http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm Mon, 20 Dec 2010 23:35:46 GMT http://bandzoogle.com http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=650290 What is Christmas to you? Many say it’s the most wonderful time of the year, a time of gift-giving and receiving, of family get-togethers and magic for children. As Christians, we try oh, so hard to keep our focus on the real purpose of our celebration, Jesus’ birth. We’re seduced, tempted, force-fed, and literally drowned in commercialism that says, “buy this, give that, spend more, indulge, and go ahead and eat another cookie!” But what about when you don’t feel like any of this? I had a long talk with a good friend yesterday about the sadness and loneliness that grips so many at this time of year. Life doesn’t stop at Christmas-time, and death, disease, divorce, and despair continue their onslaught unaware of the holiday cheer that we’re supposed to feel. The paradox behind Christmas is that this state of mind may be the best way to fully embrace Christmas’ promise. When we are the most empty inside, dried up from over-achieving, lonely and barren - it is then we have room in the “inn” for Christ. There is a vacancy in our hearts that is only for Jesus. Many times over the last year I’ve felt like I have nothing left. It is this dependency and helplessness that forces me to look outside myself for courage and strength to face another day. I think the Wise Men traveled with this same hunger, looking for someone who would bring peace into their worlds. Another friend of mine gave me a handout yesterday which lists of the gifts we have in Jesus. Salvation, peace, forgiveness, grace, mercy, compassion, strength, courage, direction, etc. This list was very long, much longer than my list of “wants.” I looked back over my year and realized how many of His gifts I received without a simple “thank you” being spoken. And yet He keeps on giving. What a loving Father. The promise for us all is echoed in Isaiah’s words, “At that time the deaf will hear...the blind will see…The castoffs of society will be laughing and dancing in God, the down-and-outs shouting praise to The Holy of Israel.” Christmas is an invitation to be still, open and welcoming to what can be, Christ, our Hope of Glory. He alone can turn our barrenness into a lush gardens, our despair into gratitude. Just ask Him. Prayer: Lord, fill our emptiness, overwhelm us with your care. Be the missing piece to our puzzles. We think we know the way, only to realize that sometimes it brings us further into despair. Rescue us from our mistakes, untangle our messes. You have the ability to make beauty out of nothing! Please wipe our tears and help us understand the purpose of our sorrows. We need You to be our Emmanuel, be with and in us.
But what about when you don’t feel like any of this? I had a long talk with a good friend yesterday about the sadness and loneliness that grips so many at this time of year. Life doesn’t stop at Christmas-time, and death, disease, divorce, and despair continue their onslaught unaware of the holiday cheer that we’re supposed to feel.

The paradox behind Christmas is that this state of mind may be the best way to fully embrace Christmas’ promise. When we are the most empty inside, dried up from over-achieving, lonely and barren - it is then we have room in the “inn” for Christ. There is a vacancy in our hearts that is only for Jesus. Many times over the last year I’ve felt like I have nothing left. It is this dependency and helplessness that forces me to look outside myself for courage and strength to face another day. I think the Wise Men traveled with this same hunger, looking for someone who would bring peace into their worlds.

Another friend of mine gave me a handout yesterday which lists of the gifts we have in Jesus. Salvation, peace, forgiveness, grace, mercy, compassion, strength, courage, direction, etc. This list was very long, much longer than my list of “wants.” I looked back over my year and realized how many of His gifts I received without a simple “thank you” being spoken. And yet He keeps on giving. What a loving Father.

The promise for us all is echoed in Isaiah’s words, “At that time the deaf will hear...the blind will see…The castoffs of society will be laughing and dancing in God, the down-and-outs shouting praise to The Holy of Israel.” Christmas is an invitation to be still, open and welcoming to what can be, Christ, our Hope of Glory. He alone can turn our barrenness into a lush gardens, our despair into gratitude. Just ask Him.


Prayer:

Lord, fill our emptiness, overwhelm us with your care.
Be the missing piece to our puzzles.
We think we know the way, only to realize
that sometimes it brings us further into despair.
Rescue us from our mistakes, untangle our messes.
You have the ability to make beauty out of nothing!
Please wipe our tears and help us understand the purpose of our sorrows.
We need You to be our Emmanuel, be with and in us.
]]> Mon, 20 Dec 2010 23:35:46 GMT CCEF80DBE9BB5C612D7A7A80DA34AE02 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=228544 A good friend of mine, Vicky, has a passion for Israel. She has traveled there numerous times and shares her love of the country, its history, and traditions through a bible study she has created called “Following the Footsteps of Christ”. A couple of years ago I was a part of her group and was blessed not only by her warm and gracious heart, but by the wealth of knowledge she has gained through her many journeys to the Holy Land. Each time Vicky has gone back to Israel, she finds things to bring back with her to memorialize her trip. Because we shared her passion for learning about this great land, she shared some of her souvenirs with us in class. I have on my shelf a vial of water from the Jordan River, a small container of soil from the floor of the prison where Paul spent time, and a small challis made of olive wood used to take the communion wine. But my most treasured possession from the Holy Land is my tree. While Vicky visited the Garden of Gethsemane she was told no one was allowed to enter the garden, but they could to walk the surrounding sidewalks and peer into the garden. She noticed the numerous Carob Tree pods littering the sidewalks. These trees have been in the garden since who knows when. The stand paying homage to Jesus, it’s most infamous guest, mixed with the Olive Trees and other beautiful flowing shrubs and plants. These very plants are most likely the great-great grandchildren of the original trees who witnessed our Lord’s last agonizing night before His death. They provided a safe haven for his intimate time with His Father, heard his prayers of surrender, and possibly held him as he collapsed in anguish asking for that night to pass. Vicky brought home Carob pods, to have a piece of Gethsemane for herself. I was a recipient of a couple of these pods, much to my delight. I love to garden and this was a new challenge for me. Little did I know the impact these small seeds would have on me. The seeds are hard as rock, and once planted, they may take a year or two to sprout. At the time I planted my seeds, my life was becoming increasingly hard to handle. I was at a point where I was desperate for God to act. I watered the seeds patiently, wondering if they would ever sprout. I nearly forgot about them, and left them outside for nature to care for them. And one day, nearly six months after planting them, a sprout emerged. In God’s timing, it was also a week of agonizing where I came to a complete surrender to the most precious thing in my life, my marriage. It was dying, and l had a sense there was nothing more I could do on my own to rescue the little life that was left in it. I prayed a gut-wrenching prayer that week for God’s will to be done, not my own. I looked on that little sprout as God’s message to me that He would bring life out of death, just as He did for His Son. This little tree welcomes me each morning with a reminder that God will never leave me or forsake me. It has endured a couple of years of trials itself, sometimes not getting enough water, one time being knocked over by the dogs, and another time losing it’s partner sprout that rose up and died along side it. However, even today there is new growth, new leaves, new life. It tells me God’s not finished with me yet. I don’t know His plan for my future. I’ve surrendered it to Him, and realize that sometimes life has to come after death. The seed had to harden and die before it could emerge as a new plant. My heart died last year, my dreams and hopes for a healed marriage have been unmet, yet I feel new life every. I am being restored, renewed, redeemed. Vicky’s Carob Tree is now about six feet tall. She brought us a picture one day of it in full bloom, with beautiful pink flowers hanging from its stems. I know one day, my Carob Tree will also bloom, literally and symbolically, and my life will once again portray the beauty of God’s grace, forgiveness and redemption. How sweet it will be.
Each time Vicky has gone back to Israel, she finds things to bring back with her to memorialize her trip. Because we shared her passion for learning about this great land, she shared some of her souvenirs with us in class. I have on my shelf a vial of water from the Jordan River, a small container of soil from the floor of the prison where Paul spent time, and a small challis made of olive wood used to take the communion wine.

But my most treasured possession from the Holy Land is my tree. While Vicky visited the Garden of Gethsemane she was told no one was allowed to enter the garden, but they could to walk the surrounding sidewalks and peer into the garden. She noticed the numerous Carob Tree pods littering the sidewalks. These trees have been in the garden since who knows when. The stand paying homage to Jesus, it’s most infamous guest, mixed with the Olive Trees and other beautiful flowing shrubs and plants. These very plants are most likely the great-great grandchildren of the original trees who witnessed our Lord’s last agonizing night before His death. They provided a safe haven for his intimate time with His Father, heard his prayers of surrender, and possibly held him as he collapsed in anguish asking for that night to pass. Vicky brought home Carob pods, to have a piece of Gethsemane for herself. I was a recipient of a couple of these pods, much to my delight. I love to garden and this was a new challenge for me. Little did I know the impact these small seeds would have on me.

The seeds are hard as rock, and once planted, they may take a year or two to sprout. At the time I planted my seeds, my life was becoming increasingly hard to handle. I was at a point where I was desperate for God to act. I watered the seeds patiently, wondering if they would ever sprout. I nearly forgot about them, and left them outside for nature to care for them. And one day, nearly six months after planting them, a sprout emerged. In God’s timing, it was also a week of agonizing where I came to a complete surrender to the most precious thing in my life, my marriage. It was dying, and l had a sense there was nothing more I could do on my own to rescue the little life that was left in it. I prayed a gut-wrenching prayer that week for God’s will to be done, not my own. I looked on that little sprout as God’s message to me that He would bring life out of death, just as He did for His Son.

This little tree welcomes me each morning with a reminder that God will never leave me or forsake me. It has endured a couple of years of trials itself, sometimes not getting enough water, one time being knocked over by the dogs, and another time losing it’s partner sprout that rose up and died along side it. However, even today there is new growth, new leaves, new life. It tells me God’s not finished with me yet. I don’t know His plan for my future. I’ve surrendered it to Him, and realize that sometimes life has to come after death. The seed had to harden and die before it could emerge as a new plant. My heart died last year, my dreams and hopes for a healed marriage have been unmet, yet I feel new life every. I am being restored, renewed, redeemed.

