tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-297779352024-03-19T05:24:47.372-07:00a time for wonder - a nature photography and quotes blog - Quesnel, BCNature photography and quotes from Quesnel, BC, Canada.Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.comBlogger396125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-74671145427193189762011-07-15T15:02:00.000-07:002011-07-15T15:02:43.001-07:00blogging at anikalacerte.com now, come join me!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQShJWid_BrEctzoXXmk4_FTOLfRU1q7kxuSlaskDOSlXM4njJgUZdg8_uWY4awR5nvwXi87NHUWzIaZ4VrXVG1kww_p4yP-2TowO1BSPRzbvx9CsCU8agJmRirxGdSOnlHvBT-Q/s1600/IMG_9953small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQShJWid_BrEctzoXXmk4_FTOLfRU1q7kxuSlaskDOSlXM4njJgUZdg8_uWY4awR5nvwXi87NHUWzIaZ4VrXVG1kww_p4yP-2TowO1BSPRzbvx9CsCU8agJmRirxGdSOnlHvBT-Q/s320/IMG_9953small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have started blogging on my website <a href="http://anikalacerte.com/">anikalacerte.com</a>, so have decided to stop blogging here. I'd love for you to <a href="http://anikalacerte.com/">join me</a>!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cheers!<br />
<i>Anika</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-49617648107531927352011-06-24T18:05:00.001-07:002011-06-24T18:07:27.232-07:00involve<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXzz-Jzav11TNGZydgeiCtBmXAEFXME6cJbyg7hZ9DmT9sn7-7DRdxIrknk-R8WHfPf9Zzdf2gg0joo9aHOpGxMUoZs6n89MsLTeW78eq1NCVWxWzEHmJN_154VwkL5WLQcpxIw/s1600/IMG_9516small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXzz-Jzav11TNGZydgeiCtBmXAEFXME6cJbyg7hZ9DmT9sn7-7DRdxIrknk-R8WHfPf9Zzdf2gg0joo9aHOpGxMUoZs6n89MsLTeW78eq1NCVWxWzEHmJN_154VwkL5WLQcpxIw/s320/IMG_9516small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Benjamin Franklin</i></div>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-18712836314189842752011-06-16T11:00:00.001-07:002011-06-16T11:00:01.484-07:00spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYTd-w9iBeGnLk5p-W5GVecdgkGJdpMK3ioEHL0otsxl8i5N-II-75Tugbk2CdszzAkpGCvknaT0p_6bLkXrAc1pOx4JnRvibhX3RC2VeuZqsjfIx0MG5nr76cOB4djW8BMUJ5A/s1600/IMG_8763small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYTd-w9iBeGnLk5p-W5GVecdgkGJdpMK3ioEHL0otsxl8i5N-II-75Tugbk2CdszzAkpGCvknaT0p_6bLkXrAc1pOx4JnRvibhX3RC2VeuZqsjfIx0MG5nr76cOB4djW8BMUJ5A/s320/IMG_8763small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow. <br />
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ProverbAnika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-65157621132489503642011-06-15T11:00:00.001-07:002011-06-15T11:00:00.307-07:00beauty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCfbpn8BJvYaR_CFcmy_sFL-PJ6UUN-DwPBVN9E2SnOLQ8uk2fzUh603Vwg45laEZ5a6hGgKJvm4NejW7KHUCRPVyg_FCibHG1ftD4LnwII4QrfF8TT9Gi6upU2s3oS25Jfv0ww/s1600/IMG_8760small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCfbpn8BJvYaR_CFcmy_sFL-PJ6UUN-DwPBVN9E2SnOLQ8uk2fzUh603Vwg45laEZ5a6hGgKJvm4NejW7KHUCRPVyg_FCibHG1ftD4LnwII4QrfF8TT9Gi6upU2s3oS25Jfv0ww/s320/IMG_8760small.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
She walks in beauty, like the night<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
And all that 's best of dark and bright<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
Meet in her aspect and her eyes<br />
