Photo Contest

Hanna, over at Trusting In His Love is having a photography contest. These are the two pictures I am entering. I hope you enjoy them.

Isn't God's creation so amazing! (to put it very lightly)

This flower is called the "Bird of Paradise" Isn't it beautiful?

Jeremiah and Keturah: Friends and Buddies!

How Sweet. Siblings are the best!

The Race by D.H. Groberg

"Quit! Give up! You're beaten!"

They shout at me and plead.

"There's just too much against you now;

This time you can't succeed!"

And as I start to hang my head

In front of failure's face,

My downward fall is broken by

The memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will

As I recall that scene;For just the thought of that short race

Rejuvenates my being.

A children's race- young boy, young men,

How I remember well.

Excitement, sure!

But also fear;It wasn't hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope

Each thought to win that race.

Or tie for first, or if not that,

At least take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side

Each cheering for his son.

And each boy hoped to show his dad

That he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went-

Young hearts and hopes afire.

To win and be the hero there

Was each young boy's desire.

And one boy in particular,

Whose dad was in the crowd,

Was running near the lead and thought:

"My dad will be so proud!"

But as he speeded down the field

Across a shallow dip.

The little boy who thought to win

Lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself

His hands flew out to brace,

And 'mid the laughter of the crowd

He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope-

He couldn't win it now-

Embarrassed, sad, he only wished

To disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up

And showed his anxious face,

Which to the boy so clearly said:

"Get up and win the race!"

He quickly rose, no damage done-

Behind a bit, that's all-

And ran with all his mind and might

To make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself-

To catch up and to win-

His mind went faster than his legs;

He slipped and fell again!

He wished then he had quit before

With only one disgrace

"I'm hopeless as a runner now;

I shouldn't try to race."

But in the laughing crowd he searched

And found his father's face;

That steady look which said again:

"Get up and win the race!"

So he jumped up to try again-

Ten yards behind the last-

"If I'm to gain those yards," he thought,

"I've got to move real fast."

Exerting everything he had

He gained eight or ten,

But trying so hard to catch the lead

He slipped and fell again! Defeat!

He lay there silently-

A tear dropped from his eye-

"There's no sense in running anymore:

Three strikes: I'm out! Why try?"

The will to rise had disappeared;

All hope had fled away;

So far behind, so error-prone:

A loser all the way.

"I've lost, so what's the use," he thought

"I'll live with my disgrace.

"But then he thought about his dad

Who soon he'd have to face.

"Get up," an echo sounded low."

Get up and take your place;

You were not meant for failure here.

Get up and win the race."

"With borrowed will get up," it said,

You haven't lost at all.

For winning is no more than this:

To rise each time you fall."

So up he rose to run once more,

And with new commit

He resolved that win or lose

At least he wouldn't quit!

So far behind the others now,-

The most he'd ever been-

Still he gave it all he had

And ran as though to win.

Three times he'd fallen, stumbling;

Three times he rose again:

Too far behind to hope to win

He still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner

As he crossed the line first place.

Head high, and proud, and happy;

No falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster

Crossed the line last place,

The crowd gave him the greater cheer,

For finishing the race.

And even though he came in last

With head bowed low, unproud,

You would have thought he'd won the race

To listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said,

"I didn't do too well."

"To me, you won," his father said.

"You rose each time you fell."

And when things seem dark and hard

And difficult to face,

The memory of that little boy

Helps me in my race.

For all of life is like that race.

With ups and downs and all.

And all you have to do to win,

Is rise each time you fall.

"Quit! Give up, you're beaten!

"They still shout in my face.

But another voice within me says:

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"

"Run with endurance the race that God has set before you”

To Honor Our Solders on Memorial Day:

The American Hero
by Roger Robicheau
The American Hero always comes through To capture our hearts with a spirit so true

Some proudly are soldiers who march in harm’s way Insuring our freedom, courageous they stay

While others come forth as civilians so brave Determined in purpose, so steadfast to save

We should always keep clear a place in our heart For each has a value beyond precious art

Their duty to country will not be surpassed Please honor their courage, for some it’s their last

We live in a world which can be hard to bear Thank God for these people, how greatly they care

Do ponder new heroes and what they will face And pray for their safety no matter their place

Our heritage brings out the best, we all know Our great book of heroes is destined to grow

Proverbs 31:30

Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised.

