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Big Furniture Refinish } A Work of Heart

May 10, 2011 By Laura 51 Comments

 This is the biggest furniture refinish I have done, yet.  (Well, my husband did very kindly help me. I worked pretty hard on it too, though.)
But as big of a job as it was for my hands, it was a much bigger job, for my heart.

refinishing furniture
(‘Before’ thumbnail. The ‘After’ is a must see!)

 

refinishing furniture This is my mother’s dresser.  My mother passed away very suddenly, in 2005.  Her passing hit me like a train, and threw me into a grieving like I had never known. In the state of fog & hurt I lived in, one month after another, the only other thing I was aware of at all, was the depth of grief my father was in. It was hard to watch him go through all he was. I honestly don’t know which hurt more.

This dresser was the only one my mother ever had, in all of my years growing up, since the day I was born.   Except for a few sets of sheets, the drawers of it have been empty for the past several years, since my sister and I cleaned out my mother’s clothing together. But the rest of the house my father has kept exactly, as my mother had it. People say things to him about that, but he can’t understand why anyone thinks he would change anything.

My youngest daughter had moved out of the bedroom she had shared with her triplet brothers, and into her very own room.  I gave her my old white iron twin daybed, from my adolescent years, but she still needed a bureau of some kind.  One night, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, I got to thinking about what kind of dresser would go best in her room, and when I came up with a long dresser with a mirror, I immediately got thinking about my mother’s.

refinishing furniture My intention right along, had been to find an antique or used dresser somewhere in my hunting, and refinish it.  We don’t buy much of anything new.  But when I remembered my mother’s, I knew I had more thinking to do.  You see, I knew my father wasn’t going to use it again.  He has the tall dresser, that goes with this one. When he sells the house, I knew he would either sell the dresser in an estate sale, or sell it with the house.  But one way or another, he wouldn’t be taking it with him, because he didn’t need it.

My issue was, the dark finish and style of the dresser, didn’t go with {O}’s room at all, or our home’s farmhouse style in general.  But, when it comes to sentimental matters, I am also the type, that doesn’t like things to change. I want everything to stay the same – which is why I take such comfort in going to my parent’s home, where my father is, and everything is just as my mother left it. My mother would be there too, if I had any say in that.

refinishing furniture So the idea of refinishing this dresser, of my mother’s, was hard to think about.  Just the vision of it, just as it is, with every detail, brings back memories. It’s such a part of my history, and my parent’s.  But it was either take it and refinish it, or let the whole thing go to some stranger, who never even knew my mother.   I decided changing it was a easier to handle, than letting it go altogether.

I talked to Michael about it the next morning, and called my father that afternoon, to ask him about it.  I was tentative, to tell him about the refinishing part.  (Yikes!) He did pause for a second of silence, when I got to that part of my plan.  But I wasn’t sure in the moment, if it bothered him because it was my mother’s, or if he didn’t get why I would do that.  I guessed it was the latter, knowing him pretty well, and a couple of questions later, I found I was right.  I figured, even if he was OK with me refinishing it, he wouldn’t understand why I would bother.  (Because he wouldn’t even think of it….because it works as is!)   “Why would you do that?”  “Because Dad, it doesn’t go with her room.  At all.”  I could hear him trying to wrap his brain around it.  He’s just a simple guy, who is not at all about home decor, etc.  If it works, it’s good! If it’s comfortable, it doesn’t matter what it looks like.  But he was fine with whatever I wanted to do with the dresser.  And he insisted on bringing it down to us, even though Michael had every intention of going out to western MA to get it.

I knew he would insist on driving it down, and as soon as possible.  He always makes sure we understand, “Anything you guys ever need, just ask me.  I mean it.” He means it.  There is nothing he wouldn’t do for us.  The dresser arrived in the back of his van, which arrived in our driveway, that weekend.

It was a beautiful day, so we got right to sanding it down, before it even came into the house. I did need to take a deep breathe, and push my hesitancy away, before I let the sander hit the surface.  But after I took some ‘before’ photos!

refinishing furniture I could see the dresser, all refinished just as I wanted it, in my head.  I went to Home Depot myself that week, and found what I was hoping I would, for the original hardware – which I definitely wanted to keep!  It was the design of the hardware, that that really marked the dresser as my mother’s, and part of my parent’s set.

