This Road I've Traveled

As I look back on this road I've traveled
I see so many times He's carried me through
And if there's one thing that I've learned in my life
My Redeemer is faithful and true

My Redeemer is faithful and true
And everything He's said He will do
And every mourning his mercies are new
My Redeemer is faithful and true
By Steven Curtis Chapman

the test of grace

a friend recently commented that "the best friendships are those that stand the test of time."
i responded that "those friendships are wonderful indeed, but to me the best friendships are the ones that stand the test of grace.

i need grace.

too often my mouth takes off, spewing out words before i can catch them.

i'm working on self-control,
on mouth-control.

but in the meantime

i need grace.


i am a selfish creature. i like things my way.

i'm working on considering others before myself,
on trying things your way.

be patient with me,

I need grace.


i'm judgmental and prideful.
(i'm a recovering pharisee)

I'm working on humility.

don't be done with me.

i need grace.


i am insecure.

sadly my insecurity can cause me to be the ugliest version of myself.

i'm sorry.

I NEED GRACE!


the best friendships are those that stand the test of grace.

they stay.
see in me what i cannot see in myself.
love me,
and wait with great expectation as
the Potter shapes this clay...

With His Grace.


(photos of yarn taken during our weekend away).

beauty is a homeless man

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat,
I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,
I was a stranger and you invited me in,
I needed clothes and you clothed me,
I was sick and you looked after me,
I was in prison and you came to visit me...

I tell you the truth,
whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine,
you did for me.
Matthew 25:35-36 & 40

We met George Lucask in 2005. He had been a crippled, abused, toothless, homeless man living under a bridge in Fresno before a family from our church befriended him. They brought him to our mountain community, and arranged shelter for him at a local motel. They also made arrangements with a handful of families to visit with and provide one meal for George each day.

We signed up for Tuesdays and Wednesdays.

George struggled to adjust to a motel room as his home (long term arrangements were being pursued). Adjusting to sleeping in a bed, showering, using the toilet, and cleanliness did not come easily for George. The street had become his home. And though it was unsafe, he wanted to return to familiarity.

George battled demons (lies). He had a history of shame. At 18 he left his country of Hungary to avoid being enlisted in the military. He never saw his family again. This caused him much sadness. In addition he had been wounded shortly after arriving in the U.S., as a result he spent much of his adult life on crutches. The defeat caused him to seek comfort in alcohol.

George had become an outcast. His companions were loneliness and scorn.

BUT God...

The kids ( 3, 5 & 6) and I would arrive at his motel room with a meal, snacks, a bible, and EXPECTANCY.

We expected to see Jesus in George, and with George.

And we did.

EVERY. TIME.

As George sat to eat his meal, I'd read scripture, share my stories of battling lies, and coming into Truth. George received them. I saw the doors of grace opening in his dear life.

Each time we visited George, my sweet Emilie delighted in seeing him! She'd embrace him and hold his hand, nestle in close to him. Her genuine love made this untouchable, touchable.

The gray walls of George's motel room were quickly being transformed into a gallery. As a handful of children poured their love for him out in displays of art.

Washing George's feet became part of our visits. His feet caused him much pain, and had scaled over, increasing his pain. Tenderness, Compassion, and Love were invited into his room with each washing. I was humbled (a gift as i was coming out of the most prideful season of my life).

Once we brought George to our home. We had visited him many times in his home, but knew hospitality meant inviting him into our lives as well. He sat with the kids and I as we home schooled. And then we put George gladly to work, cutting strawberries for his favorite dessert- strawberry shortcake (he was adorable with whipped cream in his beard).

On another outing (which resulted in ice cream sandwiches and driving through a car wash) We were listening to hymns when George started singing loudly and clearly-

Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation!
O my soul, praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation!
All ye who hear, now to His temple draw near;
Praise Him in glad adoration.

Praise to the Lord, who over all things so wondrously reigneth,
Shelters thee under His wings, yea, so gently sustaineth!
Hast thou not seen how thy desires ever have been
Granted in what He ordaineth?