Vicky’s Carob Tree is now about six feet tall. She brought us a picture one day of it in full bloom, with beautiful pink flowers hanging from its stems. I know one day, my Carob Tree will also bloom, literally and symbolically, and my life will once again portray the beauty of God’s grace, forgiveness and redemption. How sweet it will be.
]]> Sun, 04 Apr 2010 21:25:00 GMT B0772D6DA74C32ED6763F6C33CB83355 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=174777 "The Lord satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's."...Psalm 103:5 Okay, so this was the title of my morning's devotional. I had a magical childhood, full of experiences and sights and sounds that many never get to enjoy. It was the stuff of storybooks, really. We lived on a small farm, with just enough animals and land to get lost in for a whole day. We built forts out of old siding and other building scraps we'd find in the "dump" near the back of our field, I would ride my bike miles away from home, singing "Fly Like an Eagle" while holding my arms out. We rode our horses, and even cows, raised exotic chickens and searched for the multi-colored eggs they laid, grew heirloom vegetables before they were in style, then cuddled up on the couch at night with hot cocoa and fresh popcorn to catch the latest Disney movie. My life is far from magical now. Although I live with my parents on the land next door to my childhood home, I feel a million miles away from the freedom. So, today's devotional was a good reminder to enjoy the things God once gave me to delight in him. This morning, upon getting ready for church we noticed a hot air balloon out in the field behind our house. Mind you, it was on 19 degrees out, but none the less, this brave couple was setting out to add some magic to their day. We fed off of their ambition and all stared out the windows as they touched down, then lifted up, then hovered near the telephone lines beside our house. I felt the joy of being a kid again. I'm sure they did too. Later in the day, I donned my rubber galoshes and went for a long walk in the woods and field with my daughter. We talked of all the things I did as a kid, playing in the creek, treehouses, and hay lofts. She is only 11, but I think my childhood made her envious. She asked why she couldn't do those things, to which I said she could. It was then that the realization of putting away the TV, video games and such would be the cost. I hope she makes the trade. So, today I relived part of my past, and felt it wrap around me like a good friend's arm. My youth was renewed and my heart was lifted. I feel a little more spirit in my step and I think my wrinkles have decreased a little too, except for my laugh lines.
Okay, so this was the title of my morning's devotional. I had a magical childhood, full of experiences and sights and sounds that many never get to enjoy. It was the stuff of storybooks, really. We lived on a small farm, with just enough animals and land to get lost in for a whole day. We built forts out of old siding and other building scraps we'd find in the "dump" near the back of our field, I would ride my bike miles away from home, singing "Fly Like an Eagle" while holding my arms out. We rode our horses, and even cows, raised exotic chickens and searched for the multi-colored eggs they laid, grew heirloom vegetables before they were in style, then cuddled up on the couch at night with hot cocoa and fresh popcorn to catch the latest Disney movie.

My life is far from magical now. Although I live with my parents on the land next door to my childhood home, I feel a million miles away from the freedom. So, today's devotional was a good reminder to enjoy the things God once gave me to delight in him. This morning, upon getting ready for church we noticed a hot air balloon out in the field behind our house. Mind you, it was on 19 degrees out, but none the less, this brave couple was setting out to add some magic to their day. We fed off of their ambition and all stared out the windows as they touched down, then lifted up, then hovered near the telephone lines beside our house. I felt the joy of being a kid again. I'm sure they did too.

Later in the day, I donned my rubber galoshes and went for a long walk in the woods and field with my daughter. We talked of all the things I did as a kid, playing in the creek, treehouses, and hay lofts. She is only 11, but I think my childhood made her envious. She asked why she couldn't do those things, to which I said she could. It was then that the realization of putting away the TV, video games and such would be the cost. I hope she makes the trade.

So, today I relived part of my past, and felt it wrap around me like a good friend's arm. My youth was renewed and my heart was lifted. I feel a little more spirit in my step and I think my wrinkles have decreased a little too, except for my laugh lines.

]]> Tue, 02 Feb 2010 03:53:10 GMT 8542DD10C73839CA20C33AC045CB2D84 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=160229 Twenty one years ago I got married. I was only 19, and had dated my husband for three years prior to tying the knot. We met on a blind date when I was only 15. When we met I was very young and naive, and thought I knew enough about life to take on this serious relationship, even though I only dated a few other guys for a few months each prior to meeting my husband. Obviously, at 15, or even at 19, there’s so much you don’t really know about life. One hundred sixty five days ago I separated from my husband. I moved in with my parents, with two kids in tow. I felt like a teenager again, dependent on others to help me make sense of my life. This is not how it’s supposed to turn out, especially after two decades of marriage, two children, and a lot of sweat and tears. In my parents’ house, there are two upstairs bedrooms, with Jack and Jill bathrooms in the middle. Off one bedroom is a small closet. This is where I sit now. I have converted it to a sanctuary of sorts. It’s where I go every morning with tea or coffee in hand, to prepare for each new day. I have read countless hours here, pouring over scriptures, devotional books, online sermons and spiritual guide books. I’ve read a couple of novels to enter someone else’s world, and have journaled to the end of my spiral bound notebook. I have prayed here, alone and with friends over the phone, I have baptized the desktop with my tears, and have come out looking like I’ve done battle many days. On my desk sits a “daily quotes” calendar telling me the secrets of true beauty, on the wall in front of me is a bulletin board filled with positive reminders of those who love me. On it I have two poems written by a dear friend to me, a letter from my daughter that says I’m the best mom in the world, and a thank you note my mom wrote to me after her mother’s funeral. Above that is a four generation picture of my family. There is also the address of a friend who just lost her husband...all reminders of this precious and fragile life we live. On the other wall is a framed picture a friend gave me that says “Count your blessings”. Today I’m grateful for my closet. It’s where my real battles take place. It’s where I am transformed daily and given a spiritual makeover that is more extreme than any TV show I’ve seen. I see Jesus here everyday, hear His voice, and tell him all my fears and sorrows. He in turn strokes my hair and tells me everything is going to be all right. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I do know where I’ll start it. And when I come out of the closet, there will be an adventure I’m prepared for, even if I feel blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. And no matter how steep or treacherous the path before me becomes, I’ll be safe with Jesus at my side. What a Guide...what a God! Twenty one years ago I got married. I was only 19, and had dated my husband for three years prior to tying the knot. We met on a blind date when I was only 15. When we met I was very young and naive, and thought I knew enough about life to take on this serious relationship, even though I only dated a few other guys for a few months each prior to meeting my husband. Obviously, at 15, or even at 19, there’s so much you don’t really know about life.

One hundred sixty five days ago I separated from my husband. I moved in with my parents, with two kids in tow. I felt like a teenager again, dependent on others to help me make sense of my life. This is not how it’s supposed to turn out, especially after two decades of marriage, two children, and a lot of sweat and tears.

In my parents’ house, there are two upstairs bedrooms, with Jack and Jill bathrooms in the middle. Off one bedroom is a small closet. This is where I sit now. I have converted it to a sanctuary of sorts. It’s where I go every morning with tea or coffee in hand, to prepare for each new day. I have read countless hours here, pouring over scriptures, devotional books, online sermons and spiritual guide books. I’ve read a couple of novels to enter someone else’s world, and have journaled to the end of my spiral bound notebook. I have prayed here, alone and with friends over the phone, I have baptized the desktop with my tears, and have come out looking like I’ve done battle many days. On my desk sits a “daily quotes” calendar telling me the secrets of true beauty, on the wall in front of me is a bulletin board filled with positive reminders of those who love me. On it I have two poems written by a dear friend to me, a letter from my daughter that says I’m the best mom in the world, and a thank you note my mom wrote to me after her mother’s funeral. Above that is a four generation picture of my family. There is also the address of a friend who just lost her husband...all reminders of this precious and fragile life we live.

On the other wall is a framed picture a friend gave me that says “Count your blessings”. Today I’m grateful for my closet. It’s where my real battles take place. It’s where I am transformed daily and given a spiritual makeover that is more extreme than any TV show I’ve seen. I see Jesus here everyday, hear His voice, and tell him all my fears and sorrows. He in turn strokes my hair and tells me everything is going to be all right.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I do know where I’ll start it. And when I come out of the closet, there will be an adventure I’m prepared for, even if I feel blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. And no matter how steep or treacherous the path before me becomes, I’ll be safe with Jesus at my side. What a Guide...what a God!