The spray paint I chose, was brushed nickel.

refinishing furniture The tone was so beautiful.

The dresser itself, was a whole lot of work.  A lot.  Sanding, painting, steel wooling, and the high & smell of denatured alcohol, that was stuck in my head.  It was a big piece to work on. So much to it. My hands took a beating.

But the labor of it all, was therapeutic in a way, too.  It was a process I needed to go through.  Accepting change, and looking it in the eye, whether it is easy, or welcome, or not.  Knowing inside, that the only thing that is ever guaranteed to never change, is the memories born in the minutes and years that pass by.

Time marches on.

refinishing furniture The dresser came out absolutely beautiful, I think.  I totally love it, refinished.  It now goes so perfectly, with the rest of {O}’s bedroom.

But it’s funny to me that, as completely different as it looks now, I somehow still see my mother’s dresser.

refinishing furniture Every time I see the hardware, I am back in my parent’s bedroom(s), or I actually hear in my head, the clinking sound it makes, when the drawer is closed and the handle is let go.  I heard it for 21 years, or something.

refinishing furniture The dresser has new history now.

{O} now has her grandmother’s dresser, and she watched her parent’s refinish it with love, just for her.

refinishing furniture

I can’t tell you how many times, I used this big mirror myself, growing up in a house with 5 kids, and one bathroom.

I can even easily imagine the many things of my mother’s on the dresser top, that were there for so many years.

refinishing furniture {O} is slowly covering it, with her own things, now.

She knows it’s her Meme’s dresser, and it makes her happy to have it in her room, and call it her own, now.

Things change.  It’s a part of life.


refinishing furniture
And yet some matters of the heart, inside, never do.

No matter what it looks like, on the outside.

refinishing furniture Sometimes, letting go, is all we can do.

While we hold on to whatever we can, as best we can.

I’m so happy I thought of getting my mother’s dresser, before it was too late.

I miss her so very much,  and it was hers.

Nothing I do to it, can ever change that.

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Filed Under: Budget, Crafts & Creations, DIY (Do-It-Yourself) Project, Furniture Refinishing, Home Projects, Into the Light; The Series, Life In General, Refinishing, The Big Picture, The Homestead Tagged With: furniture-makeover, painting furniture, refinishing-furniture

Easter Reflection (by Laura)

April 26, 2011 By Laura 2 Comments

They found the stone rolled away from the tomb; but when they

entered,they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. ~Luke 24:2

I am still very much growing, in my faith, and particularly in my Catholic faith.  I imagine I always will be.  Or I hope that will be the case, anyway.  For every Liturgical Season that I live through, I find a little more seeps in.  I grasp a familiar Scripture a little more than before, as the clarity of the story is as real as a movie playing in my mind….I am there, I see, I smell, I feel. I forget where I physically am.  And then the message of it all, speaks to me on a personal level, in regards to my own life, it’s current circumstances, and my own self.  The moment of Consecration; when the bread and wine transforms into the living Body of Christ, and Cup of Life, makes my heart leap with excitement, and my spirit crave approaching His table once again, and becoming one with Jesus.  With every passing season, I find I am falling deeper, and deeper, in love with my Catholic faith.

But there is no denying, that the connection and attention I earnestly pay to my faith, ebbs and flows from day to day, week to week, and month to month.  It depends on how much is going on in my life, what is going on in my life, what kind of focus I have had lately anyway, and what Liturgical Season we are in.  How much I have so weakly let myself become distracted with earthly matters and struggles, which are only temporary, as we all know.

So it most always starts out with Lent, as is did this year. Not every year – but some, and maybe most.  Certainly this year.  Ash Wednesday approaches, and I think, “Really? Already?  When is Easter? It’s only 40 days away?”