Praise to the Lord, who doth prosper thy work and defend thee;
Surely His goodness and mercy here daily attend thee.
Ponder anew what the Almighty can do,
If with His love He befriend thee.

Praise to the Lord, O let all that is in me adore Him!
All that hath life and breath, come now with praises before Him.
Let the Amen sound from His people again,
Gladly for aye we adore Him.

Those words have had new meaning and power since hearing them flow from George's lips.

In George I saw that Beauty is a homeless man.

Before I met George I thought He was "the least of these," but during that season with George I discovered that I was the "least of these." I hadn't seen Jesus in ALL people, only in people that looked the part.

But George, a homeless man, was Jesus with skin on.

And Jesus was beautiful.

Where have you seen Beauty?
(George now lives in community, in a home for Senior Citizens,
where his physical, emotional, and medical needs are provide for).

To read more stories of Beauty or to share your own visit Best Days of Our Lives.

crazy. wonderful.

as my sister, toni, and i got in her car and drove away from oakdale, she said, "i'm tired. this day feels like it began a long time ago." i thought about the weight of her words and responded, "it did, it began 26 years ago when mike became our dad."

the day caused us to revisit our childhood. together. which is much better than doing it alone. it is lonely to go there alone.

we attended mike's memorial service. we were recognized in his obituary and eulogy as step-daughters. we were included in the photo collage. we were recognized and embraced by family and friends. childhood stories were told and delighted in.

after the service we drove through our childhood. down the streets, past the many homes, and memories. together. it was important. we've both done it alone, but never together. and we extended grace to the other for how they experienced that time. it was good. healing. necessary.

our drive took us past the home of "dad" #6, larry. he was home. we wondered if it would be too much for this day, to stop by, but curiosity got the best of us. he was delighted to see us. just hearing his voice and seeing his face was a piece of home to me (my memory of home is a puzzle of pieces).

as larry introduced us to his new girlfriend he proudly announced, "these were my girls."

in the previous post i quoted beth moore, who says, "you can't amputate your history from your destiny." she says, "God wants to redeem your history."

redemption happened yesterday.

when the relationships with the "dads" ended, there was never explanation or conversation between the adults and my sister and i. the adults moved on, and we were required to move on too.
sadly this lack of consideration for the tender hearts of two little girls left a lot of room for lies to move in. i have believed all these years that i (we) was irrelevant, not wanted, and of no worth to the men who were dads (this of course has carried over into other areas of my life. i battle this lie daily).

but at mike's service our relevance to his life was shared.

and when larry introduced us as his girls that too spoke of our value.

the lie i've believed was being rewritten into truth.

God is redeeming, rewriting my story.

and i ask myself. 'why am i sharing this with you?'

and this is why...GOD.

look at me.

do you see HIM?

do you see God?

Oh, how i long for you to.

God has saved my life.

and given me LIFE.

i am a God miracle.

i feel like the crippled beggar (Acts 3) who was placed at the temple gate (called Beautiful) everyday. he begged for $ (for provision) but in Jesus he found what his heart really longed for, The Healer.
The scripture goes on to say that after his healing he went into the "temple court, walking and jumping and praising God."

do you see me? i am walking and jumping and praising God!

john 3:16 says, "for God SO LOVED the world, He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him will not die, BUT have everlasting life."

i live in that love!

i live that everlasting life!

and i only LIVE because God saved my life.

as we drove away from oakdale, toni said, "it's crazy. we have 7 dads."

"it is crazy, so crazy!" i responded. "but it's also wonderful. we have loved and been loved by many."

Thank you God for healing the crazy and making it wonderful.

May God heal the crazy in your life. redeem your history. rewrite it. make it wonderful,
and be glorified.

7

i usually crack jokes about it.

i don't know why i do this.

i think because it's such an uncomfortable thing to say, and i imagine an uncomfortable thing to hear.

so i crack jokes.

and when i do the other party laughs.

and that uncomfortable feeling-sorry-for-me moment seems gone.

but today i'm not going to joke about it.

beth moore says, " you can't amputate your history from your destiny." she is right. i've tried to sever limbs from my story, but God doesn't allow it (how i've wished he would). However, He causes me to live with my wounded limbs- my wounded history.