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Lord ByronAnika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-7590012105186802312011-06-14T11:00:00.000-07:002011-06-14T11:00:00.702-07:00spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3mdgah2-M0d0PeEgZNx5-7k3A4yJYlnxNtP2aom9QaSPoEj1UipAy7ga8-Gt8KO-qWC6e6aR7Zx2Iqa4zOeyqlBPvZhY63EP9Rm-tFtxU5JDSbvIS6FumOSEdDixx_LDSG2kiQ/s1600/IMG_8755small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3mdgah2-M0d0PeEgZNx5-7k3A4yJYlnxNtP2aom9QaSPoEj1UipAy7ga8-Gt8KO-qWC6e6aR7Zx2Iqa4zOeyqlBPvZhY63EP9Rm-tFtxU5JDSbvIS6FumOSEdDixx_LDSG2kiQ/s320/IMG_8755small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!<br />
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<i>Mark Twain</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-83402142540876807802011-06-13T11:00:00.001-07:002011-06-13T16:15:09.737-07:00infinite<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ovf0bW_yhw1yAcejfDCvzVjw4k3hMlHaf0gmeFZ61kcwAIfVtyRyvw7j5jxj58W3dQXiKWxX5MvJai766Udyzznj0VOPdubnjwitcdZLetwDj8af5x6EiMYWD6cuhNh9CJ_-ug/s1600/IMG_8748small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ovf0bW_yhw1yAcejfDCvzVjw4k3hMlHaf0gmeFZ61kcwAIfVtyRyvw7j5jxj58W3dQXiKWxX5MvJai766Udyzznj0VOPdubnjwitcdZLetwDj8af5x6EiMYWD6cuhNh9CJ_-ug/s320/IMG_8748small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,<br />
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.<br />
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<i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-76407701373912750852011-06-12T11:00:00.001-07:002011-06-12T11:00:03.511-07:00excursion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_u9fLuOidfNNHUuoePxuZwiTkAtYSkZRQQ5e2hfAkeNiIE0a6hb-dztKBOUvd7n2XM_r0jlpcMHEDKmw0TwSFM1ypqsvHu4STDOz6umdci8yxN_3on1w_YJ1AqBDu5NydXAsSA/s1600/IMG_8743small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_u9fLuOidfNNHUuoePxuZwiTkAtYSkZRQQ5e2hfAkeNiIE0a6hb-dztKBOUvd7n2XM_r0jlpcMHEDKmw0TwSFM1ypqsvHu4STDOz6umdci8yxN_3on1w_YJ1AqBDu5NydXAsSA/s320/IMG_8743small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The excursion is the same when you go looking for your sorrow as when you go looking for your joy.<br />
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<i>Eudora Welty</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-28682057052107038122011-06-11T11:00:00.001-07:002011-06-11T11:00:01.126-07:00moments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3M5EaW63FzRPweDSxvqxSWKGl9poykIJyHxSAOnonsZQ-fy7xuVFpxVqZtx-YYi19sgLPwc6_8Uvrwc7Mq4RRZtoMxZYq6MqPOFYt9Q62Knq8wDiUhrhlkNngmN6di_smKpyNQ/s1600/IMG_8738small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3M5EaW63FzRPweDSxvqxSWKGl9poykIJyHxSAOnonsZQ-fy7xuVFpxVqZtx-YYi19sgLPwc6_8Uvrwc7Mq4RRZtoMxZYq6MqPOFYt9Q62Knq8wDiUhrhlkNngmN6di_smKpyNQ/s320/IMG_8738small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Why hadn't I realized that joy was right in the middle of life, unlocked in the moments? Where did I think it should be? After all, it's only moments that make up a life.<br />
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<i><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ann-voskamp/post_1710_b_821452.html">Ann Voskamp</a></i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-66021768250366830822011-06-10T11:00:00.001-07:002011-06-10T11:00:04.912-07:00folks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbHvQNPhkAI5XPx_Grb4lDaysYgny7tB8NEO5snRmL5nF-ct11RnuQYnp1rHnc5JTBK6xm2m0YTJZxOVaMpK7tslRuHVp5lWBJ9YL-AmF38xdLA0qOS2Zb9UvkVdIDNbHF3e9OzA/s1600/IMG_8713small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbHvQNPhkAI5XPx_Grb4lDaysYgny7tB8NEO5snRmL5nF-ct11RnuQYnp1rHnc5JTBK6xm2m0YTJZxOVaMpK7tslRuHVp5lWBJ9YL-AmF38xdLA0qOS2Zb9UvkVdIDNbHF3e9OzA/s320/IMG_8713small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.<br />
