busy or jaded to find beauty and wander in simple things. But you haven’t.
For instance, I have no idea why you spend so much time gazing up at the ceiling fan. I’d love to know what you find so interesting about five brown panels whirling around in circular motion. Do you just like the way it moves? Are you frightened by it? Or do you see the power of God spinning round and round above you in our living room?
Your mother loves taking pictures of you. That’s one of the ways I know she loves you so much; nothing brings her more joy than when she’s busy capturing and documenting every one of your facial expressions. And I think you might have a million of them! Of course, I don’t recognize all of them like your mother does. Sometimes she’ll say to me, “I just love when he puts his lips together like this,” and then she’ll do her very best impression of the shape of your mouth. That usually causes us to break out into laughter, and then both of us sit and watch you, waiting, hoping, and doing our best to coax you to do that face again. (Though this time your mother is looking at you through the lens of her camera, determined to catch in picture when you make your lips look like a duckbilled platypus’s.)
Sadly, you’re not very cooperative. But you make up for your non-cooperation by doing an entirely new facial expression that is just as interesting to us. I could stare at you for hours, Elias. Sometimes I do. You and I get to spend Thursdays and Fridays together. You make it difficult to get any work done. That’s not because you’re overly demanding, but because I find so much hope when I look at you. And even more when you look at me with your big brown eyes. When your eyes follow me around the living room, I feel like superman. But my favorite is when you fall asleep on my chest. There are few things that make me happier than when your heartbeat is resting against mine. I experience so much hope in those moments.
Hope is an odd thing, Elias. It’s hard to explain most of the time. You’ll learn about this eventually. But sometimes hope is just a feeling or a thought or a moment that comes to you in a flash. It can feel like a burst of energy or a strange peace or a long comforting hug from a dear friend. It doesn’t always remedy all of the pain or questions or fear that might be grieving you in the present, but it often gives you the ability to push through the hard parts of life. That’s what you do for me. Looking at you makes me feel like I can conquer almost anything, though I’m very human and broken. Your face reminds me that God is with me. You don’t answer all of my questions or calm all of my fears or make the pain I’m feeling in a given moment go away, but you do offer me energy, peace, and hugs to help me walk through those tough moments. Thank you for that. Hopefully someday I can return the favor.
Love,
Daddy (I’m the one who uses the bottles to feed you.)
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