He wants to, and He does, REDEEM it.

so here it goes...

i've had 7 dads.

(long awkward pause)

joe- is my birth dad. he didn't claim me as his daughter until last year. he was a drug user for 25+ years. he is lives in a state hospital, he is paranoid schizophrenic.
he taught me how to throw a frisbee. he bought me my first car -it was a yellow convertible with pedals. he ducked taped it back together when it fell apart. he liked working on cars.

kenny (k-2nd)- was my first step-dad. i called him daddy. had his last name. he introduced me to jesus. made me a teeter-totter. he put a swing in the tree of our front yard. he'd push me so high my toes reached heaven. after he and my mom divorced he took my sister and i to columbia state park. that day meant a lot to me (columbia is still one of my favorite places to visit). i found a large fools gold rock with him that day. it is 28 years later and i still have that big rock.

manny (3-5th)- my mother was engaged to him. he was a quiet man. kind. he played guitar. he'd sit by my bed side at bedtime with his guitar and sing a song he wrote. i don't remember much else about manny, but this is a lovely thing to remember.

mike (5th-8th)- i called him dad. had his last name. he loved sports. taught me how to throw a football. coached my softball team. took my sister and i to the park, and made us learn how to slide into home base. he was a hard worker. had a lively family. he got us a basset hound, his name was mork. mike smelled like cocoa beans (he worked at the hershey factory).

tim (8th to Jr. year)- he was engaged to my mom. he never tried to be my dad. i liked that. he was a dreamer. he talked to me, listened, cared. once, i showed him a picture of a loft bed in a magazine, he surprised me by making that bed for me (he didn't sand it. he didn't measure the space between the mattress and the ceiling. i'd have to shimmy up the wall to get into bed, then lay flat on my back with my nose to the ceiling. this still makes me laugh). tim still calls me twice a year. he calls on my birthday in the fall, and again in the spring. it means a lot to me that he kept his commitment to be a part of my life.

larry (Jr. year -19)- my mom married him my jr. year of high school. he was stable. had a jolly laugh. he was a hard worker. he too didn't try to be my dad ( a good thing). he provided us with a beautiful home. he liked and built cars. my 65 ford falcon looked good parked next to his 34 ford cabriolet. we had a bartering system-he'd fix my car, and i'd pay by mowing the lawn.

steve (20-present)- hard worker. calls me "kiddo," loves and delights in my kids. i like to watch him worship.

i've had 7 dads.

i can't amputate them from my story.

there is much ache as a result of having seven dads that i have not shared.
just having 7 dads come and go brings enough ache of it's own.

i love each of them.

and i have mourned the loss of each of them.

this weekend i will go to a memorial service and mourn the loss of one of them again, mike passed away.

BUT
there is daddy whose loss i will never mourn.
God is the "Everlasting Father" (Isaiah 9:6)
a Father who will "never leave me or forsake me."
His love is unconditional and immeasurable!
He rewrites my story, redeems my life, and tells a better story.
and I LOVE HIM!

A Good Infection

(Originally posted Feb. 2009)
"This matters more than anything else in the world... The whole dance, or drama, or pattern of this three-Personal life is to be played out in each one of us: or each one of us has got to enter that pattern, take his place in that dance. There is no other way to the happiness for which we were made.

Good things as well as bad, you know, are caught by a kind of infection. If you want to get warm you must stand near the fire: if you want to be wet you must get into the water. If you want joy, power, peace, eternal life, you must get close to, or even into, the thing that has them.

They are not a sort of prize which God could, if He chose, just hand out to anyone. They are a great fountain of energy and beauty spurting up at the very center of reality. If you are close to it, the spray will wet you: if you are not, you will remain dry.

Once a man is united to God, how could he not live forever?

Once a man is separated from God, what can he do but wither and die?"

C.S. Lewis
Mere Christianity

photo taken on my trip to Flores, Azores, Portugal - July 2007

I'm Alive

My hands are searching for You
My arms are outstretched towards You
I feel You on my fingertips
My tongue dances behind my lips for You

This fire rising through my being

Burning, I'm not used to seeing You

I'm alive, I'm alive

I was inspired by Lisa Leonard's post Photo Play to attempt some collaging of my own over at picnik. I have a lot to learn, but it is fun to branch out from my usual collages.