]]> Wed, 13 Jan 2010 21:05:00 GMT 278CADCA19222AE50B377424AFBDDAA4 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=77391 Last Monday I took my daughter and my three nieces to go bowling at the Brunswick Zone XL, our new bowling alley on steroids.  My daughter is at expert level on Wii bowling, so she was sure that she would score big at the lanes as well.  Well, I think she scored a 60, with gutter bumpers, but that's a different story.  When we arrived, there was a 20 minute wait for an open lane; it was Labor Day and everyone else thought it would be a great idea to go there as well.  So after some pleading, I was talked into going to the arcade and letting the girls play some video games.  At the end of our bowling and more video games, the girls had ammased a loot of 140 tickets to redeem at the prize store.  If you're a parent, you know full well the hype of the prize store.  You basically spend $10 on games to get a 50 cent prize.  And that day was no different.  Because there were four of them, they had to split the tickets and had about 30 tickets each...enough for a tootsie roll.  But the prize store is filled with so many wonderful prizes!  The girls were drawn to things that cost 500 tickets or more.  There were rubber balls, glittery make up kits, small mirror balls, keychains, bracelets, and I even saw a crockpot!  But the most desirable items were in the glass case in the center of the store.  These were the cream of the crop, the prizes above all prizes.  But you couldn't even touch these beauties unless you were a master video gamer, or got extra lucky that day.  So, we left the store, deciding to just keep our tickets for the next time. Two days later, my husband wanted to take my daughter out to go play putt putt golf.  They decided to go to Incredible Pizza, which has more to offer than even the Brunswick Zone!  Since my husband's a sucker too, they ended up in the arcade searching once again for the riches the tickets would buy.  But this was their lucky day.  The first game they gave their hand at was the wheel of fortune.  They gave the handle a big turn, and lo and behold...they hit the jackpot!  1,000 tickets!  It took about 5 minutes for the tickets to spool out and I just wish I could have been there to see my daughter's face!  All in all, they ended up with 1,400 tickets that night and went quickly to the "store" to redeem them.  They lingered for a long while, looking at everything in the bins, and hanging on the wall, until my daughter saw their glass case.  She asked her dad if she could look at the things in the glass case.  Well, for the first time ever (maybe in history too), she had enough tickets to buy something from the case!  She joyfully picked out a pink camo, glitter filled lava lamp! Over the last week, she's told the story to a few friends and ALWAYS shares that her dad hit the jackpot, and she got to pick something out of the case!  The case. Isn't that what we all want from life?  The untouchable thing we stare at that promises to bring us true happiness, but we never have enough tickets for.  It's built into us from the time we're little that some things are extra special and we long for them, save up for them, or just go on wishing for years for them. I can't help but smile as I pass her room late at night and see the pink glow that spills out into the hallway.  I'm so glad she got to pick from the case.  What a blessing and little wink from God above.  I feel that I've hit the jackpot too...two great kids I believe God picked out of the case for me.
Two days later, my husband wanted to take my daughter out to go play putt putt golf.  They decided to go to Incredible Pizza, which has more to offer than even the Brunswick Zone!  Since my husband's a sucker too, they ended up in the arcade searching once again for the riches the tickets would buy.  But this was their lucky day.  The first game they gave their hand at was the wheel of fortune.  They gave the handle a big turn, and lo and behold...they hit the jackpot!  1,000 tickets!  It took about 5 minutes for the tickets to spool out and I just wish I could have been there to see my daughter's face!  All in all, they ended up with 1,400 tickets that night and went quickly to the "store" to redeem them.  They lingered for a long while, looking at everything in the bins, and hanging on the wall, until my daughter saw their glass case.  She asked her dad if she could look at the things in the glass case.  Well, for the first time ever (maybe in history too), she had enough tickets to buy something from the case!  She joyfully picked out a pink camo, glitter filled lava lamp!

Over the last week, she's told the story to a few friends and ALWAYS shares that her dad hit the jackpot, and she got to pick something out of the case!  The case. Isn't that what we all want from life?  The untouchable thing we stare at that promises to bring us true happiness, but we never have enough tickets for.  It's built into us from the time we're little that some things are extra special and we long for them, save up for them, or just go on wishing for years for them.

I can't help but smile as I pass her room late at night and see the pink glow that spills out into the hallway.  I'm so glad she got to pick from the case.  What a blessing and little wink from God above.  I feel that I've hit the jackpot too...two great kids I believe God picked out of the case for me.]]> Mon, 14 Sep 2009 01:06:17 GMT BF4EDE62B889AC30900D5D53F41F9C5C http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=48897 Last Friday was my son’s birthday. Sixteen years ago at 7:05am I pushed him into the world. Now, sixteen years later I’m watching him drive away. As many parents do, on his birthday we made the trip to the DMV for him to get his drivers license. I was so excited for him and wanted to make sure he experienced the full effect of “16”. We arrived around lunch time and filed through the line somewhat smoothly. Then came the wait. I looked around and noticed many other “16” looking teenagers with their moms or dads. I took a quick count and saw at least 4 other families doing the same routine as us. We waited a long time, about an hour and a half until it was my son’s turn to take his test. In the meantime, a few of us exchanged our stories. It dawned on me that 16 years ago we were all in waiting too. Us moms were in the throes of labor, and the dads were most likely pacing outside the rooms, or by their wife’s bedside. It seemed like yesterday, and yet a lifetime ago. What happened to our babies...who took their wrinkly red skin and exchanged it for scruffy, hairy, and grown-up skin? Their little piercing cries for deep and mature voices? Their clinging to their leaving? I know it’s a rite of passage, and I’m happy to go through it. But it’s gone so fast I guess I was just taken back a bit by it all. I mean, I’m still that college aged girl, newly-wed, new mom, aren’t I?
As many parents do, on his birthday we made the trip to the DMV for him to get his drivers license. I was so excited for him and wanted to make sure he experienced the full effect of “16”. We arrived around lunch time and filed through the line somewhat smoothly. Then came the wait. I looked around and noticed many other “16” looking teenagers with their moms or dads. I took a quick count and saw at least 4 other families doing the same routine as us. We waited a long time, about an hour and a half until it was my son’s turn to take his test. In the meantime, a few of us exchanged our stories.

It dawned on me that 16 years ago we were all in waiting too. Us moms were in the throes of labor, and the dads were most likely pacing outside the rooms, or by their wife’s bedside. It seemed like yesterday, and yet a lifetime ago. What happened to our babies...who took their wrinkly red skin and exchanged it for scruffy, hairy, and grown-up skin? Their little piercing cries for deep and mature voices? Their clinging to their leaving?

I know it’s a rite of passage, and I’m happy to go through it. But it’s gone so fast I guess I was just taken back a bit by it all. I mean, I’m still that college aged girl, newly-wed, new mom, aren’t I?

]]> Mon, 27 Jul 2009 09:42:23 GMT 7B671C022E3A337E47DF37D1586C8306 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=44994 I had a rather stormy weekend, but there is Calm in the eye of the storm...here's my story. I was so excited getting ready for church on Sunday morning.  It was going to be a great morning because Terry Sanderson, our new pastor, was in town and was preaching.  His two sermons I had heard so far had really spoke to me and had given my faith a jump start.  I was really looking forward to hearing from God and was open to whatever He would teach me through Terry.  But with only 15 minutes left to leave, I got a call from my husband that he and my son were stranded in Sullivan, MO.  They were on their way back home from Springfield in my SUV when it began to make all sorts of weird noises and upon advice from others at the gas station, Guy was told to "turn that thing off!".  Needless to say, something was wrong with the engine.  So, I shifted gears (pardon the pun) and got on the phone to make arrangements for a tow truck and various other details which are difficult on a Sunday, and left to pick him up.  The guys waited, under cover from the rain, at a gas station by a pump.  It took up our whole morning, but we made it back and the car was towed to the service shop.  The next morning, Monday, I woke up to loud thunder, rattling my house at 7:45. The rain was pelting down on our skylight, which magnifies the sound so much I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. So I laid there. Five minutes later, the phone was ringing non-stop, so I got up to see who was calling.  My husband was calling to inform me that HIS car had broken down in Webster Groves, MO.  He was just finishing up a men's bible study with some new friends when a storm blew through and lightening flashed all around the parking lot.  When he got in his car, nothing...he thought the battery was dead.  Later after getting a jump start, he found out that something has gone wrong with the electrical system and he had no power steering.  I once again got myself together, unhitched our old truck from our boat, and made arrangements to rent a car.  While waiting for a few details to play out, I opened my email to find a note from my friend with a devotional excerpt attached.  It was called "An Incredible Moment in a Storm".  I knew this was my only chance of a good focused time with God for the morning, so I read it.  It coudn't have been more appropriate.  I felt like God was intervening to show me that He was in the middle of our storms too and would take care of all things.  It set my mind to rest knowing there was nothing we would face that He didn't already know about and have worked out.  When I finally met up with my husband, although he was a little frazzled from two mornings in a row waiting for tow trucks in the rain, he seemed okay.  He had a good time with the other men talking about their faith, and lack of and was somewhat prepared for another trial.  But God showed up for him in an even greater way too.  While waiting for the two truck he stepped inside the neighboring St. Louis Bread Company and saw his colleage, Dr. Ward and his wife.  The Wards had just lost their infant son about a week ago.  He was born with some internal deformities and was on a heart transplant list for his short life.  They were having a cup of coffee when Guy walked in.  Instantly Guy gained perspective about life and the truth about what's really important came flooding over him.  He spent a few minutes with them before having to leave and meet the truck driver.  Not only did we both meet God that morning, so did our 15 year old son, who was home and was praying for us while we were gone.  His specific prayer was that his Dad (and Mom, although I had just shared the impact of my devotional with him before I left) would not get too frustrated, but would realize what was really important in life.  Things are replaceable, but lives are not. It was a powerful moment for us when we sat down for dinner and shared about our individual experiences.  I don't know what will happen with the cars, we still haven't heard about the damage.  But I do know that God is bigger than any problem we'll face.  For now, we're resting in the exhilarating experience of seeing God's face shine on us while we were fretting about the storm that was blowing over.  He has calmed the wind and the Son is shining today!
I was so excited getting ready for church on Sunday morning.  It was going to be a great morning because Terry Sanderson, our new pastor, was in town and was preaching.  His two sermons I had heard so far had really spoke to me and had given my faith a jump start.  I was really looking forward to hearing from God and was open to whatever He would teach me through Terry.  But with only 15 minutes left to leave, I got a call from my husband that he and my son were stranded in Sullivan, MO.  They were on their way back home from Springfield in my SUV when it began to make all sorts of weird noises and upon advice from others at the gas station, Guy was told to "turn that thing off!".  Needless to say, something was wrong with the engine.  So, I shifted gears (pardon the pun) and got on the phone to make arrangements for a tow truck and various other details which are difficult on a Sunday, and left to pick him up.  The guys waited, under cover from the rain, at a gas station by a pump.  It took up our whole morning, but we made it back and the car was towed to the service shop. 