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<i>Abraham Lincoln</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-17685488872782120122011-06-09T11:00:00.000-07:002011-06-09T11:00:03.309-07:00joy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Wu065nGw-4XRTy1M4_6bPYcQTYKkh6tMZSCg77YQArhgxgfD1MYj5CNprRq4nZeFFVK6-mouI6FHpYp0unryOle5Kqg3UaJDCZI6FKL8aav1nd2ClTKUbsX2ngIQlon4mrjWbw/s1600/IMG_8712small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Wu065nGw-4XRTy1M4_6bPYcQTYKkh6tMZSCg77YQArhgxgfD1MYj5CNprRq4nZeFFVK6-mouI6FHpYp0unryOle5Kqg3UaJDCZI6FKL8aav1nd2ClTKUbsX2ngIQlon4mrjWbw/s320/IMG_8712small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.<br />
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<i>Henri Nouwen</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-27484991459508553392011-06-08T15:30:00.000-07:002011-06-08T15:30:01.149-07:00satisfactory<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaOmO_iIvP07qRhQpCxnHR15LEBVWdrLs3QuUZuBxL3kAWexhHj0hdF_mxSrEIzuHdmHcRq1H1t6fG6vhLjvOcVi_OfiwOx5Pux9up3YInWgSa5Xj40Fwup6ii70PEGkgx2YI6uw/s1600/IMG_8711small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaOmO_iIvP07qRhQpCxnHR15LEBVWdrLs3QuUZuBxL3kAWexhHj0hdF_mxSrEIzuHdmHcRq1H1t6fG6vhLjvOcVi_OfiwOx5Pux9up3YInWgSa5Xj40Fwup6ii70PEGkgx2YI6uw/s320/IMG_8711small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>36 satisfactory exposures on a roll means a photographer is not trying anything new.<br />
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<i>Freeman Patterson</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-4474689439615418332011-06-07T15:28:00.002-07:002011-06-07T15:28:00.637-07:00illuminated<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid40iq1g2uvuQ3KCIxxrc9XtXeq6ce0r9zlm9RBb7Pj_iGl-UWQMbcwkrncYkeZtY245ArL2gS3UfMfEGJJCofx7Dk3uFlGMGhUlJSm5OhrI5C2ycCCCUAw6cdethxM_bj1AF8mw/s1600/IMG_8710small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid40iq1g2uvuQ3KCIxxrc9XtXeq6ce0r9zlm9RBb7Pj_iGl-UWQMbcwkrncYkeZtY245ArL2gS3UfMfEGJJCofx7Dk3uFlGMGhUlJSm5OhrI5C2ycCCCUAw6cdethxM_bj1AF8mw/s320/IMG_8710small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In a futile attempt to erase our past, we deprive the community of our healing gift. If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others.<br />
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<i>Brennan Manning</i><br />
<i>(Abba's Child: The Cry of the Heart for Intimate Belonging)</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-33942750747779089852011-06-06T15:11:00.001-07:002011-06-06T15:11:00.947-07:00litmus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IHrrHe4TCnfdGHUNIW22qaWA9j7u02TlJtSuw3zkQHKDb6xdxIyKhyphenhyphenwFZfsv9PNVGOrBrGwIPVuLg0Hg0C7NogfIkvLmI8Y7QiRmJqqFx6VYSfyAYmAOZdSLZVatyIGYWVJavA/s1600/IMG_8709small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IHrrHe4TCnfdGHUNIW22qaWA9j7u02TlJtSuw3zkQHKDb6xdxIyKhyphenhyphenwFZfsv9PNVGOrBrGwIPVuLg0Hg0C7NogfIkvLmI8Y7QiRmJqqFx6VYSfyAYmAOZdSLZVatyIGYWVJavA/s320/IMG_8709small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The litmus test of our love for God is our love of neighbor.<br />
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<i>Brennan Manning </i><br />