The lyrics to David Crowder's song All Around Me have been playing like a new favorite record on my heart this week. The line "My tongue dances behind my lips for You" speaks of the intimacy God and I share.

These two photos capture me, ALIVE.

When are you alive?

To listen to All Around Me select this link and listen to it at Lala.com

I Am - Jill Phillips

Oh gently lay your head
Upon my chest
And I will comfort you
Like a mother while you rest
The tide can change so fast,
But I will stay
The same through the past,
The same in future, same today

I am constant; I am near
I am peace that shatters all your secret fears
I am holy; I am wise
I'm the only one who knows your heart's desires
Your heart's desires

Oh weary, tired and worn,
Let out your sighs
And drop that heavy load you hold
Cause Mine is light

I know you through and through;
There's no need to hide
I want to show you love
That is deep and high and wide

I am constant; I am near
I am peace that shatters all your secret fears
I am holy; I am wise
I'm the only one who knows your heart's desires
Your heart's desires

Oh gently lay your head
Upon my chest
And I will comfort you
Like a mother while you rest

I am, Jill Phillips

Get Out

Two old friends enemies have shown up and taken up residence at my place again, Anxiety and Fear.

They use to live here. They use to run this place with their best friend, the leader of their pack, Lies.

I 'd finally had enough of them a few years ago (and by enough I mean 31 years of shacking up with them). I kicked them out. Took Life back.

I don't know when it happened, but they showed up. And I entertained them. They are so familiar.

I can see now that they have unpacked a few things. I see their crap (that's what it is) laying around.

I don't want them here.

Steel Bars - Jill Phillips

So this is how it feels at the rock bottom of despair
When the house that I built comes crashing down
And this is how it feels when I know the man
that I say I am
Is not the man that I am when no one's around
This is how it feels to come alive again
And start fighting back to gain control
And this is how it feels to let freedom in
And break these chains that enslave my soul
 
I refuse to be locked up in here like a prison cell
where all I ever get is a meal and four walls
I used to be just fine in here but not anymore
gonna break through these steel bars
 
So tell me how it feels when the tables start to turn
And you find yourself at the losing end
Tell me how it feels, you're not welcome here
'Cause I'm tired of pain and I'm tired of sin
 
I refuse to be locked up in here like a prison cell
where all I ever get is a meal and four walls
I used to be just fine in here but not anymore
gonna break through these steel bars
 
I won't let you win
I have no doubt
I don't want you in
So get out, get out
 
I refuse to be locked up in here like a prison cell
where all I ever get is a meal and four walls
I used to be just fine in here but not anymore
gonna break through, gonna break through
 
I refuse to be locked up in here like a prison cell
where all I ever get is a meal and four walls
I used to be just fine in here but not anymore
gonna break through these steel bars

Steel Bars, by Jill Phillips

What's in a name -part 2

I'm here to rewrite this tragedy
One line at a time
Hold on,
I'm changing all the scenery
It's okay we'll be fine
Cause we know how this ends
We know there's a better story

There's a better story
Of true love
Of true grace
There's the hope of glory
And our first chance to be truly brave
It's the place we're going
When we can't stay where we are

Rewrite This Tragedy, by Sara Groves

As I shared in a previous post, "What's in a name?"
The meaning of my last name Jones means "Yahweh is gracious."

I looked up the meaning of my maiden (now middle name), Teodosio. It comes from the Greek word, Theodosius. Theo means "God," and dosis means "Gift" and "Giver."

Have you experienced those moments where God rewrites your story? The moments where you look back, but instead of seeing tragedy, God is present, whispering in your ear, telling you the truth about who you are, showing you that you were in His hand, and indeed His all along.
From that moment on you never look at that situation the same, you look at it with God present, with God's hand on your life.

Over the past few days, since discovering the meaning of my birth name, God has been rewriting my tragedy...one line at a time.

He started at my birth...