The next morning, Monday, I woke up to loud thunder, rattling my house at 7:45. The rain was pelting down on our skylight, which magnifies the sound so much I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. So I laid there. Five minutes later, the phone was ringing non-stop, so I got up to see who was calling.  My husband was calling to inform me that HIS car had broken down in Webster Groves, MO.  He was just finishing up a men's bible study with some new friends when a storm blew through and lightening flashed all around the parking lot.  When he got in his car, nothing...he thought the battery was dead.  Later after getting a jump start, he found out that something has gone wrong with the electrical system and he had no power steering.  I once again got myself together, unhitched our old truck from our boat, and made arrangements to rent a car. 

While waiting for a few details to play out, I opened my email to find a note from my friend with a devotional excerpt attached.  It was called "An Incredible Moment in a Storm".  I knew this was my only chance of a good focused time with God for the morning, so I read it.  It coudn't have been more appropriate.  I felt like God was intervening to show me that He was in the middle of our storms too and would take care of all things.  It set my mind to rest knowing there was nothing we would face that He didn't already know about and have worked out. 

When I finally met up with my husband, although he was a little frazzled from two mornings in a row waiting for tow trucks in the rain, he seemed okay.  He had a good time with the other men talking about their faith, and lack of and was somewhat prepared for another trial.  But God showed up for him in an even greater way too.  While waiting for the two truck he stepped inside the neighboring St. Louis Bread Company and saw his colleage, Dr. Ward and his wife.  The Wards had just lost their infant son about a week ago.  He was born with some internal deformities and was on a heart transplant list for his short life.  They were having a cup of coffee when Guy walked in.  Instantly Guy gained perspective about life and the truth about what's really important came flooding over him.  He spent a few minutes with them before having to leave and meet the truck driver. 

Not only did we both meet God that morning, so did our 15 year old son, who was home and was praying for us while we were gone.  His specific prayer was that his Dad (and Mom, although I had just shared the impact of my devotional with him before I left) would not get too frustrated, but would realize what was really important in life.  Things are replaceable, but lives are not.

It was a powerful moment for us when we sat down for dinner and shared about our individual experiences.  I don't know what will happen with the cars, we still haven't heard about the damage.  But I do know that God is bigger than any problem we'll face.  For now, we're resting in the exhilarating experience of seeing God's face shine on us while we were fretting about the storm that was blowing over.  He has calmed the wind and the Son is shining today!

]]> Tue, 09 Jun 2009 21:20:15 GMT 0E08CB1380F0FB5624C9B1C9818BA7C7 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=40462 What a month!  There are so many things that have happened and not enough time to tell you about them.  And I guess for some, you may not be interested in all the details of my life, because you have enough details in your own life to process!  Well, here's a synopsis, for talking points sake:  CD graphics and mixing, CIA Summit in Nashville, two events in the last few weeks, vacation in Hawaii, CD release and updates on all my web sites.  Are you tired just reading this list?  I am.  This week I've been learning about margin...space...breathing room...contemplation. Did you ever wonder why God rested after creating the world, yet He wasn't tired?  I have never even thought about it.  "God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done."  Genesis 2:3 Then He commanded us to do the same.  Why?  Because we need to remember, contemplate, bring an offering to Him.  Here's another verse: "Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the LORD your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.  Therefore the LORD your God has commanded you to observe the Sabbath day."  Deuteronomy 5:15 The reason I'm tired is that I haven't rested, I haven't made time to reflect on the goodness of God, or to just delight in His presence and blessings.  Shame on me. I used to think this Sabbath talk was old fashioned and religious, but now I'm starting to see the wisdom in it.  I believe having space in my days to not only read His word and pray, but to rest in His shadow is essential to my well-being.  How could I be so naive or proud as to think I don't need it if God himself did? I've been reading a lot over the last week.  I love the power of words to speak to my heart.  I also love the power of creation to continually remind me that I'm not all that!  I always feel better after feeding my soul good, simple things.  It helps me step off this merry-go-round life I live and slow my pace to be more aware of God, others, and self.  I know this could be abused and I'm not condoning that, but I also know I can abuse the time God has given me on earth by not being available for His plans for my days. So, pray for me as I try to figure out how to create space in my life.  I have a lot to balance and some things I probably need to purge.  I need God's wisdom so I don't mess things up more.  If you have "Sabbath" rest in your life, please let me know how you do it.  I have much to learn.  Thanks...I'm going to go pick some flowers now.
Did you ever wonder why God rested after creating the world, yet He wasn't tired?  I have never even thought about it. 

"God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done."  Genesis 2:3

Then He commanded us to do the same.  Why?  Because we need to remember, contemplate, bring an offering to Him.  Here's another verse:

"Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the LORD your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.  Therefore the LORD your God has commanded you to observe the Sabbath day."  Deuteronomy 5:15

The reason I'm tired is that I haven't rested, I haven't made time to reflect on the goodness of God, or to just delight in His presence and blessings.  Shame on me.

I used to think this Sabbath talk was old fashioned and religious, but now I'm starting to see the wisdom in it.  I believe having space in my days to not only read His word and pray, but to rest in His shadow is essential to my well-being.  How could I be so naive or proud as to think I don't need it if God himself did?

I've been reading a lot over the last week.  I love the power of words to speak to my heart.  I also love the power of creation to continually remind me that I'm not all that!  I always feel better after feeding my soul good, simple things.  It helps me step off this merry-go-round life I live and slow my pace to be more aware of God, others, and self.  I know this could be abused and I'm not condoning that, but I also know I can abuse the time God has given me on earth by not being available for His plans for my days.

So, pray for me as I try to figure out how to create space in my life.  I have a lot to balance and some things I probably need to purge.  I need God's wisdom so I don't mess things up more.  If you have "Sabbath" rest in your life, please let me know how you do it.  I have much to learn.  Thanks...I'm going to go pick some flowers now.]]> Mon, 27 Apr 2009 20:40:00 GMT 8961449642E60F3758BE68A504866AB8 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=38114 Recording’s done, graphics are done, and everything is in the hands of CD replicators now.  What a great feeling! This process has been so much fun, although it wasn’t always smooth.  The last month or so brought a few delays and changes that were unexpected, but I sensed God in them and they were all worked out in the end.  So, in about 10 days I’ll have 1,000 CDs in my house once again. So, let me tell you a little about my vision and dream for this album.  A few years ago I had one of those moments when you get a different perspective on life.  It was one month after Hurricane Katrina tore through the Gulf Coast and we were seeing daily reports of the devastation and unending misery of the thousands of people affected.   God was brewing a song in me that became “Back to Eden”, the title track of my album.  I remember sitting in my kitchen one afternoon, looking out at a dark gray sky through the raindrops that had settled on my window panes.  In the distance was a row of trees that were beautifully dressed in their autumn clothes.  They literally glowed against the steel gray sky.   It was so beautiful it brought me to tears.  Beauty and tragedy were juxtaposed against each other and I felt like it was a message from God that His beauty will always trump evil.  I needed to believe that.   And over the last few years, He has shown me this again and again. I wrote “Back to Eden” out of this place, as a cry of my heart’s yearning for a better place, a heavenly home that I’ll one day possess.  Then came other songs that were songs of yearning for hope in God’s goodness to shine in these dark places.  And of course, life dealt me a few unwanted cards along the way too.  Because I know my experiences are not unique, I prayed that God would allow me to share these songs with others to show them His faithfulness to redeem ugly situations.   And He heard and answered those prayers.  I’m so excited to share these song stories with you and encourage you to hang in there and put your hope in God’s plans for you…His good, perfect and pleasing will! I just got home from a great Christian Independent Artists Conference.  While there I had a chance to serve a dinner to some homeless folks in downtown Nashville.  A compassionate group of Christ followers plan this meal each week, have a band that plays some great blues music, then they share about God’s goodness and pray for them before they leave.  It was such a beautiful offering.  They showed them beauty…in the food, the music, the smiles and in Christ.   It doesn’t take away their problems, but I believe it gives them hope that there’s someone who cares and will take the time to put their arm around them and offer help. That’s what I hope my music does…it’s my offering of beauty.
So, let me tell you a little about my vision and dream for this album.  A few years ago I had one of those moments when you get a different perspective on life.  It was one month after Hurricane Katrina tore through the Gulf Coast and we were seeing daily reports of the devastation and unending misery of the thousands of people affected.   God was brewing a song in me that became “Back to Eden”, the title track of my album.  I remember sitting in my kitchen one afternoon, looking out at a dark gray sky through the raindrops that had settled on my window panes.  In the distance was a row of trees that were beautifully dressed in their autumn clothes.  They literally glowed against the steel gray sky.   It was so beautiful it brought me to tears.  Beauty and tragedy were juxtaposed against each other and I felt like it was a message from God that His beauty will always trump evil.  I needed to believe that.   And over the last few years, He has shown me this again and again.

I wrote “Back to Eden” out of this place, as a cry of my heart’s yearning for a better place, a heavenly home that I’ll one day possess.  Then came other songs that were songs of yearning for hope in God’s goodness to shine in these dark places.  And of course, life dealt me a few unwanted cards along the way too.  Because I know my experiences are not unique, I prayed that God would allow me to share these songs with others to show them His faithfulness to redeem ugly situations.   And He heard and answered those prayers.  I’m so excited to share these song stories with you and encourage you to hang in there and put your hope in God’s plans for you…His good, perfect and pleasing will!

