Blogs I follow

www.homemakernuggets.com

About me

Introduction	In 1993 we moved to Alaska for a three year military tour. Though our time there eventually became one of the greatest adventures of my life, there was a lot of eventual in between. We left an Oklahoma Christmas with our families of near 60 degree temperatures, and days later arrived at Eielson AFB with four exhausted children to 60 below temperatures, record breaking snow falls, and our first introduction to the term ice fog. By April, I was longing for spring. The days were growing longer, the sun was creeping higher into the sky, but still the snow lay thick and unending in all directions. Then on a dusky early evening my little boys ran into the woods with their father. Nestled under a tree, where the snow was soft and crumbling they found a pile of pine cones. They carried them back so proudly to me, excited by their find and fascinated by the sight of the wet, bare ground. I carried those little pinecones in my pocket for months. Their knobby texture beneath my fingers became a gift of hope, a promise of spring, a reminder of God's blessings not always visible but always coming in time.

Introduction

In 1993 we moved to Alaska for a three year military tour. Though our time there eventually became one of the greatest adventures of my life, there was a lot of eventual in between. We left an Oklahoma Christmas with our families of near 60 degree temperatures, and days later arrived at Eielson AFB with four exhausted children to 60 below temperatures, record breaking snow falls, and our first introduction to the term ice fog. By April, I was longing for spring. The days were growing longer, the sun was creeping higher into the sky, but still the snow lay thick and unending in all directions. Then on a dusky early evening my little boys ran into the woods with their father. Nestled under a tree, where the snow was soft and crumbling they found a pile of pine cones. They carried them back so proudly to me, excited by their find and fascinated by the sight of the wet, bare ground. I carried those little pinecones in my pocket for months. Their knobby texture beneath my fingers became a gift of hope, a promise of spring, a reminder of God's blessings not always visible but always coming in time.