Bookends

Anyone see any resemblance??

Heather at the age of 4 in 1996
(1st child)

Emma at the age of 4 in 2006
(Last child)

Pretty sad when the Mother’s eyes

need to adjust to know which child she is looking at in the photo!!
For those of you who don’t know; in-between these bookends

are two more beautiful blonde Bate girls!

Music worth listening to!

Download this, it's free and it's all for God's glory!

now available online @ any of the following websites:

www.phillaeger.com

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www.myspace.com/laeger

www.purevolume.com/phillaeger

Transformation

Picture is of a butterfly in Georgia. Taken while my brother and his wife were visiting my parents.

My friend Mhairi mailed us a butterfly kit.


I have to say; watching these caterpillars with my girls has caused many interesting reactions.
The first phase when these tiny worm like creatures arrived was kind of gross.
They live in the little bottle with food on the bottom. They do everything in this bottle and eat the food or yellow muck off the ground. Over several days these tiny worms grow fat and hairy. We had five of them in our jar. The bigger they got the more they pooped and ate from the yellow muck the more I wanted to gag.
Then the day came when each of them made their way to the top of the jar and attached themselves there. They hung themselves upside down, each finding a spot. Hours later they were in cocoons. These hard like shells seemed to appear out of no where and we waited and waited. We checked every morning. Mhairi came over twice and was afraid that they had died…Why was it taking them so long? Why were the cocoons turning black? As we were searching the internet for the answers to these questions, one of the girls noticed our first butterfly had emerged. As it came out of the cocoon, it splattered red blood like liquid all over the pavilion. When it opened its wings it was a beautiful orange painted butterfly. It no longer looked like a worm or ate like a worm. Now, instead of the yellow muck on the bottom of the jar, we were instructed to feed them sugar water, flowers and fruit.
I think I understand transformation. I mean anyone who is old enough to remember me before Christ would think I understood the power of transformation! Yet, watching God’s own illustration of transformation through these little creatures was mind boggling.
Words like “I am nothing but a worm” or “He rescued me from the miry clay!” kept coming into my mind as I watched them.
How about the red liquid that comes out from the cocoon as the butterfly is set free into a new life? “I am washed in the blood!”
Then to see them now flying, beautiful and eating only sweet things…
Reminded me again that there is a land of milk and honey waiting for us.
Philippians 3:20-21 “ Our citizenship is in heaven and we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body!”
Truth be told….I haven’t even got a clue about transformation! My experience and my understanding is more like the yellow muck on the bottom of the dish.
1 Corinthians 13:12 “for now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”
All five butterflies are alive! They all have experienced the transformation that God has planned for them. They each have survived the cocoon phase.
Do they sense the change? Do they feel or understand what has happened to them? Do they remember what they once were?
Do they marvel at what they have become?
Four little girls, their Mom and Mhairi….stand in awe!
We marvel at the work of God, in our lives and in His creation.

My God is so Big

My thoughts are like a drop in the ocean
Your thoughts are deeper than then the oceans depth
My knowledge is nothing more than a firefly in August
Your knowledge shines brightly beyond our galaxy
My wisdom is a brief moment, a breath in time
Your wisdom is all eternity
How do you share your self with me?
It’s like filling up a cracked jar.
You are always pouring in
to overflowing
And I leak.
Never able to contain enough
Never able to get enough
Yet, always full.
You graciously flow
Never ending
Living water
Into
My Life.