I just got home from a great Christian Independent Artists Conference.  While there I had a chance to serve a dinner to some homeless folks in downtown Nashville.  A compassionate group of Christ followers plan this meal each week, have a band that plays some great blues music, then they share about God’s goodness and pray for them before they leave.  It was such a beautiful offering.  They showed them beauty…in the food, the music, the smiles and in Christ.   It doesn’t take away their problems, but I believe it gives them hope that there’s someone who cares and will take the time to put their arm around them and offer help.

That’s what I hope my music does…it’s my offering of beauty.
]]> Mon, 30 Mar 2009 08:25:45 GMT 2256F09DFF7746330EDAA635F492D8F9 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=33323 Things are going very well on the recording of my next album.  We have good instrumental and vocal tracks on all the songs now, some full production and some bare, with just piano, vocals and "seasoning" as Dennis calls it.  He's doing such a great job.  I've found it's a little hard to describe what you have in your mind about a song.  I'll tell him the feel, the mood, the groove, and maybe give him a popular song or two for comparison, and then he tries to "read" what I'm asking for.  I'm actually very surprised at how close he gets to my original thoughts.  Music producing is an interesting creature...because you start with a lump of clay, then begin to mold it and shape it.  Sometimes it looks exactly like you wanted, but other times it takes on a form you never imagined.  And in this case a couple of my songs are taking a slightly different shape which I think is even better than I had envisioned!  It's really amazing to hear the songs after he's worked with them for a while.  It's like describing a scene to someone in detail and then they show you the portrait they painted.  You recognize it, but with different colors and from a different angle than you thought.  I made my second trip to Nashville the first week of January and laid down the lead vocal tracks for all 10 songs.  Because of travel timing, we did it all in two very full days...a herculean effort!  The first day I say for about 9 hours, and the second day I sang for about 7 hours.  I had friends praying for me and it was definitely God working in my body to keep me going.  I've never sang that much without at least getting a little hoarse.  Even after the end of the second day, I still had my full voice.  Thank God!  It was really fun, but incredibly exhausting.  I had a few friends stop by and visit while I was there.  Ericka Harvey, Wendy Hibbard and Stacey O'Hara and her mom came by to say "hi" and/or join us for our lunch break.  They are all songwriter friends I've met through the Write About Jesus and CIA Summit Conferences.  We had a good time, although it was too short!  Dennis is now adding the finishing touches on the instrumental parts of all the songs.  He'll continue mixing and we'll add backup vocals the first week of February when I go down again.  If all goes as planned, we'll have a finished product by the end of February.  Then I'll send it off to be replicated and then we'll have our big release! I'm so excited for all of you to hear the songs.  They all come from a deep personal place in my heart and are pictures of bigger stories I've either lived or experienced over the last few years since "Good Promises' was released.  Keep praying for my stamina...this is like a marathon in many ways. From left:  Guy, Kiersten, Dennis Dearing, and Benton Stokes singing backups with me.
I made my second trip to Nashville the first week of January and laid down the lead vocal tracks for all 10 songs.  Because of travel timing, we did it all in two very full days...a herculean effort!  The first day I say for about 9 hours, and the second day I sang for about 7 hours.  I had friends praying for me and it was definitely God working in my body to keep me going.  I've never sang that much without at least getting a little hoarse.  Even after the end of the second day, I still had my full voice.  Thank God!  It was really fun, but incredibly exhausting. 

I had a few friends stop by and visit while I was there.  Ericka Harvey, Wendy Hibbard and Stacey O'Hara and her mom came by to say "hi" and/or join us for our lunch break.  They are all songwriter friends I've met through the Write About Jesus and CIA Summit Conferences.  We had a good time, although it was too short! 

Dennis is now adding the finishing touches on the instrumental parts of all the songs.  He'll continue mixing and we'll add backup vocals the first week of February when I go down again.  If all goes as planned, we'll have a finished product by the end of February.  Then I'll send it off to be replicated and then we'll have our big release!

I'm so excited for all of you to hear the songs.  They all come from a deep personal place in my heart and are pictures of bigger stories I've either lived or experienced over the last few years since "Good Promises' was released.  Keep praying for my stamina...this is like a marathon in many ways.

From left:  Guy, Kiersten, Dennis Dearing, and Benton Stokes singing backups with me.



]]> Thu, 15 Jan 2009 05:35:00 GMT 60AD01979B3DA9160995B8911FF921A8 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=31643 December 7, 2008 The music is coming along.  Dennis has emailed me some of the songs as they are so far.  I'm starting to practice my lead vocal parts, getting ideas for backup parts, and brainstorming other instrumental ideas.  While I wait for my next session on January 3-4, I have something else I'm working on. The week I have been attemping to work on the CD artwork for my next album.  I recently got Adobe Photoshop Elements to try my hand at designing the layout and such.  It's been a big bite to chew, but I'm really enjoying it.  On my first CD, my husband took the pictures and I did some cutting and taping (literally) and "created" the layout on my own.  I put it in an empty case, and found a really nice guy to recreate the idea on software.  I made his job easy, and in the end the artwork looks much like what I tried to produce.   So, this time in order to not pay $$ for a graphic designer we're taking a similar approach.  But now I'm trying to do it all myself.  I'm not experienced in graphic design, but after three years of making flyers, business cards, brochures, etc., I have a pretty good idea how to do this.  I know I can't add all the bells and whistles that a professional designer would, but I can put my creative touches not only in my music but also in the artwork.  It's really fun for me too. This week I think I have nailed the cover artwork.  I have a really good idea that will enable my web site and CD to match.  I'm not giving any secrets away yet, but think "Eden".  That's my inspiration.  So, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my Photoshop manual and teach myself something else new! 
The music is coming along.  Dennis has emailed me some of the songs as they are so far.  I'm starting to practice my lead vocal parts, getting ideas for backup parts, and brainstorming other instrumental ideas.  While I wait for my next session on January 3-4, I have something else I'm working on.

The week I have been attemping to work on the CD artwork for my next album.  I recently got Adobe Photoshop Elements to try my hand at designing the layout and such.  It's been a big bite to chew, but I'm really enjoying it.  On my first CD, my husband took the pictures and I did some cutting and taping (literally) and "created" the layout on my own.  I put it in an empty case, and found a really nice guy to recreate the idea on software.  I made his job easy, and in the end the artwork looks much like what I tried to produce.  

So, this time in order to not pay $$ for a graphic designer we're taking a similar approach.  But now I'm trying to do it all myself.  I'm not experienced in graphic design, but after three years of making flyers, business cards, brochures, etc., I have a pretty good idea how to do this.  I know I can't add all the bells and whistles that a professional designer would, but I can put my creative touches not only in my music but also in the artwork.  It's really fun for me too.

This week I think I have nailed the cover artwork.  I have a really good idea that will enable my web site and CD to match.  I'm not giving any secrets away yet, but think "Eden".  That's my inspiration.  So, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my Photoshop manual and teach myself something else new! 


]]> Sun, 07 Dec 2008 20:31:06 GMT 18E2756ECD0863AF4B97EA33C8F307DE http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=31243 November 28, 2008 It’s finally started! I just returned from a whirlwind weekend in Nashville to record my second album, “Back to Eden”. To sum it up, it was amazing and more than I ever thought I’d be doing. I decided to start chronicling the process for those of you who care about such things so you can re-live it with me! So this is the first of a weekly series until my project is released, an update of sorts, with small and sometimes insignificant details. But I hope you enjoy it and feel more a part of it with me! My son and I drove to Nashville last Friday night. We left St. Louis about 7:15, which put us on the road kinda late for my liking, but it was what it was. We had a blast driving down. We armed ourselves with an eclectic assortment of music and took turns picking our favorites. I just love that my son appreciates good music too. It’s usually hard to relate to a 15 year old, but this gives us much to talk about when everything else is kind of awkward. We arrived in Franklin, TN about 12:30 AM, and crashed as soon as we got to the hotel. We were up at 7:00, and met Dennis Dearing, my producer, at his place at 8:30. I was a little groggy, but was fully alive and ready for the day! We loaded up our gear and headed over the Big Dog Studio (Kelly Garner’s place) about 10:00. There we were met by Kelly, her big dog Clifford (St. Bernard), Scott Williamson (drums), Mark Burchfield (bass), Tom Hemby (guitar), and Bret Teegarden (engineer). Kelly’s studio is VERY nice. We each had a separate room, with a video monitor/camera to see everyone else. I was on a Yamaha grand piano that sounded oh so sweeeet, truly a highlight for me. My only complaint was that it was cold in there...maybe 65 or so. I’m used to 74-75 in my house because of my thin skin! So, I donned my wool coat and kept it on for the remainder of the day. We tracked four songs, “Life on Purpose”, “Back to Eden”, “Common Deeds”, and “Be Brave”. They are also an eclectic mix. I was surprised at how quickly we got each one done. Dennis prepared charts for the band, we listened to my demo, then played through each song once or twice and recorded it. These guys were so talented and knew their stuff. I can’t begin to explain the feeling of hearing your song the first time the way you want it to sound. It’s like dreaming up something grand while you’re sleeping, then acting it out the next day. Very surreal. One of my favorite memories of the day was watching my son take all this in. I saw a dream planted in his mind too. Now he wants to move to Nashville! We got back to Dennis’ studio later and hashed out a few scratch vocals and downloaded the tracks to his computer. His wife, Karen, is so warm and gracious. She made dinner for us which was so good! Their family is genuine, the kind you want to stay around for days, good for the soul. We ended our day about 9:00, exhausted, but very pleased. Sunday we slept in, and joined Dennis and his family for church and Cracker Barrel afterwards. I really like their church and hope we go back again when I’m there next time. Sunday was more low key, we just tracked the rest of the scratch vocals and talked through each of the songs. My son recorded a nice little guitar riff on “Have Your Way”, which was one of his highlights I’m sure. He did a great job. So, now Dennis works his magic on the songs, and I practice a ton before going back to redo my vocals and add backup vocals. We’re looking at the end of February as our project completion date. I still can’t believe it! God has been so gracious to me!
It’s finally started! I just returned from a whirlwind weekend in Nashville to record my second album, “Back to Eden”. To sum it up, it was amazing and more than I ever thought I’d be doing. I decided to start chronicling the process for those of you who care about such things so you can re-live it with me! So this is the first of a weekly series until my project is released, an update of sorts, with small and sometimes insignificant details. But I hope you enjoy it and feel more a part of it with me!

