The Summer of the Flowers

What a flood of memories this picture brings. I remember trying to stop time for this one day. Too many changes were happening too fast.  Lisl was about to leave for Thailand. She and Charlotte are both wearing the stars of newlyweds in their eyes.  Melinda was reaching that summer for happiness and has found it. 

Lisl’s face has changed so much since she is a mommy.  I watch her face closely on our web cam connections and hope that she doesn’t get any thinner.  But the glow and happiness is so apparent that I can’t worry long.

Tonight I am feeling a bit nostalgic.  Jenny is on the very brink of becoming a mother for the first time.  I look at this picture and see her girlhood blooming and I just look and look thinking about her face changing now too.

Memories are such happy-teary-precious-fleeting things.  Dear God, please bless these girls-turned-to-women wherever they are today. In Jesus name, Amen.

7 thoughts on “The Summer of the Flowers”

  1. Aww you went and made me cry! Pretty precious memories you made….Do you ever get use to your little girls becoming women? And I always wonder if Mom realizes how much her blessing and prayers for me actually really do bless me? Do you know how much your blessings affect your girls?


  2. And that was my very first house after I was married. There are a lot of memories in that house and we only had it for a few quick months. I cried too, Amy. Remember the Sunday Dru and I had the whole church over for lunch?


  3. Arla, the picture of the gals on the swing is pure art. It tells a big story without any words. It's ok to be nostalgic. You are really saying thank-you to God for those blessings all over again. Shilah


  4. Wow! And that picture was less then (but almost) 2 years ago. Seems like ages and ages. If life changed that fast in the last two years, what are the next two going to hold?


  5. Dear, Arla
    I don't really know you but I admire you. What a beautiful post and pic. Keep on being the godly mother you are. Blessings to you.
    Cheryl Weaver


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