The Theory of Evolution

Kelsey Hoppman
5/17/09

“By Chance Museum”
The black lettered words were printed plainly on the brick building.
“Interesting” A young man mused, as he strode into the museum. He was greeted at the door by a portly gentleman, clothed in a suit coat, dress pants, and a black tie. “Good morning!” he began. “Welcome to the “By Chance Museum” where every thing is made by chance! “What!” The visitor exclaimed incredulously. His dark eyes than narrowed critically. “That’s’ impossible!” “Oh is it now?” The museum guide challenged. “Well then, let us step over to this painting here. This whole painting was made completely by chance. See the lovely bridge and water fall, depicted in such a grand way, that you can almost hear the rushing water, see the thicket of bush and tree, smell the flowers!” The museum guide closed his eyes as if he were seeing it better with them in that manner. He suddenly opened them and quickly glanced over to his guest. Strongly skeptical eyes met him. “I see you don’t believe me!” “Of course not!” His visitor exclaimed. “I would be a fool to believe such nonsense!” “Well then,” returned the guide, “Let us take a little walk down this hallway. I present to you a piano. Perfect condition, fully tuned, and it was put together as a result of a small earthquake that happened just 3 years ago. The whole earth seemed to but rumbling, the dirt was cracking, and a lady (who prefers to remain anonymous) watched with her own two eyes that, amidst confusion, broken pieces of lumber, bent wire and music notes combined themselves together and created this!” The visitor was getting tired of all this “talk” “I think I’ll leave” he decided. “Better than staying here and listening to this complete nonsense!” “Please,” asked the guide; “Just take a look at one more display.” Unhappily, the young man complied. His guide brought him over to the outdoor part of the museum. “Do you see the trees, flowers, grass, blue sky, clouds, and everything else out here? Do you see that cat over there? And the bird sitting on the tree? The chattering squirrel gathering nuts? Every one of these creatures where, like the piano, and painting, created by chaos, a big bang to be precise, was the creator of these amazing creatures and all of nature actually.”
The young man looked at the guide and smiled. “Well, it’s about time you got something right!”


The End

We don’t believe that something as simple as a painting, wood table, piano, books, or things like houses where created by chance. Those are just the simple things! Isn’t it crazy to believe that our world was created by chance? Can you honestly say your proud to claim truth to this?

My Mother

Who lovingly cares for me throughour night and day?
Whos seeks to assist me in work or in play?
This is my Mother.

Wh lends me a hand, gives words full with grace:
Who seems to glow, full with joy on her face?
This is my Mother.

Who shows a passion for God's word and prayer?
Who gives of herself to nobly share?
This is my Mother.

Who's down on her knees with tears in her eyes.
Prays for her children, trusts God hears her cries?
This is my mother

Who try's to bring happiness and smiles so free?
Though hard for her, she knows it's joyful for me
This is my Mother

Who's raising an army to fight for what's true?
A quiver of arrows that seeks to help you
This is my mother

Who has a heart that from love has not shied?
Who's shone a deep beauty, shown care far and wide?
This is my Mother

Who prays for the saints, shows devotion, is kind?
Who chooses to stay narrow and leaves sin far behind?
This is: My Mother.

By: Kelsey Hoppman
Mothers Day, 2009

I love you Mom!

My Sisters Mykaela and Keturah! (plus some freinds) :)

As you might already know, Mykaela, Keturah, and I are best buddies! All of us girls love the animals as well! Mykaela's job is to feed our llama, Eunice, I milk our goat; Bella Rose, and feed she and poppy, (our African Pygmy goat) and Keturah is always delighted to go out to the barn and help me milk. I hope you enjoy these pictures!


Bella Rose, Mykaela, and Keturah

Sweet Keturah!

Chiquita, Mykaela, and Keturah Mykaela

Isaiah 53

This is a beautiful passage of scripture. It is one of my favorites. What a great reminder of what Jesus Christ did for us! This would be a good passage of scripture to memorize!

Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the LORD revealed?


For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.


He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.


Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.


But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.


All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.


He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.


He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken.


And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.


Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the LORD shall prosper in his hand.


He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities.

Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death: and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.