To be rejected by your father is a tragic story, it is the story I have lived my entire life. My earth father, Joe Teodosio, arrived at the hospital after my teenage mother gave birth to me, took one look at his 5lb 12 oz baby girl, and said, "she's not my daughter." Over the next 35 years there were too many encounters where he made sure I understood my nonexistent place in his world.

But God...

over the past few days, God's Spirit has taken me back to that hospital room, to my infant cradle. Back to a scene whose story has haunted me, and He has rewritten it. I see him draped over me, God with me. I hear him whisper in my curly, little ear, "Denise, you are a God Gift."... "Denise you are My Gift."

He has taken me through other scenes in my play, rewriting my story, making the character in my story different than it was in the beginning.

There's a better story even in the broken story. God is walking me through the better story, and I'm living it.

But not only is He walking me through yesterday, He is showing me today. Whispering in my 36 year old ear, telling me who I am... "Denise you are God Giver."

Could I be God Giver?

I want to be. More than anything I want to be.

When the last chapter of my story is is read I want it to be said of me, " Denise was a God Giver."

Who does God say you are?

Is God rewriting tragedy in your life?

What's in a name?

I was sitting with a very pregnant, one-week-away-from-delivery-friend yesterday, and we were discussing baby names (of course).
Just as I was in that season of name choosing, she has been very intentional about the name of her child.

We discussed how the name you give your child has meaning, and that that meaning is a blessing over our childrens' lives, as well as a blessing over the family.

We wanted our first child to have a strong name, one that brought with it hope, promise, and deliverance.

Noah Joseph means "rest, peace, not broken, made whole," and "may God add"

I had chosen the name of my first daughter, and began praying for her when I was just 16. Her name fits her personality perfectly. As the middle child her qualities sweetly bless this family.

Emilie Erin means "industrious, diligent worker,"
and "peace or mountain of strength (Hebrew)"

Josie's name came to us quickly, she is named after my grandmother. The meaning of her name brought hope to us. We lost a child before her (Caleb, "who followed the Lord wholeheartedly"), and I wanted the blessing of God adding to our family. God has definitely added light, joy, and song to our family because of her. I also wanted the assurance of this child being dedicated, devoted to God.

Josefine Elise means, " may God add," and "consecrated to God"

But I realized I had only given thought to the first names. I had never considered that our last name might have a blessing with it as well.

I discovered that Jones comes from the Hebrew Yochanan meaning "Jehovah has favored," and from the Latin Johannes, which means "Yahweh is gracious."

He is gracious indeed! Since becoming a Jones, I have received more than I deserve. I find myself saying, "why did you give me this life, I have done nothing to deserve it." I see that God has only just begun to lavish his graciousness on me!

As I searched for the meaning of our last name I came across the Jones family crest, and discovered that the Jones motto is: Without God, without anything.

Yes, without Him, we have nothing.

What is the meaning of your first and last name?

i asked God to help me love my neighbor.
i do.
and it hurts.

it was easier when i didn't let his life touch my life. i think i knew it would hurt if it did. and it does.

it brings up a world of childhood emotions. lately i find myself in a sea of tears. the broken child in me wants to protect and cover him from the hurt he has no choice but to live in.

my neighbor is 9. he is an adorable, red headed, freckled faced boy, with the GREATEST giggle.

he lives with his grandma (who is his guardian), his mom, his sister, his schizophrenic aunt (recently released from the state hospital), her baby (grandma is her legal guardian too), and who ever else decides to crash there.

his dad is in prison. his sister's dad died. his baby brother died two months ago.

his mom came over a bit intoxicated last week to use our phone. i drove her home (yes next door). she had a very intoxicated "friend" visiting. he stayed all week.

we picked him up for church yesterday (he's been going with us regularly). he had a new haircut.
i told him he was handsome.
it was brought to my attention later that that haircut came with tears and him being cussed at by his uncle (who gave the hair cut, and was at the house for the weekend).

last year i started praying for God to put a man in this little boys life. someone to tell him who he is. i think boys need dad figures. i think they need a man to tell them, show them they are capable, to model what it is to be a man...to be godly.