My son and I drove to Nashville last Friday night. We left St. Louis about 7:15, which put us on the road kinda late for my liking, but it was what it was. We had a blast driving down. We armed ourselves with an eclectic assortment of music and took turns picking our favorites. I just love that my son appreciates good music too. It’s usually hard to relate to a 15 year old, but this gives us much to talk about when everything else is kind of awkward.

We arrived in Franklin, TN about 12:30 AM, and crashed as soon as we got to the hotel. We were up at 7:00, and met Dennis Dearing, my producer, at his place at 8:30. I was a little groggy, but was fully alive and ready for the day! We loaded up our gear and headed over the Big Dog Studio (Kelly Garner’s place) about 10:00. There we were met by Kelly, her big dog Clifford (St. Bernard), Scott Williamson (drums), Mark Burchfield (bass), Tom Hemby (guitar), and Bret Teegarden (engineer).


Kelly’s studio is VERY nice. We each had a separate room, with a video monitor/camera to see everyone else. I was on a Yamaha grand piano that sounded oh so sweeeet, truly a highlight for me. My only complaint was that it was cold in there...maybe 65 or so. I’m used to 74-75 in my house because of my thin skin! So, I donned my wool coat and kept it on for the remainder of the day.

We tracked four songs, “Life on Purpose”, “Back to Eden”, “Common Deeds”, and “Be Brave”. They are also an eclectic mix. I was surprised at how quickly we got each one done. Dennis prepared charts for the band, we listened to my demo, then played through each song once or twice and recorded it. These guys were so talented and knew their stuff. I can’t begin to explain the feeling of hearing your song the first time the way you want it to sound. It’s like dreaming up something grand while you’re sleeping, then acting it out the next day. Very surreal. One of my favorite memories of the day was watching my son take all this in. I saw a dream planted in his mind too. Now he wants to move to Nashville!

We got back to Dennis’ studio later and hashed out a few scratch vocals and downloaded the tracks to his computer. His wife, Karen, is so warm and gracious. She made dinner for us which was so good! Their family is genuine, the kind you want to stay around for days, good for the soul. We ended our day about 9:00, exhausted, but very pleased.

Sunday we slept in, and joined Dennis and his family for church and Cracker Barrel afterwards. I really like their church and hope we go back again when I’m there next time. Sunday was more low key, we just tracked the rest of the scratch vocals and talked through each of the songs. My son recorded a nice little guitar riff on “Have Your Way”, which was one of his highlights I’m sure. He did a great job.

So, now Dennis works his magic on the songs, and I practice a ton before going back to redo my vocals and add backup vocals. We’re looking at the end of February as our project completion date. I still can’t believe it! God has been so gracious to me!

]]> Fri, 28 Nov 2008 20:19:50 GMT 5119485BD3DAA56337EAC68AF629BD0F http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=27735 I was four years old when my family moved to Foristell, MO. Though my parents were reared by city life, both decided to look for a place west of St. Louis where they could stretch out and enjoy the land. They found a little piece of paradise on Highway W, a 3 ½ acre farm with an 80-100 year old house, barns, and a few cows. Yes, cows came with the property. I don’t know who lived in the house before us, but we learned that at one point it was an orphanage where eight or nine boys were cared for. A few years after we moved in, an elderly man who was one of those orphan boys came by to visit the farm. The house was a two-story traditional farmhouse that sat about 20 feet off the road. It had harvest gold clapboard siding and white brick around the front of the house. Soon after we moved in, my dad got busy with the renovating. The house needed new plumbing, a new roof, new siding, a furnace, the kitchen overhauled and more I’m not even aware of. I remember the plumbing and roof were the first to be tackled. Fortunately it was summer because we no longer had indoor plumbing. We resorted to using an old white porcelain bucket as a toilet, and the antique claw-foot bathtub was taken out of the house and put in the yard to be filled with hose water for baths. I’m not sure how long we operated in this primitive way, but I don’t remember being bothered by it. It must have been much harder on my mom, the mother of two preschool aged children at the time. One cherished memory I have it that of my dad taking baths outside, with bubbles all over and in his hair. He thought it was all a great adventure and I can still see his huge smile! I’m sure our new neighbors, though they were few, thought we were a bunch of hill-billies! Really, I think my parents were hippies and were enjoying the freedom of life unfettered by the social norms of city life. My dad was a musician, a free spirit at heart. My mom was in love and probably getting her first taste of quiet and solitude after her years growing up in a house of 10 people, made up of her parents, and seven siblings of which she was the second oldest. I don’t imagine she had many days where she could hear nothing but birds and wind in the trees in that small house in the city.
The house was a two-story traditional farmhouse that sat about 20 feet off the road. It had harvest gold clapboard siding and white brick around the front of the house. Soon after we moved in, my dad got busy with the renovating. The house needed new plumbing, a new roof, new siding, a furnace, the kitchen overhauled and more I’m not even aware of.

I remember the plumbing and roof were the first to be tackled. Fortunately it was summer because we no longer had indoor plumbing. We resorted to using an old white porcelain bucket as a toilet, and the antique claw-foot bathtub was taken out of the house and put in the yard to be filled with hose water for baths. I’m not sure how long we operated in this primitive way, but I don’t remember being bothered by it. It must have been much harder on my mom, the mother of two preschool aged children at the time. One cherished memory I have it that of my dad taking baths outside, with bubbles all over and in his hair. He thought it was all a great adventure and I can still see his huge smile!

I’m sure our new neighbors, though they were few, thought we were a bunch of hill-billies! Really, I think my parents were hippies and were enjoying the freedom of life unfettered by the social norms of city life. My dad was a musician, a free spirit at heart. My mom was in love and probably getting her first taste of quiet and solitude after her years growing up in a house of 10 people, made up of her parents, and seven siblings of which she was the second oldest. I don’t imagine she had many days where she could hear nothing but birds and wind in the trees in that small house in the city.
]]> Sun, 14 Sep 2008 23:18:45 GMT 8C1154DF2F534CD965A40C82E7F3ABED http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=26792 Stories From My Childhood, Part 2 When I was maybe two or three, my family lived in Harvester, MO, just outside of St. Louis.  My mom and dad were both from the city and after a few years of marriage under their belt, they decided to move to the suburbs, to a new subdivision where every other house was the same.  Ours sat halfway down the street and was distinguishable by the dark walnut wood and brick facade and sea foam green painted door and front porch.  It was 1972 I believe, and normal colors for the time. I guess most of my memories at that age come from photographs, except this one night, Christmas Eve.  Being a mom now, I realize that children at two or three don't really comprehend too much about Santa Claus.  They usually are terrified at the sight of him and rarely would sit on his lap without tears.   But I met Santa Claus that night.  I remember waking up and seeing him in my living room.  The picture of him in my mind made me a believer until I was probably 11 or 12, much longer than all my friends.  Because he was there that magical night, and so were my mom and dad! Of course there is an explanation.  You see, my dad's friend had rented a costume for a party earlier that night.  Afterwards he decided he would surprise my parents with a visit, late at night.  Instead, he surprised me and gave my parents the much needed fuel to feed my imagination for years. This story actually helped me continue the magic when my own kids would begin to doubt Santa was real.  They only got to age 9 before they figured out the real Santa, but it was fun reliving the memory with them. Stories From My Childhood, Part 2

When I was maybe two or three, my family lived in Harvester, MO, just outside of St. Louis.  My mom and dad were both from the city and after a few years of marriage under their belt, they decided to move to the suburbs, to a new subdivision where every other house was the same.  Ours sat halfway down the street and was distinguishable by the dark walnut wood and brick facade and sea foam green painted door and front porch.  It was 1972 I believe, and normal colors for the time.

I guess most of my memories at that age come from photographs, except this one night, Christmas Eve.  Being a mom now, I realize that children at two or three don't really comprehend too much about Santa Claus.  They usually are terrified at the sight of him and rarely would sit on his lap without tears.  

But I met Santa Claus that night.  I remember waking up and seeing him in my living room.  The picture of him in my mind made me a believer until I was probably 11 or 12, much longer than all my friends.  Because he was there that magical night, and so were my mom and dad!

Of course there is an explanation.  You see, my dad's friend had rented a costume for a party earlier that night.  Afterwards he decided he would surprise my parents with a visit, late at night.  Instead, he surprised me and gave my parents the much needed fuel to feed my imagination for years.

