Uff-da.  It’s been a crazy past few days.

Camp ended Saturday.

We drove to Chicago with my sister.  Ate at Flat Top [Andy’s favorite], watched the Olympics, ate more [Kait’s awesome cooking], and watched more Olympics.

Woke up at 4am to catch our flight back to Pittsburgh.

Arrived without a hitch to lightening here in Pittsburgh: sat on the runway while Harlow blew kisses like she was Miss America.

Came home to greet the pupster [Thank you Staabs for watching him!] and eat some lunch.

Andy’s parents arrived a few hours later with the rest of our stuff, and Harlow’s spoiling continued. oy!

Woke up Monday, made breakfast, drove Andy to work [waa waaaaaa…], and planned an entire day out of our house because we had contractors working on some wood floor issues.

Thankful for the work.  Long day for mama after a week of vacation.  I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to go home and do laundry like I did yesterday!

But we’re home now.  

Deep breath.  So thankful.  So blessed.

I shared last week a few of the challenges that I was taking away from camp this year: so much truth packed into such a short week!

Sunday Evening [Troy Dobbs]

The better you know the word of God, the less confusing His will is.

Monday Morning [Dean Jaderston]

Desperate, but not afraid.

Dean read the lyrics to an old song he heard as a child, and I want to share it with you all today.  While reading it, please ask yourself:

1. Am I willing to touch Jesus?  Am I desperate enough to reach out?  

2. Am I willing to be touched? 

The Touch of the Master’s Hand – Myra Brooks Welch

‘Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?
Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?”

“Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three…” But no,
From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: “What am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?
Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,
And going and gone,” said he.

[Pinned here. Trying to find original source.]

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand.
What changed its worth?” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of the Master’s hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.

A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,
A game — and he travels on.
He is “going” once, and “going” twice,
He’s “going” and almost “gone.”
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.

Excited to share more with y’all over the next few days.  And photos… oh, the photos!! Summer Friday will be back! Sorry for hiccup!

Psst! Did y’all see that we started a new plan with our She Reads Truth community!! And now journals are available for pre-order!

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