last year after i prayed this he was expelled from school. he missed too much. he fell behind. he was placed in a continuation school where he was the only student. it seemed hopeless.
But his teacher is a man from my church, who LOVES God, and LOVES my neighbor, and wants to be the man this sweet boy needs in his life. he wants to speak truth to him, tell him who he is, teach him, love him.

a few months ago after he had gone to a family bible study night with our family, he called me (they don't have a phone anymore) and left this singing message, "Savior, He can move the mountains, My God is mighty to save, mighty to save."

tears... i hope HE does. Pray with me that God saves him, moves the mountains in this little boys life, and brings him into Hope. Pray that he will have a future lavished in God's love, and goodness, living in His Truth, thriving in Freedom.

I Want To Be One of Them

Please visit the blog Rage Against the Minivan to read about how you can pray and help the Howerton family bring their son home from Haiti.

When the Saints
by Sara Groves

Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones
and I cannot let it go

And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
It often overwhelms me
But when I think of all who've gone before me
And lived the faithful life
Their courage compels me

And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars

I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharohs court
I hear his call of freedom for the people of the Lord

And when the saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul

I see the young missionary and the end of the spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear

I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sisters standing by the lepers side

I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down the door

I see the man of sorrows and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load

And when the saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

(f.b. friends, to hear song and read lyrics as well see video)

My Love Language

Psalm 139 is well known scripture for many mommies. Verses 14-17 resonate with us-

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!

But it is Psalm 139:1 that takes my breath away, "O Lord, You have searched me and know me."

To me being known is being seen. Being seen is being loved.

That is my Love Language.

It is how I am best loved. It is how I love best.

The more I know Jesus, the more I believe this is His Love Language.

This is what I like most about Jesus.

Jesus is intentional about knowing people. He sees us. Doesn't judge at first glance, but gets to the heart of us, to our story, to all the stories that have come before ours. Stories good, bad, of defeat, and victory which were written into our stories, and He knows us. Knows us better than we know ourselves. Gets us. See's us. And ENTIRELY Loves us!

I want to know, see, and love like Jesus.

For too many years I have played loving because it was the "Christian" thing to do. But in too many circumstances I never really loved. I was just meeting my Christian requirements. I don't think that is entirely bad, sometimes we must "fake it till we make it." Obedience is the first step. But I've outgrown just being obedient. I want to love, from my inmost being I want to love.

I want to love:

My neighbor. Who is broken. She resides in a prison not made of visible bars, but of drugs, alcohol, and defeat.

My neighbor's children.

A friend, who has destroyed her life, and is living in lies.

A relative whose choices grieve me.

and too many more...

I want to love them.


This is a gift I can give daily.
What gift can you give daily?

Mary & Joseph and the Teodosio Family

Every Christmas day we travel to visit my family, the Teodosio family.
Christmas has always been hosted by my aunt and uncle, Mary and Joseph.

My uncle, Joseph Gabriel, was born on Christmas day, he is married to my aunt, Maria Gloria. They have three sons. None of them are named Jesus.

My family is a large Portuguese family. There are almost to many to count-44. There will be two more joining us this year by marriage and birth.

It is wonderful to come from a large family. I watch my grandmother and think of how this beloved family began more than 62 years ago, on the little Portuguese island of Flores, Azores, on the Atlantic Ocean. It began with a man and woman standing beside each other in a small catholic church. Neither knew what their future would hold.

Neither knew then that it would include 6 children, a new life in America, determination, strength, perseverance, heartbreak, grandchildren (including my sister and I who they raised), unconditional love, step- grandchildren, faithfulness, great-grandchildren, loss, loyalty, tradition, adopted great-grandchildren, and always- Hope.

I am blessed to be part of such a family.

It is overwhelming to think that God knew each of us then, back in that little church, on that little island, a million miles (well almost) away from here. It is overwhelming to think that He loved each of us then, just as He does now.

And I wonder what my little family of 5 will grow to be because of the love of a man and a woman standing before God in a church 13 years ago.

I can't wait for those Christmases when I will be surrounded by many generations of Jones'!