This story actually helped me continue the magic when my own kids would begin to doubt Santa was real.  They only got to age 9 before they figured out the real Santa, but it was fun reliving the memory with them.]]> Fri, 22 Aug 2008 08:45:00 GMT 9D9321479F3870C660AEE313E127BA08 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=24691 I've been writing stories from my childhood over the last month.  It's been a great adventure going back and reliving these memories with my friends and family.  I decided to let you have a little look into the events that helped make me who I am today.  Enjoy the journey! Stories From My Childhood, Part 1 The Beginning... My earliest childhood memory happened in the womb.  I know, you think that couldn't be, but let me tell you a little story.  Fast forward 15 years... When I was in high school, we moved to a new house where my Dad had a music room.  It consisted of his drumset, a stereo cabinet, my keyboard in the corner, and one small window.  I spent a lot of time in that room, listening to my day play, creating my own music, and listening to the stereo.  I would turn the lights out, put on his extra large padded headphones with a telephone spiral cord, lay down on my back, close my eyes and get lost in the music. Somewhere along the line we got a Manhattan Transfer tape.  The songs were all latin-themed, with hints of Bossa Nova, Samba, and rhythmic South American beats.  It quickly became my favorite album and I had the whole thing memorized.  I couldn't tell you what drew me to these songs, they just made me feel good and whole.  Ten years later, when I was studying jazz in college, I told my mom one day how much I loved latin jazz.  She said it was probably because my Dad used to play with a latin jazz quartet when they were first married.  She recalled traveling with the band when she was pregnant with me.  Many nights, she listened to them in clubs as she passed the time away until I came into the world.  I guess you could say I was doing the same. "Quartet Tres Bien" John Rose (my dad) on drums I've been writing stories from my childhood over the last month.  It's been a great adventure going back and reliving these memories with my friends and family.  I decided to let you have a little look into the events that helped make me who I am today.  Enjoy the journey!


Stories From My Childhood, Part 1

The Beginning...

My earliest childhood memory happened in the womb.  I know, you think that couldn't be, but let me tell you a little story.  Fast forward 15 years...

When I was in high school, we moved to a new house where my Dad had a music room.  It consisted of his drumset, a stereo cabinet, my keyboard in the corner, and one small window.  I spent a lot of time in that room, listening to my day play, creating my own music, and listening to the stereo.  I would turn the lights out, put on his extra large padded headphones with a telephone spiral cord, lay down on my back, close my eyes and get lost in the music.

Somewhere along the line we got a Manhattan Transfer tape.  The songs were all latin-themed, with hints of Bossa Nova, Samba, and rhythmic South American beats.  It quickly became my favorite album and I had the whole thing memorized.  I couldn't tell you what drew me to these songs, they just made me feel good and whole. 

Ten years later, when I was studying jazz in college, I told my mom one day how much I loved latin jazz.  She said it was probably because my Dad used to play with a latin jazz quartet when they were first married.  She recalled traveling with the band when she was pregnant with me.  Many nights, she listened to them in clubs as she passed the time away until I came into the world.  I guess you could say I was doing the same.



"Quartet Tres Bien"
John Rose (my dad) on drums


]]> Fri, 13 Jun 2008 09:15:00 GMT 17AAF1D513CF7842F609BCA04C9869EF http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=23223 I could start out by letting you all know I'm sick of rain!  It's been raining here so much this spring, that my son has only played one out of the last 7 soccer games scheduled!  Enough is enough!  But last summer, we were in a drought, so I guess everyone's summertime prayers are now being answered.  Thank you God. But really I'm thinking more about why for some people, life just seems to be one storm after another.  I have a good friend who is in what seems to be her never-ending storm season.  Just when things begin to settle, there's yet another challenge thrown her way.  It doesn't make any sense.  Matter of fact, I find myself wondering when it's all going to change for me.  You know, life is good right now.  No complaints...I feel really blessed.  But I know it could all change tomorrow.  I'm living in borrowed blessings.  Here today, gone tomorrow.  And I guess that her situation could also change tomorrow and she could enter her time of blessings.  But, where do we really meet God and become more like Him?  I believe it's more in our stormy seasons.  I know that's when I've grown the most.  What is it about our human nature that keeps us from learning in the blessing times?  I wish I knew.  I would love to become more Godly by noticing all the wonderful things God's doing in my life every day and by being grateful for the air I breathe. Last month, I challenged myself to stop complaining.  It's so easy to focus on the negative.  Even about stupid stuff.  But, Philippians 4:8 says to "think about what is true, noble, good, and right" and not focus on the negative.  It's been a hard scripture to follow this month, even in my time of blessings.  I have much to learn.  I know that means there are more stormy seasons where I'll get to "test" my faith.  Thank you God for my blessings, and please turn my friend's stormy season into her sunny season...she's waterlogged!
But really I'm thinking more about why for some people, life just seems to be one storm after another.  I have a good friend who is in what seems to be her never-ending storm season.  Just when things begin to settle, there's yet another challenge thrown her way.  It doesn't make any sense.  Matter of fact, I find myself wondering when it's all going to change for me.  You know, life is good right now.  No complaints...I feel really blessed.  But I know it could all change tomorrow.  I'm living in borrowed blessings.  Here today, gone tomorrow.  And I guess that her situation could also change tomorrow and she could enter her time of blessings. 

But, where do we really meet God and become more like Him?  I believe it's more in our stormy seasons.  I know that's when I've grown the most.  What is it about our human nature that keeps us from learning in the blessing times?  I wish I knew.  I would love to become more Godly by noticing all the wonderful things God's doing in my life every day and by being grateful for the air I breathe.

Last month, I challenged myself to stop complaining.  It's so easy to focus on the negative.  Even about stupid stuff.  But, Philippians 4:8 says to "think about what is true, noble, good, and right" and not focus on the negative.  It's been a hard scripture to follow this month, even in my time of blessings.  I have much to learn.  I know that means there are more stormy seasons where I'll get to "test" my faith.  Thank you God for my blessings, and please turn my friend's stormy season into her sunny season...she's waterlogged!]]> Sun, 27 Apr 2008 10:39:54 GMT 303E35962F7DE40087C9037C3EEB9010 http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=21323 For all who have dedicated their lives to ministry, especially the Franciscan Sisters of Mary. Old age, lines gracefully scrawled out on their faces, telling a story of a life lived for one great purpose. Others. Self-denying, self-offering, gratifying, sacrificing, and devoted. One line is from years of friendships, giving endlessly and receiving abundantly more back than what was given. Another line for memories of childhood innocence, playing outside ‘til the sun set. One line tells of perseverance under trial – a non-surrendering fight against evil. One line tells of a hand extended to help a loved one welcome eminent death. One line is fear of poverty. Always being a step away from poor, but knowing that she would see God there. A line from years of tears, trailing down her face for a lost world. Another line from years of laughter and amazement of her Lord’s wonderful provision. One line for each friend or family member who has passed away. A line for faithless times when God seemed distant, another when He turned out to be there all along. One line for being upright and standing against the odds. One line for telling stories to all who would listen to the wisdom she had learned. Another line for going against the current when God called her to act on His promise. And lines for pain and sorrow, grief and despair, which makes her beautiful now – a stunning novel of a life lived fully and without regret. May they be blessed and called daughters of the Most High God. Their story has no end, it will continue years beyond those lines. For all who have dedicated their lives to ministry, especially the Franciscan Sisters of Mary.

Old age, lines gracefully scrawled out on their faces, telling a story of a life lived for one great purpose. Others. Self-denying, self-offering, gratifying, sacrificing, and devoted. One line is from years of friendships, giving endlessly and receiving abundantly more back than what was given. Another line for memories of childhood innocence, playing outside ‘til the sun set. One line tells of perseverance under trial – a non-surrendering fight against evil. One line tells of a hand extended to help a loved one welcome eminent death. One line is fear of poverty. Always being a step away from poor, but knowing that she would see God there. A line from years of tears, trailing down her face for a lost world. Another line from years of laughter and amazement of her Lord’s wonderful provision. One line for each friend or family member who has passed away. A line for faithless times when God seemed distant, another when He turned out to be there all along. One line for being upright and standing against the odds. One line for telling stories to all who would listen to the wisdom she had learned. Another line for going against the current when God called her to act on His promise. And lines for pain and sorrow, grief and despair, which makes her beautiful now – a stunning novel of a life lived fully and without regret. May they be blessed and called daughters of the Most High God. Their story has no end, it will continue years beyond those lines.
]]> Thu, 21 Feb 2008 01:17:30 GMT AEFF617AABC49766F2DF7F2B1C84A08F http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=19976 For starters, I want to say hi to my web friends in San Jose, CA, Frankfurt Am Main, Germany, and Roubaix, France. You all have found me somehow, and I’m so glad that you’ve visited my site and are reading my blog. I hope you continue find it entertaining, thought-provoking and interesting. This week I had one of those very rare moments that I believe will stay with me for the rest of my life. Have you ever spent time with someone and felt that it was a divine encounter? I had a short lunch date this week with a new friend I’ll call Karlene (to protect her identity). Our paths first crossed when I sang for a cancer support group banquet she was attending a few weeks ago. We talked shortly after the event and she later emailed me asking me if she could get more of my CDs. Something prompted me to get these to her ASAP. So, a few days later, we met for lunch. I had a feeling in my spirit that Karlene was a wonderful person from our first interaction, but was overwhelmed to hear her story and the way God has worked in her life. So much so, that it has made me examine my life numerous times this week. Karlene has cancer that is hitting her for the second time. Her first bout was cleared and she resumed a normal life until just over a month ago. Now it is forming tumors in her brain. It threatens to steal her very life from her, but Karlene is a fighter and is not going down that easily. She has some important things to take care of. One of her daughters is having a baby this spring, and another one is getting married. She’s determined to dance at the wedding. But the most amazing thing I learned about her was the circle of support she’s surrounded by. Two family members who joined her at the banquet were widowed by cancer and are now by her side helping her through it. They have been there for each other and for each other’s spouses over a series of unbelievable challenges. The message I kept hearing from her stories was love; love for the helpless, the sick, the lonely, and especially love for those who cannot love back. Christ’s message in a nutshell. Nothing really matters in life unless we are showing love to those in our life, unconditionally. It doesn’t matter what we achieve, or how much we’re worth, or how many “important” things fill our schedule. All that really matters is love. Love we give and love we receive. Karlene has been on both ends. She’s been there for others who have lost their battle with cancer, and now she’s on the receiving end. When our short time ended, I got in my car and sobbed. I was so blessed by her presence and so moved by her words. I prayed for God to heal her, to not call her home yet. This world needs people like her, who can teach us about Christ’s sacrificial love. I want others to be lifted up the way I was that day…to know that God is powerful and even when Satan tries to destroy us with his ultimate death blow, God will work in it to bring an outpouring of His love here on earth, and in heaven. We just need to open our eyes to notice it. God bless you, Karlene and thanks so much for the living example of love that you shared with me. May God continue to use your life, no matter how long, to bring Him Glory!
This week I had one of those very rare moments that I believe will stay with me for the rest of my life. Have you ever spent time with someone and felt that it was a divine encounter? I had a short lunch date this week with a new friend I’ll call Karlene (to protect her identity). Our paths first crossed when I sang for a cancer support group banquet she was attending a few weeks ago. We talked shortly after the event and she later emailed me asking me if she could get more of my CDs. Something prompted me to get these to her ASAP. So, a few days later, we met for lunch.