So naturally we attend this Holy Day of Obligation, Ash Wednesday, and our Lenten journey begins.  By then I have reviewed with the children once again, in our morning Scripture study/prayer time together, about this period in our faith and life that comes every year, and how important it is to prepare ourselves for the coming events.   And I have also made my Lenten choices to live by, in hopes of ultimately growing yet a little closer still, to Christ, by the time Easter arrives.

But as I do all of this, at the start of Lent (certain years), it’s admittedly all too much like mere obligations.  Motions I go through, as it is just time to do these things.  I am shamefully aware of how emotionally or passionately disconnected I am, from this annual journey I am embarking on once again.  As the days pass, I stay true to my Lenten choices, and try to take the time to reflect on how they should be helping me grow.  But I fleetingly question it, brushing away the weight of guilt I feel inside.  I know I am not paying enough attention, and I am struggling with truly giving the attention and time needed, to invest my heart as it should be.

The more Easter draws closer, the more I fear; I am really going to blow it, this year.  I’m down on myself about it, yet I don’t do enough, to really change it, really.  Maybe because I am afraid it won’t help anyway. Or maybe because I am, again…..too weak and distracted to switch gears as I know I  should.  Whatever the reason, I acknowledge I am lacking inspiration, for THE-most-important-season of my Catholic faith.  Instead of seeking the inspiration, putting the time in, giving it a chance to all come together, I carry on as I have been.  With a piece of me inside, quietly puzzled, confused,…..maybe lost?

Then comes Holy Week, and everything changes.  It’s as if my Father loves me too much, to let me, let myself down.

The call gets louder, and my spirit and heart respond more readily.  The Holy Spirit invades me with a vengeance, with no denial of it’s presence within me,  and gets my attention once and for all. I find myself alive. Intrigued. Eager. PRESENT. In heart and mind.  Not much else matters to me through the next Triduum of days, as we attend Mass daily. Not much else, can keep my attention.  I’m all but mesmerized by the events of these days in Jesus’ life on earth, that played out exactly according to the Scripture. Emotions are at their surface, for me during this time. My mind is focused, and my heart is full of so much,….ever changing. Holy Thursday; Jesus’ last supper with his disciples, the betrayal to come, the agony in the garden, as he sweat drops of blood. His knowing what lied before Him.  All that would happen to Him.  His acceptance of it as the command of His Father, and His love for us.  Good Friday; the deep sadness inside, the thoughts of helplessness I knew His mother must have felt, like others who loved Him and believed he was in fact, the Son of God.  The visions of Him being tortured, scourged & spit upon. The heavy cross.  The pain and thirst. And mercy.  His death.  It’s a day of much silence and prayer for us all, as a family.  And as I (we) fast, I am filled with such nourishment and satisfaction.  I treasure that day with my family, in so many ways. Then Good Friday evolves into Holy Saturday, as we continue to grieve and feel so sacrificed for, with the ultimate price.  His life. We find ourselves so thankful and encouraged, that we will celebrate His Resurrection soon, as He said He would, and have good reason to sing ALLELUIA!

Easter is most always a memorable occasion, that we as a family have always enjoyed.  But this Easter in particular was the best, most beautiful, most perfect Easter, ever – for me. I was truly rejoicing in my heart the entire day, relishing in the amazement of what Jesus Christ did for me, for you, and for you, and for us all!  Realizing, in yet another layer of understanding and truth, just what that means for us all.  And cherishing my family, as we celebrated together, knowing how very blessed we are to have each other, and the people in our lives.  Loving, how we continue to grow in our Catholic faith, as a family.   Happy, that our efforts to keep Christ as the center of the 6 of us as a family unit, no matter what, has been rewarding and given us strength when we have most needed it.  In times when others have let us down, time and again, or turned away. He is there. He is always there, always understanding, always forgiving, and with love that does not and will not ever end.

We have all we will ever need.

We have each other.

More importantly, we have Him.

He, who gives us nourishment, strength, and hope.

And has given us the GIFT, of ever-lasting life.

ALLELUIA.

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Hoping you had such a blessed & beautiful Easter as well.