Row 1, Aunt Violet (whose finally going to be a g-ma) with Aunt Vicki and her grand-daughter Ava. Josie with her doll wearing a sweater made by Vava. Cousins-Amy, Sarah, Ava, and Michelle
Row 2, w/ my cousin Michelle, Christmas Decor, cousin Gabriel w/ g.f. Margie
Row 3, Aunt Hilda & Uncle Armando, Cousins Sean & Aaron w/ my Aunt Vicki (who was in a car accident in Sept. She is on recovery road- last month she was still in a wheel chair, this month she is using a walker! We are SO GLAD God let us keep her. Btw- her name means "Victory!"), w/ Cousin Michael.
Row 4, Sean, Vava, and me, happy Aunt Violet, Aunt Marie, Josie, & Aunt Violet

Merry Christmas'n with the Joneses!

but God

i recently mentioned in this post, that the two words "but God" are the most beautiful words...that these two words can say everything.

i had intended to write a post sharing with you why i believe that, but my friend thea beat me to it. i'm glad she did because her words say what i wanted to say perfectly!

below are thea's words. stop by and visit her blog, and tell her denise sent you!

"But God." My friend Denise has gotten me thinking about these words a lot. She's right--they're some of the most beautiful words ever.


I love that you can write anything in front of them. Anything! Stories of soiled souls, hopeless happenings, and seemingly unredeemable circumstances, and then swoop in right behind them with "BUT GOD" and the rest all fades in comparison.


"I was rejected by those who should have loved me." BUT GOD.


"My accusers breathe lies against me day and night." BUT GOD.


"I made selfish choices that hurt others and cost me my ministry." BUT GOD.


"I couldn't hold it all together and it fell apart." BUT GOD.



I was thinking about these words this morning especially as I read through Isaiah 60 and camped out on verse 2:


"See, darkness covers the earth
and thick darkness is over the peoples,
BUT THE LORD rises upon you
and His glory appears over you."

Darkness...thick darkness. BUT THE LORD.

And so often this "But God" part seems to always have to do with revealing His glory. Through our reprehensible deeds and those done to us, He is all about revealing His glory in us and through us.



________________________....BUT GOD.



Go ahead and fill in the blank. There's nothing in the first part of the sentence that supercedes the power and the glory and the majesty of the second.

and tell me, what is your "but God?"

You Let Me Catch My Breath

God, my shepherd!
I don't need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
you find me quiet pools to drink from.

True to your word,
you let me catch my breath
and send me in the right direction.

Even when the way goes through Death Valley,
I'm not afraid when you walk at my side.
Your trusty shepherds crook makes me feel secure.

You serve me a six-course dinner
right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
my cup brims with blessing.

Your beauty and love chase after me
every day of my life.
I'm back home in the house of GOD
for the rest of my life.

Psalm 23 The Message

i ate a booger

you read that right, i ate a booger.

don't tell me you have never eaten a booger. i would guess 99.9% of the world has sampled their boogers. i recall a boy in my 4th grade class who really enjoyed his boogers. now he is 36, balding, drives a fancy car, and has a fancy job (i wonder if hair loss is a result of excessive booger consumption).

as you see from the video above we visited the jelly belly factory. if you live in cali. i recommend you take a detour and head over to the jelly belly factory and go on their 40 min. tour! it was Su.Weeeet.! literally.at the end of the tour there was a sample bar, with unlimited j.b. samples (you should have seen my kids eyes when they were told unlimited amounts of candy was available... you should have seen the "no it's not" look i gave them in return).
j.b. has some delicious flavors, but they also have some new flavors, "beanboozled." these flavors involve trickery- discovering your chocolate was replaced by dog food, your coconut for baby wipe, your peach for vomit, and your pear for booger. and that, that is how i ate a booger (yesterday anyway).with us on our tour my grandmother "vava," and my aunt vera.

