June has become a special month. Our family took our first road trip vacation. Angela handled riding in the van far better than we thought she could. During our vacation she really zipped through walking across street intersections with traffic lights, in Springfield, Illinois, when we visited the Lincoln Memorial Museum. Angie also did a lot of walking at a variety of places we could take in.

The highlight of our vacation was the Creation Museum, located in Kentucky, just a few miles outside of Cincinnati, Ohio. We hope that you have the opportunity to see the Creation Museum. It is very faith affirming and clarifying. On Saturday, while Angie recuperated from our day long visit at the museum, Trent and Josh drove to PA for friends Craig and Rachel’s wedding. During our trip, the only time Angie’s back gave her problems was during a short scenic train ride in Indiana.

Father’s Day was also very special day. God’s blessings have been so real to our family.  Trent will be “2 nickels” on the 30th. We feel so blessed for him as a husband and dad, in all God has carried us through.

A few prayer requests:

Our little niece is getting over the H1N1 flu…..Praise God.

Another Blessing, Ben, Bethany Pearson’s brother is recuperating from a baseball head injury.

Please continue prayer that Angie can “shut off” misused muscles and turn on and strengthen correct ones.

************************************

We close with one of Angie’s poems……..

“Author of My Tale” 1/28/09 by Angie Carlson

The actors wait for the curtain’s rise

As they pace anxiously behind;

Their lines are written by my pen,

Their theatre is my mind.

They say their script and play it out

On my imaginings, their stage;

They live to act, it is their heart:

They are the cast upon my page.

They don’t go freely among men,

Though they often dance with me;

You may see them in your nicest dreams,

But come too close and they will flee.

Their colors make exquisite patterns

When, into libraries, I weave,

The beauty that they leave behind;

Though to spin them live, I can’t achieve.

To give words life when writing

Is a power not bequeathed to men;

But to the greatest Author ’tis,

So I write dead words till He comes again.

I write echoes given me

In hopes that they may lead you

To the Author of my tale:

I pray they will; then they’ll be true.