How
Does someone
So small,
Contain
Such
A
Big God?
How is it
That You
Can live
In
Me?


cjb

Swinging

I have a confession....I like to swing. Before anyone gets the wrong idea let me explain!
Swings are my favorite thing at the playground. As a kid, I would try and swing high enough to go over the bar. I did always have a little fear in the back of my mind that I would fly over the bar. But, those who competed against me would be sure to win if they were gutsy enough to push just that little bit more.
I have pushed my kids on swings hearing them shout "higher Mommy!" and I remember as a child making the same demands. To swing high enough to touch the leaf of a tree, tag a branch or even reach the clouds. It's an awesome feeling to swing at night too, especially if the sky is dark and the stars bright.
I guess I imagine myself flying but what I enjoy most about swinging now is that child like feeling of freedom, excitement and the possibility of actually reaching the stars.
So if you ever see me swinging....shake your head and walk on by with all your thoughts of growing up or come and swing with me...
Yes....I still make snow angels too! (and sometimes with the kids);)

Sitting next to Moses

Being in three airports these past few days has made me think of all the airport stories I have never written down. Not stories I have heard but my own stories.
I was sitting in the Newark before boarding the plane and had some time to people watch when all of a sudden I thought to myself; who am I going to be sitting next to? Will I be between the two Harley biker guys who sat across from me in the lobby? One of them had a black leather vest on and his arms were bare except for the tattoos that covered every inch of skin like a shirt. His friend wasn’t as colorful but seemed a bit shadier in his eyes. I imagined me sitting in the middle seat between them. I looked around; it’s Newark so almost every nationality was represented. I ended up sitting with a Hasidic Jew on my right and a Russian behind me.
This situation made me think of another time when we were flying to Colorado to visit my brother. The whole family was with me and in our experience they always sit the children as close to the back of the plane as possible. We had the last row on both sides up against the bathrooms. This didn’t concern me because with little kids sitting near the bathroom can be a big help. I got three of my kids comfortable, seated and settled. We survived the standard fight over who gets to sit near the window. (This was between our two middle girls) I sat with the baby on my lap. (Emma was 18 months at the time) Across the aisle Alastair sat between our oldest and a poor single man who looked alarmed at his seating arrangements. Everyone was seated on the plane when the airline Stewardess came to us and said we needed to change our seats. I was so annoyed. The baby’s bag was under the seat, all toys and activity books had already been taken out, sippy cups were an arm reach away and I wondered if they had any clue how long it took us to settle. I was not moving! So I said “I have 2 children in this small space and a baby on my lap…I’m not moving.” To which she said “well, either the people on the right of this aisle need to move or the left…someone needs to move.” I looked across at Alastair, the stranger and Heather then said calmly to the stewardess, “Move them.”
So, up they got with all their things and they moved closer to the front of the plane. I felt victorious…I protected my little spot. Next thing I know, I see Alastair stop in the aisle…he lets three men squeezed past him, Alastair catches my eye and looks at me with a mischievous grin. I look back at him “what?” I reply with my eyes and he laughs…almost out loud. Then I saw what amused him so greatly!
Coming down the aisle towards us were three men. The first was a little white balding man with a briefcase handcuffed to his arm. He sat across from us, in the window seat. Next, came a man dressed in orange jumpsuit with shackles on his feet and handcuffs on his hands. He scooted into the middle seat. The third man was the biggest man I had ever seen. Bald, African American, strong man who barely fit into his aisle seat. Alastair now sitting in his new seat (up front) is straining to watch my reaction….grinning the whole time. I process the situation and realize they are transporting a convict who obviously needs these two other men as well as chains. The only thing separating him from me and my little wide eyed, overly interested girls was a small aisle and the big guy. I later learned that the big, strong guy’s name was Moses. The name seemed to fit him.
So, I humbly sat in my protected little spot that I fought so hard to keep. Thinking of all the movies I have seen where they transport convicts. I just prayed he didn’t have to go to the bathroom for the whole trip. (They always find a way out in the bathroom….at least in the movies I’ve seen.) :)
I never figured out who the convict was or his story but I spent most of the trip trying to answer the girls’ questions. We got off the plane and all had a good laugh at mommy trying to keep her “special seat”.
Mostly, it was Alastair laughing! ;)
We all arrived safely and yes, he did go to the restroom. Moses stood out side the door the whole time.
Guess they won’t make a movie out of this one!