(A small collection of photos of the kids, from Easter Day, to come. )



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Filed Under: Celebrations, Faith, Faith/ Catholic, Holidays, Into the Light; The Series, The Big Picture Tagged With: Catholic, Catholic faith, Easter, Easter-thoughts-of-a-Roman-Catholic, Holy Week, Lent, Triduum

Thoughts on LIFE.

January 26, 2010 By Laura 9 Comments

Life
We’ve got a pretty great pastor at our parish.  He has lots of admirable qualities as a person, and a pastor of our parish. But if there is one thing that really hits me about this man, time and time again, it’s his gift in giving great homilies.   Every homily I have ever heard him give, has been beyond impressive to me.   For every time that I have ‘come to’, sitting their in our usual church pew, from the place that I had been while listening to his homily, I find myself wishing that I could have recorded that for our blog.  His homilies paint vivid pictures. They are well thought out.  Stumble-free. Notes-free. Full of expression. Fact filled.  They come full circle, without ever knowing of the constant curve you were taking, and pack a punch in the end.  Every one just leaves me longing for a good chunk of time, to ‘just sit there with that’, and ponder it longer.

So with such effective presentation, I hesitate to even attempt to restate it.  I will definitely fail in repeating it, in the amazing manner he did.  But I do want to share with you the gist of it.

In part, the object of his homily, was to give us a better grasp, on the large numbers, in terms of death tolls that come of tragedies we are all too familiar with.  He spoke of 9/11 in 2001, and how in the end, the finale death toll totaled in excess of  3,000 lives lost in that terrorist attack on our country.  He spoke of the tsunami in Indonesia in 2004, when it was estimated to be around 250,000 people who had lost their lives. And most recently on everyone’s minds, the earthquake in Haiti, where at that time on Sunday, it was last reported that 120,000 lives were ended.

To think of exactly how many lives that is, is difficult, at best.  Each and every life, is of great value!  They are human beings, who were loved by somebody, if not many.  They were each created, one by one, by the hand of God.  Each unique and specially designed….like no other. So to really fully comprehend lives lost, in the numbers of thousands, is near impossible. The media focuses as best they can, on the individual life stories of people, families, heart-ache, grief, and the rescues that bring that little bit of hope back to all of us. And to those still looking for their loved ones.  So that we GET IT. But to imagine the magnitude of tragic deaths, with such high tolls, is so great, we just can’t adequately wrap our brains around it.

To look at the combined lives lost in these 3 tragic events, is in excess of 370,000 lives.  LIVES.  PEOPLE.  Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends, daughters, sons.  Children.  Babies, who had their whole lives ahead of them.

So imagine this.

Since Roe vs. Wade was put into effect 37 years ago (as of this year of 2010), over 500,000,000 lives, have been ended.  500 MILLION!  That  is over 36 Million PER YEAR!!  Wrap your brain around THAT.  The senselessness of each and every one, brings me to my knees.  While again, EVERY SINGLE LIFE is INVALUABLE, that number of abortions performed far, far exceeds even the total of the combined tragic events discussed here.

Fr. Ken then shared a story, from his early years of priesthood, and his assignment in working with Project Rachel.  For those of you who do not know, Project Rachel is an outreach program for those suffering the usually inevitable grief and guilt associated with the previous act, or ‘choice’ of abortions.  He said 1=one woman’s story struck him so profoundly, he never forgot it:

It was the story of a woman, who was in her college years, and found herself pregnant.  She was pressured, by everyone around her, that this baby would ruin her life.  That her dreams would be destroyed, and impossible to accomplish, with a child.  She said that although she knew in the back of her mind it was wrong, she was scared, and had the abortion.

The years that followed were filled with days that haunted her. She wondered what her child would have been like.  Was it a girl or a boy?  What would he or she have looked like?  She would notice children everywhere, that were about the age her child would have been.  She would see and hear children running, laughing, playing on a playground, and feel such pain and grief in her heart.

She eventually married, and had a family.  But there was a hole inside her that she could not fill, no matter how hard she tried.  She wanted to forget.  To at least let go of the weight of guilt and loss she felt.  But there it was, every morning when she opened her eyes. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to tell her husband of the burden she carried.   She feared he would leave her.  After all, who could love someone, who would kill their own child?  She couldn’t even forgive or love herself, for what she had done.