<i>(The Wisdom of Tenderness: What Happens When God's Fierce Mercy Transforms Our Lives)</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-84073188409030874892011-06-05T15:03:00.001-07:002011-06-05T15:03:00.200-07:00growing food<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJquQAnLOilajCQC9NqBqKMVXXphwsYAfTkx5zyTg96WoQ5W1g-2htRpO4clbwTTJ2ISltXOPMyp-Qk45Hhl0P5B2bGM9LTAhR04Gt4LN4Eo5mjm-SCdfSIJLb6WZkRT2fNb9yQ/s1600/IMG_8576small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJquQAnLOilajCQC9NqBqKMVXXphwsYAfTkx5zyTg96WoQ5W1g-2htRpO4clbwTTJ2ISltXOPMyp-Qk45Hhl0P5B2bGM9LTAhR04Gt4LN4Eo5mjm-SCdfSIJLb6WZkRT2fNb9yQ/s320/IMG_8576small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
When did we become so disconnected from our own being, our own humanity, that growing food for our own bodies, for our very survival, became an act for the intellectually ignorant?<br />
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<i><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2010/10/in-defence-of-food-and-all-those-who-bring-it-to-our-tables/">Ann Voskamp</a></i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-57260445111421629652011-06-04T15:02:00.000-07:002011-06-04T15:02:00.244-07:00now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqToFZGic_u-8teKNegiqgRc46MUJ07ns5hTPbrVAcKWB1z83cYMONW3ARnT8WsKiSey5VDzEZabtY6QCViJmB2podXYWDY719sHYBhL5hDklcbq6Fv2_-qYEz35t-K8ILgI-EUg/s1600/IMG_8557small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqToFZGic_u-8teKNegiqgRc46MUJ07ns5hTPbrVAcKWB1z83cYMONW3ARnT8WsKiSey5VDzEZabtY6QCViJmB2podXYWDY719sHYBhL5hDklcbq6Fv2_-qYEz35t-K8ILgI-EUg/s320/IMG_8557small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Life is only all our moments slipped on in a row, one after the other — and if you turn slow in the light, the moments might shine translucent and the surprise of it catches you and releases you and it is what you always hoped and always knew. There is mystery and glory in every now.<br />
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<i><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/category/spiritual-disciplines/">Ann Voskamp</a></i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-77007097207853115762011-06-03T14:55:00.001-07:002011-06-03T14:55:00.646-07:00ordinary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63kg0hvTaU-d_WwtJCgj1lG4b14TR6zs3Wmp08omEscFEwMGrJ2D0KsvKSQ9O7j_EtAJAx-ZwOnkvPZdnUqwGQzN0fk8ZZbou6Wh-85qjLj5qIbOTbPXD7lf4NWhBpWneWC4thA/s1600/IMG_8544small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63kg0hvTaU-d_WwtJCgj1lG4b14TR6zs3Wmp08omEscFEwMGrJ2D0KsvKSQ9O7j_EtAJAx-ZwOnkvPZdnUqwGQzN0fk8ZZbou6Wh-85qjLj5qIbOTbPXD7lf4NWhBpWneWC4thA/s320/IMG_8544small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The true artist enters into work of Father and makes the ordinary material of the world new.<br />
<br />
<i>Ann Voskamp</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-19667404944494830312011-06-02T14:52:00.000-07:002011-06-02T14:52:00.414-07:00thirsty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgMdtOTeXTf6AhGFE1uh66lVTcHBA7bFpSJ4nffcoscpq6PO_Jie4mXs9EuX7EqJfpv4sRrYgs20yAKdyimFyOe2ABSUuHGcJSvSh9gXWSFfj5tcZ-x5z_cbcc02Wf-3qB9uz9w/s1600/IMG_8538small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgMdtOTeXTf6AhGFE1uh66lVTcHBA7bFpSJ4nffcoscpq6PO_Jie4mXs9EuX7EqJfpv4sRrYgs20yAKdyimFyOe2ABSUuHGcJSvSh9gXWSFfj5tcZ-x5z_cbcc02Wf-3qB9uz9w/s320/IMG_8538small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
O God, I have tasted of Thy goodness, and it has both satisfied me<br />
<br />
and made me thirsty for more.<br />
<br />
I am painfully conscious of my need for further grace.<br />
<br />