as well as visiting the jelly belly factory we visited my dad. my dad lives in a state hospital. he is paranoid schizophrenic. you'd think that going to a state hospital would be the polar opposite of going to a candy factory. it could be. you'd expect it to be. but it wasn't it. it too was filled with sweetness.
sweetness as i watched my g-ma feed her son all his favorite portuguese foods. the way to his heart is though his mother's cooking, and she needed to love him that way. he needed to be loved that way.
sweetness was having his sister, my aunt, see him again for the first time in 12 years. my family tends to ignore his existence (i know it's not intentional, it hurts too much, the loss of their only brother, first to drugs, and now to mental illness). but it meant a lot to me, and i know it meant a lot to him.
sweetness came in conversations between him and his grandchildren. in talking about favorite colors, favorite foods, go-cart crashes, and how tall the grand-kids have gotten.
sweetness overwhelmed not just my taste-buds, but my other senses as my dad hugged each of his grandchildren and said to each of them, "i love you emilie, i love you noah, i love you josefine." i want that. i want them to be loved by my dad. i want him to be loved by my children, his grandchildren.
sweetness came in my own embrace, nestling for a moment into him, my dad.
and finally sweetness came as we left. he went through the doors of confinement,where he was searched by the guards, and we walked out the other door into freedom. there we waited, waited for him to turn around to see us not wanting to leave, wanting to wave goodbye one last time, wanting to take every moment given to us to soak him up. to us he isn't a patient or a criminal- he is a son, a brother, a grandpa...my dad.
he saw us waiting, waved goodbye, and looked at me, and said "i love you." (tears)

in many ways i have been "beanboozled," i received booger, vomit, dog food... instead of the sweetness i should have had in a dad. and it hurts. it hurts everyday.
i mourn and miss the dad i should have had (tears).
i mourn the life he should have had.

and i hate satan.

but i love God.
i love God because through His grace alone i have mercy for my dad (for a man who has been awful, hurtful, abandoning me, denying me as his daughter, torturing me with lies) but i really LOVE him. and i see him. who he is, under the illness. and i long for him.

and because of this, i see how God loves us, sees who we really are under our brokenness, and longs for us.

sometimes i laugh so hard i wet myself!

lisa, julie, and i. that's how the days of my young life were spent, with them- sharing clothes, talking 'bout boys, sleep-overs, bad hair cuts, passing letters in class, school plays, break-up tears, sun bathing (after lathering up in mineral oil, or worse- butter!), summer camp, catering (julie's family owned a catering business that i worked at for 6 yrs), football games, school dances, sweet 16, getting our drivers licenses, prom, graduation, first apartments, fiances, weddings, babies...25 years.

i wouldn't be who i am today if it weren't for these two beautiful women. i KNOW that God wrote them both into my life.

i was in 6th grade the first time i felt delighted in, and it was lisa who delighted in me. she chose this quirky, insecure, broken, 10 yr old girl to be her friend. she didn't care that i got the "free cheese," she didn't seem to notice. she noticed ME. she WANTED me for a friend (just thinking about it makes me tear up). do you know what it is like to have someone want you, when for 10 yrs no one has wanted you? well let me just say i DANCED in our friendship! i came alive because of this friendship. i moved toward believing i was wanted, delighted in, and worthy.
4 yrs later lisa invited me to Hume Lake Christian Camp (tears)... and here i am now.it was in 7th grade music/drama class that i first met julie. i can tell you exactly where she was standing, how i took one look at her, and decided then and there we were going to be friends. i soon discovered that julie and i were so much alike. first, we had the same interests,which at that time were music, drama, and dance (i was a horrible dancer. julie would work with me after school to help me learn routines). we were both born to teenage parents (and by the same o.b.!) we both came from portuguese families (if you are portuguese you will understand the significance). we understood and empathized with the others family chaos, and we both longed for Jesus and a Life of victory in Him. in a season when life can feel so awkward and isolating, our friendship caused me to believe that i fit in simply because i fit in with her. i think we all need to feel like we belong, even to just one person.
i recall two times in our 25 years of friendship where God has used julie to speak Truth over my life. Truth that on both occasions saved my life.so enjoy this our final day together from this trip (this next video is a bit like watching the movie Ground Hog's Day, as i include 3 attempts to introduce the day).

and tell me have you ever laughed so hard you have wet yourself?