She carried that secret around, alone, for 15 years.  Until one day, she was reading a fictional book.  A made up story, that happened to have a character, who went to Confession, to seek forgiveness.  And she knew in that moment, what she needed. What she wanted, more than anything.  Forgiveness from God.  She knew that was was exactly all she needed. So that she could forgive herself, and finally find peace, and be free.

There was one small problem.  She wasn’t even Catholic. But that was not enough to stop her from what her heart so desperately needed.  So took the steps she needed, went through the entire months long process, got all of the instruction, and did indeed become a Catholic, all so that she could receive the Sacrament of Penance.  And she did, the very moment that she could.  It was all the healing her heart needed.  She knew God had forgiven her.  She knew that her child, too, had forgiven her. And so, despite her sadness over the choice that she made, she was able to forgive herself, and find that peace for her heart she had wanted and needed for so many years.

Fr. Ken circled us back to the tragedies that have taken so many lives, and changed forever, the lives of so many others.  He spoke of how beautiful it is, that when things of such devastating nature occur, people come together.  People generally come together in forces, to make a difference.  To relieve the suffering, give to the needy, and work together to get the jobs done. People volunteer. People donate.  Celebrities of all kinds use their faces for good, working themselves to make a difference, and encouraging others to do the same.  People pray. People go. People give. People sacrifice. People offer any useful tools of use they may have, to make a difference in any way they can.  It is indeed, a beautiful, amazing, and powerful force, when people’s compassion rises above all else, and comes together. As miracles come to light, faith, bit by bit, is restored.  As is LOVE, for all people.  Each and every single rescue gives us reason to celebrate LIFE. And thank God for it.

As Fr. Ken ended his homily, on a note of such hope, I thought about those numbers.  I thought about all of the people that HAVE come together in the wake of such tragedies.  Our armed forces. The Red Cross. Emergency personnel. Celebrities.  Missionary workers.  Ordinary people, like you and me.  All of those people, that together by the thousands,  do anything they can, to SAVE people, to RESCUE even as much as ONE LIFE.  Because every life is invaluable.  One life, IS worth saving.  It’s the truth.  Many of us thank God, that so many come forth to help, for the sake of lives on the line.

And I wondered:  Out of all of these millions of people who have given anything and everything they can, in a great effort to rescue others in these heart-breaking and horrific disasters, and give them back the opportunity to live their life…..How many are pro-choice?

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Filed Under: Faith, Faith/ Catholic, Into the Light; The Series, Life In General, The Big Picture Tagged With: a-great-Catholic-homily, basic-human-rights, Catholic, Catholic-blogs, Catholic-families, help-for-women-grieving-regretting-abortion, life, one-woman's-abortion-story, pro-life, Project-Rachel

Un-Expectations – Serving Others and Gratitude

August 19, 2009 By Laura 7 Comments

I’ve said it a zillion times before, and at least 1/2 zillion on this blog:  I believe, without question, that God gives every one of us gifts.  And I believe, without question, that in discovering those gifts, one is receiving a direct message from God > ‘Use them in my Name. Use them, to serve Me, by serving others.‘

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I think we all know, or most of us anyway, when God is calling us to serve Him, by serving others.  It’s a feeling inside. For me, it’s not something I ponder, or decide, if it is indeed a situation I am called to serve.  I just know, it is. I know I have to do it. Like a whisper of the heart, that is God’s unspoken words.  There is sometimes  joy, sometimes not much, but always peace, in serving Him through others.   And it’s enough for me, to work by His side.  For I know the love and healing He will bring those who need Him, and those who turn to Him.  It’s more than enough, for me.

I don’t always talk much, about when He calls me to serve Him, or how.  There’s not always a need to.  These kinds of things tend to put me in quiet mode. That it itself, only verifies again, that it is not my work.  It is His.   I am just a tool, and even one that He created.

A couple of weeks ago, I heard the UPS truck pull up.  He comes every day with supplies or orders for me, just about, so it was not unusual.  But the kids love to wait until the UPS man drives away (it’s a safety rule we have), open the front door, and retrieve the package(s) off the deck.