I am ashamed of my lack of desire.<br />
<br />
O God, the Triune God, I want to want Thee;<br />
<br />
I long to be filled with longing;<br />
<br />
I thirst to be made more thirsty.<br />
<br />
<i>A.W. Tozer</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-23079341366277022572011-06-01T14:48:00.002-07:002011-06-01T14:48:00.514-07:00dust police<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzNGlYhosblhUo0pziO7jDhrZ3np7sRhYf-ITxtwYK_do55I-fWuVa-UX2r-mw0Kkak5LCBv3ODfqxVGelnmSh7fRnYkXgSoxjbZlJOINv7S1EUZ4tiw2kMwoso5MwN2bZBJL7w/s1600/IMG_8537small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRzNGlYhosblhUo0pziO7jDhrZ3np7sRhYf-ITxtwYK_do55I-fWuVa-UX2r-mw0Kkak5LCBv3ODfqxVGelnmSh7fRnYkXgSoxjbZlJOINv7S1EUZ4tiw2kMwoso5MwN2bZBJL7w/s320/IMG_8537small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There are no dust police.<br />
<br />
No smudge cops, no laundry laws, no fridge patrol.<br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2010/07/for-days-when-you-are-bone-tired/">Ann Voskamp</a></i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-4824857225014912152011-05-31T14:47:00.001-07:002011-05-31T14:47:00.613-07:00bare beauty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qqoIsFsboBK2WSTmkvEIvUW9Aq3ZS4xIvnjX5V9-GVHcmtMA5wgYtzqlBg6YY8Uovk2FnTA1yG_aL08wWMxRKme4ng8gvk2C7MsIFZuVukrDY19ydbV3cCOJ4mN7mynN31yjsQ/s1600/IMG_8535small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qqoIsFsboBK2WSTmkvEIvUW9Aq3ZS4xIvnjX5V9-GVHcmtMA5wgYtzqlBg6YY8Uovk2FnTA1yG_aL08wWMxRKme4ng8gvk2C7MsIFZuVukrDY19ydbV3cCOJ4mN7mynN31yjsQ/s320/IMG_8535small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The garden smells pungent and green and alive. The light’s warm. The loamy tilth of the soil lies loose, open, expectant. I walk the rows and all the weight of everything falls away and I know the the bare beauty of who He made me to be.<br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2010/07/when-you-cant-seem-to-find-real-you/">Ann Voskamp</a></i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-23643572440113103132011-05-30T14:44:00.000-07:002011-05-30T14:44:00.708-07:00a thousand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii6lYjF0F6qn4qPh8RDiLNuyD27VWWUq2mUyOcAKM8ApLEOxaX95YJj81CYWJH05EVs6geArbYaG5fGcDEg0CbwOt8Yuxg-h5laW3K8qOaD2ZqAGHXTYkAFojv57HUOjmSvkKlTQ/s1600/IMG_8532small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii6lYjF0F6qn4qPh8RDiLNuyD27VWWUq2mUyOcAKM8ApLEOxaX95YJj81CYWJH05EVs6geArbYaG5fGcDEg0CbwOt8Yuxg-h5laW3K8qOaD2ZqAGHXTYkAFojv57HUOjmSvkKlTQ/s320/IMG_8532small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Egyptians have fifty words for sand, and Eskimos, a hundred for snow.<br />
<br />
How to find a thousand words for the joy of all this grace we walk in?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/05/when-youre-looking-for-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel-free-may-gratitude-calendar-printable/"><i>Ann Voskamp</i></a>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-79782745889947199702011-05-29T14:39:00.002-07:002011-05-29T14:39:00.353-07:00green space<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIkk0ZNOD0MydjWCMeRjsv24OvqQBxIA0Ex7GpPHgDIkUSI8d2f-pSEHni-l4t-_SeQ5ppXkidj9NJKdrmRLCj0eIJe6Nd4IsC_bOhuSj3mIBqFlxTUXLV8OAwtrIIjfos4Rq7w/s1600/IMG_8531small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIkk0ZNOD0MydjWCMeRjsv24OvqQBxIA0Ex7GpPHgDIkUSI8d2f-pSEHni-l4t-_SeQ5ppXkidj9NJKdrmRLCj0eIJe6Nd4IsC_bOhuSj3mIBqFlxTUXLV8OAwtrIIjfos4Rq7w/s320/IMG_8531small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
