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like a quilt

The other night I was sitting at my kitchen table trying YET again to get this quilt to DO what I wanted it to. I’ve lost my temper. I’ve cried. I’ve bugged every friend (and my sister) to the point where I’m sure they have seen my number on the caller ID so much that they start twitching and thinking, “No – not again” (LOL). Now as I sit here and laugh hysterically I start to imagine that God gets a good laugh out of the “Adventures of Gina”! I bet He sits up there coffee in hand, and says . . . “OK, Let’s see what this nut is up to today.” I really am blessed that He loves me. I’m ashamed that I’m so much like this quilt. I don’t always fit perfectly. I’m stretched. I’m misshapen. I’m burnt from the heat of my failures and often off by a hair (hahaha) . . . and yet, He still LOVES me. I have to stop and say THANK YOU Father for keeping me under your Grace . . . without which I would really be lost.

Colossians 1:20-23 . . .
All the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe – people and things, animals and atoms – get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the Cross. You yourselves are a case study of what he does. At one time you all had your backs turned to God, thinking rebellious thoughts of him, giving him trouble every chance you got. But now, by giving himself completely at the Cross, actually dying for you, Christ brought you over to God’s side and put your lives together, whole and holy in his presence. You don’t walk away from a gift like that! You stay grounded and steady in that bond of trust, constantly tuned in to the Message, careful not to be distracted or diverted. There is no other Message – just this one. Every creature under heaven gets this same Message.

Devotional Thought and Photo by Gina Nelson

My Country ‘Tis of Thee

My Country ‘Tis of Thee

My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims’ pride,
From ev’ry mountainside
Let freedom ring!

My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills.
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom’s song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.

Our fathers’ God, to thee,
Author of liberty,
To thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright
With freedom’s holy light.
Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King!

Text: Samuel F. Smith, 1808-1895
Music: From Thesaurus Musicus, London, 1744
Audio: Stephen Sollars
Photo: Bob McCoy