“It’s for Mama“, I heard my oldest daughter tell the little ones.  She put it on the floor beside me, at my desk, and when I looked down, I was  puzzled.  I was trying to remember, what on earth I had ordered, that was so big.  Then I tried to remember ANYTHING I was expecting around those few days.  But I couldn’t recall a thing.

I looked in the corner of the box, and saw a last name. It hit me then. The realization of who it was from, made me catch my breath, and it felt like my heart hit the floor. Such unexpectation.  I froze, trying to take it all in.  And then I broke down and sobbed.  The tears just flowed out like a river. Right in front of my children.   (Somehow, they just knew I was ok.  That I was just….having a moment.)

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It didn’t matter what was in the box, really.  I was so filled with emotion over the surprise of it all, that it was all I could handle at the time.  I did open the box at the excited urging of my children, eventually, and found this gorgeous gift basket.   But It took me days to find the words to explain all I felt inside.  To figure out why I was struck, with such a flood of emotions, which I hadn’t quite been able to label just yet.

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But in the days to follow, I was able to sort it all out, and decipher all I was feeling.

See, it was clear that the sender’s of this beautiful gift, felt the need to thank me.  But I surely did not feel they owed me one, in the least.  I didn’t expect that they could even be thinking of me, at this incredibly difficult time in their lives.  So it was shocking, in that way, too.

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But what was difficult for me, was that I didn’t feel I deserved it.  I, didn’t do anything worthy, of this.  Of anything.   I had only done, what I knew God was calling me to do.  Using the gifts He gave me, and that He expects me to use as tools, and a means to do His work.

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To be able to do so…..that IS the gift, of the gift.

To be called by God.

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After I had done all I knew to do to serve these people, I felt so empty inside.  For I wanted SO badly to be able to do more. To give them what they truly, truly wanted. To give them what their hearts ached for, so badly.  It didn’t feel like enough, and I felt lost.

I thought of the Little Drummer Boy.  I feel like it seems he felt, in giving all he had to give, to the new born King.  I was giving all I had, as little as it was.  I hoped it was ‘something’.  I prayed, in time, it would help, in any small way, to heal their broken hearts, with the grace of God.

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That’s the thing.  I felt helpless in not being able to do more.  I was depending on Him.  Our Almighty and powerful Father, who can do ALL things.  It was my only consolation, because I personally couldn’t do enough.

But it was ‘something’ to these people, it seemed.  I still felt unworthy of any thanks, because I wanted to give them more, and with every passing day, I thought of them, and prayed for them.  Still feeling helpless.  Still counting on God, to give them all they needed.

I was counting on answered prayers, with high expectations.  For THEM.

I ask you to pray for them too, for whatever their needs and desires are, if it is God’s will.

I just wasn’t expecting anything, for ME.  Not a thing.

But I am so very touched, by their expression of gratitude.

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Thank You, Lord.  Thank You, for the gifts.  For working, through me. Amidst all of the swirling, worldly thoughts and deeds of my life and self, thank You for allowing my heart to hear You call.  Thank You, for every opportunity to serve You, by serving others.  Thank You, for using these gifts as an instrument in Your works. Thank You for considering our prayers, and for healing our hearts.

Thank You.

I have to admit….the basket itself, even EMPTY, puts a big smile on my face.

It’s a NICE basket. Isn’t it?

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Filed Under: Faith, Faith/ Catholic, Into the Light; The Series, Life In General, The Big Picture Tagged With: Catholic, Catholic-blogs, Catholic-families, gratitude, living-Catholic-faith, our-gifts-Gods-work, serving God-by-serving-others, serving others

Psalm 46:10 – Scripture Image

July 19, 2009 By Laura 2 Comments

Psalm 46:10 Be still and know that I am God.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

~Psalm 46:10

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Filed Under: Faith, Faith/ Catholic, Into the Light; The Series, Life In General, Photography, Photography & Lettering, The Big Picture Tagged With: Be-still-and-know-that-I-am-God, Psalm-46-10, Scripture-images

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