God gives green space to the Mamas needing heart space.<br />
<i><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/05/when-lifes-a-lid-find-the-handle-nature-calendar/">Ann Voskamp</a></i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-38767602000357926022011-05-28T14:38:00.000-07:002011-05-28T14:38:00.355-07:00prayers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd06irl4B2ZvCjw-fDnl1REZyv7P9FEH3LFjORYO3WO5W3vkZ28aeyHTCi4mRttb4KAbGS5xOmF8UrcOxfS5bSPuBIvrnFJYc-nDswdTaD_0q9VKqfoQDiakwoy7PchBPHKGlKHw/s1600/IMG_8527small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd06irl4B2ZvCjw-fDnl1REZyv7P9FEH3LFjORYO3WO5W3vkZ28aeyHTCi4mRttb4KAbGS5xOmF8UrcOxfS5bSPuBIvrnFJYc-nDswdTaD_0q9VKqfoQDiakwoy7PchBPHKGlKHw/s320/IMG_8527small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The prayers we weave into the matching of socks, the stirring of oatmeal, the reading of stories, they survive fire.<br />
<i>Ann Voskamp</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-7178241240108666722011-05-27T14:33:00.001-07:002011-05-27T14:33:00.479-07:00kindness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojg7wFKRv4ddlKkx2-atNN0dpo29fsQY2lrNdFTbMb-xyZe-lujbU4_OCRwUp-HVCxdh9pcCr7GJlkCYHDU866gStKbS-OTUWJ4Ju8w5wVBCRh05Czc0tkFep977y7eReFlvp6A/s1600/IMG_8524small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojg7wFKRv4ddlKkx2-atNN0dpo29fsQY2lrNdFTbMb-xyZe-lujbU4_OCRwUp-HVCxdh9pcCr7GJlkCYHDU866gStKbS-OTUWJ4Ju8w5wVBCRh05Czc0tkFep977y7eReFlvp6A/s320/IMG_8524small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Ours are the hands through which he works<br />
Ours are the feet on which he moves<br />
Ours are the voices through which he speaks<br />
To this world with kindness<br />
<br />
<i>Written by Brian McLaren</i><br />
<i>Performed by Steve Bell</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-34802759824706461792011-05-26T14:30:00.001-07:002011-05-26T14:30:01.166-07:00hurry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEwN7weKn1HH7l6Zeb_G_-jsPJG5VV0_IIQSIfiD5ZNQBcO6VtUzZ_ZBJE7NcrR8FxNt3VdoRfv8YZDrBgXIGJrq4JTZW5gVtGAKWibz7RmmBDv6xbjkDaKOnXkUzWi3poY7v9Q/s1600/IMG_8515small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEwN7weKn1HH7l6Zeb_G_-jsPJG5VV0_IIQSIfiD5ZNQBcO6VtUzZ_ZBJE7NcrR8FxNt3VdoRfv8YZDrBgXIGJrq4JTZW5gVtGAKWibz7RmmBDv6xbjkDaKOnXkUzWi3poY7v9Q/s320/IMG_8515small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
On every level of life, from housework to heights of prayer, in all judgement and effort to get things done, hurry and impatience are sure marks of the amateur.<br />
<i>Ann Voskamp</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29777935.post-65517170277852078682011-05-25T13:44:00.002-07:002011-05-25T13:44:41.075-07:00beauty<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwwFewv-vxkGmYm8j9BHovzWhw-2hfctmUBvU5TfEec2IYPWAZOvdNDboc89GD6Fmxq5IUasyT4_JfwCK2xaVEpcccDD7ureKuz8BWmjeC3-JQHDV60Enjpf3CSNAHV94JpExrw/s1600/IMG_8511small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwwFewv-vxkGmYm8j9BHovzWhw-2hfctmUBvU5TfEec2IYPWAZOvdNDboc89GD6Fmxq5IUasyT4_JfwCK2xaVEpcccDD7ureKuz8BWmjeC3-JQHDV60Enjpf3CSNAHV94JpExrw/s320/IMG_8511small.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I want to see beauty. In the ugly, in the sink, in the suffering, in the daily, in all the days before I die, the moments before I sleep."<br />
<i>Ann Voskamp</i>Anika Lacerte | The Handcrafted Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09699831267388851685noreply@blogger.com0