I had a feeling in my spirit that Karlene was a wonderful person from our first interaction, but was overwhelmed to hear her story and the way God has worked in her life. So much so, that it has made me examine my life numerous times this week.

Karlene has cancer that is hitting her for the second time. Her first bout was cleared and she resumed a normal life until just over a month ago. Now it is forming tumors in her brain. It threatens to steal her very life from her, but Karlene is a fighter and is not going down that easily. She has some important things to take care of. One of her daughters is having a baby this spring, and another one is getting married. She’s determined to dance at the wedding.

But the most amazing thing I learned about her was the circle of support she’s surrounded by. Two family members who joined her at the banquet were widowed by cancer and are now by her side helping her through it. They have been there for each other and for each other’s spouses over a series of unbelievable challenges. The message I kept hearing from her stories was love; love for the helpless, the sick, the lonely, and especially love for those who cannot love back. Christ’s message in a nutshell. Nothing really matters in life unless we are showing love to those in our life, unconditionally. It doesn’t matter what we achieve, or how much we’re worth, or how many “important” things fill our schedule. All that really matters is love. Love we give and love we receive. Karlene has been on both ends. She’s been there for others who have lost their battle with cancer, and now she’s on the receiving end.

When our short time ended, I got in my car and sobbed. I was so blessed by her presence and so moved by her words. I prayed for God to heal her, to not call her home yet. This world needs people like her, who can teach us about Christ’s sacrificial love. I want others to be lifted up the way I was that day…to know that God is powerful and even when Satan tries to destroy us with his ultimate death blow, God will work in it to bring an outpouring of His love here on earth, and in heaven. We just need to open our eyes to notice it. God bless you, Karlene and thanks so much for the living example of love that you shared with me. May God continue to use your life, no matter how long, to bring Him Glory!
]]> Fri, 28 Dec 2007 10:50:53 GMT 3CE5D9409C55D9900F61ECB292954A1A http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=19075 I had Jury Duty last week. I thoroughly wasn’t prepared for what the day had in store. I’ve served Jury Duty one other time about 10 years ago. I wasn’t selected to sit on the jury, and I remember being dismissed by about 1:00 the same day. No sweat. But this one was different…very different. I won’t go into any details on the case, since I’m not supposed to. I’ll just share my thoughts on the justice process. Funny thing is, I wasn’t selected for this jury either, but the selection process which lasted until 5:30 pm that day gave me much to ponder over the next few days. I don’t ever remember being more disturbed than I was by this. The case involved a three time convicted Violent Sexual Predator. Matter of fact, that is his new title after the three day trial convicted him once again and gave him this permanent name. I sat in the court room with 68 other potential jurors and was positioned about 10 feet from the defendant all day. He was about my dad’s age and looked like any other man his age. But after hearing brief details of his actions over the last 20 years, I felt such disgust being that close to him. As the attorneys questioned us all throughout the day, I was having an inner battle in my mind about God’s forgiveness, justice, and my place in this all. The question that was posed to all of us individually was, “If the plaintiffs fail to provide reasonable evidence to commit this man, would I be okay with following the law which then says he is a free man?” Tough question. He had already served his prison sentence, and therefore was “punished” adequately. But I had a hard time with that. His victims will live forever with horrific memories scarring them. And he would be free. It just didn’t seem like justice to me. And then I thought about Jesus asking the crowd for the person without sin to cast the first stone. No one did. I was sitting there as a sinner as well. Was I wrong to want this man locked up forever? I couldn’t help thinking of my children’s safety and all the other children that would be in this man’s path thereafter. And how does God view all of this? I don’t know of the man’s beliefs and whether he’s repented. He may very well be a Christian and have been forgiven. Would that make me feel differently? I felt very convicted of my own pride and judgment and still have a hard time sorting all this out. I know in my heart that God has the power to forgive, extend mercy and grace. It’s our place in this that I am questioning. I think our judicial system is one of the best in the world, yet it is not perfect. I’m really glad I didn’t have to sit on that jury and decide that man’s fate. But I’m so grateful for God’s perfect justice, forgiveness, mercy and grace. We all as sinners have gone astray. But by His great love, He has given us new life through Jesus Christ, who has taken our punishment by death on a cross that we might live forever as free men. All for the praise and glory of God! God is so good!
I won’t go into any details on the case, since I’m not supposed to. I’ll just share my thoughts on the justice process. Funny thing is, I wasn’t selected for this jury either, but the selection process which lasted until 5:30 pm that day gave me much to ponder over the next few days. I don’t ever remember being more disturbed than I was by this.

The case involved a three time convicted Violent Sexual Predator. Matter of fact, that is his new title after the three day trial convicted him once again and gave him this permanent name. I sat in the court room with 68 other potential jurors and was positioned about 10 feet from the defendant all day. He was about my dad’s age and looked like any other man his age. But after hearing brief details of his actions over the last 20 years, I felt such disgust being that close to him.

As the attorneys questioned us all throughout the day, I was having an inner battle in my mind about God’s forgiveness, justice, and my place in this all. The question that was posed to all of us individually was, “If the plaintiffs fail to provide reasonable evidence to commit this man, would I be okay with following the law which then says he is a free man?” Tough question. He had already served his prison sentence, and therefore was “punished” adequately. But I had a hard time with that. His victims will live forever with horrific memories scarring them. And he would be free. It just didn’t seem like justice to me. And then I thought about Jesus asking the crowd for the person without sin to cast the first stone. No one did. I was sitting there as a sinner as well. Was I wrong to want this man locked up forever? I couldn’t help thinking of my children’s safety and all the other children that would be in this man’s path thereafter.

And how does God view all of this? I don’t know of the man’s beliefs and whether he’s repented. He may very well be a Christian and have been forgiven. Would that make me feel differently? I felt very convicted of my own pride and judgment and still have a hard time sorting all this out.

I know in my heart that God has the power to forgive, extend mercy and grace. It’s our place in this that I am questioning. I think our judicial system is one of the best in the world, yet it is not perfect. I’m really glad I didn’t have to sit on that jury and decide that man’s fate. But I’m so grateful for God’s perfect justice, forgiveness, mercy and grace. We all as sinners have gone astray. But by His great love, He has given us new life through Jesus Christ, who has taken our punishment by death on a cross that we might live forever as free men. All for the praise and glory of God! God is so good!
]]> Mon, 19 Nov 2007 01:49:46 GMT DF75136BE27AB6A0D24254B17578521C http://kierstenrose.net/blog.cfm?feature=22919&postid=17732 We just endured yet another move. This one has had an interesting twist though. You see, my husband and I both lived in this subdivision before. We were both in high school, though not at the same time. It’s a wonderful community with a large lake for boating and skiing. We’ve been out on our boat a couple of times and I keep having these flashbacks to 20 years ago. That’s when I lived here. I have a brother, Derek, who was a very good water skier and we spent many summer days on the water watching him master the latest trick. The flashbacks came when my son (who is the same age my brother was when we lived here before) tried out his new kneeboard and then skied for the first time. I really had to keep reminding myself that it was Guy, not Derek, out there. Where did all the time go? I only lived here during 3 years of high school, but a lot of memories are made then. It’s where I learned to drive, my husband and I met, I got my first jobs and later got engaged. So it’s interesting coming back. Some things are the same, but many have changed. I still remember all my friends’ houses and the local hangouts like they were yesterday. Where did all the time go? I had my class reunion this summer. More flashbacks. But I have to say, I’m so happy where I am in life. And everyone seemed to have the same feeling. This is a good age and place in life. We’re finally content with who we are, have found meaning in our work, and are raising families of our own and trying to make their lives rich and meaningful. The saying, “Everything comes back around again” and the variations of it are so true. Even when you least expect them to. But I don’t believe it’s a bad thing. So, hang onto those cute little shoes you think you’ll never wear again. And don’t proclaim you’ll never go there or do that again. Time has a way of proving us wrong. And I don’t think that’s so bad afterall.
I only lived here during 3 years of high school, but a lot of memories are made then. It’s where I learned to drive, my husband and I met, I got my first jobs and later got engaged. So it’s interesting coming back. Some things are the same, but many have changed. I still remember all my friends’ houses and the local hangouts like they were yesterday. Where did all the time go?

I had my class reunion this summer. More flashbacks. But I have to say, I’m so happy where I am in life. And everyone seemed to have the same feeling. This is a good age and place in life. We’re finally content with who we are, have found meaning in our work, and are raising families of our own and trying to make their lives rich and meaningful. The saying, “Everything comes back around again” and the variations of it are so true. Even when you least expect them to. But I don’t believe it’s a bad thing. So, hang onto those cute little shoes you think you’ll never wear again. And don’t proclaim you’ll never go there or do that again. Time has a way of proving us wrong. And I don’t think that’s so bad afterall.
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